#i think I’d just write about her going about her day being haunted by ghosts and just randomly getting into ghost hunting shenanigans

[paperglader]

it’s only been like an hour since I finished the episode, and I already miss her 🥺

Laura Bailey what have you done to me?

[thedemoninme141]

Wednesday gets Ghosted... literally.

Never ever thought I would write Halloween specials but here I am...

Paring: Wednesday X Fem Reader! Theme: Fluff!!!

Summary: Wednesday confesses her feelings on a Halloween date.

You wanted a date for Halloween since Wednesday won't go trick or treating with you, you jumped on the offer to trek out to an old, abandoned house in the woods—a place the locals swore was haunted—with her.

And now you both sat on the wooden balcony that hung off the back of the house. Wednesday glanced at you, scrutinizing the way you stared blankly out at the woods, as if you were lost in your thoughts. You seemed quiet, too quiet.

“Do you…” she began, her voice quieter than usual. “Do you regret coming here with me tonight?”

You glanced at her, eyes slightly widened, surprised that she’d even ask. Wednesday wasn’t usually one for questioning her actions—or caring how others felt about them.

“I just thought, perhaps, you might be disappointed that I dragged you here instead of letting you do…something more festive.” She looked away, unsure if you could read the tinge of insecurity in her face.

You tilted your head, looking at her, silent as ever, which only made her feel more self-conscious. She didn’t know what to make of it. Usually, she adored the fact that you didn’t constantly babble on like everyone else did. But tonight, she wanted—no, needed—some kind of reassurance.

“If I’m being honest,” she continued, voice a bit lower, “I've wondered a lot... If I am enough for you.” She cast her gaze downward. “My feelings… they are complicated. I suppose they’re not easily expressed in ways you might expect, or—” She clenched her jaw, then forced herself to go on. “Or that you deserve.”

"Sometimes I think that you see something in me that isn’t really there," Wednesday whispered, "And I fear that one day you’ll realize you were wrong. That you’ll wake up, look at me, and think, ‘this wasn’t worth it.’" She clenched her jaw, the briefest flicker of pain crossing her face before she forced herself to look at you again, her eyes steady.

"But then you… you fascinate me," she admitted, "The way you fearlessly follow me to places like this. Most people run from me, but you… you stay. You follow. It answers all those doubts. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

A small smile tugged at her lips, but she looked away, as though embarrassed by the thought. "I thought I'd find myself alone, somewhere like this. And I thought… perhaps I’d like that."

Wednesday paused, her hand ghosting closer to yours. "But then you came along, completely oblivious, and ruined all of that," she said, her voice softened by an edge of tenderness. "And, against my better judgment, I don’t resent you for it."

"There are things I struggle with, you know," she went on. "Emotions. They’re foreign… unwieldy. But here I am, feeling them���feeling you, in every cold, dark part of myself that used to belong to nothing and no one." She turned, and her dark gaze fixed onto you, almost vulnerable. "I don't know if I can be what you deserve, but…" She swallowed, her voice soft. "I need you to know, if I’m capable of love, you’re the only one I’d give it to."

"I don’t know why I’m saying all of this," she admitted. "I’d tell myself it’s for your benefit, but really, I think it’s for mine. To tell you things I never knew I’d feel." Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her lips together as if already regretting her words.

A long silence fell between you two, and the quiet grew deeper, the forest still and watching as if it too were waiting for your response.

Then, from behind, a voice broke the silence: "Sorry I’m late, Wends… had to fix Enid’s costume trouble… umm, who’s that?"

Wednesday felt her cold blood run colder. She turned, her gaze landing on… you. You, standing at the doorway, looking at her with your familiar, gentle eyes.

The “you” beside her shrank back slightly, lifting "your" hands in surrender, as though embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

Wednesday's gaze snaps back to the figure beside her — the “you” who had been sitting with her all this time.

Her voice hardens. “Who the hell are you?”

"Um… I wanted to haunt you after taking Y/N’s face," the ghostly you confessed, scratching the back of it's head. "But given the gravity of the situation with your emotions and all… I’ll leave you two alone." The ghost looked at Wednesday, gave a curt nod, and disappeared into the shadows with an almost sheepish wave.

Wednesday was still, her gaze now fixed on you, her surprise melting into a look that could only be described as deadly.

"…How long were you there?" you asked, stepping forward, trying to hide the amused smile on your lips. "And what did you tell the ghost?"

Wednesday’s mouth tightened, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "I… told the ghost," she began slowly, clearly unwilling to divulge the truth, "nothing..."

You chuckled, glancing at her with a playful grin. "So… I hope I wasn’t replaced too badly, was I?"

Wednesday let out a frustrated sigh. Perhaps she should've gone trick or treating with you.

At the Ghosts Pub: Hey guys! you won't believe what happened!

[Author's note: It was really fun to write it, Comment how you guys like it.

Request me for more one-shots!!!]

->WORKLIST<-

[poguelandiarafe]

Sooo I just saw this https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8FR5vPf/ tik tok, and it's stirring something in meeee...can you write about rafes inner turmoil, and how reader helps him with it? Love your writing sfm!!!

thank you so much lovely! this is such a good idea, i love it! i hope you like it <3 i’ve added the video above ^ (all credits to @petrovatbh on tiktok!!)

masterlist

————

rafe’s been home from morocco for just over three days and ever since he stepped through the door, the air has been heavy and thick with tension. he’s barely said two words to you, preferring to stay locked up in his office or out of the house and away from your questions. tonight, however, you decide to try your luck again.

“rafe?” you say softly when you hear the front door slam shut.

he isn’t expecting you to be awake since it’s way past midnight. yet here you are, sitting on the sofa, waiting for him to come home.

“not tonight.” he huffs out, making his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“yes tonight, rafe,” you begin, getting up and following him into the bathroom, “i don’t know what happened in morocco, nor do i want to but i’m your girlfriend, you can’t keep ignoring me. we live together but the past few days i feel like i’ve been living with a ghost and it’s not fair.”

rafe stops in front of the sink, gripping the edge of the counter tight. his gaze meets yours in the mirror and he lets out a sharp breath. there’s nothing you want more in this moment than for rafe to let you in and talk to you, to tell you about whatever’s on his mind.

“i said not now.” he mutters, splashing some cold water on his face to calm his annoyance, “i won’t do this right now.”

“then when?” you snap, growing tired at him refusing to talk about it, “you keep saying that, rafe. would you prefer if i left you alone completely? or how about if i move out so you don’t have to be annoyed when you see me in the house we share? you know, since we live together? if it’s about something i’ve done or you don’t love me anymore please, just tell me because i can’t deal with you like this.”

quickly, he turns around and exhales sharply, trying to find the words. it breaks his heart that you think he doesn’t love you when in reality he loves you more than anything. he just hates talking about what happened on the runway all those years ago.

“it’s not about you.”

he says the words with quiet confidence, trying to reassure you and at the same time silently ask for you to stop pushing him. but you don’t. you can’t stand him being so distant.

you miss your boyfriend.

“rafe, please talk to me. i can’t try to help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

a few seconds of silence pass before he pushes off the counter and brushes past you, walking into the bedroom. you follow him, sitting next to him on the bed.

finally, rafe gathers the words, “shoupe brought her up.”

“peterkin?” you whisper, the name causing goosebumps on your skin.

he doesn’t have to answer, the lack of one sufficient enough. it’s been years since either of you brought up that day, but the memory of it is still as haunting as ever.

“what did he say?” you ask, even though you’re scared of the answer.

“before we left for morocco… i told him i’d tell him about what happened with my dad and the plane and everything that happened on the runway last summer,” he has to take a breath, the memory replaying in his head, “but he wanted to know about peterkin. about what really happened. i- i killed her and he wants me to confess. he knows, i know he does but-”

“rafe, calm down.” you have to cut him off, sensing how stressed out he’s getting.

his chest is heaving as he takes in deep breaths and runs a hand over his face. from the corner of his eye, he can see that you’re facing him, your eyes studying his face.

“all i want to do is forget about that day, leave it in the past,” he whispers, interlocking his fingers with yours when you rest your hand on his thigh, “but shoupe- he brought it all back. it felt like i was back there. and then to have to spend all that time with them in morocco and away from you… it was horrible.”

carefully, you grab his face to make him look at you, his glossy eyes meeting yours. you gently wipe away the tears that trail down his cheeks.

“baby, it’s okay to feel that way. this has been with you for so long, it was bound to happen one day. but you don’t have to do it alone, i thought you knew that. i’m here for you, i always will be.”

your words apparently don’t have the intended effect of calming him down. he pulls away from your touch and abruptly stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you.

“no, you don’t get it!” he shouts, fists clenching by his side, “you didn’t shoot her, you don’t have to live with this guilt, y/n! she wasn’t supposed to be there. i did it for my dad and it all means nothing because now he’s gone.”

“you can’t undo what you did, rafe. it happened. but you’re not that person anymore,” you say firmly, also standing up, “you’re trying to make up for it, everyone can see that. maybe you can’t, but everyone else can. that mistake doesn’t define you so stop acting like it does.”

“she’s still dead and it’s still my fault! it doesn’t matter that i’ve ‘changed’.” he spits, laughing bitterly as the last word leaves his lips.

“yes, rafe. it does matter because you’re trying. you’re trying to do better and be a better person than who you were, someone people are proud of.” you push, begging him to listen to what you’re actually saying.

he stops in front of you, towering over you yet still the smallest you’ve ever seen him, his vulnerability evident in this moment.

“you really think i’ve changed? that i can ever come back from what i did?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“yes,” you nod, your hand cupping his cheek, “but, let me help you. whatever you need me to do, just tell me and i’ll do it because i love you.”

rafe exhales shakily, a tiny weight feeling like it’s been lifted off his shoulders. finally, he returns your nod and pulls you into a hug, strong arms tightly gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“i love you too. and i’m sorry… about everything.”

“we’ll get through it together, just like always,” you promise, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “but please keep trying. don’t go backwards.”

“i’ll try.”

“that’s all i ask for.”

[iridiss]

I think because Aphmau is a self-insert character, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what her personality is, because her personality is just…Jess’s personality. If a little different. Which makes it hard for me to get into Aphmau’s head, to see exactly how she works, what makes her tick—it doesn’t come naturally to me at all, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t alone in that regard

Now that I’m finally working on my MCD rewrite, I really want to make sure I get Aphmau’s personality right, especially since she’s literally the protagonist character and likely the most common POV I’ll be using. I want to find a way to copy how watching her POV in-game felt, and make it so that it feels the same when I’m writing the fic. Lately, it hasn’t been feeling the same at all, and that’s mostly intentional, since I want her to evolve into the “unintentionally badass” woman that she is in the canon series. I want her to start off as kind of bright-eyed and naive, similar to Mystreet!Aphmau, as a newcomer to the world whose never seen a lick of war and violence in her life. Mainly because I know she’s going to be exposed to all of that later and fundamentally changed by it. But as I’m studying canon MCD Aphmau and trying to break down everything she does, how she thinks, the choices she makes and the patterns therein that define her, what choices she doesn’t make and what that says about her as a person… I think I have already strayed too far from the original in places.

Additionally, though Aphmau was still significantly emotionally affected by every little heinous thing that happened to her and her people, throughout season 1 she didn’t experience any sudden shift in who she was as a person. I’ve yet to finish rewatching season 2, so I could be wrong, but to me, it more seems like she held herself together and stayed largely the same person. But she was being slowly chipped away emotionally by everything that got added to the pile. From Brendan getting shot to Aaron’s death, it’s like there’s a million different little nicks and cuts in her mental health and psyche that have simply built up over time. Some of those scars are larger than others, like the 15 year timeskip and losing Aaron/Garroth/Laurance, but they all weigh on her psyche and make her progressively more anxious, more careful, more…traumatized? She’s traumatized and she’s not. I’d like to at least headcanon her as traumatized, probably severely by season 3. I’d like to think she’s a woman with the whole entire world on her shoulders and a million ghosts haunting her wherever she goes, and all of this leads to a great deal of stress and anxiety in her day-to-day life that she’s just kinda… Living With. She muscles through it. She keeps going. There are even moments I’m noticing in canon where she doesn’t allow herself to fully dwell on her grief and stress, saying it’s “selfish” to let them consume her, and then moving on to check on literally everyone else in the village and make sure they’re okay first.

Aphmau is a character that’s hard to understand in the broad strokes, like how you can see Laurance’s broad strokes of “Casanova” and “fiercely loyal” and “in love with Aphmau” and make a pretty easy surface mold of what he’s like. It’s like every other character has at least one or two giant, broad strokes of paint on the wall that distinguish them as unique.

Garroth is a gentleman, Kiki loves her animals and can be stubbornly gullible. Donna is sassy, Dale is an alcoholic, Katelyn is fierce, Travis is playful and flirtatious, Aaron is brooding and guarded, Logan has a stick up his ass, so on and so forth. But they all have really easy to find smaller pieces that you can find and study as well. MCD!Katelyn is much more calm and reserved and proper than her Mystreet counterpart, and on occasion waxes philosophical and drinks tea. Kiki has always wanted to be a mother. Brendan is a horse girl. Garroth is terrible at being ~romantically forward~ like Laurance is, and instead he gets flustered and stuttery and shy and struggles to talk about his feelings with others. Laurance is gentle and caring and will tenderly take care of you and nurse you back to health with a mature, gentle warmth that puts his cocky Casanova personality aside, still flirting and teasing every now and then, but only for the purpose of cracking a joke that would make you smile. And then he reminds you right after how fondly he loves you and how he will never, not ever, leave your side.

Laurance grew up not knowing how to talk to girls, and Sasha was the only female friend he could actually speak to and connect with. Garroth checks on Aphmau in the mornings, asking how she slept and reporting back to her on all the duties she has to tend to for the day. Dale is a brilliant accountant, and that’s his calling in life. Zoey used to regularly prepare tea for Aphmau at night to help her sleep. Logan helped Zoey raise Levin and Malachi during the 15 year timeskip and “secretly” very much loves children. You can find all the little kernels of character and personality and heart in all of them.

But for MCD!Aphmau, it’s like she has one single broad stroke. “Helps others, kind, caring.” And everything else is invisible to me. Mystreet!Aphmau might have a second broad stroke, of “silly and childish and whimsical,” a stroke that MCD!Aphmau has much less of. It’s still there, she still teases and cracks dumb jokes on occasion, but it’s dwarfed in comparison by MCD’s more serious, mature tone and the sheer emotional weight of everything she keeps going through. It’s hard to be silly and have stupid fun when you’re fighting for your life, so in a way, MCD!Aphmau had to grow up in a way that Mystreet!Aphmau never had to. Mystreet!Aphmau’s worst problem (before emerald secret) is “oh no! which cute boy am I gonna date?! Gene is so mean to me in highschool!! Gawd, I wish my mom would let me bring boys home without making it weird, jeez.” She gets to keep her innocence. She doesn’t have to grow up and face the brutality of killers and monsters and the cruelty of the gods, and even after When Angels Fall, I don’t see her heavily maturing and growing as serious as MCD!Aphmau already is on main.

So if MCD!Aphmau has one single broad stroke that, for a protagonist, is actually vague as hell to work with, then maybe she’s a character who is revealed by all the little things that slip through the cracks. Maybe I can paint a picture of what she’s truly, really like (not what I want her to be like) by looking at all the little things, and then working inwards from there,,,

I know she’s at the very least a good person. A very good person. Better than canon Garroth, who has far too many asshole tendencies for my liking after the whole Incel Hell Irene Dimension fiasco (also why the FUCK is he racist—) Better than canon Laurance, better than most people honestly. Which is kind of the point, as an Irene. She’s supposed to be inherently a good, pure-hearted soul, whose destiny and sole calling in life is to help everyone around her. She seems to display a great fear and distress over violence and war. She’s always anxious and freaking the fuck out when she’s in combat (during S1), and building up to the Phoenix War, she was absolutely mortified by the idea of going to war, and yet that distress NEVER boiled over into cowardice. She always chose what was right and stuck to it, stubbornly. Even when faced with the worst of dilemmas, she refuses to succumb to her fear and run away, or pick the easy (and scummy) way out. She cares a great deal about the greater good, even if it comes at a devastating cost to achieve, and by god, she’ll achieve it. When presented with the option of fight or flight, she NEVER picks flight. So she’s brave? Has a strong natural sense of justice? Would she ever make cruel sacrifices, if it was for a greater good? I think I at least know that if I presented her with the option of “kill Garroth and Laurance, or save the entire world,” she would refuse the dilemma entirely and go to EXTREME lengths to forge a third option where she gets to keep the world AND her boys, and everyone comes out unharmed. (And in my mind, this is what distinguishes her from the old Irene…)

She is a herald for peace, above anything else. When Scaleswind destroyed her home as an act of violent rage, she didn’t seek revenge or even allow herself to feel vitriol or resentment for the man that attacked her people. Instead, she (cautiously and hesitantly) accepted his pleas for forgiveness if it meant she could have peace for Phoenix Drop. She held him accountable for his crimes, yes, but she forgave him, trusted him with the Phoenix Drop Alliance, and even trusted him with her people. All the while reiterating to him that she is an agent working for peace, and he needs to get on her level if he wants her forgiveness. She even offers care and aid to all of the rotten O’khasis knights that still swear their fealty to Zane. She brings them to court for their crimes, but she also offers them her care and a place to stay if they need it. She believes in justice, but not cruel retribution. The moral high ground isn’t a weapon she uses to bludgeon others with. She draws her strength by pulling others up with her. Even putting her trust in those unworthy of it at times, but that then inspires them to make better choices and pledge themselves to her cause. Even if you were a horrible, terrible person, she refuses to be downright cruel. It’s very rare to see her anger get the best of her (not that I don’t doubt that has happened at least once or twice in the series, I’m just saying it’s not her go-to choice when resolving any conflict). She will always give people the benefit of the doubt.

I know she struggles with sleeping problems, mainly due to her stress. She did for most of the latter quarter of S1 and when I skipped ahead and watched a few snippets of S2, she was STILL bringing up how poorly she slept last night, so like. You could make a case that she has insomnia. She could have insomnia. And PTSD but that’s a given

She finds babies absolutely adorable and has strong maternal instincts. (a connection between this and her great care for Phoenix Drop as a whole could possibly be strung… I don’t think “maternal instincts” is at all why she helps PD though. I think she just does that…because…you should. Because it’s the right thing to do. Obviously. If given the choice to be kind and help someone, she will always pick that choice, because,,,she just does)

you could make an argument that she has dyslexia. if you made a drinking game out of every time she flubbed reading the lines on the screen you would keel over and die by episode 15 I think.

you could make an argument that she needs glasses because Jess wears glasses for the first little while of S1 before she seems to have switched to contacts for the rest of the aphverse

She loves animals and has more animals than she has children

She seems very slow to develop romantic feelings for anyone. I think she only really started to develop little bits of romantic feelings for Garroth come late S1, and for Laurance probably like. around episode 95ish if you’re pushing it early, but honestly she probably only developed feelings for him after the entirety of season 1. after Laurance and her had already become very close and intimate on a platonic level. And any of his flirtatious advances prior to that she CONSISTENTLY responded to with flat out rejection, disgust, exasperation and annoyance with zero romance in sight. meanwhile she’s been very affectionate with Zoey from the beginning and is much more sweet and domestic with her than any of the boys, so like. I can definitely see where all the aroace spectrum aphmau headcanons in the fandom are coming from now and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was some form of demiromantic as well, but that’s straying out of canon aphmau territory and into headcanon land

Her worst fear, confirmed by Malachi, is seeing the entire village be burned to the ground with everyone she loves inside. Seeing Garroth and Laurance and every single villager murdered before she can do anything to stop it. She’s scared of losing them (and wow guess exactly what ends up happening… Garroth gets lost in the Irene dimension…Laurance becomes a cold and cruel shadow knight and she loses him to the nether… Aaron dies and becomes the shadow lord… girlie can just not win. and I’d like to explore more of the deep emotional impact that could’ve had on her—your worst fear is losing everyone you loved, seeing them get torn out of your hands brutally and violently, and..that happens. that happens to her anyway. to all of her boys, individually. there’s no way that’s not traumatic and emotional as hell for her) maybe you could even play into the idea that she has abandonment issues…

Every now and then she shows a few signs of toxic positivity and emotional repression. “Smile and be happy, focus on the work that’s important right now instead of completely and utterly crumbling under the weight of my grief and trauma” type shit. I feel like I can’t help but notice a running pattern that she keeps being presented with dialogue options that are emotionally vulnerable and intimate in some way, usually ones that progress her relationships with others (both romantically and platonically) and express a great deal of care or feeling…and then there’s the exposition dump dialogue option that continues her constant search for information that furthers the plot, and she often chooses that instead. Like for example, in one dialogue option with Aaron, she doesn’t say, “I really care about you, please, can’t you trust me?” Instead, she chooses to say, “What will you do?” Which is much more business talk as opposed to spilling her heart out to people. She seems to apologize for herself whenever she expresses a heightened amount of emotion, especially if it’s sadness or grief or anger, and again, I’d like to point to her taking 90+ fucking episodes to allow herself to feel any sort of intimacy with Laurance, the very man who has been constantly showering her with affection, and not just the dumb flirty stuff!! But like deep, sincere proclamations of “you matter to me,” and “I’ll never leave your side” and “you are my world, aphmau”!!! Bro I would have MELTED into his arms 70 fucking episodes ago if I met a man that talked to me like he does!! But she doesn’t!! SHE KEEPS HIM AT ARMS LENGTH!! THATS NOT NORMAL!!! Especially when EVERY OTHER character in the cast keeps falling in love at first sight. (so intimacy issues? trust issues? probably not trust issues. fear? too much on her mind? demiromantic ?? or probably a mix of all of the above + a dash of headcanon for the sexuality part)

And it’s so fascinating to see what she could say, but doesn’t. And sometimes you’ll even see her hesitate over the other, more intimate dialogue options, and then decide otherwise. It’s utterly fascinating to think that a character hugely defined by her heart might struggle with vulnerability.

She also hesitates over funny options a lot but decides against them because the serious, emotionally mature options are more appropriate and polite for the situation at hand lol. Laurance is a frequent exception to this rule, she will tease him no matter how serious their conversation is lmao (Laurance brings out her more forgotten whimsical side…?)

So on and so forth while I continue my binge rewatch of the entire series and collect more. So far, she seems to be overall: Kind. Gentle. Soft, warm, friendly, forgiving, understanding, merciful, patient. Playful and whimsical, though that’s become more forgotten with time and hardship. Serious, very emotionally mature, very much a source of wisdom among her peers. Inherently strong sense of justice, will always fight for the right thing. Brave and persistent. Refuses to ever back down from a challenge. Probably at least a little emotionally avoidant and I would not be surprised if she struggled with a particularly harsh inner critic. Optimistic. Never lets go of her heart, led by her heart much more than her brain, though that isn’t to say she isn’t smart, she’s not an idiot. Loves animals. Natural leader. Maternal. Insomniac. Probably neurodivergent, possibly aroace, possibly dyslexic, most likely needs glasses. Traumatized, very much so. Very stressed and anxious (please god someone give her a break). Carries the weight of the world on her shoulders but refuses to let herself crumble, even if she is exhausted and worn down and at her limit. you also cannot look at Zoey and Aphmau’s daily interactions and tell me there isn’t at least a little bit of sapphicism going on there. they love each other so much <3 and if not, she is a single mother going through literal actual hell and hanging on by a string but through the force of necessity and probably at least a little bit of toxic positivity and emotional avoidance she will persevere whether she wants to or not

and I will continue to learn more as we go along 👍

[daisymintt]

I have too many ideas for Merlin fics so I’m just gonna dump them here, if you write one please tag me I’d love to read it!

• Arthur is seen as a traitor to the crown and is about to be killed when Merlin saves him and they go on the run and become some of the most well known bandits in Camelot, the Fallen Prince and his Warlock (inspired by Americano by Lady Gaga)

• A beast that feeds off magic goes to Camelot and takes Merlin, Arthur and the Knights embark on a rescue mission

• A visiting Noble introduces a new “sport” to Uther, sorcerer hunting. In which a captured sorcerer is released into the woods with only the clothes on their back and are hunted down by knights and specially trained hounds. Intrigued, he partakes of this “sport”. Merlin is disgusted and goes into the forest to help them escape only to become the prey. Will he be able to keep his magic secret? Or will he be doomed?

OR

• Merlin on the run inspired by the song Run Boy Run

• Rumor Has It/Rumor Mill, a bunch of different rumors start cropping up in Camelot varying from absurd to believable

• A visiting Lady takes a shine to Merlin, Arthur gets jealous.

• Arthur and Merlin are on a hunting trip and stop at a tavern. While there they overhear a local ghost story about an ghost that of a Lady who lived in the manor up the street. Her husbands kept dying “mysteriously” and she went mad with grief. They say the manor is haunted. Merlin takes it seriously and Arthur teases him about, later they go to the abandoned manor and have an encounter with the ghost. Get trapped in the manor. The ghost carries a bloody hatchet. Nearly takes Arthur’s head off. Similar to Constance Hatchaway.

• Stardust AU

• Arthur follows in his dad’s footsteps and sets out to kill the last Druid, a boy called Emrys. Little did he know that his friend Merlin was that druid. Inspo: Still/Neva Flows Reprise

• 1920’s America Merlin runs a speakeasy

• Gaius is away dealing with an outbreak of sweating sickness at a border town leaving Merlin as acting Court Physician while he’s away.

- A visiting Nobel lady goes into labor, Merlin has to help her.

• Merlin catches a cold yet refuses to stop working, his magic is also affected. Every time he sneezes something magical happens leaving chaos in his wake. His magic stops reacting when he Gaius sneaks him a sleeping draught mixed with some cold medicine (or at least the medieval equivalent that addresses the symptoms), Arthur not so subtly frets about Merlin’s wellness.

OR

• Merlin overextends his magic and when he gets back to Camelot he tries to do a small spell and it doesn’t work, discovers he has a “Sorcerers Cold” it doesn’t affect the physical body but the magical one. In other words, how magic is on the fritz until he can get some proper rest.

• Last Night Gus episode where they super drunk and wake up in weird places. They spend the day trying to piece together what happened last night

• A sorcerer disguised themselves as Merlin to get close to Arthur

OR

• A shapeshifter that appears as your hearts greatest desire appears as Merlin to Arthur and lures him into a trap, Merlin has to save him. Classic who’s the real Merlin scenario where Arthur has to ask a question that only the real Merlin would know the answer too.

• A vampire arrives in Camelot.

• Merlin’s shadow has the wings of a dragon, Arthur notices

• Merlin and Arthur have been arguing over something for a while now, Leon is tired of being stuck in the middle of it and traps them in a room. He refuses to let them come out until they figure out whatever they’re fighting about. (Ten minutes in the closet trope)

• A drunk Merlin finds himself in Arthur’s room, Arthur takes care of him. Merlin is very affectionate when drunk. (Inspo: bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo)

• Merlin and Morgana are friends and Arthur is jealous of there close bond, Arthur thinks that they’re courting and confronts Merlin about it.

• Morgana or someone casts a spell while the knights, Arthur, and Merlin are asleep on a quest that joins their dreams together. Merlin is very skittish afraid that he may accidentally reveal his magic. Inspo: A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill! Season 2 episode 19 of Ducktales.

• 5 weird places Merlin has fallen asleep and one not so weird one (it’s Arthur’s bed)

[mistresslrigtar]

DTIYS for @bahbahhh's 1200 follower prompt

As always, there's a song that inspires my writing. Today I share an oldie, but what a goodie.

Where Do I Begin - love theme from "Love Story"

Where should I begin? 

The story of our love is older than the Calamity. My memories of when we first met are foggy at best, but it wasn't pleasant from what she related to me. She told me once my silence drove her crazy, and apparently, my excuse was that wielding the Master Sword was the root cause of my quietude. I was a liar. That may have been the reason before she entered my life, but if she had any effect on me then as she does now, the truth is, she left me tongue-tied. I must have known then what I know now, that she was the only one for me. 

Sometimes, I imagine those star-crossed lovers felt as I do now when they realized their time was running out. 

Does it seem strange to you for me to think of them as entirely different people? It shouldn’t. Neither one of us was the same after one hundred years. I had no memories save the ones she spoon-fed me, and she was no longer the naive girl who had held Calamity Ganon at bay, waiting for me to awaken.

Ah, that’s difficult to think about. 

The guilt that consumes me knowing I wasn’t strong enough to save her then or now, is insurmountable. She’d had to fight alone. All those naysayers, including her father, who belittled her, were proven wrong. Without her, Hyrule would have fallen one hundred-ten years ago. Without her, Hyrule would have collapsed when Ganondorf returned from the dead. 

Without her, I’m nothing. 

People call me the savior of Hyrule when, in all honesty, I had very little to do with it. Hyrule’s salvation floats, unseen above our heads, endlessly circling, searching for what she’s misplaced. 

Something of her spirit must remain. I refuse to believe Mineru’s last words, that my Zelda’s mind and soul are forfeit to the cosmos. If that were so, she’d never have swooped in and saved me from the jaws of the Demon Dragon.

Why’d we go beneath the castle? 

If I could take it all back, would I, knowing what waited in the depths? Perhaps we could have lived to the end of our days in blissful ignorance. Had the children we’d only just begun to talk and dream about. We deserved that, didn’t we? We’d already sacrificed twice for Hyrule. 

This isn’t how it was supposed to end. 

I try not to curse Hylia, but my heart has hardened, and faith seems unobtainable. Zelda wouldn’t like knowing I feel this way. She’d had faith I’d save Hyrule and had sacrificed her mortal soul to ensure my success. 

I had faith—in her. Now, I’m lost in a void of moments when we lived and loved for a brief while. How can I move on? When all the best of me was lost when she sacrificed her beautiful soul in the hope that I’d triumph. 

The cost was too steep, Zelda.

It’s been over five years since she fell into the chasm, disappearing in the blink of an eye. I never saw her again, the love of my life and my only reason for being. I can’t escape her memory. Her ghost remains everywhere I go, to haunt me by day and my dreams by night.

I can’t stand to linger in Hateno longer than necessary and never set foot in the house. It takes all my willpower to descend the ladder to her well to collect the few brightblooms that sprout there. 

The home I began building in Akkala (back when I still had some hope that she’d return to me) is a complete lost cause. I haven’t visited there since the end. Seeing the empty study and gallery I built for her is too much to bear. The last letter from Hudson asked what I intended to do with the home. I told him to repurpose it into a school for Tarrytown. 

She’d like that.

Shielding my eyes, I look to the sky in search of her. There she is–the Light Dragon. She drifts above me, her legs endlessly swimming in the air, and the crystal green eyes I love so much gaze back at me.  

She’s still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, and I’ll always love her whether she’s a human or a wyrm. There’s an old song that asks the question, how long can love last and be measured? Surely not by the hours in a day or a lifetime even. My devotion to her transcends time, space, and physical form. I’ll chase her, search for her, and cherish my Zelda until the stars burn away. 

It’s my turn to rescue her, even if that means I die trying. I’ve scoured all of Hyrule and the Sky Islands, searching for a way to reverse her terrible fate. There’s only one more place that remains. If the answer to the riddle of how to save her is anywhere, it’ll be in the depths.

I’ll spend the remainder of my days searching for a way to save her. Because in the end, it’s always only been for her.

“Link!” Tulin’s voice, carried by the wind, breaks my reverie. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I see he’s heading toward me. He nearly knocks us down with a bear hug when we collide. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and as he backs away, I realize he’s as tall as me. 

He sees that I’ve noticed and smiles, turning his head. “Check this out! My braid is long. Kind of like yours. Looks cool, right?”

Yeah, it does, Tulin. He reminds me so much of Revali without any of the pomposity.

He’s the one I’ll miss the most and who will understand the least why I have to go. He’ll want to follow me if I tell him, and I can’t have that. He belongs here, in the sky, touched by the sun and moon. I can see his future, and it’s bright. 

Before I go, I must spend these last few days with him, building brotherly camaraderie and making memories. Hopefully, he’ll fondly reflect on our time together and forgive me for leaving. 

Pulling out my paraglider, I put on a happy face for him. 

Race you!

[wispstalk]

🍎 and 👻

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

After I'm done with Shitty Backpacking WIP I'm going to do a couple vignettes of Coradri's life between the Oblivion Crisis and the return of the dragons. I have an almost-finished piece shortly after her move to Anvil, then there's the one where she reunites with Tanis, and probably after that we'll see some of her opportunistic scheming...

🍎 apple: let’s talk about friendship in your wip. do you have any favorite friend/platonic dynamics? any friendships gone sour?

YESSSS I really wanted to spend some more time on Coradri as the social glue between Martin and Tanis. The latter two don't really like each other and would have absolutely parted ways in Chorrol if Coradri hadn't been involved. I put an excerpt below the cut

“You’ve had the purse for days,” Martin says. “Perhaps he thinks he lost it. I don’t imagine he’ll be merciful when he finds out otherwise.”

His tone is mild, but she detects a hint of reproach. She decides not to take offense. That’s his job, after all, being preachy. A mindless reflex like Irathi’s permanent glower, or her collection of stolen earrings.

“Probably not,” she agrees. “I’d better keep it forever, in that case. He looks like the sort of person who might go on a rampage.”

“He has done,” Martin reminds her. “Did he always look that way?”

“He always had the scar, as long as I can remember. Some of the older girls thought it was just so dashing. Every time he came to visit Yena’s camp, they’d be all huddled together, staring at him, you know” — she covers her mouth coquettishly— “tee hee hee.”

Brother Martin smiles. “Is it?”

“Is what?”

“The scar. Dashing.”

“Wouldn’t know,” she says with a twist of her mouth, “where men are concerned.”

“Oh,” Brother Martin says. Then, “Oh!”

“If he ever was handsome, that was three or four broken noses ago. As far as I can tell, he’s spent the past dozen years dashing his face against rocks.”

Brother Martin barks out a laugh. Irathi turns at the sound; spots them huddled together, staring at him, tee hee hee.

[tickledpink31]

Epics of Ink & Light Chapter 14: Tracking Dog

Summary: In which Flor and Ambrose set out to find Minako, but Flor is haunted by the ghosts of her past.

Notes: I am so sorry for the long wait. Work kept me busy, and I was a bit burnt out.

To my readers, the Savanaclaw arc will be taking a different turn. I must thank @raven-at-the-writing-desk for giving me permission to use their ideas for the Savanaclaw arc. If you would like to read their alternate rendition of this arc, here is the link.

If you do not want to be spoiled do not search it up.

My Instagram Read on Ao3 Read on Wattpad

<Prev [Masterlist] Next>

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Flor ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Meanwhile…

The mirror was pulling Flor, inviting her, luring her. One must be cautious when a calling takes over your thoughts. Is it a friend or a foe? Hard to say when you lose your ability to make an accurate judgment.

Just like how that tattered Veil was to her not long after Mom and Dad died.

Renowned scholars of the Wizarding Community have all said the same thing: traversing different worlds was a one-way ticket with no way back. Granted, most were specifically talking about the afterlife, and Twisted Wonderland was no afterlife. Still, the Veil in the Death Chamber piqued an intense curiosity within Flor when it came to different dimensions. During her time as an Unspeakable in the Death Chamber, the Veil had a vice-like grip on her that only worsened after her parents’ deaths, and she was subsequently transferred to a different department.

Standing in front of this strange mirror right now, the Nezumis would tell you that those scholars were dead wrong. However, it might be in their best interests to never let them know that.

The Ministry would have a field day if they find out that a two-way mirror of a different kind existed, one that was not just for communicating. Worst of all, it could be the straw the breaks the camel’s back for the Nezumis.

Actually, this wasn’t a straw. This was a whole bloody anvil.

Who knows what could have happened to Minako? Wounded like an animal somewhere? Dead with her remains scattered across the Bridge between the worlds? Flor had to swallow back a retch just from thinking about it.

“I must warn you,” Ambrose warily spoke beside her, “it was hell just to get in this very room. The damage that the blot caused to the Bridge is more severe than I assumed. Stepping inside that mirror could risk us never being able to cross the other side.”

“This is my sister.” Flor hardened her gaze at her reflection. “How could I possibly live with myself if I don’t take risks for her?” For my family?

It wasn’t long after that Flor packed her things that she faced her first obstacle, that obstacle being the crushing hugs from her siblings and her wife. They lasted far too long, and their arms squeezed a bit too much, but honestly, it’s hard to blame them. Convincing them to finally let her go was just as crushing as their embrace.

What if Ate Flor went through the mirror, and they lost her too?

Bloody hell, she was an arsehole these past two days.

“Headmaster,” Flor softened her tone. “I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday. I know you must have been kicking yourself over this mess.”

Ambrose gave her a forlorn expression. “Heavens, Mrs. Nezumi—”

“Flor.”

“Flor, I expected your anger. I would have been surprised, disappointed even if you didn’t lash out. You love your family to pieces.” Ambrose gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “I’d react the same way if a loved one of mine went missing too.”

Now, that was something Flor would pay to see: Saint Ambrose getting angry.

“You know, I’ll admit that I only trusted you because Minako did. She has a good judge of character,” Flor confessed.

Ambrose nodded solemnly. “Did you know that she was looking for someone to understand her?”

“What?” Flor’s head whipped around so fast just to take a good look at the old man. What was he getting at?

Ambrose closed his eyes in reminiscence, “That day I discovered the copy mirror. I wouldn’t have found it had I not heard your sister’s wishes.”

It hit Flor like a ton of bricks.

That day Minako disappeared out of the blue not long after the Hogsmeade catastrophe. They all assumed that she had run away, although there was no sign of how she could have possibly escaped when her bedroom was in the attic and that her window was shut. That is, unless she somehow learned how to Apparate all on her own. (It would have been a plausible theory since this was Minako, but she would have been tracked down for that by the Ministry for performing Apparition at her age.) She turned up nearly twenty-four hours later through her mirror with an old man in wizard’s robes.

Said man continued his story, “She fell right through the mirror and appeared right in front of me.”

“She must have been frightened,” Flor said.

“She was, and you know what happens when she’s frightened.”

Flor already knew: the curse would trigger.

Minako’s curse may be a strange case in both worlds, but blot was a phenomenon that was known in Twisted Wonderland. Of course, Ambrose would know why she was spitting out ink. Of course, he would have an idea on what to do about it and explain it.

Aside from the other victims, nobody really knew what bearing the curse was like.

If Flor could recall from her findings, their ancestors did not have the best track record of supporting the curse victims. Locked away from the outside world, used as scapegoats for the family’s misfortune, and at best, the victims were abandoned as soon as signs of their curse began to emerge. A premature death was sweet freedom, their only salvation.

Minako shall never know that kind of suffering, especially from her family. Well, that’s easier said than done. Families hit bumps in the road, no matter how close they are. One prominent memory often came to up that reminded Flor that.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

A year after the Tragedy, Henry, the son of the shop owner at the local tailor’s had been giving Minako a couple of shy glances whenever they stopped by the shop. Minako, in turn, had been giving him some equally bashful looks.

And it didn’t stop with the tailor’s son. There was Gwen who lived right across from them and Harper from Minako’s ballet lessons.

With the likeness of any concerned parent, Flor had been dreading the day her sister would exhibit any form of attraction. Throwing the family curse into the mix only made a recipe for disaster.

It was only a matter of time that someone would make a move on Minako. Henry, with his tickets to the travelling carnival, made plans to invite her on a date.

Or he was planning to had Flor not scared him off with a simple glare before Minako could even say yes.

“You’re not going,” Flor bluntly stated once they got home. Although she had her back turned as she put her shoes away, she could sense the dejection etching its way onto her sister’s face.

“But why?”

“You know why.” Flor could list so many reasons. “What if you get scared being up high on a roller coaster? Nullanathema can’t save you then.”

“I’m not a two-year-old.” Minako said, her teeth clenched. She continued to reason with her, “And we won’t even go on any of the scary rides. We’ll just play some games, eat some funnel cake.”

Minako made good points. There were other ways to have fun at a carnival… But even with precautions, there were several more ways to become stressed or fearful in a rowdy environment like that.

Suppose that the event attracted a large crowd, one you could easily get lost in. That would be the least of her problems—with large crowds, there could be miscreants too. A thief sneaking a hand inside your purse, kidnappers, or worse, murderers. Even if Minako did sense danger before it could snag her, panic would come in an instant. It would be like stepping on a landmine. Worse yet, the curse would trigger in front of a bunch of Muggles. The Ministry could come after them for breaking the Statute of Secrecy.

And that boy. What if Henry was not as kind as he presented himself to be? Say that he tried to go for a kiss, but Minako refused him. That rejection might be met with anger or even further harassment. Boom! A landmine.

A thousand scenarios ran through Flor’s head, all ending terribly. Minako deserved to have some fun at her age, but the cons outweighed the pros too much.

“Can you prove to me that you can control emotions when you go there? Have you been able to keep yourself stable while you were at school?” Flor hissed. In hindsight, she probably should have softened during their conversation.

“I’ve been controlling my emotions.” As Minako said this, the twisted black veins on her skin took shape.

Flor grabbed her sister’s wrist where there were no curse marks. “Look, you’re already slipping right now. Take your potion.”

Minako only jerked her arm back in response. “I’ve been controlling my emotions,” she repeated, emphasizing every word now for Flor to take the hint. “You just make it so hard. I can’t believe I’m not even going to have a love life because of everything!”

“You’re thirteen. You don’t know what love is,” Flor groaned, pinching her brow.

“You know what I mean!” Minako was close to sobbing. “Is it too much to ask to have a normal life for once?”

“Well, you can’t. You’re cursed. We’re cursed. You were kicked off the Quidditch team because of it, remember? We were lucky that word of your condition never left Hogwarts before Flitwick wiped everyone’s memories.” At the time, Flor had thought that bringing up Minako’s blunder on the Quidditch field would get the point across, but all it did was reopen old wounds.

“Don’t… talk about that.” Oily tears leaked from the corners of Minako’s eyes. The lights all throughout the house began to flicker.

All too quickly, the lightbulbs had burst and shattered with a buzz. The house dimmed and the complaints from everyone else in the house came clamouring from upstairs.

With her energy spent, Minako’s shoulders have all but sagged forlornly, perhaps knowing that she had just proved Flor right. However, Flor wasn’t celebrating here for winning the argument. She had only meant to let her sister down easy, but look at how things have escalated.

Minako didn’t have to be told to go to her room. She was already dragging herself there, most certainly to cry and cool off a bit.

And Flor? She let her sister be while she cleaned up the shattered bulbs and tried to find a way to turn the power back on. The whole time, she kept wondering how Mom and Dad would have dealt with this differently. Would they have been better?

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

After that incident, Flor had noticed how much Minako had buried herself in her studies. There was no mention of any crushes ever again after Henry. Whatever the reason Minako had for no longer pursuing romantic relationships or even friends outside of her tiny circle, Flor could only blame herself.

Crush down your emotions until they wither and die. What a great lesson, Flor!

Wild and free spirits can’t be contained. That was why Flor, for a lack of a better word, kept a looser chain on Minako in the years following as long as she had an extra bottle of Nullanathema at her disposal. She let her go out biking in the woods by herself, pursue magical creatures with caution, and even almost let her go to Romania with her friends last summer (the latter was a ship that had sunk because of that incident at Hogsmeade).

Shaking her head, Flor found herself facing the mirror once more. There was no time to be dwelling on her mistakes.

Ambrose politely offered his hand to her. “Are you ready?”

With no hesitation left, Flor accepted his hand.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall… take us to Twisted Wonderland.”

The mirror began to glow in response. They both put one foot out, and stepped through the glass.

Mirror travelling was a lot more comfortable than Apparition and less terrifying than using the Floo. It took away the feeling of being shoved into a tight space or the thought of being eaten by the flames of their fireplace. Well, it bothered her less now that she was an adult than when she was a child freshly picked from the Muggle community.

Still, getting used to mirror travelling took less than a day during their first trip to Twisted Wonderland as opposed to a whole year in Hogwarts.

All around them was an endless void. The last time Flor went through here, she swore she saw flashes of herself in a different life swirling in the haziness. Best not to get too curious sometimes, just like how the Veil could have taken Flor to the other side had her superiors not intervened.

The Nezumi family’s mirror had one particular quirk that set it apart from other magic mirrors, dimension-hopping aside. To put it simply, regular travelling mirrors can take you to different countries in less than a second, but these two mirrors added an extra step with a Bridge in between the two destinations. The Bridge was quite literally a bridge paved with a dazzling light for a lack of a better description. Rest assured, the Bridge was almost like solid glass if you were to walk upon it.

Looking at the Bridge now, it did pose a question: Minako would have come across this when she fell through the mirror. Why did she bother crossing to the other side? She likely couldn’t have known that it was a portal to another world. Even with her impulsive tendencies, surely Minako had enough common sense to not go about messing with the unknown.

On the other side of the Bridge, was their destination, currently covered in blot. Their way to Twisted Wonderland was barred by what looked like an oily parasite. Miasmic fumes wafted from it as it squelched and gurgled.

“What happened here?” Flor grimaced and plugged her nose.

“Lower your voice. They might hear us. It seems that the blotlings took an extra measure to make sure that we do not make it to the other side,” Ambrose explained.

“Summoning my Patronus should make them go away, right?”

“Do it. Make haste before they— Oh no.” Ambrose’s expression suddenly shifted into one of terror.

Flor followed the old Headmaster’s gaze, turning her head to look above them. Only then did the hissing and growling sounds finally reached her ears.

A blob of ink in the floating in the void, wriggling and bubbling just like the things hovering over their exit. It was disgusting to watch. Where were the gremlin noises coming from? It didn’t even have a mouth.

“Summon your Patronus, but make no sudden movements,” Ambrose whispered, slowly pointing his sceptre towards the blob.

This was exactly Flor had in mind when Ambrose informed her about the blotlings on the Bridge. Simple droplets of ink that were harmless at a glance, but neither of them were going to take any chances.

Happy memory in mind and a narrowed focus, Flor recited the incantation, “Expecto Patro—”

Too little, too late. All of a sudden, the grating snarls turned into a roar as a pair of chicken-like legs (or were they actually it’s arms?) sprouted from the blob. Then out popped a sinister green eye that practically made up the whole body. As it blinked, the ink squelched and dripped onto the bridge.

“Now!” Ambrose shouted.

“Expecto Patronum!”

In his Patronus incarnate, Pluton burst from the tip of her wand. The dog barked and gnashed his teeth, charging airborne towards the blotling. The inky monstrosity was gone as soon as it had appeared when Pluton chomped down on it.

It should have been over, but then more blotlings gathered in masses.

“Shit!”

And in the midst of her panic, Flor lost her focus and Pluton disappeared.

Ambrose summoned a blaze of fire. It sliced through the air and swallowed the blotlings whole. However, the swarm was only increasing.

“Flor, keep your focus!”

“Expecto Patronum!” Silvery vapour formed from the tip of her wand, but it was quick to fade, and it did nothing against the blotlings. Flor knew that her will was faltering, worst yet was that the blotlings continued to multiply.

Focus! Focus! You’ll die here if you don’t focus!

Flor stumbled back. She took deep breaths and wiped the sweat off her brow.

“Hurry!” Ambrose’s voice was becoming more and more hazy.

“Expecto Patronum!” Nothing. Flor felt like a child again in her first attempts to cast the charm.

The blotlings were closing in on her. They had amassed so much that they had become an oily, black wall with putrid green eyes. Ambrose was out of sight. Flor gagged on the smell. Quick as lightning, an inky tendril pinned her arm down, sending her to collide against the ground and her wand flying from her hand with a clatter.

“Fuck!”

A harsh yank in a fruitless attempt to free herself only spurred the demons even more, a mass of ink weighing down on Flor’s back and pushing her against the ground like a mousetrap. When the ink crept up to the exposed skin of her cheek it burnt. Her arms stretched out, desperate to find traction on her palms and crawl out of the trap she was in, but the splatters of ink made its way to burn her hands too. They wouldn’t even give her the chance to scream as they formed an oily muzzle around her mouth. They were planning to suffocate her here!

Flor got the message now—the bawling, Minako clawing at her skin, her ungodly tantrums during that awful summer. She knew that the curse was a painful experience, but how could someone not wish for death if this is what they felt every day? Minako’s willpower was stronger than she imagined.

Willpower… of course. Minako had spontaneous bouts of wandless magic because of her.

Glancing back at her wand, Flor knew that it wouldn’t get any closer. She had to give it a try. She gave the inky muzzle a good yank to rip it off her mouth like a band-aid, leaving a stinging sensation on her face. But with her mouth finally free, she blocked out her unhappy thoughts and let out a battle cry.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

From her palms, Pluton came out brighter than ever, fiercer than ever. His teeth were bared and that was all the blotlings needed to send them scattering away. To the more stubborn ones, Pluton trapped them in between his jaws and shook them around like a chew toy. Reliable as ever even postmortem. Flor couldn’t believe it as the blotlings released her.

“Good boy.” Flor allowed herself to soak in the triumph for just a brief second and swiped her wand back from the ground.

“Flor!” Ambrose’s hand reached in through the forming gaps of the of inky wall, pulling her out of the darkness.

“Look out!” Flor swung her wand above Ambrose, guiding Pluton around like a fiery torch as more blotlings descended upon them. High-pitched shrieks and snarls that promised agony echoed through the void as the monsters died by the masses.

Even with their fright of the light, much of the blot army surged on. They crashed down against the Bridge like a comet with the intent of crushing both Flor and Ambrose. They had missed but only by a few millimetres and the impact had shaken the balance of the mages.

Flor was out of breath, stumbling on her feet as she sprinted for the other side of the mirror. Pluton’s light was waning. Ambrose, skilled as he may be, was highly prone to overblot with the high level of mana in his system. Yet he wasn’t stingy with the amount of water he was spraying at the blotlings. Black dots were quickly beginning to colour his crystal.

“There’s too many of them! We’re getting out now!” Flor bellowed, pointing her wand towards the wall of ink where their exit should be. “Pluton, this way!”

Pluton readily pounced on the blot, teeth and claws plunging into the gloppy barricade. One vigorous slash ripped up an opening big enough to run through. Both mages bolted for freedom, light engulfing them once more.

The wind was knocked out of Flor as she hit a rough patch—wooden floorboards, that is. Sawdust entered her nose and mouth. She gagged convulsively and coughed them out. The hammering in her chest refused to cease, her mind still buzzing from the adrenaline.

“Ambrose?” she wheezed. She did see him jump to the other side with her, right?.

Much to her relief, there was a weak reply of, “I’m here.”

“Ambrose…”

“Yes?”

“This… isn’t the academy.”

A dark and tiny room. The windows were boarded with planks of wood where sunlight peeked into the gaps. There were grimy little knick-knacks and trinkets scattered on the shelves. The floorboards creaked and howled with each little step Flor took. She carefully walked up to a drawing desk and ran a finger across the surface, collecting a thick layer of dust. Ink from the knocked over inkwell had been spilled on it and had long since dried presumably. Whoever owned this place was either supremely neglectful or it was abandoned. She hoped that it was the latter.

“Did you move the mirror somewhere by any chance?” Flor asked. The logic of that was skewed though. Why would he move it out of his office? And into this dusty, desolate room?

“I did not request to have the mirror moved at all,” Ambrose replied. “And this isn’t the copy mirror!”

“What?”

Indeed, that was not the copy mirror. Just some regular travelling mirror.

“No…” Flor rushed back to the mirror, landing on her knees with a thud. Her hand touched the filthy glass. “No, no, no! Mirror, mirror.”

“Flor.”

“Mirror, mirror, take us back to Earth.” The mirror didn’t respond. This can’t be happening.

“Flor, please!”

“Shut up!” Flor’s grip tightened on the frame, dirtying her hands even more. Tremors ran through her as she pleaded once more. “Mirror, mirror!”

“Flor!”

Without warning, the Headmaster yanked her by the back of her jacket. Luckily, she had enough momentum this time to roll on her side as she fell back.

Flor didn’t even have time to retort back at the Headmaster when a deafening explosion burst from the mirror. With a quick incantation from his mouth, Ambrose quickly summoned a shield that enveloped them from the blast.

On a reflex, Flor had shut her eyes and covered her ears. There was no need to fold into herself with a shield to protect them, but she curled into a ball anyway. The sound of explosions took her back that night.

She heard the bits of glass shards pelting against the shield. [Flor was twenty-two, driving Kento and Alexis back home when she saw the window to Minako’s room shatter from the heat of the flames inside.]

The force of the blast sears through the wooden room next which splintered the already weak boards and ripping the entire structure apart. [The car made a violent lurch as Flor hit the brakes. Too little, too late as the roof came crashing down the second she stumbled out the door.]

The tremors didn’t stop even after the dust had settled. [Minako, whose little legs were stuck under a beam, was the only person in the house she could find. She was so still when she held her. Nary a twitch nor a rise of her chest told Flor that her sister was still alive.]

[“Wake up! Wake up!”]

Flor’s ears were still ringing. It didn’t even register to her that Ambrose was calling her name until he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Take deep breaths. Slowly now,” he soothed.

In and out. In and out. Flor slowly uncurled herself from her position, finding the strength to sit up. She squeezed the Headmaster’s arm like he was an anchor to keep her mind from drifting back to insanity.

“Thank you…” Flor swallowed back her tears. The palpitations in her chest grew lighter and eased the discomfort.

And finally, she had registered her surroundings now that the walls of the tiny house had come down. This place was deserted. The air was dense and humid, and the fact that she was donning a jacket didn’t maker her feel much better. There was a severe lack of trees with only the driest shrubs, sand, and the occasional tumbleweed.

“Where the hell are we? And why would someone have a shed in the middle of nowhere?”

Ambrose brushed the dirt off his robes. “Perhaps this shed is… or was owned by a heretic. Or perhaps it was for a magician seeking isolation in their quest for great power. I’ve known several mages who’ve travelled far up north or the deserts performing the same—”

“We’re getting off track,” Flor cut him off. She hastily removed her jacket and tied the sleeves around her waist. “Do you know where we are?”

“The Sage’s Isle doesn’t have any deserts. My best guess is that we’re in the Afterglow of Savanna or in the Scalding Sands.” Ambrose stroked his beard.

Now, I get it. “I think I know why my sister went missing.” Looking over at Ambrose’s expression, it seemed that he was beginning to realize it too.

Blot made Minako’s powers unpredictable. From blowing fuses to overgrowing the plants in their garden, there really was no telling what she could do.

“Everything, will be alright. If I recall, you have the ability to teleport,” said Ambrose.

“No!” Flor blurted out. ���It’s dangerous to Apparate overseas. I might kill us both through splinching. But… I have enough range to take us anywhere within the country… like a town or a village.” She straightened her posture, feeling hopeful about the idea. And then her shoulders sagged. “The problem is, Apparition will fail if I don’t know where to go.”

“And we don’t know if we’re in the Afterglow of Savanna or the Scalding Sands. Simply naming a place off the top of my head could risk um… splinching, you said?” Ambrose added.

Flor sighed before rummaging through her knapsack. “I guess we’re just going to have to find the nearest town ourselves in this heat. Good thing I brought some brooms.”

Ambrose jumped back in surprise as she pulled out a pair of brooms. Despite how old they were, they were still quite fast.

“Ah, extension charms. I forgot that you have those,” Ambrose chuckled nervously. 

“Can you ride?” Flor asked.

“I’m decent for someone of my age.” Ambrose gingerly plucked one of the brooms from her hand.

“Good. Let me know if you’re feeling tired. I don’t want you to have a stroke.”

And so, they mounted on their brooms. They soared high into the air, the desert sun beating down on them. With any luck, the next town shouldn’t be too far.

And Flor sure hoped that luck was on her sister’s side too.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Notes:

I was going to write about what Minako has been up to in the second half of the chapter, but the bit with Flor and Ambrose got a bit too long. I didn't want to leave people waiting any longer. Thank you all for your patience.

I wanted to draw Flor's patronus too, but I didn't have time. Maybe someday, I'll get to it.

[harrynochill]

it’s my 30th birthday and, honestly, I wasn’t convinced I’d make it this far

Here’s something I wrote last month; I’m not totally sure what I wanted from it

✨bonus moment of vulnerability✨

Today is the 9 year anniversary of when my mom died. If you’ve spent time with me in the last 8 years, you probably already know my feelings about her.

My mom was dealt an exceptionally difficult hand. She talked about how heavy the pressure of being a preacher’s daughter was on her. She was told she was never going to have children, which devastated her. She went through some traumatic events; some of which I heard about in jokes, some in stories, and, I’m sure, some not at all.

She did eventually have kids, obviously, and I think I should be grateful for that. It’s complicated.

She was suddenly left to raise 3 kids, who she was told she wasn’t supposed to have in the first place, by herself. She had a lot of insecurities, a lot of fears, and a lot of anger. With my dad buried, she didn’t know where to direct those feelings anymore.

I don’t say she tried her best - I think she tried to find happiness and love elsewhere, but she didn’t realize we would give it to her freely if she let us. Instead, she got mean. She thought everyone, family included, was against her, and she would make them regret it.

She got cancer, which felt like a mean joke. I spoke at her funeral, and I think I embarrassed her dad. I felt worse about that than her dying, which was very telling at the time. I wanted, so badly, to have a mom I loved. I still do.

I could talk about how I’d laugh when she did my makeup as a child or about how much I loved and prayed for curly hair just like hers. I could also talk about the times she told me I wasn’t truly a part of her family or the times she tried convincing my brothers why their sister is worthless.

She was a person, and like all people, she deserved to find love and happiness. In her frantic search for those things, she didn’t realize she left her children as collateral damage. She hampered my own chance at those things by withholding them; I’ve found ways to cope instead.

Sometimes I think my relationship with my mom is messy and complicated. Most days it feels black and white. I feel guilty for loving my dad as much as I do and not feeling the same about my mom. I feel guilty for understanding exactly why she acted the way she did but expecting something better. I feel emotionally stunted by her, and embarrassed that I can’t shake it off.

I’m sorry that my mom had such a strong internal struggle with herself. I’m sorry that I didn’t have someone I knew I could trust with my heart.

————-—————————————————/

I also like this, which I honestly don’t remember writing but found in my notes

I’m still just a little girl

I’m destined to be at least a little sad all the time

I’m so lonely, and I’m learning that loneliness has a physical effect on the brain

I wonder how misshapen mine is

I wonder if it can be repaired

Is it smooth, a part of me so underdeveloped that it never even had to pretend to strain?

Maybe it’s wrinkled as a raisin, so dehydrated and forgotten that it’s collapsed in on itself.

I felt so good, just in time to remember what I’m supposed to feel.

If I hate everyone, I’m supposed to eat. If I think everyone hates me, I should sleep.

What do I do when there’s no hate - just a complete and firm understanding that I’ll never not be alone? When I ache for the loneliness I had at 16; the one that I was sure would be temporary, should I drink something? Do I smoke until I forget what I was so sad about?

How the fuck does anyone get a good nights sleep?

Sometimes (a lot of the time) I feel like a ghost, but I don’t have anyone to haunt. I hover over myself, the self fulfilling prophecy of my own black cloud, and remind myself of what isn’t. I haunt myself with the ghosts of things that never happened, that never could happen, and that might have happened if I wasn’t such a chicken shit.

[daisyswift3]

Yes exactly!! It’s amazing how well it all fits together now. “Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked, spineless in my tomb of silence” // “And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)” // “My twisted knife, my sleepless night” // “I dreamed about it in the dark, the night I felt like I might die” // midnights, the 13 sleepless nights throughout her life // “All those nights, he kept me goin', swirled you into all of my poems, now we're at the starting line”

Everything being completely white and washed out. The fact that she can be upside down bc she’s a floating ghost. And it parallels the upside down bearding/game room in the lover house

I’m now thinking RFI is also abt the music industry as a whole and not just her beards even tho they are still apart of it. “Wondered how many girls he had loved and left haunted” being abt how the music industry will discard female artists once they reach a certain age in exchange for a new shiny artist. “Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him…But if he’s a ghost then I can be a phantom holding him for ransom…He can be my jailer” ➡️ Phantom Taylor being locked up after being killed by the music industry ➡️ Fresh Out the Slammer. “Baby let the GAMES begin” = the games where devils roll the dice = the hunger games. “But if I’m a thief then he can join the heist” = the mastersheist (the prophecy; 1st and 3rd 🎃 messages)

“Shining just for you…I'm still on that trapeze, I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me” // “You look like Taylor Swift in this light we’re loving it, you’ve got edge, she never did” // “Will you still want me when I’m nothing new” // “I'll get older, but your lovers stay my age” // “And you jump up, but she's too young to know this song that was intertwined in the magic fabric of our dreaming, old habits die screaming” // the age gap relationship in ATW 10 min version representing Taylor’s relationship w the music industry and how it took advantage of her // “I stopped CPR, after all, it's no use, the spirit was gone, we would never come to, and I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free” // “Give me back my girlhood it was mine first”

“Everyone is a shiny new toy for like 2 years” // “But you should’ve seen him when he first got me. My boy only breaks his favorite toys…put me back on my shelf”

“Every love I've known in comparison is a failure, I forget their names now, I'm so very tame now, Never be the same now, now” // Her tweeting at Glennon Doyle the author of Untamed abt how her writing helped her so much // “I’d give you my wild” // “Please picture me in the weeds, before I learned civility, I used to scream ferociously anytime I wanted” // “I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean, ‘Don’t you worry folks we took out all her teeth’” // Her feeling like a circus animal being forced to perform // “I’m still on that tightrope…I’m still on that trapeze” // Her going to the Sydney zoo 2 days in a row // “And you’ll poke that bear till her claws come out” // The bear costume profile pic // “He was a cad, wanted her bad, just like any good trophy hunter, And she liked the way it tastes, taming a bear, making him care, watching him jump then pulling him under” // The willow mv glass closet scene // The caged songbird symbolism // The electroshock therapy in the fortnight mv

How did it end? It ends w Taylor and her ghost dying. “Two graves, one gun”

UMM so cruel summer and a lot of other songs are making a lotttt more sense now that I’ve realized the “devil” that Taylor keeps referring to is actually the music industry as a whole thanks to @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (see this post). “He looks up grinning like a devil” // “I would’ve stayed on my knees and I damn sure never would’ve danced w the devil AT 19” // “Dear reader if you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss.” Do you remember the Top Global Artist vid that spotify released that had cruel summer as the background song and had a bunch of cruel summer references? Yeah go back and watch that again w this context in mind 😃 Taylor (the angel) has had enough of the games and is gonna end them once and for all which is very Katniss Everdeen of her—hello the archer 🏹 if any of you have read or watched the hunger games you know how the story ends

And you'll also remember that Katniss escapes the games twice by cheating--the first time w poison berries and the second time by destroying the arena itself (which was a clock) WITH itself using a lightning strike current at midnight that shot thru her arrow -> "And there was one prize I'd cheat to win." Not to mention Katniss was the mockingjay, a symbol of rebellion and resistance. And the fire symbolism in this trilogy was meant to represent how that rebellion can spread from a spark of hope. Snow lands on top but fire melts snow. Taylor is a huge hunger games fan so I wouldn't be surprised at all if these parallels were intentional. Also I'm not the first one to notice the hunger games connections, I saw some other gaylors point this out so I can't take full credit for that

“You play stupid games you win stupid prizes” // “Devils roll the dice” // "Baby let the games begin" // The scrabble instagram post // The mastermind chess board // "You see all the wisest women had to do it this way, cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game" // "No more keeping score now I just keep you warm. No more tug of war now I just know there's more"

I think it's possible Taylor knew that her masters were gonna be sold hence all the game imagery and songs abt heartbreak on lover

She's literally gonna take down the industry as a whole and expose everything. This is the reason for all the cryptic messages and meticulous planning. AND THIS IS WHAT THE ALBATROSS IS ABT TOO. “She’s the albatross she is here to destroy you.” They tried to keep her locked away in cages and towers and closets and tried taming her and pulling out her teeth but it didn’t work

“Devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger” SHE’S the devil now and she’s abt to make their lives a living hell

“She’s the death you chose” i.e. the music industry chose to kill Taylor (which is why TTPD is a post-mortem album) so now she’s coming back to haunt them hence the ghostly Victorian attire. “We gather here we line up weeping in a sunlit room and if I’m on fire you’ll be made of ashes too.” THIS is the karma she’s talking abt that will happen at midnight!!

“You’ll see me in hindsight tangled up w you all night burning it down”

I am the APPARITION. I am the LINE OF POETRY. THAT’S TAYLOR. SHE’S THE GHOST WRITING POST-MORTEM POETRY

Literally feel like I am abt to explode from all the earth-shattering revelations I’ve just had

[mykneeshurt]

hii!! I must say, I love your writing!

Totally in love with haunted (read in ao3). I see you taking requests, so I wondering if you could write a scenario when ghost is married with a woman who's part of the cod:ghosts(2013) team, a total badass, and she and her team coming to visit/help 141 and their reaction when then see Simon always near her and being a little touchy.

Thank u!!!!

Thank you so much for reading Haunted, I’m so glad you’re loving it. New chapter soon. I hope you like this wee drabble! I enjoyed writing it hehe. Your name is Smith in this (your maiden name).

The meeting room had a certain buzz about it, Task Force 141 had been called by Laswell to meet their new team. Ghosts. They’d be working together on their next mission, The Ghosts were well known and well feared. Price sat with his men in anticipation of your arrival.

Eventually Laswell entered and the room fell silent, ‘gentleman, I’d like to introduce you to the Ghosts.’ You each filed in, wearing all black tactical gear, black balaclavas hung from your belts which carried the familiar Ghost sigil.

Working her way down the line Laswell introduced each team member and their specialist field. ‘This is Sargent David Walker, or Hesh. Canine unit and specialist weapons operator.’ Hesh stepped forward and nodded before stepping back. ‘His younger brother Sargent Logan Walker, specialist weapons operator.’ Again stepping forward and nodding in their general direction. ‘Captain Thomas Merrick, explosives and Sargent Keegan Russ, Sniper and close combat expert.’ Both men offered grunts before returning to their position.

141 took in their intimidating counterparts, sizing them up as one does. Ghost however shifted in his chair, seeming inpatient. Soap clocked it straight away, he’d make a mental note to ask him later. ‘And finally’ Laswell continued ‘we have Commanding Officer Smith, close combat expert, Apache pilot and Sniper.’ You were dwarfed by your men as you stepped out from beside Keegan, your average 5’5 muscular frame seemingly lost before them. ‘Pleasures all mine gentleman’ your velvet like voice swept across the room.

Your eyes landed on Ghost almost instantly, fighting yourself to hide a smirk. ‘I look forward to working together on Operation Tasmyn. Anything we can help with we will.’

Soaps eyes widened, a wee think like you in charge of those burly men. He elbowed Ghost ‘creepin Jesus, wouldn’t wanna get on the wrong side of her’ he grinned. Ghost rolled his eyes ‘shut up Soap, fuckin ell.’ Ghost rearranged himself in his seat, again. He was never normally this fidgety.

‘Go and get to know one another in the mess hall, Price? Smith? My office in one hour to discuss the plan.’ Laswell took her leave but not before pulling you into a tight hug. As everyone filed out Soap noticed Ghost linger behind, watching to make sure everyone had left. You were messing with some equipment not noticing Ghost behind you. Soap decided to loiter outside the door he needed to know what had gotten his Lieutenants back up.

As he peered through the crack in the door he saw Ghost run his hand down your arm and squeeze your hand. Soap furrowed his brows, you know each other? You turned around and greeted Ghost with a beaming smile. He let go of your hand and the two of you began talking, he couldn’t quite hear the muffled words but he noticed how Ghost would shift closer to you with every breath. He scurried away before he had the chance to get caught.

—

The next day at lunch you were recovering from an intense exercise session with the boys. As you walked past a table full of Privates one decided to make a comment towards you. ‘How many you reckon she fucked to get to where she is?’ Ghost went to get up from his seat and pretty much kill him. But you were able to shoot him a look which halted him immediately. Gaz clocked it this time, he nudged Soap. ‘What was that look she just shot him? Do they know each other?’ Soap, never one to pass up some gossip kept his voice low ‘I dunno, but I reckon they do. Saw em talking after our meeting yesterday, looked real cosy.’

They watched you like a Hawk as you slowly made your way over to the Private. The mess hall was silent. You gripped his jaw forcing him to look at you ‘well, seems we’ve forgotten our place, haven’t we Private Anderson.’ You gripped hard and bent in low towards him ‘I didn’t fuck anyone to get to where I was, but I did slaughter people in their sleep. Best keep one eye open eh?’ Smirking you let his face go and tapped his cheek, he instantly backed down, face a deep shade of pink.

Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, were they intimidated? Turned on? Fuck knows. As you passed by you glanced over at Ghost as if to say ‘good boy.’ His demeanour changed, he relaxed slightly and uncurled his fists, before he got up and followed you. ‘Aw they deffo know each other’ Soap whispered ‘we just gotta find out how.’

—

After lunch you moved onto a team building exercise, Laswell deemed it necessary as you were going to be working closely on the next mission. So far everyone was getting along well, Soap and Logan becoming fast friends. Naturally Soap and Gaz pushed for a night out, you and Price agreed, feeling it would be beneficial to let your guards down.

At the local pub, dressed in civvies, you all sat in a booth and began swapping stories. You excused yourself to go to the bar and after a few minutes Ghost joined you. ‘There he goes again!’ Soap excitedly pointed out, ‘they’re fuckin, gotta be.’ Gaz sipped his pint eyes transfixed on you and Ghost. ‘Really? How the fuck could he land a woman like that?’

‘You’re not very good at playing it cool Simon’ you giggled, ‘I know Soap, and Gaz is it? Are definitely on to us.’ It took all of his willpower not to touch the small of your back or kiss your cheek. ‘Fuck, I know love. Can’t help it. Coulda murdered that prick today.’ You thanked the bartender for your drink as you nursed the cold pint. ‘I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. Besides, my lot would have been on him like rabid dogs if I wanted them to. Relax my love.’ He loved it when you called him that.

You walked back over to the booth, Ghosts eyes watching you as you swayed your hips. ‘Oh my god. Yep. They’re fukin’ Gaz snickered. They were like two naughty school boys gossiping in class.

Ghost sat back down, next to Soap but opposite you. Your team knew Ghost was your husband, you’d been together a long time, childhood sweethearts. Ghost was always a private man so he saw no reason that they needed to know he was married. Besides, more leverage if was captured, so he kept it to himself. Price figured it out as soon as you stepped forward on your first day. When you’d gone for your meeting with Laswell and him he blurted it out. ‘How’d you guess?’ You asked him laughing. Price rubbed his beard ‘I know the look of a subordinate husband anywhere. I am one. My wife runs the show’ he laughed.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, it had been months since you’d been in the same room as each other. You smiled at him over the rim of your pint glass, your eyes lighting up every time. Talk soon moved onto battle scars, in other words who has the biggest dick. Everyone took it in turns, Soap showed an impressive one on his bicep from a shot gun wound. Logan, on his chest from where he was stabbed and Keegan one on his thigh from where he had been impaled falling from a building. Finally it was your turn, you stood and lifted your top a mangled scar ran from your breast to your hip. ‘Fuckin hell does it keep going?’ Soap asked. Throwing Ghost a shit eating grin you nodded, you started to undo your jeans and pull the fabric to below your hip bone.

Not being able to take anymore Ghost stood knocking the table, the boys scrambled to steady their drinks. He scooped you up and over his shoulder earning a belly laugh from you. ‘I fuckin knew it!’ Soap shouted gleefully. Ghost whipped his head around shooting him a look before carrying you out of the pub, to do god knows what to you. Soap sat back in the booth feeling smug, ‘I knew they were fuckin!’ The Ghosts all laughed to themselves ‘they ain’t fuckin, they’re married!’ Soap and Gaz looked at each other in utter shock. They had no idea. ‘Smith is her maiden name’ Logan explained ‘she kept it so no one would know. You’re looking at Mrs Simon Riley.’

[mercy-burning]

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh,  Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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[therealvinelle]

Thoughts on Esme?

I have them.

To start with, I see Esme quite differently from the way this fandom appears to see her, yet also quite differently from the way Meyer intended for me to see her.

I think we all on this website have noticed that fandom has morphed Esme into a very different character than the one we met in the books.

Now, some people take this further than others, and it’s gotten to a point where I can’t tell if fandom believes this new and shinier Esme is canon, or if they know she isn’t canon but don’t care. Either way, the common denominator to all variations of fanon Esme is that this fandom is sick of the way Stephenie Meyer writes women, and see Esme as the worst affected by all. And fanon Esme is a vindication, one where Esme is an assertive, intelligent, feminist woman with a fantastic sex life and an impressive career. The ideal American woman of the 21st century.

And to each their own - if this makes people happy, then by all means. This meta is my personal opinion on her, though, and since fanon Esme has gained such a strong foothold in fandom I would be amiss not to bring her up.

Another thing I’d be amiss not to bring up is movie Esme. The Esme portrayed in the movies is, like so many of the characters, a different person than the one in the books. She is charming, warm, appears to have no difficulty controlling herself, and off the top of my head I can think of one time where she’s given what was originally Carlisle’s moment. I’m talking about sparing Bree - in the books this is something only Carlisle would do, something that has the others going, “jeez, Carlisle, only you”. In the film, this is a decision he and Esme make as a couple. This changes both their characters.

So, these versions of Esme exist, and they’re good characters, but they’re not the Esme I see in the books.

What we meet in canon is a woman who contents herself with being a 50’s housewife. No one in the house eats, she still knows how to cook. Making beautiful homes and keeping them beautiful is not just her passion, it appears to be all she wants to do. Now, humans can be housewives, and that’s a choice I respect very much, but Esme is a vampire, living in a vampire coven. The Cullens have zero need for a housewives. And she doesn’t do other things, either. There is only the creation of homes and being a mother. 

And so Esme floats through eternity, embodying the Mother archetype, going through all the motions mothers do with no deeper meaning to any of it.

She gives me the creeps.

I don’t know if anyone here has read Coraline, but in that book we meet the Other Mother. Other Mother always has time for Coraline, she makes all the delicious food Coraline could ever want, and loves her very much. The cat tells us that this may be, Other Mother may love Coraline, but it could also just be she wants to eat her. And since Bella does end up sowing buttons into her eyes, I can’t shake the association.

I think the Esme Platt who ran away to fend for herself and her child, who got a job and struggled to be independent, died with her child. This was her last tie to hope, to this world, and with his death she gave up on life in a way nothing could meaningfully recall.

She then wakes up as a vampire, beautiful (I’m guessing here, but one of the most common things men like to insult women is by demeaning our appearance. An abusive husband, living with Esme in a time where a woman’s appearance decided her worth even more than it does today, would definitely use this against her. Not to mention, it is a cornerstone in female socialization that we’re taught to value our looks. Becoming inhumanly beautiful would boost anybody’s spirits and install confidence, and I doubt Esme was an exception), stronger and faster than any human man, invulnerable, powerful in a way she never dreamed she could be. 

The man she idolized since she was a child, who was supposed to be an unattainable dream, is there, and even more wonderful than she remembered. He’s the one who saved her, and within the year he becomes her husband. 

(This by itself is too fantastical, too storybook ending, and I imagine snapped whatever remaining strings Esme still had tethering her to sanity. Any newborn vampire would find themselves in a surreal new state of being, but this is a step further. There’s getting to have it all, and then there’s... well, then there’s this.)

Then there is Edward. Days after she lost her son, she’s presented with a young man who lost his mother. 

(And this might be a post of its own, but: we never see Esme be a mother to any of the other Cullens, and I don’t think she is. It’s just Edward. And she loves him all the more for it. She wouldn’t blink at Bella dying if Edward decided his thirst weighed heavier than his fascination with the human. This is canon - they have a conversation about this, and Esme make her stance clear. She puts Edward above absolutely everything else in this world.)

What I’m getting at here, is that Esme was handed perfection on a silver platter. All the things she’d lost, all the things she’d lacked, things that had been taken from her in the cruelest manner possible, were now given to her, in perfect condition at that. Esme will never have to worry about things like money, sickness, aging, or even Edward growing up and leaving the nest. (And even when he does get married and have a baby, he still doesn’t leave the nest!)

Esme was given the ultimate do-over with vampirism, and she spends it being what she never got to be in life. (And I’ll link this post, because Bella’s in the same situation, if less extreme, and they’re both in for a rude awakening. And I don’t think Esme will cope at all.)

To Esme, vampirism is startlingly similar to the afterlife. It’s her tailored paradise, eternal and perfect. There’s the fact that every so often she slips up and eats people, but that only adds to the eeriness of it all.

Esme Cullen is more a ghost story than a vampire to me, haunting whichever house the Cullens inhabit under the guise of being a homebody.

(As for the her supposed sex life with Carlisle - Meyer said they have a spiritual relationship. That’s hilarious, and code for they’re not having sex.)

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Leave, Then Go (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Soooo... I did a thing. 

The response was positive, so I went with it. Double Lizzie! Excited to present you with the Wanda/ Leigh crossover! Let me know what you think, I’m actually excited about this!

Summary: Y/n works on mending bridges with Leigh when she meets the alluring Wanda Maximoff. 

After waiting for what felt like hours, the woman you were waiting for finally appeared. You scrambled to your feet as you rushed forward to meet her. Concern immediately took precedent when you were able to fully take in her appearance. 

She looked like a ghost of who she used to be. Beautiful, but void of life. 

The bags under her eyes were prominent and the naturally glimmering emerald eyes that you used to love were dull. Empty. Dark like a storm rather than bright like the sea. Her shoulders were slumped forward with the weight of life when she used to stand so tall before.

It was as though she had been drained of all the light that she used to radiate.

Guilt clawed angrily at your chest. “Leigh.” You breathed out, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

When she met your eyes, her expression hardened. That was always a special talent of hers. Making you feel small with just a look. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hi Y/n. You look good. Thanks, I did start running again. Green juice, it does wonders.” You sarcastically began a conversation with yourself. If her defense mechanism was being cold, yours was humor. 

Leigh wasn’t amused by your antics in the slightest.

If looks could kill you’d be six feet under now. “What are you doing here?” She repeated in annoyance, heavily emphasizing every word. 

Everything about her posture screamed impatience. “I-I wanted to check on you sooner. I did.” You fearfully watched a disbelieving smile spread across her lips. You knew that look. She was about to tear you apart. “I know! I know. I’m way too late and I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Leigh.” You rushed out, the words clumsily stumbling over one another as they tumbled from your lips. They were sincere though. You hoped she knew that.

“That’s not good enough.” The bite of her words made you flinch. Leigh moved to step around you, but you caught her arm.

You dropped your hand when you noticed her eyes fall to the place you made contact. “I know it’s not.” A heavy sigh escaped your lips. “By the time I heard the news, it had been months. Then it took me months to work up the courage to see you again… The last time we saw each other wasn’t exactly a… fond memory.”

Leigh’s eyes began analyzing you critically. You shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. “I needed you, Y/n. I needed you and you weren’t there.” Her eyes began to shine slightly with unshed tears.

The shame you felt made it impossible to maintain eye contact with the woman before you. “I know.” You whispered. “And I’m sorry, Leigh. Truly. I am. If you allow me, I’d like to earn your forgiveness. Your trust. To prove I can be there for you and be the friend you need.”

“Friend?” Leigh raised an eyebrow as she loosely crossed her arms. “If my memory serves me correctly that’s the reason you weren’t there in the first place.”

You awkwardly rubbed your arm. “Yes. Friend. I can do that. I can be that for you… If you give me the chance.”

Leigh stared at you intently, her eyes searching yours, for what you didn’t know. “No more grand declarations or ultimatums?” 

“No grand declarations or ultimatums.” You repeated as you smiled hesitantly back at her. 

You desperately tried to beat back the memory that lingered at the forefront of your mind. Of tear stained cheeks and white dresses.

After a tense moment of silence, Leigh nodded. “Probation.” She warned simply with a point of her finger as she moved around you to go into her house.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You expected her to tear you apart. Scream at you until she was blue in the face. “I’ll call you?” You called after her unsurely. “We can get coffee?”

“Mmm.” Leigh hummed flippantly over her shoulder, barely audible as she closed the door behind herself.

With a small smile you turned and began walking back in the direction of your own apartment. The conversation had gone better than you had dared to hope it would. Leigh could be cruel when she was hurt, and you knew you had hurt her. Leaving the conversation unscathed felt like nothing short of a miracle. 

___________________________

Lying awake in bed later that night, your mind couldn’t help but wander to Leigh. Not that those thoughts were anything out of the ordinary. Seeing her today though made you worry even more than usual. 

Hey. I don’t know if this is still

your number. It’s Y/n. 

Read 12:14 a.m

You watched the bubble appear and disappear at the bottom of the screen several times before your phone chimed with a reply. 

Is this a booty call?

Sent 12:19 a.m.

What? No! I just wanted

to check on you.

Read 12:20 a.m.

Surprising. 

Sent 12:21 a.m.

Surprising that it’s not

a booty call or surprising

that I’m checking on you?

Read 12:22 a.m.

You tell me.

Sent 12:22 a.m.

I really did want to check

on you, Leigh.

Read 12:24 a.m.

I’m fine. Goodnight.

Sent 12:25 a.m.

Goodnight, Leigh. I’ll be at 

Coffee Code tomorrow morning doing 

some work if you want to stop by.

Read at 12:26 a.m.

After a few minutes of silence, it was clear she wasn’t going to reply, so you allowed your eyes to close as you drifted into a restless sleep. Still haunted by the image of white dresses and tear stained cheeks. 

___________

The bustle of the early morning crowd at the local coffee shop was always a place of serenity for you. The sounds of everyone around you going on with their lives was calming white noise to you and made doing tasks easier. 

“Excuse me?” You looked up and smiled slightly, actually surprised that Leigh had taken you up on your offer. “Do you mind if I sit here with you? It’s pretty crowded.”

Relief was your initial response to seeing her. There was still sorrow in her eyes, but the resentment she regarded you with yesterday had faded. There was an air of shyness that she carried that was unfamiliar to you. 

Leigh was many things but timid was not one of them. “Of course not, I did invite you after all.” 

Her head tilted slightly, and her movements became hesitant as she sat across from you. “I’m sorry?” 

Nerves forced you to look away from her and fiddle with the cup of coffee before you. “Last night? I really was trying to check on you.” The smooth porcelain under your fingers distracted you from seeing the way the woman before you watched you with confusion. “You look beautiful today by the way.” 

Regret flooded your racing mind as soon as the words fell from your lips. The compliment was definitely overstepping the boundaries of friendship. 

A light blush spread across Leigh’s cheeks at your words. Odd. Leigh usually dismissed your compliments or rolled her eyes. “Um…” The other woman’s nose scrunched slightly. “I think you may have me confused with someone else.”

You weren’t sure what game she was playing, and it put you on edge. “Leigh, it’s obviously you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not your friend. My name is Wanda.” The woman informed you shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your eyes widened in disbelief. This woman was the spitting image of Leigh. It wasn’t Leigh though. That much became clear the more you observed her.

For the first time since she sat down you were able to detect the subtle differences. Wanda’s hair was just a shade darker. The make-up she wore was just a tad more noticeable. The many rings stacked on her fingers were accessories that Leigh would never wear. 

More importantly, the way she carried herself. It was heavy and timid but lighter than Leigh. Something about Wanda reminded you of breaches of sunlight breaking through storm clouds rather than the perpetual storm that Leigh carried. The storm that always seemed to be moments away from sweeping you away. 

Wanda was beautiful. Obviously. She was beautiful in a way that was different than Leigh even though they looked identical. There were no sharp edges to her beauty. It was soft. Like the first break of day. Leigh’s beauty was all sharp edges threatening to cut you to your core at every turn. 

You didn’t know Wanda, but you wanted to.

“I’m so sorry!” You quickly apologized when you realized you had been spacing out. “I must have made you so uncomfortable! It’s just that you look exactly like my friend and she makes me nervous so I didn’t even notice the difference at first. You could be her twin-” Your nervous ramblings were cut short by a hand being placed over your own. 

Wanda smiled slightly and all you could do was cover your face in embarrassment. She must think you’re a psychopath. “It’s okay…” She trailed off and raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on. “Oh! My name is Y/n.” You shook your head as you humiliated yourself even more with each passing minute. “I’m so embarrassed.”

The melodic sound of her laughter drifted into your ears causing your stomach to flip. “Don’t worry. I think it’s cute.” Your cheeks burned at her words. The chime of her phone interrupted the moment as she finally pulled her hand back. 

A small frown tugged at the corner of her lips as she read over the message on her phone. “Not to over step, but is everything okay?”

“Yes. I just need to leave now unfortunately.” You noticed an almost undetectable accent framed her words. The accent just made her all the more alluring to you. “Do you think I could have your number?” She asked shyly as she tugged at the sleeves of her sweater.

Without hesitation, you scrambled to find a pen and a loose scrap of paper to write your number on. “Here you go.” You both shared bashful smiles when your hands grazed one another.

With a small wave, and a soft smile Wanda turned to leave. “I’ll call you.” Excitement bubbled in your chest at the thought as you dreamily watched her walk out of the coffee shop.

“Okay. Am I going to regret coming?” You jumped at the unexpected appearance, causing you to spill your coffee. You mumbled several choice expletives under your breath as you desperately attempted to salvage the papers that you had spent the entire morning working on. 

Realizing that the attempts were futile you crumpled the papers and focused on drying the table. “We’re off to a great start already.” You heard Leigh sarcastically muse from her place across from you.

Nerves bloomed in your chest, knowing it was actually Leigh sitting across from you. You treaded forward cautiously. “S-sorry. I’m glad you made it out, Leigh. It’s good to see you.” You stuttered out. 

“I would ask how the coffee is, but it looks like the table would know more than you would.” Even more sarcasm. Definitely Leigh. Like you had noted when Wanda was there, Leigh was all sharp edges.

At the thought of Wanda, you leaned forward, pretending to not notice the way Leigh’s aloof attitude faltered slightly. “Do you have a twin?”

A dry laugh fell from Leigh’s lips. More controlled than Wanda’s. “What? Are you on drugs?” 

“I think I may have just met your twin.”

Leigh’s stare became cautious when she realized you weren’t joking.

There it is! Debating making this into a series. If I did should Wanda have powers or should she just be a normal person? Also how does the title Love Me (Or Let Me Go) sound? :) Let me know what you all think, I’m excited to hear back from you all! Thoughts and comments always welcome!

[thebigoblin]

about 5.07

yes this is about 9 1 1 show, and yes I did write this in a reblog to one post that was one more too many (the post I am talking about), but I just wanted to reiterate my love for this episode, even if most people did not like it. 

This is an exact copy/paste of what I said in the reblog:

Buck and Eddie are not the only characters in the show.

Listen. I, too, kept wondering where Eddie was (most probably with Chris, after Bobby/his therapist forced Eddie to just take a day for himself, given his history), and felt rather bereft without that weekly dose of Buddie DumbSassery, but it isn’t a Wrong Move on the show’s part. It’s pretty clever actually to focus on the other characters, other plots (like the Jeffery one) while still moving forward in the most in-character way they can manage.

We see May handle her own, without Claudette coming to her “rescue”.

We see Harry’s trauma get resolved, and in a rather satisfactory way as well. Harry believes no one else has gone through what he has, that no one understands him, but the Detective talks to him, and wow I hadn’t thought of that parallel before, but that makes so much sense. Harry getting to see the Detective be at work again is the inspiration for him choosing to go back to his childhood home.

Honestly, I loved the Grant Family moments this episode. (Not adding Nash because tbh Bobby was just… there, this episode, nothing more).

Hen and Eva’s storyline got wrapped up. Yes, it seemed so out of the blue, but Eva has been a ghost to Hen and Karen for years now, in fact through Karen’s own admission Eva’s very existence haunted her. Confronting that fact this episode was a pretty neat, the theme fit, plus now we can be 99% sure Eva won’t be back! Plus this gives closure to them all.

We also see Chimney talking to Hen, and we get the confirmation that Chimney has forgiven Buck to some degree—"Buck said [Maddie’s location]“ is a clear indication that they talked to each other, that Chimney chose to finally answer Buck’s calls, was ready to face his friend after their last meeting (even if that was through a call).

Chimney is still connected to the 118, even as he chases after a ghost—Maddie. He hasn’t gone "off the rails” in his pursuit (which is a Very Real thing that can happen, and is a somewhat famous trope I believe, except Chimney has Jee-Yun, (and distantly Hen) to ground him) and is very much capable of logical thinking (proven by the fact that Chimney saved that baby).

What I’m trying to get to is this: We see Chimney’s progress in his goal. Literally. The show gave us Chimney’s progress in his own sub-plot. (And the ghost theme worked well with a blast from the past, aka Chimney’s former mentor, Eli).

Then there’s Maddie. She’s making progress, too, even if it’s off-screen. But we learn another vital thing here: she is where she had been once, with Doug, arguably her biggest demon (I’d say her Postpartum Depression is an even bigger demon, because this is internal, she has to get better and that is all she can do here, she can’t run away from her demon this time) and that just, again, fits with the theme. She’s chasing her worst memories to remind herself that she has faced worse before, that she has come up on top even then.

I’m sorry, but despite Buddie being one of my favorite ships too—because of the fandom, really, and the amazing metas I get to see, because let’s be honest there is a lot of jumping jacks of the brain needed when it comes to this show—I can’t get over how the fandom has been after this episode. 5×07 is definitely not a filler episode (unless your sole purpose for watching the show is Buddie only), it has great substance if you look for it, if you can get past your vehement need of having your OTP be in all the episodes. Season 1 wasn’t so bad, was it?

And oh, lest I forget, Taylor Kelly. We seem to be heading towards a “Taykay Begins” sort of episode, and I’m excited. She’s going to be given some backstory, something other than a “Career Focused Individual” and “Buck’s Red-Headed Hot Girlfriend.” Remember when y'all complained about Ana Flores just being a prop? Yeah, I think the show writers heard you. (Actually not, since changing scripts so fast would be hard I imagine, but still, you know what I mean).

So, yeah. 5×07 wasn’t a bad episode, it wasn’t a filler episode, and it wasn’t a flop. It just focused more on the other people on the show, and I for one loved it. 9 1 1 show is about humans and their path to healing and contentment even after the worst of tragedies have hit, it’s not a Romance show, even though romance does weave itself beautifully in the narrative that is the 9 1 1. So yeah. Good Episode.

[turquoisea]

Family reunion

Pairing: Dabi/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dub-con, Degradation, Brother/Sister Incest, Manipulation, Guilt-tripping, OOC, Smut

Contains manga spoilers. Minors DNI.

Words: 4130

Synopsis: You was kidnapped while on your way home from work. Turned out your kidnapper was someone you knew.

A/N: I don't own any of the characters. Please read the warnings before continuing and we're gonna jump straight to the scene after (y/n) had been kidnapped (because i was too lazy to write the former part OTL)

==============

Unable to escape from the kidnapper’s tight rope around your wrists, you helplessly let him carry you to somewhere that looked like an abandoned building. Not like you could exactly tell where it was, given the fact that your eyes had been covered ever since he captured you until you two “arrived” at the destination. Either had you been able to scream or to call for help, “If you decide to be a naughty little girl and make a fuss, or to even let a single person know about this and hinder my work, I can and I will burn your whole workplace while letting your watch every single second of it.” – the kidnapper had threatened, making panic surged within your body; the only thing you could blurt out to answer his “Is that clear?” was a simple “Yes.” Not wanting to involve any of your aquaintances, you decided to keep your mouth shut the entire time. You thought that it was a better idea to wait until you could learn about what he wanted, his motives behind this before trying to escape.

He placed you down on the floor after carrying you into a small room with the action being a little too gentle for a kidnapper, you thought and opened your eyes only to be met with a pair of turquoise gazes, slightly hidden behind his spiky black hair. Those reminded you of Shouto’s left eye color but they had a rather.. captivating effect, making you unable to tear your eyes off them. More like Touya’s eyes – the recollection passing your mind was quickly brushed off, given the harsh reality that Touya has been dead for more than 10 years. You cautiously opened your mouth to ask, still keeping eye contact.

"What do you want?"

“…What do I want?” He repeated the question before slowly taking off his black face mask. The way he did it was deliberate, elegant even, as if he was putting on a show to reveal what’s hidden behind the mask. In front of you was an abnormal façade: Purple skin lied under his eye bags, his lower cheeks and lower lip, all the way down to his collarbone; connected together with the normal parts of the skin by surgical staples. An audible gasp escaped your throat the moment you realized that the man who abducted you was the wanted criminal you saw on TV.

“League of Villains.. You’re.. You’re Dabi…”

“Dabi? Ah yes, people call me that now. But I thought you would recognize me now, you’re my family after all..” He trailed off at the end, as though he was rather hurt by your comment.

“Family? Stop joking now, we don’t even know each other!”

“You sure? Even when you used to call me Touya-nii with that sweet voice of yours?”

“I said stop!! Listen, I have no idea why you know about Touya but he’s not alive anymore, don’t bring him into this!” Your shaking voice resounded with rage. In the past few years you’d partly moved on from your brother’s death, even learned how to stop tearing up whenever someone mentions him. To say you was mad was an understatement, since the kidnapper crossed the line, pulled out those emotions that you’d tried so hard to hide them away. You couldn’t stay calm anymore. This villain and the audacity to even mention Touya, let alone making such an unbearable joke about him.

“(y/n)-chan,” The way he called your name was too familiar “you still have the habit of defending me after all this time.”

“Wh..What.. do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember? You were always there to patch me up every time I went out training on my own. Those nights that distress and hatred consumed me, you were the only one who was willing to give me a shoulder to cry on, to hear me rant about that stupid family. You were the only one who didn’t refuse to look at a “failure” like me while our father focused all his attention on that “masterpiece”. You made me feel like I’m not useless, (y/n)-chan. Sure you haven’t forgotten, right?”

“You’re.. lying.. Touya-nii is..”

“Yes, yes. Everybody thought so.” He interrupted. “But I escaped from the fire and as you can see,” He raised his hand to touch the staples. “I’m still here. If I’d died in that fire, I would have become a ghost, an evil spirit to haunt the hell out of Todoroki Enji.” The explanation ended with a snort.

But not for you, you couldn’t possibly laugh about it the way he did. You were nothing but speechless. The big brother you once thought wasn’t here, could never be here with you anymore was still alive and kicking. Thoughts of how Touya had managed to live since that day started to emerge your mind and probably because of the invisible connection, the blood connection between you two, you could feel his pain, his suffering, the dull ache that never go away in every single staple on his body… It must’ve been hard for a thirteen-year-old child to manage by himself after crawling out of a literal hell, you thought, mouth still agaped with astonishment. Tears neither stopped welling up, nor did they escape your shiny orbs when you looked at him through your blurry vision. You had so many questions to ask, but none of them could be voiced.

“But that’s the story for another day. Now, we have to celebrate the happy reunion of brother and sister, right?” He interrupted your thoughts before slowly approaching you. His tall body hovered over yours, enhancing the feeling of being small and helpless as your hands still being tied behind your back. He gripped your jaw with one hand, the other started to work on the buttons of your shirt while Touya’s slightly chapped lips met your own in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly turned passionate, sloppy with his tongue chasing every corner of your mouth.

“Touya..nii..” You panted between his kisses, trying your best to stop him from doing what you think he was trying to do. “We shouldn’t.. You shouldn’t do this.. We’re siblings..”

“Ah yes, you’re my favorite sibling after all, one more reason why we should do this, right?” His stapled mouth stretched into a huge grin, then he leaned back to take in the view of your body.

“My little sister has grown up.. To be honest, I didn’t have any of these dirty thoughts when we were children but now, I just want to fucking ravish you until all you can think of is me and my cock.”

His dirty talk sent a shiver thorough your body and you started to feel heat coiling up in your core. As if amused, turned on by your reaction, Touya grabbed one of your breasts and gave it a squeeze, causing a soft moan to escape your pump lips.

“What was that? Don’t tell me (y/n)-chan is aroused by her very own brother, hm? I’ve been stalking you for a while, my little sister. ‘Twas hard to find you since you don’t live at that house anymore. Can’t believe behind all those innocent act is a little whore who gets aroused easily by her Touya-nii.” He spat out, specifically emphasized the phrase you used to call him. Blue eyes looking down at you as if you were indeed what he said – a slut waiting to be bred.

“Touya-nii.. Please stop it.. I don’t want this..” Looking up at him through your wet lashes, you said with a whimper, begging him to stop.

Little did you know it had no such effect for Touya. Seeing your vulnerable face in a helpless state only boosted his ego; he felt as if he was the only one you could rely on, the only one who was able to decide your fate and damn, he could never get bored of this.

“What a pity, (y/n)-chan, because I, in fact, DO want this.” Touya murmured between kisses, leaving red spots blossoming all over your breasts, your shoulders, your collarbone. “Don’t you want to make your Touya-nii happy (y/n)-chan? You see, there hadn’t been a single day in which these staples stopped hurting me whenever I move. My tear glands were burned ever since the fire. I couldn’t cry because when I do, it hurts and blood flows out of my eye bags.” His fingers indicated the purple skin underneath his eyes as he continued. “I've lived with emotional numbness ever since. Your big brother doesn't feel anything anymore, (y/n)-chan..” Touya trailed off.

“But you, the only one who didn’t refuse to look at me... Having you here with me really makes me happy, and the kind little sister I know wouldn’t want to take that happiness away from me right?..” Turquoise orbs looked up at you through black strands of hair. As if wavering, as if pleading, as if he was asking you for your consent.

All to hide the fact that he guilt-tripped you into this.

And with him being a quick-witted, perceptive man, Touya’s tactics were never fruitless. He could tell your conscience would be troubled if you’d turned him down, especially when he phrased the words like that. He took advantage of the shocking state you were in, making you feel pity for him and overlook his immoral behaviours.

Touya waited with bated breath, eye contact still maintained.

“I..I want Touya-nii to be happy..” – your reply after a moment of thinking only caused a chuckle to escape his mouth and it’s almost like this was all he had been waiting for, all in his anticipation. This was the exact reaction that Touya wanted and as your best big brother ever, he couldn’t possibly put off anymore without his hands as your bra, nor could he wait any longer to secure this “happiness”.

“Knew my favorite sister would say that.” Touya couldn’t hide his triumphant expression when he quickly made his way down to your skirt, lifting it up so he could see what’s underneath. Gently, he palmed your groin before dragging his middle finger between your clothed slit only to find that your panties was already soaked.

“Oh? I already knew you were a whore behind your innocent façade but didn’t think you would be this shameless.. Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “Getting all nice and wet for your own brother. You said you wanted to make me happy but in truth, you just need to feel nii-san’s cock inside your hole right? Shameless slut.”

You groaned in exasperation and opened your mouth to protest but before you could even say anything, he ripped your white panties apart, making you squirm in awe. The rough pad of his thumb dragged over your clit while his knees spread your legs wide and held them in places. Touya’s finger slowly rubbed your clit in a circular motion and you couldn’t help but wanting more of those frictions, your hips involuntarily bucked forward.

“I was going to eat my favorite little sister out, but it seems like you can’t wait any longer huh? Look at this little pussy..” He said while using his index and middle finger to swipe at your entrance, gathering your juices on them, his eyes didn’t miss the way it clenched around nothing. “You must be so, so desperate to feel anything inside your pathetic hole, right? Will my fingers be enough to satisfy it?”

“Touya-nii..”

“Don’t be vague, (y/n)-chan. Sure you don’t want to hump a pillow like a dumb slut with her hands still tied while watching me masturbate to the sight of you right? Because if you don’t use your words now, I might let us do that for real.”

“Please, Touya-nii, I don’t want to! I want.. to be filled up by you instead..”

Upon hearing your words, Touya started palming the large bulge of his pants before unzipping the fermeture, gently pulled his boxer down to show you what’s underneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of Touya’s veiny cock. It was not as big as what you usually see on movies (not that you don’t know the porn industry isn’t anywhere near realistic), but rather thin and long as it was hard, practically throbbing in his palm whenever he stroked the shaft. However, what made you surprise was the shiny Prince Albert piercing located on the glans, signaling a hard time in the near future for your cervix.

Seeing your face expression only made Touya’s smirk grew wider and he looked like the cat that got the cream when he continued making you use more of your words, making you beg for his cock.

“And you want to be filled by what?”

As hesitant as you were after seeing his cock piercing, the way his fingers ignited sparkles of fire inside your core had your pride, your uncertainty wavering. You’d rather be fucked until your mouth can’t even form a coherent sentence than be left naked and needy while watching him masturbates until he cums anywhere that’s not inside your pussy. So you used your words, like a good girl should.

“By your cock, Touya-nii! I want you to fuck me hard!”

“Sure thing, my cute little slut.” He cooed. “Who am I to refuse to give my sister what she needs? I’m a good brother after all.”

And as a “good” brother he was, Touya even slide his fingers inside your wet pussy to prepare you for his cock. Despite having a fire quirk like your father, his fingers were cold and were only warmed up by the heat inside your core. They smoothly pumped into you, scissored you open, sometimes even curled up on purpose only to slightly brush against your soft spot, leaving you wanting more. His other hand found its way again on your clit, rubbing and circling along with his continuous fingering until you were nothing but a moaning mess, begging for your release.

He decided that he’d prepared you enough and retreat his fingers just before you could reach your climax. You whimpered loudly when he took the orgasm away from you, legs instantly wrapped around his hips to pull him closer. You had never felt this touch-starved before and all you could think of was only your Touya-nii, his captivating blue gazes, his touch, his voice and his pierced cock that somehow fits perfectly on his slim but toned body. You needed to feel him and you clumsily rubbed your pussy against Touya while trying to break free from the ropes tying your wrists together. But all that you could do wasn’t near enough so you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Touya-nii.. Please.. Please give me your cock.. I can’t take it anymore, I need your cock inside me..”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.” Touya sneered as if he wasn’t the one who purposefully denied your orgasm before holding his cock, rubbing the swollen red tip at your entrance, feeling your juices mixing with beads of his precum then thrusted it all the way in. You both winced the moment you and your brother became one: you from the depth that his cock could go and him from the way your walls clenched around it.

“(y/n)-chan.. Your little pussy feels so tight.. Not that I mind how many people you slept with but damn.. This pussy's a keeper for sure..” Sighing with a shaky voice, he pulled out slowly only to slam back in ruthlessly. His hands used the dagger from before to release your aching wrists then started to rub small circles on them as if to soothe the pain. With your hands now free from bound, you wrapped them around Touya’s neck to pull him even closer, your lips moved under his to meet them in a kiss.

"Touya-nii.. Please move.." After a moment long enough for your pussy to stretch to his size, you broke from the passionate kiss to whisper to him; your tongue softly licked his lower lip, feeling the rough texture while your pussy clenched around his cock. You lifted your hips, inviting your big brother to bury his hot member deeper into you.

"Eager, aren't we?" To your plea, he only chuckled before moving his hand to grab a handful of your tits, squeezing the soft mound, toying with your swollen nipple. "Your wish is my command, my baby sister. Nii-san's going to make you feel really good now." His voice sounded so sensual when he moved his mouth close to your ear, whispered honeyed-words then nibbled at your earlobe, causing you to clench your pussy even more.

Touya's hands traveled down to grab both of your asscheeks, held them tightly in their places before he started thrusting his pulsing cock. "So good.. Touya-nii.." You moaned in rhythm with his hips whenever he bottomed out inside you; his cock piercing rubbed your walls every time he moved. The friction felt heavenly that you could feel your legs started to shake as if you couldn't control them anymore. He was different. His cock was different from anything you'd ever experienced. Touya filled you up so well, both physically and emotionally, making you feel good, feel loved, making tears well up in your eyes.

He let your legs rest on his shoulders as he continued claiming your pussy to himself, each thrust was hard and deep 'til the point that Touya's tip touched your cervix whenever he sheathed his full length in you. It hurt, but it hurt so good that not only did you not want it to stop, you wanted more and more of him, you wanted to indulge longer in this sinful pleasure.

"Fuck.. You're so tight around me.." He groaned as his pace became faster. A hand retreated from under you to hover above your neglected clit before he started stroking it softly, rubbing back and forth, drawing repeated circles onto your bundle of nerves.

Touya didn't leave anywhere on your body untouched: your tits, your belly, your inner thighs, your asscheeks, your clit, your core. His name fell out of your lips between heated moans like prayers and the pleasure kept building up that you felt like you're about to burst into bliss. Everything was so intense and you started to you wonder, is it because he denied your orgasm before or because his cock could actually bring you heaven? Those thoughts crossed your mind but you didn't know the answer. He'd fucked you dumb and now you couldn't think of anything else other than him and the tension deepening in your lower belly.

"Touya-nii.. 'M wanna cum.. Please.. Please let me cum.." You whined when you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, afraid that he would deny it again if you don't beg.

"Cum on my cock baby, let me feel you. And you should be.. Fuck.. grateful that I let you do it.." He didn't stop his assault on your clit as he railed you hard and fast, his thrust grew sloppier when your pussy clamped down on him. Wet noises echoed in the abandoned building along with your whines and the moans that Touya tried to hold back.

"Thank you.. Thank you Touya-nii.. for letting me cum.." was all you managed to choke out before you threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut causing tears of pleasure to fall out and your pussy clenched around him as you released your pent-up pressure.

"Attagirl, nii-san loves you.. Gonna officially mark you now, 'mkay? Gonna breed this little sister's pussy, gonna fill you up with my cum and put a baby in you.." Touya leaned over to whisper into your open mouth, planting chaste kisses all over your face while sloppily humping your body like an animal. You could feel him burry himself deep inside you when his brows furrowed and he muttered "Fuck" before Touya came inside your pussy. His thick ropes were hot as they spilled into your womb, painting your walls with his colour.

A moment passed with nothing but pants as you both tried to regain your breaths. You closed your eyes, basking in the afterglow with his cock still plugged in when you heard the clicking sound of a camera. Your eyes immediately shot open only to find Touya holding his phone in hand.

"Touya-nii.. Did you just.." You warily asked.

"Oh? Did I forget to tell you?" Touya casually looked up from his phone, a smirk tugged at the corner of his stapled mouth and he suddenly looked so strange, as if the person in front of you and the one who just came inside you was two different people.

"You see, there are two possible ways to completely break Todoroki Enji." He began explaining, his voice distant. "One, is to kill his masterpiece Shouto right in front of him by the own hands of his 'failure'."

"And two," His eyes locked with you as his smirk grew wider. "is to let him see his pure little angel being corrupted by the abandoned son." Touya finished his short speech, his hips pulled back so his now limp cock fell out of you with a wet pop. White cum slowly dripped out of your used pussy, all captured by the camera again.

You could see the flame of anger burning in his eyes when he mentioned your father's name and the tone of disgust in his voice when he spoke lowly of himself. There were so many problems that you didn't know where to begin with. All you could do was hang your mouth open, speechlessly watched him typing something on the phone.

"There, all done." Touya cheerfully informed. "Don't worry a thing, my baby sister, no one will get to keep those pictures except for me. I sent them to the old man using Vanish Mode, he'll see them for a few seconds before they disappear forever, just like how his little angel vanish from his life. Oh how I wish I could see his expression when he opens my messages."

You were absolutely stunned. You never thought your dead brother was able to come out alive, let alone to even have a detailed plan to destroy your father's mentality. There were so many things that your mind couldn't process in an instant.

"So you.. So you fucked me just for this?.." Your voice came out shakier than you expected. Your hands unconsciously moved to cover yourself as you hugged your own body, the world starting to crumble in your eyes.

"Partly, yes. But I wasn't lying when I said I love you." Touya planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

"E-Enough with all of this. I'm going home!" You raised your voice and wriggled out of his touch.

"Can't let you do that (y/n)-chan. The world doesn't know me as Touya, you're the first, the honorable one. Can't risk you leaking my secret right? And I plan to torture old man's mind repeatedly with more images of you, just like how he projected everything onto me when I was young." He tilted his head and laughed, and suddenly you couldn't tell whether his laughter was genuine or was an act of mockery. Probably both.

"Besides, I'm a little.. disappointed that my favorite sister actually wants to part so, so soon, especially when we just had a rather.. emotional family reunion, no?" His mood seemed to light up as he continued speaking.

"What.. do you mean by that? Just let me go already! I promise I won't tell anyone!" Tears started to form in your eyes as you slowly realized what the man meant. You were uncomfortable with the room's atmosphere; it's overwhelming you and you didn't want to stay any longer. You looked behind him, trying to figure out an escape path.

"Now, if you wanted to go so badly," - your actions couldn't escape his perceptive eyes - "I'm gonna escort you to a better place, 'mkay? They're gonna track down this place soon enough since I texted him with my phone. But don't you worry, nii-san won't let anyone hurt you, my (y/n)."

Touya had an almost-innocent smile when he approached you with his arms open, as if waiting for you to give him a hug. You backed away, but as stubborn as this Capricorn man was, he still wrapped his arms around you.

Ever since your childhood, Touya's body was warm, Touya's embrace was always comforting. But now, everything he did chilled you to the bone, making you start to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly you felt a sharp prick on your skin; followed by your consciousness slowly slipping away. Your vision started to grow blurry and all you heard before you drifted off was his voice, whispering to your ear.

"Now we won't be alone anymore."

The End.

A/N 2: I hope you enjoyed it! English isn't my first language so please be gentle with me QwQ. Thanks for reading!