#it cold be just a little blink-and-you-miss-it continuity error

[clockwayswrites]

Mx. Minx: ch2 p3

You all voted yesterday, so Minx is back! masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny pushed the shirt up and off in one motion. There was the sharp hiss of a breath. Jason closed his eyes.

“Oh Boss, they really did a number, didn’t they?” Danny crooned.

“Sometimes it’s easier to take a hit than dodge,” Jason replied.

“I know.”

Jason hated that Danny knew.

“I’ve got some amazing bruise cream though,” Danny continued. “And luckily none of these have split so we can just do that. Sorry that it’s going to be a bit cold, but I’ll warm it up if I can.”

Jason hummed to show that he heard, but he didn’t talk. He was too afraid that if he talked, he would break the spell in place that was keeping Danny from mentioning all the other scars that lined Jason’s body. He heard a jar open, Danny moving, and then cool cream and hands pressed against his sides. A shudder of a shiver ran through him and then relief. Jason sighed and let his head drop back against the couch.

“Told you it was good,” Danny said smugly. “I took a recipe that another working girl had and tweaked it this through a lot of trial and error. Next time I make some, I’ll make you up a pot too.”

“I won’t turn that down.” Jason wondered if he could even get the recipe. It beat the stuff in the Batcave, which was really saying something, and easily beat the stuff Jason used when he hadn’t raided a Bat safe house recently.

“That’s because you’re not an idiot,” Danny said. “At least not most of the time.”

Jason gave an incredulous little snort. He got no respect in his own damn area.

Just about every other inch of his torso had been dealt with when Danny’s hands finally touched the autopsy scar. Jason flinched. He couldn’t help it.

No one touched it.

“Does this still hurt?” Danny asked, which was an easier question than any of the ones that Jason had been fearing.

“Only in my head,” Jason answered too honestly.

“Okay.” Danny leaned back and started to clean up. “I don’t have anything that will fit you, so you’ll have to go shirtless or put your old one on. If you leave it off, I can toss it in the wash.”

Jason finally opened his eyes and blinked up at the hideous popcorn ceiling and the pink neon like that raked across it. “Wash it, I guess, if you have a dryer too.”

“Yep. First big splurge was to get the units put in,” Danny said. “They’re stuffed in the kitchen, but at least I have them, you know?”

Jason did. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Open up the blue thing, it’s a pill container. Everything’s labeled so take some pain meds, okay?” Danny ordered.

The trash and Jason’s shirt went to the kitchen while Jason did as he was told and tossed back some Advil along more of the drink. Again, Jason was left feeling weird about nudity. He didn’t mind at all being shirtless, other than his scar being out, but there was something oddly intimate about it there in Danny’s apartment.

“Will you be ready to eat or do you need to sit a bit?” Danny asked, interrupting Jason’s thoughts.

Jason shook his head. “No, food would be good. Can I help get it ready?”

Danny tilted his head before shrugging. “Sure. Cabinet to the left of the sink there’s the bowls and stuff. Silverware is in the drawer. You can missing the serving spoons on the counter.”

“Got it,” Jason said and headed through the opening to the kitchen.

It was a tiny room. Two walls were taken up by the cabinets and appliances. Danny’s table, which had only two chairs, was pushed into the corner against the same wall as the door. The only window was over the sink. Despite that, the room felt almost blindingly bright with the pastel pink cabinets, blond butcher block counters, and minty walls.

Or maybe it was the discoball that hung over table that made things blinding.

(Jason tried not to be too distracted by it, he had a job to do.)

Everything was right were Danny had said it would be and he indeed could not miss the old ceramic pot crammed full of spatulas, serving spoons, and the like, so Jason got everything out before he opened the rice cooker to check if it was done. It seemed good enough, so he made a bed of it in the bottom of the bowls. The lid to the crockpot came off next and the small space filled with the smell of spices, meat, stewed vegetables.

“Not bad for barely any work, is it?” Danny asked as he appeared in the kitchen.

“Pretty damn amazing,” Jason corrected as he spooned the goulash like mix over the rice.

“I have water, tea, or some craft beers,” Danny said, arm resting on the fridge door as he frowned into it.

“Water’s fine.”

“Ice?”

“Nah.”

It took a bit of shuffling around each other to get everything and themselves to the table, but nothing spilled so Jason figured it worked. And the food was damn good.

“Thanks,” Jason said, head bent over his bowl. Thanks for the help. The food. The meds. Thanks for caring.

“Anytime, Hood, anytime.”

[chefdoeuvre]

Birthday Surprise

Choi Jiung

Pairing: Choi Jiung x Hwang!Sister!Reader

Description: Maybe the fact when your birthday was failed to ever come up until your brother brought it up the day of.

Words: 1,652

Requested: no this is hella self indulgent tbh

Warnings: none just Jiung being the fluffiest cutest boyfriend to ever exist, mentions of food, birthdays lol

A/N: Guys I love Jiung and P1Harmony so much. This is so self indulgent that I literally wrote this in time to be posted on my actual birthday. Also my kpop era is so fun and it's really the only thing keeping me going. Hopefully this is a good one. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

You woke up like any other morning, tired and already wishing to see your boyfriend for tomorrow night. Granted you loved what you did and pretty much had the social life you always dreamed of but sometimes adulting was too much. You had almost forgotten what today was until you were bombarded by several 'happy birthday' texts and emojis from your younger brother. It seemed like he was more excited about it than you were. You thought nothing of it, just the day you were born nothing extravagant. The fact you thought so little of it meant that it never come up in conversation with your boyfriend, who also happened to be your brother's bandmate. The story of how you guys got together was one for another time, you can thank Intak for meddling in your business for that one.

You walked through your morning routine the same as everyday, pulled on an outfit suitable for the dance studio and braving the cold before setting out on your way to work. In another dance studio in Seoul the boys of P1Harmony were already running through their choreography.

"Hey did you ever tell her?" Intak turns to Jiung as he takes a heavy breath before picking up his water bottle.

"Huh, tell her what?" Jiung raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Happy Birthday, it's today." Intak deadpans with a chuckle, thinking that this was another one of his mere jokes.

"Wait her birthday is today! Why did no one think to tell me?" Jiung straightened up in an instant.

His face quickly began turned red as he fumbled with phone scrolling through his calendar to see if he carelessly missed such an important date.

Intak clicked his tongue before nodding in understanding, "so she didn't tell you, I see."

Jiung picked up his head with wide eyes, completely and totally making a fool of himself in front of Intak. He could barely bring himself to admit that you had never told him, and even worse that he never thought to ask. Intak took a step toward Jiung and simply patted him on the back. Jiung stood there frozen unsure of what to do next. Had he already royally messed up your birthday and it wasn't even noon yet. Off to the side were the rest of the boys looking to each other with shocked faces while simultaneously trying their hardest to hold back howls of laughter. They had never seen Jiung look this scared for his life, not even when he went toe to toe with Keeho about who the leader should be.

Without giving him a moment to spare Jongseob couldn't hold back his laugh anymore, Keeho, and Soul followed in suit bursting out with a chorus of laughter. Even Theo was hunched over his bag his chest shaking with laughter. Intak even stood there with a crooked smile trying to reassure the older boy.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" Jongseob choked out in between loud giggles.

Jiung simply blinked, his face losing all color after he began to overthink how badly he screwed up. Intak's hand remained on his shoulder, being the only thing grounding him at the moment.

"Don't be worried, just surprise her tonight. She doesn't really like her birthday so she never brings it up, even though she says otherwise." Intak quickly reassures him as the rest of boys continue dying of laughter behind him.

"Surprise her?" Jiung asks quietly, almost as if he's never heard of the word before.

"Yes, a surprise. Her favorite cake is chocolate with strawberry filling by the way." Intak nods as if it was the most obvious thing.

"Surprise." Jiung murmured to himself.

Eventually the boys had to go back to practice after witnessing Jiung go through the five stages of grief. All the while he was practicing his mind was preoccupied with what the hell he could do to surprise you other than cake and your favorite food. Yet unbeknownst to him that's all you really needed, and him of course.

While Jiung was contemplating how he would absolutely not mess up this surprise you were caught up with learning your own new choreography. When Intak was pursuing becoming an idol you had backed him up, you yourself becoming a dancer similar to your mother had done before you. The two of you grew up taking dance lessons together and now you have the chance to see him shine on stage with his found family. Your studio had also planned a little surprise for you that day, nothing big just cupcakes from the nice bakery downtown but they knew that you'd love them.

You were hunched over your bag, practically gulping down water unaware that everyone had left the room. A few moments later a faint group of voices came closer to the entrance. Your fellow dancers and even the choreographer walked in singing 'happy birthday' while holding out a tray of cupcakes. You let out a small chuckle while your face heated up in embarrassment.

"Guys you really didn't have to." You sighed with a ghost of a smile.

"You know the tradition, just because you're not a fan of it doesn't mean we're gonna leave you out." Your choreographer tsked.

"Thank you, you really didn't have to." You smiled a little bigger accepting your fate as everyone crowded around happily.

Fast forward to the end of the day, you had your fair share of texts and messages from old friends and people you danced with. Packing up your bag and quickly pocketing your phone you missed the most recent text from Jiung.

Ji 🫶🏼:

Hey, I'm coming over later. Pick out your favorite movie and I'll handle the rest. I'll see you later, jagi.

The wind was whipping on your way home, everyone was huddled up next to each other while waiting for the bus to pull up. You yourself were bundled up like the Michelin man and yet still you found yourself shivering. You were never a fan of the cold weather, no matter how pretty the snow fall looked. It was only ever good to you from the comfort of your own home. Eventually you made it back to your apartment and quickly discarded of what seemed to be seventy layers of clothing. You tidied up before heading to take a much needed shower, the steam fogging up the mirror in the bathroom immediately.

Walking out of the bathroom you now adorned your Jiung's most comfortable sweatshirt that you had borrowed stolen from him. It was already late at night and you were so tired from your full day rehearsal that you plopped on the couch. Your phone still left in your pocket leaving you unaware that Jiung was on his way to your place. Not even a second later there was a knock on the door before the code was being entered. In walked Jiung bags stacked on his wrist while he pulled his shoes off, immediately going to the kitchen to place them down on the counter top.

"What are you doing here?" You walked up to him happily albeit still confused as to why he was here since Valentine's Day was tomorrow.

"I texted you earlier, did you not see it?" He turned to give a quick kiss still unloading the bags he held.

"Mm, no I still think my phone is in my pocket from earlier. You still didn't answer my question though, what are you doing here?" You hummed while leaning into him trying to peak inside the bags.

"Surprising the birthday girl." Jiung stared at you blankly before his lips pulled up into a loving smile.

"Happy Birthday jagiya!" Jiung pulled you into a hug before giving you a brief kiss.

"You know?" You raised an eyebrow.

"You'd think I wouldn't know my girlfriend's birthday." Jiung chided.

"Intak told you." You laughed knowingly.

"You don't know how embarrassing that was." Jiung groaned letting his head fall onto your shoulder.

You ran a hand up and down his back to comfort him while you laughed at his reaction.

"Go to your room for a second, I'll call you out when I'm ready." Jiung took by the shoulders turning you toward your bedroom door and giving a light push in that direction.

You followed his directions without a second thought, knowing how stubborn he got when people chose not to listen to him. You took a seat on your bed while waiting not so patiently for him to call you back out. Not long later he called your name and headed over to your bedroom door.

Jiung stood at the door while you opened it, “Close your eyes, just follow me.”

Jiung gently grabbed your hands and began leading you out to the living room. He had set up a cozy movie night set up, complete with all your favorite snacks and blankets galore. In the kitchen he had candles lit with boxes of your favorite takeout fancily plated. He stopped when you were in the center of the room and placed a quick peck on your lips that caught you by surprise.

“Okay, open your eyes.” Jiung smiled widely as he saw your lips turn up into a large smile and your eyes crinkled in unbridled joy.

“Do you like it?” Jiung asked happily.

“I love it, Jiung.” You turned hug him tightly before whispering in his ear, “thank you, jagiya.”

“Anything for my girl.” Jiung hugged you back just as tightly.

Safe to say that it was the most memorable birthday you have ever had, your favorite movies and dramas, snacks, favorite food, and your lovely boyfriend bringing it all together. The two of you spent the night cuddled up and munching on everything you could get your hands on. Yeah no one was ever going to live up to this surprise so long as Jiung had you by his side.

[rinawrote]

Could I ask for an Ollie x fem!reader. Where he’s super annoyed at Dave for asking someone (reader) to join legz akimbo until he sees her and then he’s suddenly less evil… she’s like his sweet cyptonite?

Love your writing btw hope you have a lovely day <3

Yessss I love this :) Thank you so much!!! Enjoy x

Cold Welcome

Ollie Plimsolls (The League of Gentlemen) x f!Reader

AO3 link here

Summary: Ollie is dead set against you joining Legz Akimbo - until meeting you flips everything upside down.

Warnings: Swearing

The kettle clicks off. It’s the loudest sound in the rehearsal room. Aside from Ollie Plimsolls’s voice, of course. That always wins. Dave stirs a sad cup of tea in a stained mug while Ollie paces behind him like a manic rodent, script in hand, jumper sleeves flapping like a cloak of unbridled, twitchy rage.

“Absolutely not! I am not auditioning some random woman because you say so, Dave.”

“She’s not random-“

“Oh I’m sorry, do I know her? Has she ever acted in one of my plays? Does she know the ins and outs of issue-based children’s theatre?” Ollie spits the words out like they’re bitter on his tongue.

Dave shrugs. “She’s not random - she’s a mate. Why not give her a chance?”

“Because, Dave,” Ollie huffs, dramatic to the point of parody, “we do not need some random - some outsider - joining Legz Akimbo two weeks before the debut of ‘No Home For Johnny.’ Do you want to be laughed at?l

“No one’s laughing, Ollie. Except maybe at you.”

He slams the script down. Dave takes a long sip.

“She’s smart. She actually cares about this stuff.”

“She cares, does she?” Ollie sneers. “Oh, how wonderful. Maybe she can care us through a seventeen-date school tour with no money, no tech, and a member missing!”

He throws himself into a plastic chair like he’s dying of consumption, then continues. “I have standards, Dave.”

“Do you? You cast Anne as The Virgin Mary in the nativity.”

“She had presence.”

“She had a fit on stage.”

Ollie throws up his hands like this is all beneath him. He’s wound so tight the pulse in his neck is practically visible. He runs a hand through his fluffy hair, then pushes his glasses up his nose.

“I don’t know what this is,” he mutters, standing again. “This panic hire. This desperation for Phil’s replacement.”

Dave sighs. “I just think she’d be good, mate. She’s done proper devised work. She’s not shy. She’s got a brain, and she gets it.”

Ollie scoffs. “Oh good. She’s got a brain. What is she, a feminist?”

“You’re a feminist when you’re trying to get laid, Ollie.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Dave groans. “You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to. I already hate her.”

Somehow, Dave manages to force Ollie into meeting you at the pub later that evening ‘for a quick pint, not an audition.’ You’re a few minutes late. The pub is warm. Sticky floors, low, warm lighting, the murmur of tired drinkers. It smells like beer and cigarettes. Dave said they’d grab a booth near the back, and when you spot him - drink in hand, coat still on - there’s a man across from him pacing.

That must be him. Ollie. He’s in a massive striped jumper that’s swallowing him whole, ranting about some booking error and something. He looks like a pissed-off cartoon owl. He hasn’t seen you yet. He’s too busy performing to an imaginary camera crew. You notice the hair first - a fluffy mess of blond, like he’s been electrocuted by his own brain. Then the eyes - even from a distance, piercing blue. He’s tiny, twitchy, and stomping around like someone insulted him to his face.

And then you walk up.

“Hi,” you say, a little wary. “Sorry I’m late. You must be-“

He stops mid-sentence. Blinks. His brain short-circuits in real time. You watch it happen. The transformation is instant. Like someone’s swapped the tape mid-monologue.

“…Hi.”

His voice is suddenly soft. Unnaturally so. You just look at each other for a moment. His gaze flickers from your mouth to your collarbone to your hands, then away so fast it’s almost bashful.

Ollie blinks once. Twice. Adjusts his glasses. “You’re … you’re her.”

“Yeah. (Y/N).”

“…Right. Of course. Uh. Yes. We were just-“

Dave’s staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “You were just saying something, weren’t you?” he says pointedly.

Ollie shakes his head rapidly. “Was I? Oh, no. Nothing. Just talking about … funding. And grants. Yes. We love grants. I’m very passionate about the arts, actually. Myself. Personally.”

You smile politely, and something in him malfunctions. You watch him as you both sit down opposite one another. He fumbles with his drink like it’s his first time handling liquid. His hand brushes his hair back, too fast, and it puffs up even more - soft and golden. His lips are parted like he’s about to say something, but then doesn’t. Just kind of stares at you.

“He’s being weird,” Dave says, directly at you. “He didn’t even want you here.”

Ollie glares daggers, laughs nervously. “That’s not- shut up, Dave. Don’t listen to him. You’re very welcome. Obviously. You have … lovely posture.”

Dave snorts into his pint. “What the fuck are you doing.”

Ollie snaps his head around. “Nothing! I’m just being welcoming. God forbid I try to create a safe space for women, Dave.”

You blink. “…Thanks?” You don’t know what else to say. You kind of want to marry him out of spite.

Dave, meanwhile, just mutters, “This is so fucked.”

Ollie waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t listen to him. He’s jealous because I have vision.”

Dave just sips his pint with a grin, cheeks glowing red with glee. “Jesus Christ.”

Ollie turns bright pink. You don’t miss the way he keeps sneaking glances at you. Or the way his fingers twitch every time you laugh. You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this - the angry theatre goblin Dave described suddenly being all soft and strange. He’s still a prick - you can feel it under the awkward charm and flustered rambling. But now you want to see what it takes to make him unravel.

You cross your legs under the table. His eyes follow the movement - lingering far too long to be accidental. Then he’s looking at the the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but you. But God, he just can’t help himself. He watches your mouth. Your eyes. There’s hunger in it - but it’s tangled with nerves. Disbelief. Like he doesn’t trust that this is real. That you’re real. That you’re sitting across from him, warm and confident and humorous, and not recoiling at the state of him.

And the worst part? He wants you to like him. Desperately. Stupidly. Against his will.

Dave leans back with a smirk, but you’re still watching Ollie - fascinated. He’s oddly still now, except for the twitch in his fingers and the way he keeps licking his lips like he’s about to say something important but can’t remember what language to say it in.

“So,” Dave says casually, drawing it out like he knows exactly where to stick the knife, “want her to join Legz Akimbo?”

“Yes.”

Too loud. Too fast. Like a gunshot of enthusiasm. Ollie’s whole body jerks with it, as if even he wasn’t prepared for how quickly it came out. His knee slams the underside of the table. The pint glasses rattle. Your water nearly tips. Ollie winces. Tries to hide it behind a very poorly composed sip of beer, even as his eyes water slightly from the pain. His leg twitches again under the table.

“Christ,” Dave mutters under his breath, biting back a laugh. “Quite enthusiastic there, Ollie.”

Ollie clears his throat, straightening. “I just think it makes sense, David. She’s clearly qualified. She understands the tone. And the movement of the - of the body in space. You can tell.” He gestures vaguely toward you.

It’s probably meant to sound theatrical, poetic, like some bullshit director speak - but the way he says it - quiet and almost reverent, makes something coil hot and strange in your stomach.

Dave stares at him. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

“I’m making a point,” Ollie snaps, then turns back to you. “Would you … want to join? Legz Akimbo, I mean. If you’re free. Obviously. No pressure. Well … some pressure. Potential. There’s a lot of potential. For you. Here. With me- us.”

You smile. He looks seconds from combusting. And under the table, his knee knocks the leg of it again - so softly this time it almost feels like a nervous tic. Or maybe just the aftershock of being in your orbit too long. You lean back in your seat, arms crossed lightly, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You let the moment hang just long enough to watch him squirm - and then you speak.

“Alright,” you say. “I’m in.”

Ollie blinks. You see it ripple through him like someone’s poured ice cold water down the back of his jumper.

“You - sorry - you are?” His voice cracks halfway through the sentence like a teenage boy seeing a bra strap for the first time.

“Yeah,” you say, casually. “Why not? Sounds fun.”

There’s a beat. And then Ollie makes a noise. It’s not quite a word. It’s more like a sound effect - the kind of glitchy, high-pitched stutter a printer makes right before it jams. He shifts in his seat too fast and his shoulder bumps the wall, his glasses slide down his nose, and his mouth opens like he’s about to thank you or pitch a script or propose marriage.

Instead he just makes another noise. “Ah- yep- yes! Good! That’s - well - lovely! That’s good. That’s- great decision. Very wise. You’ll fit in. Here. With me- us! In the space.”

Dave looks like he might actually fall out of the booth from laughing silently. Ollie tries to compose himself. He folds his arms, then immediately unfolds them because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He nods. Once. Then three more times in quick succession, like he’s buffering in real time.

Then he opens his mouth again. “Welcome,” he says, voice way too formal now, “to Legz Akimbo.”

You smile sweetly. “Thanks, boss,” you say, playfully.

Ollie visibly shudders - then slams the rest of his drink like he’s trying to put out whatever just caught fire behind his ribs.

[weirdversethestrange]

(Well, saw the vote for the stories, both ones shots are tied. So I’ll be making stories for both. First up, Nova and Polterglitch. The story continues below)

Starry Memories

The swampy grounds of SwapFell’s Waterfall was always a little uncomfortable. It was always either too cold or too unstable to really stand on properly. Some areas were so dark that the only thing that one could really see was the echo flowers rooted in the ground or the crystals in the ceiling acting as faux stars for the monsters who were trapped under the mountain. For any other universe, this would have been normal, what was different though was the fact that two glitched skeletons were currently staying in the purple marshlands.

Nova leans against the wall of what was once a portal. It had been several days since the events of the multiverse attacking him and getting separated from 404. It was hard for him, losing a friend like that. He had already lost Error due to the strings of Fate and now 404 to the grasps of the multiverse. What scared him the most was the fact that while fighting, he could hear the whispers of Fate. That damn higher being was encouraging him…encouraging him to hurt the au’s. His mind was going into a spiral the more he thought about this…just how easily he lost control of his actions due to his anger.

“Nova.” Called out a familiar ghostly voice. This broke Nova from his thoughts, he looks over to the ghostly Error Sans he had brought along on his quest to avenge said ghost. Nova blinks a few times and shakes his skull as he leans back against the wall again, a small sigh escaping from his mouth through closed teeth.

“Sorry Error, I was just thinking”

“I would assume so. You always get a certain expression when you’re deep in thought. Like…an angry bunny.” Nova would cross his arms a little at hearing that comment from Polterglitch. His star shaped eyelights flicker in slight annoyance as the ghostly skeleton looks down at him. He could tell Polterglitch was trying to make him feel a little at ease despite the situation.

“I do not. How dare you compare me to a bunny.” Polterglitch would chuckle slightly. He knew that something was on Nova’s mind that was bothering him. He didn’t want Nova feeling that way. That would only lead Nightmare to their location just by negative feelings alone. But…he also had to be careful with how positivity was handled as well with Dream now being an enemy as well. Damn squid was using his friends to go after them. He gives a soft smile and puts a hand on Nova’s right shoulder. He had gotten use to Outer or well Nova enough before hand that felt comfortable enough to touch and hold the other skeleton or let the other hold him.

“What? Would you prefer if I called you a marshmallow instead? Little star candy?” Polterglitch said playfully. He knew that his teasing was working to get Nova’s mind off of the situation as the smaller skeleton seems to get a tad flustered by this. This would earn Polterglitch a glare from the starry skeleton, small star shaped glitches appearing around the smaller one, usually only occurs if an emotion was coming in strongly.

“You’re about to get a face full of your own scarf, Strings.” Nova commented as he gives the scarf around his neck a playful tug, causing the ghostly glitch to grunt a little bit at feeling the tug on the object keeping him earthbound. Polterglitch would look at Nova with a small smile seeing the other huff and chuckle a little. Good, he was helping his partner feel better a little. The skeleton ghost sits down next to Nova and leans on him a bit.

“Been a while since ya called me Strings. Kinda missed it, ya know? Should I start calling you Star again or should I save that for…something else?” Polterglitch asked as he glances over to Nova as the other fiddles with the scarf. Nova would think for a moment. Has it really been that long since he last called Polterglitch by that nickname?

“I guess we can save them for like…code names or something? Ya know, like how we use to anytime you were visiting Outertale and another AU was visiting. Heh, remember all the excuses I used to get a signal to you that someone was there and you needed to hide? Stars what was one…?”

“Hmmm…’I need to tie my shoe strings.’ was one. Another was ohhhh ‘My jacket’s drawstrings are uneven.’ Yeah, I memorized a lot of them, Star.” The skeleton ghost would say with a huff. He did not miss those days…always feeling on edge at being caught and Outer being in constant danger of being called a “multiverse traitor” all because he actually would listen to what the destroyer had to say and giving him a place to stay. He could tell Nova didn’t miss that aspect of the past…but…he could tell he missed being well…Outer.

Polterglitch would soon lay down in the grass and look up at the crystal filled ceiling. Nova would look down at the ghost next to him before laying down besides him. The feeling of wet grass wasn’t ideal, but it’s better than something like rocks or a ground full of attacks. Nova would look up at the ceiling, the sparkling gems catching his eye sockets. It would remind the space dwelling skeleton of home, but…he knew they were just rocks in a stone cage.

“I…do miss home a lot. I kinda forget that my home has the luxury of actual stars in the sky.”

“You home is very lucky to have that. Most universes don’t. It’s one of the reasons why I visited your home in the first place. And then the stars lead me to you.” Nova would smile a little at this as he looks at Polterglitch and then back up to the ceiling. Polterglitch would smile as he looks at the ceiling alongside his partner. He would then speak up.

“Don’t worry…we’ll make it home. You’ll be able to see the stars again and Fate won’t be able to bother us.”

“I know…Thank you, Error…” Polterglitch would nod as he looks up and then scoots a little closer to Nova, he slowly moves his hand closer to Nova’s hand with a little bit of hesitance before finally grabbing the other’s hand and intertwining his phalanges with Nova’s. He squeezes the smaller skeleton’s hand to reassure that everything will be alright.

(Author’s Note: Goodness, okay so this idea was originally for part 27 of Star Bound after Nova and 404 got separated but decided that maybe it didn’t quite fit with the tone I was going for originally. Polterglitch didn’t seem to be in character for what I wanted him as since I still wanted him to be a little more protective and sarcastic and still have qualities that the original Error Sans has. The story itself does dive headfirst into mentioning that Error and Outer were together before the events of Fate and the two becoming Polterglitch and Nova. I wanted to save that for later or have small mentions of the two being close and have the audience piece together or spin together what that may have been like for Error and Outer in the past. Hope y’all enjoyed.)

(Characters used: Error Sans by CrayonQueen/LoverofPiggies, Outer Sans by 2mi127, Nova Sans and Polterglitch by Weirdverse/Weirdversethestrange Fate by Harrish6)

[thatonegirlwhowrites]

eddie munson x popular reader where they are in a secret relationship and the jock do something mean to the hellfire club and reader stands up for them. maybe jason doesn't take it very well and Eddie then stands up for the reader. Fluffy ending.

Thanks in advance!!

Blush || Eddie Munson

Summary: Reader finds herself in a bit of trouble after standing up for her boyfriend, and Eddie has no intention of letting Jason Carver continue to be an asshole to his girl.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Popular!Reader

Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, no major volume two spoilers, JASON, bullying, a little bit of blood, grammatical errors.

Notes: loved this idea sm!

1.7k words

Masterlist

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Three more hours.

Only three more hours until you could leave this godforsaken hellhole that is Hawkins High and finally enjoy some time with your boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

You two were most certainly an unlikely pair and the last thing you expected was to fall for the boy who apparently ran a cult. Of course, that was very far from the truth as you were quick to learn that Eddie Munson was the gentlest person you had ever met. Despite the hardships he faced in and out of school, he was always the one to make sure everyone else was okay. Which was also why he convinced you to keep your sprouting relationship a secret.

You wanted nothing more than to show everyone how proud you were to be dating Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, but he was quick to realize your school life would be turned completely upside down if people knew you were associated with each other. You had hesitantly accepted the rule, but it didn't mean it hurt any less when you heard every popular kid talk down on the entire hellfire club and especially Eddie.

Nonetheless, you pushed through because come every Friday afternoon you could drop the peppy cheerleader facade and just be yourself whilst spending time with the boy you loved. Sometimes you would go to his trailer, and other times he would come over to your house. Your mom had grown to love Eddie and had also been completely convinced she knew who her future son-in-law was going to be.

“Yo, Y/n!” you heard a loud voice coming from your right.

You blinked harshly a few times, bringing yourself back into reality and out of your wandering thoughts.

“Uh sorry, what's going on?” You sighed, looking towards Jason as you realized he was the one to say your name.

It was hard to miss the eye roll that came from him, but you ultimately decided to ignore it.

“If you would have been listening like I asked everyone to do twenty minutes ago, you would know what's going on.” His voice was sharp and cold. Jason had always disliked you ever since you helped Chrissy realize how terrible her boyfriend truly was to her and everyone else. He knew that you weren't like the rest of the popular kids, and that bothered him to no end.

“I am so very sorry.” You sarcastically smiled and almost started to lay your head over on the lunchroom table until he began speaking again, “You know it's fine, I just wanted to make sure you were payin’ attention when we dump a bucket of water on the entire fucking satanic cult over there.” He smirked.

“W-What.” You immediately perked up just as three jocks dropped water-filled buckets over your boyfriend of all of his friends, efficiently ruining their clothes and food.

The lunchroom was filled with gasps, and you could see the anger practically steaming from Eddie.

Maybe it was the fact that you had already had a bad day, or maybe it was the fact that Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler looked just a little too sad now that their clothes had been ruined, but you had officially had enough of the bullshit.

“Jesus Christ, do you guys have to be such dicks all of the fucking time?” You stood up harshly as you pushed your lunch tray hard enough for it to fall right into Jason's lap. You hadn't really meant for that to happen, but you weren't complaining that it did.

“What the fuck.” Jason was now the one fuming as he jumped up from his seat and headed right for you. You hadn't been expecting him to come up behind you, but you were sorely mistaken as his foot caught yours, sending you falling nose first into the ground.

You hit the cafeteria floor with a thud, and as if that wasn't embarrassing enough, Jason had poured the remainder of the water right onto you.

Jason had half expected the lunchroom to fill with laughter, but it was dead silent as all eyes were focused on what had just happened, turns out tripping a very well-liked girl and pouring water on her, wasn’t the best look.

You were still in shock over the events that just happened as you clutched your throbbing nose, feeling a bit of blood beginning to fall over your top lip.

That’s all it took for Eddie to lose any kind of composure that he was hanging onto. Within seconds he was in Jason's face,” You know I can deal with the bullshit, but when it comes to her, you don’t fucking wanna go there.” His jaw was clenched so tight, that he thought it might snap.

Despite the pain you were currently in, you couldn't ignore the feeling in your stomach as Eddie stood up for you, much like you had tried to do for him a few moments ago.

Jason only laughed at the sudden bravery from Eddie, “Go sit back down freak, this has nothing to do with you. I don't know if you have been in your little cult fantasy land for too long or whatever, but she doesn't want anything to do with you.” Jason said with an unsettling amount of confidence like he actually knew you.

You had managed to stand up on your feet again, a few steps behind Eddie, “Actually Jason it does concern him considering he is my boyfriend.” You were loud and proud with the label, hoping every single person in the lunchroom heard it, and you were sure they did since there was basically a crowd formed around the three of you.

Eddie looked back at you for a moment, concern was clearly written all over his face at the sight of blood coming from your nose but you gave him the best reassuring smile you could muster.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to swoop you up in his arms, but he wanted to make sure something like this never happened again.

“Let's make something clear here Carver, you ever lay a fucking finger on her pretty little head again, and i’ll fucking cut it off.” His blood was boiling and Eddie fully meant every word that had just come out of his mouth.

He would do absolutely anything to protect you.

“You won’t do shit Munson, you’re a fucking cowar-” Jason was harshly cut off when a sharp swing to the face knocked him to the ground, blood now pouring out of his nose.

You felt a bit guilty, but you couldn't help the satisfaction that swarmed your body seeing him rolling on the ground with a bloody nose instead of you.

“Sorry, what was that? I think you got cut off there.” Eddie was now bent down closer to the floor so he could make eye contact with the blonde boy on the ground. “Choose your next words wisely Jason. After all, I could do a lot worse than punching you in the face considering I'm in a satanic cult, right?”

Jason's eyes got a bit wide then, “I g-got it freak. Get away from me.”

Eddie was content enough with that answer as he hurriedly turned around to you, his eyes running over your body to make sure you weren't seriously hurt.

“Cmon sweetheart, let's get you to the nurse.” His voice immediately took on a gentle tone as he wrapped his arm tightly around your waist and assisted you out of the lunchroom as everyone stood there wide-eyed with several jaws dropped to the floor.

The privateness of the hallways was a relief, away from prying eyes.

“Hold on a second Eddie.” You needed a moment to catch your breath, a moment in peace.

Eddie took this as an indicator that you were in pain, leading him to start panicking a bit, “What's hurting? I-Is it your leg? Your nose? Y-Your-.”

You were quick to cut off his spiral with a soft kiss on his lips. You tiptoed just enough to be able to reach his face as your hands snaked around him for comfort.

Eddie hummed in satisfaction, practically melting into you.

“Nothing hurts. In fact, I feel great and I think we should just skip the nurse's office and the rest of the school day to be honest.” You smile lovingly as you peer right into his big brown eyes.

“Are you sure you're okay?” He cautiously ran his eyes over your face again as he wiped the remainder of the blood off from under your nose.

“I am more than okay Eddie Munson.” You gripped his hand tightly as you started leading him to the exit. He happily followed you.

He looked over at you for a moment, “I'm sorry I got so mad earlier, a-and if I scared you o-or-.”

Your heart cracked slightly at the sadness in his voice, “Babe, don’t ever apologize for putting Jason Carver in his fucking spot. Plus I thought it was kinda hot. You know, you threatening to curse him and all.” You lightly shrugged as Eddie let out a bit of a snort, “They are all so gullible,”

And with that, you guys finally made it out of the school building and to Eddie's van where you proceeded to call your mom and tell her what happened, and you fully expected Eddie to be met with a big hug whenever you guys got back to your house.

“I swear I really think my mom might love you more than she loves me.” You giggled out, leaving Eddie laughing right along with you.

“What can I say? I guess I'm just a charmer.” A playful smirk resided on his face for the rest of the ride, as your hands were still tightly clamped together all the way up until you guys pulled into the driveway

“I love you, Eddie.” You sweetly spoke before getting out.

“I love you too Sweetheart.” a strong blush found its way onto Eddie's face.

You couldn't help but point it out, “It's not very metal of you to be blushing like that Munson.”

The redness only got worse, “You're making it worse.” He felt the warmness of his cheeks with his hands as he pouted.

“I'm sorry baby.”

“I forgive you.” Eddie kissed you gently on the lips.

Despite the events that had happened today, you both couldn't be happier.

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[imekitty]

Grave Error II

Follow-up to this ficlet.

Fun fact: I first tried writing this like a month after writing the first ficlet and struggled so much that I ended up rage quitting in tears. But now a couple years later, I gave it another try!

-----

Maddie stared at the three headstones before her. Her son. Her husband. Her daughter. She was the last one standing in this cemetery now.

But someone was watching her.

“I know you’re there,” said Maddie. “You might as well show yourself.”

Nothing happened for a moment. Then Phantom fizzled into view several feet away.

“You’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” Maddie smiled at him, noting his broadened shoulders and height.

Phantom ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I don’t age as quickly in this form, but I guess have grown a little, huh?”

“In this form? As opposed to what?” asked Maddie. “A human form?”

Phantom gazed at the graves, his lips thinning. Maddie looked down at her withered hands speckled with liver spots.

“I look old, don’t I?” She chuckled. “But I know that’s no surprise to you. You’ve been coming here to watch us when we visit for many years now.”

Phantom gripped one of his wrists, wringing it.

“You just always stayed invisible,” said Maddie. “But I knew you were there. Every time.”

“I just wanted to—”

“Don’t.” Maddie shook her head. “I don’t want to hear your reason.”

A breeze rushed past. Maddie tightened her coat around her.

“But you might as well come closer.” She kept her eyes on the headstones. “Stand next to me. I’m too old to do anything to you now anyway.”

Phantom hesitated before taking slow steps toward her, his boots crunching over dead leaves. He stopped by her side and faced the headstones.

“You really knew I was there?” he asked. “Every time you came?”

“Mmm hmm. I could tell.”

“But then why didn’t you say anything to me before?”

“I had nothing to say to you. And I didn’t want Jazz or Jack to know you were there spying on us. Jack would’ve wanted to hunt you down, capture you.”

Maddie could see Phantom’s bright glow on the edge of her vision as she continued to stare ahead.

“And I just wanted to forget about you,” she murmured.

“Forget about me?” Phantom looked down at himself before raising his eyes again. “But then why are you talking to me now?”

Maddie shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve had to come here alone. And I suppose maybe I didn’t want to be alone.”

They stared at the headstones in silence for some time.

“My entire family.” Maddie felt her throat tightening and tried to breathe to open it. “They all left before me. I just never thought I’d be the last to go.”

Phantom folded his arms and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “How… I mean, what happened to them?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Maddie looked at him. Phantom kept his head down.

“I just thought you would’ve known already,” said Maddie. “With how much you like to spy on us.”

“I wasn’t spying on you.”

“Then what do you call watching us invisibly every time we came here?”

Phantom blinked a few times, still staring at the ground. “It was the only way I could see you. Because I can’t leave Amity Park. Whenever I try, something just...holds me back. It won’t let me go.”

“Because your ghostly obsession is tied to this town,” said Maddie.

Phantom did not reply.

“But why would you want to leave?” asked Maddie. “Why would you want to see us?”

“You know why.”

Phantom continued keeping his gaze to the ground. Even with his slowed aging, Maddie could see tired lines around his eyes and mouth.

“I still see reports about you when I check the Amity Park news,” said Maddie. “You’re still saving the town, still making those silly jokes and puns while you do it.”

Half of Phantom’s mouth curved up. “Yeah, well, it’s all I have now. I… I have nothing else. Not since…”

He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the ground.

“So you’ve been reading about me?” he asked. “You’ve been...thinking about me?”

“Does that stroke your ego, Phantom? Satisfy your obsession to be a beloved hero?”

“That’s not it.”

They stayed silent for a moment, staring at the headstones.

“I found their obituaries online,” said Phantom. “But neither of them gave the cause of death.”

“I didn’t want to disclose that.”

“Please tell me.” Phantom gripped his elbows tightly. “I would really like to know. Please.”

Maddie sighed. “Jack went first. Heart attack. We had known it was coming for some time. He had been struggling with his blood pressure for years and was terrible at eating healthy. He always ended up cheating with tons of fudge.”

“He never could resist fudge.”

Maddie quirked a brow. Phantom was smiling wistfully.

“Jazz caught pneumonia one day.” Maddie faced forward again, reading her daughter’s name etched in stone. “No idea where it came from. She was in the hospital a few weeks. We all thought she had beaten it when she moved into transitional care. But then she took a turn and was just...gone.”

Heavy tears sprang to her eyes, too hard to hold back.

“I knew I’d probably outlive Jack.” Her voice faltered. “He was overweight and ate all the wrong things. But my children… I never thought I’d be burying them too. Certainly not both of them.”

Her body shook, her old legs barely able to support her convulsions. Phantom stepped closer and held his arm out to her. She took it without thinking and leaned on him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to leave you so soon.”

Maddie wiped away her tears with her fingers. “Are you really still trying to convince me you’re my son?”

“You still don’t believe me?”

Maddie sighed deeply and did not look at him as she continued holding his arm. “No.”

Phantom’s shoulders lowered, his head fell.

“But I think I might like to pretend you’re my son. Just for now. If you don’t mind.”

Phantom raised his head. She did not return his gaze.

“I don’t mind.”

She tugged on his arm in the direction of a nearby bench. He led the way, escorting her, supporting her.

They sat together for some time. Maddie kept her hold on his arm. And when she grew tired, she lay her head on his shoulder.

And when he lay his head against hers, she allowed it.

The moments were long and quiet. Cold breezes rustled the few leaves left in the trees.

“I’ve missed you, Mom,” murmured Phantom.

Maddie sat up and studied his face. His eyes shone with tears.

She let go of his arm and stood. She walked away from him and never looked back.

And then a fourth grave appeared next to the others.

Danny read the names on each headstone. His sister, his father, his mother.

Finally together again.

He stood in front of his own grave and considered phasing through the ground into his casket to lie with his bones.

[haworthiaace]

Magic misfits! Did I update the masterpost specifically because of this fic? yes absolutely. A busy day for Scar, featuring TFC and some good ol’ Scar appreciation :]

The start of a new season was always interesting.

While TFC didn’t enjoy having to start from scratch every year or so; having gotten used to the comforts of late season riches, he did love the sheer amount of interaction that came with a new season. TFC was content to hear gossip about the others’ shenanigans while he stuck to what he was best at: mining. Some of the others called it cheating to use his earthbending down in the tunnels, but he called it cheating to be able to shapeshift, or use magic crystals, or any of the other crazy things the other hermits could do, so it evened out.

When he wasn’t down in his mine, TFC watched as all the other hermits scrambled to make the most impressive buildings and contraptions in as little time as possible. Many of his servermates placed more importance on finishing their creations than actually gathering necessities such as tools and armour. 

As if to prove this observation, the Boatem village appeared on the other side of the nether portal, populated with structures that were much too large considering it had only been three weeks since they arrived in this world. There was also a… tree? At least that’s what it looked like; a thin oak tree stretching up past the clouds and out of view. Looks like Mumbo and Grian were up to no good already.

“TFC! Up here!” Scar’s voice came from somewhere above TFC’s head, and he looked up to see the wizard (although he no longer wore his robe and hat) standing on a balcony extending from a truly massive wagon, one hand on the railing and the other extended above his head, waving enthusiastically at TFC.

He climbed the ladder up the side of the wagon, entering a sparse storage room. Knowing Scar, he either hadn’t bothered to move in yet or lost all of his things in a cave somewhere. Despite his powerful crystal magic, Scar still managed to die more than any other hermit, so the second option was more likely.

“Well hello there! Welcome to my humble abode, please take a seat.” Scar led TFC to a balcony, where he gestured towards a table and two folding chairs. Scar sat down, crossing his legs and folding his arms in his lap. “So, what brings you to our little village today?”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the question, confusion evident in his voice. “Because you invited me? We were supposed to have tea today.” 

Scar jolted in his seat, then proceeded to scramble out of said seat. “I’ll be right back! I have to go… feed Jellie!” This was quite obviously a lie seeing as Jellie hadn’t returned from her between seasons interdimensional travels yet. TFC’s laughter chased Scar into the wagon, where he frantically prepared the tea that he was totally planning on making because he definitely remembered his plans for the day. 

After about five minutes of mildly concerning crashing sounds, Scar returned with two steaming mugs of tea (decorated with cat faces, of course) and a plate of chocolate chip cookies - Stress’ recipe if TFC wasn’t mistaken. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, appreciating the tea and cookies. 

“So, how are you holding up this season, Scar?” TFC took a sip of green tea, looking out at the horizon.

“Oh you know, the usual. I don’t have my village anymore, but the magical misfits still come seeking my help.” He brought a cookie to his mouth and bit off half of it. “Not that I mind helping people!” He swallowed his mouthful before continuing. “XB was here last week convinced that he left his coat in season seven, but turns out it just ended up in one of Joe’s boxes.” He chuckled to himself, wiping crumbs off of his jacket as TFC stared at the distant ocean, lost in thought.

TFC broke the silence that had fallen. “You’re a good man, y’know that?” The wizard in question looked at TFC in surprise. He was used to ‘thank you’s, but the personal compliment caught him off guard. “You’ve created a safe space for folks from all sorts of places, and you’ve saved quite a few of them from bad people.” 

Scar looked down, smiling at his cup of tea. He spoke quietly, a departure from his usual boisterousness. “Thanks TFC, that means a lot.”

-

Scar was in the middle of catching TFC up on what he missed from day one when something red and very fast crashed into the balcony. The something in question turned out to be Grian, shimmering wings protruding from his back. Something must have been wrong, since winged hermits tended to refrain from flying early in the season, in the name of fairness.

“Scar we need your- Oh heeey, I didn’t know you had company over!” He leaned on the railing, his urgency replaced with a forced cheerfulness as he (quite obviously) pretended nothing was wrong. What was probably supposed to be an easygoing smile stretched too wide, and his voice was more high pitched than usual. “How’s it goin’?”

Scar, completely oblivious, responded excitedly. “Oh, I was just telling TFC here about our adventure in the geode with Cleo!”

Grian’s uncomfortable smile grew wider, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That sounds great, do you think you’ll be done anytime soon?”

“Oh well, I’m not too sure. It depends on when we finish all of these cookies.”

“Oh that’s just wonderful,” Grian’s wings started to twitch behind him, “did you make those yourself?”

Scar took a breath, preparing for a tangent when TFC cut in, showing the poor fairy some mercy. “Alright Grian, out with it. What’s wrong?” Scar stared at Grian, somehow surprised that this wasn’t a completely ordinary visit.

Grian let out a long sigh. “Thank you so much TFC.” He turned his gaze to Scar. “We need a little help with curse breaking.”

Scar set down his mug and gave Grian his full attention, preparing himself for whatever strange curse one of the fairies had set on some poor hermit. “Really? How are you two cursing people already? It hasn’t even been a month!”

Grian’s tangent was accompanied by wild hand gestures that made it difficult to follow what he was saying. “Well, Pearl came up behind Mumbo and spooked him, he shouted something about not sneaking up on him, and now whenever he turns his back on her she teleports directly in front of him.” Grian looked nervously over his shoulder in the direction of Mumbo’s van. TFC followed his gaze, and burst into laughter again.

Mumbo was standing a few feet away from his campfire, spinning in circles and doubling over in laughter as Pearl kept popping up in front of him. 

Scar pushed himself up from his chair, TFC followed suit. The pair headed to the door while Grian flew back down, Scar giving TFC a sort of briefing. “Alright, let’s go figure out what exactly Mumbo did before Pearl starts feeling particularly vengeful.”

-

It took two hours and a lot of trial and error (with TFC giving supremely unhelpful tips), but eventually Pearl could stand behind Mumbo again. At some point Scar accidentally applied the effect to both Grian and Mumbo, and he had to beg the two not to create a space time anomaly. But it was all fixed now, and TFC was sure Pearl’s revenge would be swift and cruel.

Scar made his way back up to the balcony, and the two continued their conversation. It was a good thing Scar had enchanted his mugs, something he had done back in season seven after his drinks kept getting abandoned and going cold.

After a few hours of peace (other than both Mumbo and Grian’s bases abruptly flipping upside down while the boys were inside), the pair was interrupted again by a voice behind them.

“Howdy, Scar. Oh, and howdy to you as well, TFC!”

Neither of them had heard Joe coming, so Scar jumped about a foot in the air while TFC nearly spat out his tea. It turned out that Cleo was there as well, looking quite a bit angrier than Joe, although that wasn’t too uncommon.

“Oh my goodness, Joe you scared the life out of me!” Scar held a hand to his chest and caught his breath as Cleo got right to business.

“Sorry about that Scar,” her voice was flat, and it was safe to assume that she was not, in fact, sorry about that. “But we have an emergency. It’s completely Joe’s fault, he-”

Joe smoothly stepped in front of his companion as he cut her off, “I wouldn’t say it’s entirely my fault, old magic is a fickle thing-”

Cleo shoved Joe aside, stepping in front once again. “He revived my leg!” She raised a foot off the ground and gestured at it with both hands.

Sure enough, both TFC and Scar looked down to see that Cleo’s right leg was significantly more flesh-coloured than the left, restored to what it presumably once was. 

Scar’s lingering panic was instantly replaced by an amused grin as he gestured to the leg in question. “Cleo, why don’t you just get your leg reinfected? It’s not like zombies are hard to come by.”

The pair stood still, just blinking. (Completely in sync, it was eerie) 

Cleo rounded on Joe and punched at his shoulder just as he raised a hand to deflect her fist. “How did you not think of that Joe?! I thought you knew everything there was to know about-” She gestured wildly about for a moment. “Everything?!”

“Shouldn’t you be some sort of zombie expert by now? How is that my responsibility?” The argument continued as the pair went back into the wagon and down the ladder. As they walked off, presumably to go find a cave, something occurred to TFC. He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell down at them.

“Cleo!” She turned around. “Don’t use Joe as bait!” 

She snapped her finger like a defeated cartoon villain, as Joe turned to face her and presumably gave her grief for this evil plot.

-

It was only about five minutes after Cleo and Joe left (preceded by twenty minutes of arguing) that the next problem arrived, as it often did, in the form of Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango arriving on the shore of the village. TFC found this odd, seeing as how everyone was now connected by nether portals, but he assumed there would be an explanation shortly, even if it didn’t make a lick of sense.

Impulse shouted up from the ground, the three of them clustered near the front of the wagon. “TFC, we need your help!” Well that was a surprise, not many people asked for his assistance other than Scar. “We made an oopsie and Cleo said we could find you here!”

As every hermit knew, ‘oopsie’ was a versatile word with these three. It could mean anything between making a minor mistake in a build to banishing Impulse for the fifth time. “What happened this time?” TFC stood up and made his way down the ladder, since shouting down at them wasn’t very efficient and they didn’t seem inclined to come up.

Impulse started twisting his hands together while Zedaph and Tango tried their best to look innocent behind him. It didn’t work. “Weeell, Tango wanted a terraforming job done around his base, so we made a little deal for it.” 

Oh boy. Not much good came out of magical deals, yet the other hermits continued to make them with each other. Demonic deals were especially tricky since the demon didn’t have precise control over their end of the deal, not that it stopped these three. “Tango offered me his first beacon in exchange for the job, and it turns out that a beacon is worth a lot more than I thought- it’s probably easier if we show you.”

“Quick FYI guys: firsts are very valuable in deals! It applies to you as well Impulse, not just the fae!” Scar called helpfully from his still seated position on the balcony.

-

They all ended up going over to Tango’s house/ shop, which was literally buried in a mound of dirt and stone, along with about three quarters of Bdubs’ giant moon house. That explains why they didn’t use the nether. 

The earth was offended after being touched by demonic magic, but after a long negotiation TFC managed to convince it that Impulse meant no harm, and it was happy to return to its prior state. Tango was mildly annoyed that he would have to do the terraforming himself and give Impulse a beacon, but it was better than the wrath he would have faced from Bdubs.

By the time TFC and Scar returned to the Boatem village, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. While TFC admired the beauty of it, Scar just looked disappointed. 

“I’m sorry.”

TFC raised an eyebrow at the wizard, a frown making its way onto his face. “What do you mean you’re sorry? Did you do something to the tea?” 

Despite TFC’s attempted joke, Scar still stared at his perfectly polished shoes. “This was supposed to be a nice relaxing day to catch up, and people were just showing up left and right. I mean, we hardly got to spend any time together! Maybe I shouldn’t invite people over with all this wizard stuff going on.”

“But we did spend time together.” TFC’s rough hand landed on Scar’s shoulder, the latter looking up at the former, startled by the contact.

“Well yeah we had tea for a while but-”

TFC had to cut off Scar’s rambling or he would never get to his point. “Yes we had tea, but I’m talking about the rest of the day.” Scar seemed genuinely confused at this. “I helped you un-curse Pearl,” he did air quotes on the word ‘helped,’ “We watched Joe and Cleo argue together, and you came with us to fix Tango’s house.” Of course he didn’t do much other than laugh at Tango’s misfortune, but it was the thought that counted. “Just ‘cause it didn��t go to plan doesn’t mean I didn’t have a good time.” After all, not much went according to plan on the hermitcraft server.

Now Scar was smiling. “So I didn’t ruin the day with magical misfits?”

“Not at all.” TFC reached for his mug and emptied it one last time, then stretched before heading out. “But now I gotta get going. I don’t like my chances against the mobs with my crappy iron gear.”

Scar waved once more as TFC disappeared into the nether portal. “Goodnight TFC! And thanks again, for everything!”

TFC smiled as he made his way through the nether tunnels back home. Scar did a lot more for the hermits than he realized, allowing them to be free with their magic in a way they couldn’t back home, TFC included. He’d created a home for all sorts of ‘magic misfits’ as Scar put it, and he performed an invaluable service, whether he realized it or not.

He’s a good kid. Just needs some reminding every once in a while. 

[wormstacheangel]

Dean is stuck in a loop of bad writing and a bloody ending. (cw dean’s death. He does not want to die. He fights.) 15x20 fix-it. 

WC: 2k       Read on AO3 here

“I just...thinking about Cas.” Cas.

Dean winces when something at the back of his mind starts to pound and demands to be set free, but then, just as quickly as it appeared, it went away. Leaving Dean with the right words to respond to Sam’s comments even though he doesn’t remember what his brother said at all. 

“Yeah. Yeah, no. I think about 'em, too.” Lies. 

Dean’s words didn’t sound like his, but he continued to talk as if he believed them. They were coming out of his mouth, so they must be real because he was real. He can enjoy his life with or without...wait, what were they talking about?

Dean feels the pie smash into his face before he sees it and everything that was just said was left forgotten as he scooped the pie off his face to eat it while Sam laughed. It was an odd laugh, sort of hollow almost forced, but Dean tried not to think about it because Sam hasn’t been sleeping well. He was going through a lot right now.

Wait, no, he wasn’t. Sam was fine. They’re happy now. 

They fell into a routine again. The hunt felt comfortable enough. A little weird, maybe, but still an easy one. 

He was planning on stopping by the grocery store to make Miracle a little special dinner treat as an apology for leaving her alone as long as he has but then everything happened so quickly, and yet Dean saw it so clearly. He already knew where he was supposed to stand so the vamp can shove him into — He gritted his teeth at the familiar feeling of the rusty bar piercing through his back. 

His arms fell limp to his side for a second as he threw his head back to let out a shaky breath before he saw the deja vu of Sam beheading the vampire in front of him. He saw it so many times already, but this time it was different. He knew what Sam was going to do next. He knew what he was going to say to Sam now. He knew - Dean takes a gasping breath - this is where he was going to die. 

He’s seen it before, lived through it already. 

‘Sam!’ Dean wanted to scream out to his brother, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, he had to die now. ‘Sam! Please! Don’t - Don’t let me die.’

But his words didn’t match his screaming thoughts. A tear finally falling as panic was settling inside him because he recognized this feeling of being in his body but lacking control of it. 

‘Please.’ Dean’s eyes closed as his body finally started to feel cold. ‘Please. Somebody. Somebody save me.’

His head falls limp against Sam’s shoulder, and all Dean wanted was to hold his brother again. To tell him that he was okay, but he knew what came next. He knew he had to die for the story to continue. Sam had to mourn him so they could start all over again. So Chuck can get the storybook ending he wants.

-[Continue The Story Under The Cut]

Dean opens his eyes to the alarm clock ringing, something he doesn’t even remember buying, and quickly turns it off to sit up and stretch. His arms were already open to receive a welcoming hug from his little pup, but she never came.

He whistled for her, but the familiar running never came. Instead, Sam popped his head into Dean’s room.

“Dude, why are you whistling for me?”

“I’m not. Miracle wasn’t here when I woke up. She with you?” Dean started to get out of bed, his feet already in his familiar slippers, the one thing that was always consistent in his life, before looking up to meet Sam’s confused expression. “What?”

“You okay?”

Dean thought about the question for a second before he shrugged. “Yeah. Why?”

“You must have had one hell of a dream then cause I have no clue what you’re talking about. Who’s she again?”

Dean tried to read his brother’s expression for any hint of a joke, but he was serious. “She’s…” Wait. Dean can’t even remember who she was. A pet, right? A cat, maybe? No. No, that doesn’t sound right. He’s allergic. A small flaw in his hero's good luck magic that never bothered him before but now, thinking about it, it made no sense. 

Dean shrugged as he closed his robe shut. “Shit, I don’t know. Must have been some dream.”

Sam raised a concerned eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, he reminded him that breakfast was ready and they needed to get ready for a hunt before he left the room. 

Dean followed after him, but then his foot kicked something cold on the floor. He looked down to see two dog bowls, and his world went spinning before it went dark. 

Continuity errors.

-

“Cas helped.” Cas.

“Dean!” Dean looked around as he heard the familiar voice call his name. He knows this voice! He knows it so well, and he misses it. “Dean! Dean, you gotta fight this!”

“Cas?” His name finally escaped his lips in a heavy breath. Feeling as if somebody just punched the air right out of his lungs. He was ready to stand, but Bobby pulled him back down on his seat, a tight smile tugging on his lips. “Bobby?”

Dean opened his mouth to ask for him, but it felt like somebody has stolen his voice while Bobby continued talking before motioning for Dean to take a sip of the beer he was given and made a face at the familiar taste. 

“Oh wow. Taste like the first drink I ever shared with my dad.”

“Quality stuff?”

Dean shook his head as he held the beer away from him, examining it. “No, it’s crap.” 

Dean didn’t mention it was because he was still a kid when it happened. A drunk John shoved a beer into his grasp, saying that if he was old enough to hold a gun, then he was old enough to drink. He didn’t think he was old enough for either. 

“But it was fantastic.” Dean could hear the bitterness in his tone, but if Bobby did too, he pretends not to. 

“Just like this.” He motions out into the dirt, nothings that were supposed to mean something but Dean only felt just as empty as the road looked. 

“It’s almost perfect.” 

“He’ll be along.” Bobby reassured him, and Dean had to look at him again because he wasn’t sure who he meant. There was somebody….someone was missing. They’re constantly missing, and Dean can’t fucking get to them. 

Them. Him. Him. Him. Blue. He has blue eyes.

“Go for a drive, Dean.” He heard Bobby firmly tell him; the warmth in his voice was gone. It wasn’t even the familiar teasing tiredness that Bobby usually talked to him with. No. This time it was hard. Impatient that Dean wasn’t doing what he was supposed to be doing.

“Um,” Dean set the beer down and stood up as he looked over towards his Baby that appeared in front of them. Waiting for him. “I think I’ll go for a drive?”

“Have fun.”

Dean didn’t look back at Bobby when he walked towards his Baby but, somehow, he knew that if he did look back, Bobby wouldn’t be there because Bobby messed up. He mentioned someone that wasn’t part of the story anymore. Someone Dean keeps wanting to remember, but the harder he tried, the more his head felt like it was going to explode.

So he followed his body’s lead. He needed to be driving right now, and he can already feel the tight grip of the wheel in his hands. There was somewhere he had to be. Someone he had to see. 

He knew already where he had to go. All he had to do was follow the dirt road until he made it to the main shiny black asphalt at the end. Then he had to turn left. 

It was like an instinct, an itch in his body telling him to go. Go. GO! But as soon as Dean made it to the main road, he slammed on the breaks. His fingers tightening on the wheel as his breath shakes because stopping felt wrong, like putting a metal spoon in the microwave kind of wrong. And right now, Dean felt like the damn microwave as his brain pounded in his head, screaming at him to do what he was meant to do, but he can’t do that again. 

He knows what’s going to happen if he turns left! 

“Dean!” He hears that voice again, and this time Dean looks at the empty road on his right. It’s unknown. “Dean! Fight it! Come on! You gotta fight it!”

Fight it. Dean starts to put his foot down on the gas again as he slowly forces his body to move where he wanted to go and not where he needed to go. But the pain was distracting him too much, making his vision blurry, and his head felt like a ripe melon on the sun. 

His hands turn the wheel, and he ends up going left, just like he was meant to. His jaw clenched while he tried to hold back tears because he knows now, maybe he has always known, that he was only there to follow an unknown script. He wasn’t free. No. He was far from it. 

He was trapped, trapped in a loop to find the perfect ending for his story.

Wake up. Miracle is there. Make bed. Breakfast. Look for a case. Eat pie. Hunt. Die. Turn left. Reunite with Sam. Wake up. Miracle is not there. Shower. Breakfast. Look for a case. Eat a good roadside burger. Hunt. Die. Turn left. Reunite with Sam. Wake up. Cas is never there. 

Cas.

Cas.

“Turn around!”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to listen to that voice, Cas’s voice he finally recognizes again, as he burns tire marks into the road when he makes a complete 180 before speeding off in the opposite direction.

He will not be trapped. Not again!

Dean let out agonizing screams as he drove because the ringing in his head only became more deafening. There was warm sticky blood sliding down the side of his face, but he kept going, kept blinking through the white spots in his vision. He was going to break out of this narrative or finally, please finally, die trying. 

A blinding white light flashed in front of him, but it was too late to stop, so all Dean did was cover his eyes with his forearm and hope to at least see him one last time. 

Dean gasps as his body goes through the white light. He can feel the familiar tingle of grace warm up his body, healing him so profoundly that Dean falls limp against his steering wheel. Heavy breaths rise and fall from his chest when he finally feels the puppet strings snap. 

He was himself again. He was free from being just a damn character in a poorly written story. He escaped that narrative time and time again but now, fuck now; he knows he has finally done it because everything he has forgotten, or better yet forced to forget, was now front and center in his mind.

Jack. Eileen. Donna. Cas. 

His family. He forgot all about them while being forced to die at a stake for Chuck’s entertainment. He was repeatedly dying because that was his ending in this story. Someone who was supposed to die bloody. But not anymore. 

Dean will live.

He would fight, and he would get his family back. 

“Drive!” He heard Cas’s voice again.

Dean didn’t hesitate for a second as he sits back up and presses down on the pedal. He hasn’t turned right before, but he knew he wasn’t alone in this.

“I’m here, Dean.” He hears again, and Dean relaxes. 

“I miss you.” He says to the air, and for a second, he thinks this is all a one-way communication, but then he feels that warmth again before he hears Cas’s voice.

“I miss you too.”

Tag List: (dm or send an ask to be added)

@galaxycastiel @slipper007 @ar-bi-trary @winchestcas @plantdadcas

@bi-bi-marie @nguyenxtrang @dancerdovegirl 

@chocolatecakecas @trasherasswood @celestialcastiel @castiel-is-a-cat

@readeroftheimmortalbooks @marichankitty @confusedisaster @wigglebox

@castiels-bitch @tearsofgrace @queen-rowenas @castielkrushnic

@fresh-flames @s-r-clowns @acertainhero @organicpurplepants

@starlightcastiel @absoluteheller @martymar1963  @sinnabonka

@carryonwaywardsquirrel  @multi-fandom-dark-lord

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 2 of Season 1

“Run Boy Run”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it's funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Ben is a tired boy leaning on his chair

☂ Luther and Allison please stop making googly eyes at each other 

☂ Five really woke up and chose violence that day huh

☂ Diego already knows shit is about to go down and it’s so funny

☂ I love that Reginald doesn’t even scold Five for stabbing the table

☂ Five: “I have a question.” blah blah blah Veggie is talking Five: “I want to time travel.” That’s not a question, Five

☂ It’s interesting to see young Five blinking/jumping compared to older Five. Even at this age, 13, he says that he’s still practicing his spatial jumps. Young Five needs to clench his fists and almost squeeze his eyes shut just to concentrate. Older Five simply just teleports without effort and is able to casually blink even as he’s just walking. Five probably practiced teleporting a lot in the apocalypse 

☂ Someone else pointed this out, but all of the other Umbrellas are frozen for a for a second as Five teleports next to Reginald. While that freeze is just editing, and possibly a small error, this is another example of how Five’s spatial teleporting doesn’t make a noise. Luther, Diego, and Allison only look at Five when he begins talking to Reginald. Grace notices Five right away because he is in her line of sight while Luther and Diego were looking at where Five was sitting and Allison had her head down eating

☂ “The effects it might have on your body, even your mind, are far too unpredictable.” Harsh foreshadowing 

☂ The “Run Boy Run” scene is one of the best musical moments in all of the show. It gave me chills when I first heard it, and the fact that all of the lyrics that play during that part match so perfectly with it make it even better. Tomorrow is another day being sung as Five travels into 2019 is just too good 

☂ Imagine how scared you have to be to call out to your p.o.s father

☂ The instant regret immediately falls onto his face and he kneels in front of the Academy

☂ I love how in the first few episodes Five’s hair is styled exactly as it was when he was an old man and when he was actually 13. Over the rest of the season and the second season it just gets more disheveled and floppier 

☂ “You think I didn’t try everything to get back to my family?” Ahhhh there we go, one of my favorite Five lines. This here is probably when I truly fell in love with his character. He spent 45 years just trying to survive and attempting to get back to his family. He would have spent more too if the Handler hadn’t taken him in

☂ Vanya is genuinely trying to understand what happened and Five was being a little asshole. C’mon, bud, she’s just confused and hasn’t seen you in forever

☂ This Five and Vanya scene melts my heart (simply as a sibling relationship!!) She doesn’t care anymore if she understands, she just wants him to stay because she hasn’t seen him in a while. Even Five understands that as his demeanor quickly changes from being frustrated to gently telling her “Night.” He watches her as she leaves, also partially realizing that he hasn’t seen her in a while too

☂ Why didn’t Five just teleport outside of Vanya’s apartment?? That would have been the stealthiest thing

☂ “All quick and efficient skills.” A little note on Five’s level of skill of slaughtering the Commission agents in Griddy’s

☂ Diego said he bought his police badge on Ebay, so computers do exist in the UA universe

☂ “By the way, this thing might look like a botched robbery, but my gut’s telling me something else is going on here.”  Yeah, and that something else is your brother

☂ I want Claire to meet her uncles and aunt so bad

☂ So Ben has a ghostly puzzle book and pen he can use? Because if they were real Pogo would have been able to see them just floating in the air. What other ghostly items can Ben summon? (I believe this is more so just an error but it’s fun to think about)

☂  “I-I found it at a playground, actually. Must have just *click* popped out.” An underrated Five line

☂ Five immediately becomes aggressive at the thought of losing the eye, something he found clutched in the hand of his dead brother and was a clue to what caused the death of his siblings and the end of the world

☂ Just now noticed that you can see Diego up on the second floor being led down to where Patch is in the police station

☂ I really like that they added in the little tidbit about a cold case Five created 81 years ago

☂ I miss Patch. She deserved better and more screen time

☂ Hey, Diego might have been thrown out of the Police Academy but at least he’s still in The Umbrella Academy!

☂ Hearing Patch talk to Diego really made me realize that the Umbrellas weren’t even necessary for helping with crime. It was just Reginald’s way of training them

☂ Love the shot of Luther looking at Diego’s cross-stitch and the camera lining it up so it’s like he’s wearing the mask

☂ Five lying just to keep Vanya away and to continue on with his goal hurts. His goal is saving the world and his family, but I don’t think he actually took in what Vanya was saying to him or maybe he recognized the offer but shoved all of his feelings down. She was reaching out to actually get him some help and he lied to her to avoid that. Maybe he doesn’t care and is just blinded by his ultimate goal. Save the world and family first, then process your feelings and genuinely communicate with your siblings 

☂ Don’t worry Klaus, I would have let you wear that outfit

☂ When Cha-Cha questions “Five” aka the poor tow truck guy, she asks him about “The London job in ‘66.” I believe she is referring to the Shepherd’s Bush murders where three policemen were murdered

☂ Hazel replying “Not from what I’ve heard.” when Cha-Cha asks if he thinks Five is a whimperer shows that Five definitely had a reputation in the Commission for probably being a cold and stoic guy

☂ Vanya is just trying to help, chill Allison 😭. You haven’t seen her in years, what do you know about her?

☂ Klaus would really slap his brother in the face to get drug money

☂ Another example of Five not making noise when he teleports is when he blinks into the taxi and Klaus didn’t notice that he had left until he turned to look where Five was. On the other hand though the taxi driver does jump as Five suddenly appears in the car. However, I believe that might be from the driver noticing Five in a mirror in the car

☂ I wonder what languages the Hargreeves siblings know. Vanya didn’t understand Leonard’s German. You think Reginald would have taught them multiple languages or maybe she forgot it if she was taught it

☂ I don’t know why but Luther just siting there and reading a book and almost getting hit by the knife is really funny to me

☂ Yeah Diego doesn’t have to prove his innocence, but it would have saved a lot of trouble

☂ Rewatching the scene with Leonard talking to Vanya about his father is just disturbing when you already know what happened to him and how he’s lying just to try to be more relatable

☂ I heard a rumor that smoking is bad for you ❌

☂ Vanya calling to make sure Allison is okay even though she hurt her makes me sad. She’s so nice and thoughtful

☂ The old man can’t even reunite with his wife before he gets hunted down

☂ The shot of Hazel and Cha-Cha putting on their masks in the dark with the music is 👌👌

☂ Again, Cha-Cha isn’t able to hear Five as he teleports next to her and slices her arm. She might not have noticed him though because he was very quick to attack her

☂ Five really went through all of that just to bring his wife home

☂ I think it’s an easily blocked out part because we already know what Allison has to say and it’s exciting, but Luther is apologizing about accusing Diego and causing issues amongst his siblings

☂ Five is just so defeated and emotionally tired that he doesn’t allow Luther to touch him. In fact, he very quickly and aggressively grabs Luther’s wrist. You can tell Five is a little out of it and I believe it was more so his subconscious stopping Luther. Five doesn’t want help, he’s going to carry the burden of figuring out who ended the world and killed his family as far as he can by himself

☂ “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing any of you can do.” Are such heavy lines. Five is so emotionally and mentally tired at the end of the day and he sounds like he’s about to breakdown. He’s replaying the moment he found his siblings’ corpses. They weren’t able to stop the person who ended the world. Luther is offering his help, but Five is denying it. Luther couldn’t stop the person who ended the world. None of his siblings were able to stop that person. He’s telling himself that they can’t help and he’s telling Luther and Allison that too. Five wants to be alone to figure out who this person is. His siblings can’t help him

☂ Five coming across the corpses of his siblings is just heartbreaking. He first stumbles across three adults lying in the rubble. One of them is holding an eye. He goes to shake the man in all black, having a tiny bit hope that miraculously he is still alive. He stumbles across another body only to back away with tears in his eyes as he spots the tattoo on the man’s arm and realizes who these people are

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[anghraine]

“the voices of the sea” - fic

I wrote a thing! There might be errors, since I wrote it very quickly, but it was fun (in its way). It’s part of the Aranorverse, where the explicit throwbacks in LOTR (Aragorn, Denethor, Imrahil, and Faramir) are genderbent (as Aranor, Andreth, Imraphel, and Míriel).

In particular, it’s a very belated sequel to “cloven shield and broken sword,” in which Aranor found a dying Boromir:

She remembered him tugging at her leggings, demanding to know but what next? And she remembered him in Lothlórien, haughty and suspicious until he began to speak of Míriel, the sister he had loved and protected through all the days of their lives. Boromir the tall, the fair, the bold, had died, and his treasured sister lived on; what was Aranor’s grief to that?

May the news of his loss come to you swiftly and kindly, jewel-maiden!

The dream always began the same way.

Míriel stood in a city of white and gold, grander than Minas Tirith, grander even than Osgiliath of old, though its domes and towers were similar enough in form that she knew she looked upon the work of Dúnedain. Most of the people around her, however, belied the impression, with their bright hair and soft features—or so it had once seemed. They were handsome, but in a way that unsettled her, like overripe fruit covered in sweet cream. Some particularly disturbed her: tall men in long red tunics, leading lines of bound prisoners towards a building beneath a particularly large and glittering dome.

The prisoners would not have looked out of place in Minas Tirith. Míriel’s stomach turned as smoke trailed up from the dome.

The first time, she still knew not what she saw at this point. It was strange and disagreeable, but little worse, until the winds began to blow. Míriel’s black hair whipped around her face, rain splattering on her head and cheeks and the ground, where it pooled into large puddles. Nobody seemed to notice her. Men came running from what looked like a harbour, shouting things in a language she couldn’t quite understand; her impression of their thoughts was dark and clouded, enough that she shrank back. 

But she was not a shrinking sort of girl, not really. The prisoners had drawn her attention again; the red-robed men seemed to be distracted by the newcomers and the prisoners had seized the chance to struggle with their bonds. She ran over to them.

“Who are you? Do you come from Gondor?” she asked.

No one answered. No one so much as acknowledged her existence. But as the water splashed over her sandalled feet, the prisoners broke free and fled, chased futilely by only a few of the robed men. She caught a single familiar word amidst all the clamour: storm.

Yes, of course. It must have come on very unexpectedly; everyone appeared to be dressed very lightly for this kind of weather. Míriel was herself; her thin tunic soon soaked through, and her skin went numb. The sky grew darker; she almost thought she saw the shadow of some enormous creature flicker across it. And the steady fall of the rain turned into torrential sheets of water that blasted through the streets, scattering the people on them.

Míriel ran as quickly as she could, like the rest, but instead of retreating into houses or flying to the ships, she turned and scrambled towards the clearest sign of refuge: a mountain near the city, rising clear and pure above its buildings. Smoke puffed from its summit, which struck her as wrong in some way.

She was a child at the time, her steps short, but somehow or other, her feet brought her out of the city and to the side of the mountain before the driving wind and rain could wholly flood the city and its environs. Ahead of her, a small woman in an embroidered white tunic, with sparkling bracelets about her wrist and a golden collar at her throat, clambered up the sides of the mountain. The air was hot, hotter than it should be, but Míriel could think of nowhere else to go. She struggled up the mountain after the woman.

“Can you hear me?” she called out. “Let us help one another!”

To her surprise, the woman looked back—but her fair face, though not unsettling in the way of the others’, was filled with utter terror. She didn’t seem to see Míriel at all, her pale grey eyes wide and staring. 

Míriel followed her gaze, and gasped. Water was rushing out of the city and drowning the green valley below, rising with impossible swiftness. Míriel was not craven, but at that, she turned back to the mountainside and struggled to scramble up its ledges, ignoring the pebbles that pressed into her feet beneath her thin, drenched sandals. Now, she could not look back, and she ignored the horror that filled her mind.

They never did make it to the top of the mountain. But they reached a high enough point that Míriel could see past it. Water was flooding beyond it, too, pouring through forests and rising over hills from every direction.

Even as Míriel gazed upon it, the storming water splashed up into foamy waves that roared beneath them. This did not, however, prepare her for what happened next.

To the west, all the waves seemed to join together into one, towering and impossibly enormous. But it grew still larger, cascading up and up and up and up, above Míriel and the woman, above the mountain itself, above everything. The hills and valleys, forests and cities, all fell under its heavy shadow. Míriel’s very blood felt cold, her her breath coming in small, frightened pants as the wave’s inescapable darkness deepened.

The woman, clinging to rocks, screamed something that Míriel half-understood. Then the wave began to crash down on them.

In Míriel’s bedchamber, her eyes flew open. That time, the first time, she promptly burst into tears and cried until Boromir came running, thinking she was ill. He managed to console her, but within a few nights, the dream came again, and then again within a few nights of that. So it continued, on and on, through the years that followed.

The horror of it never really abated. Yet she grew accustomed to it, in a way: to the sight of Númenor in its most terrible hour, only made worse by the understanding of what came next and why, to the glimpses of her namesake, the rightful queen. Indeed, nothing but the wave itself left so strong a mark on her mind as Tar-Míriel’s face, so beautiful and so terrified.

She, Míriel of Gondor, would never forget her, or Númenor, or where the folly and evils of their people had led. She could never forget. Perhaps that was the purpose of the dream. Perhaps it was a warning of what victory could mean in the end, however improbable victory might seem in her waking hours. Perhaps it was something else yet. But it never stopped haunting her.

Nearly thirty years after the first dream, though, it changed. Míriel dreamed again of Armenelos and the Meneltarma and the shadow of death rising inexorably above all. But there was no waking. The wave slowly began to collapse over them, foam and droplets spattering her face before it reached her. Míriel stood tall and straight, refusing to cower, allowing herself no further weakness than blinking the water out of her face. She opened her eyes to more water, feeling it slosh about her bare ankles.

But it was now deep into night beneath a pale moon, just bright enough for her to see that the water in which she stood flowed smoothly past the familiar shores of the Anduin. The terror of the Downfall had shifted to an overwhelming sense of peace.

As she watched, she saw a small boat come floating up the river. In colour, it was a peculiar, shining grey; in design, she could not recognize it. Nor did she expect to, for it cast a dim light all around it. Though nobody appeared to be rowing or steering it, it continued on its serene course without interruption.

Míriel felt a distinct desire to draw nearer the boat, to understand what could possibly explain all this. She thought of resisting the desire; she might have—but it did not strike her as foul in the way of the Enemy’s arts, so she dared approach. 

The boat slowed as she came near, within hand’s reach of the prow. Her instincts warned her against touching it, but she saw illuminated water filling the boat, and a warrior who first appeared to be sleeping in it.

Míriel gasped.

“Boromir!”

She knew at a second glance that he was dead. Anyone might have, without need of fallen Númenor or any other powers of this world. His chest had been pierced with many wounds. His sword lay broken on his knee, and others at his feet. His black hair had been carefully laid over his shoulders. She recognized everything he wore except a lovely belt of linked golden leaves, and his face was not only restful, but beautiful, even more than in life.

She and her mother had already feared the worst, when they heard the echo of his horn coming from the north, unaccompanied by any news of him. But it was one thing to fear, and another to see.

“Where is your horn?” she asked, as if he might somehow answer. 

The boat kept floating under her gaze, drifting past where she stood in the water. 

“Where are you going?” she cried. “Oh, Boromir!”

It passed on, down the stream and fading into the night, towards the sea. Míriel stood alone in the water. No priest of Sauron, no Faithful prisoner, no doomed queen or frightened citizen intruded upon her notice. No brother, either. 

She tilted her head down to stare into the clear river-water, her reflection a dark blur at this hour. With her hair hanging loose around her face, obscuring the sight of the shore, it reminded her of peering into the waters near Dol Amroth on a calm night. Perhaps it had reminded her father of the sea he missed, too. Oh, the sea, the sea! Must it always be the sea?

She felt tears slide down her cheeks—as if the occasion required more water, when Boromir was gone and forever consigned to the fate of Men. They would never see him return. She would never feel his great embrace once more, nor listen to him with their mother, nor ride out to the Pelennor with him, nor ever again see him laugh among the knights of Dol Amroth. Míriel squeezed her eyes shut.

She pressed her fingers to her face, rubbing away tears, and opened her eyes again. She felt no surprise at the sight of her bedchamber in Minas Tirith. Yet she was not lying in bed but sitting upon it, her hands still pressed to her cheeks, as if she had actually woken some time before, or never slept at all. Míriel rose, shaking out her dry shift, and walked over to her window, which looked westwards.

Boromir had risked death constantly; it was his duty and right as Captain-General and heir to the Stewardship. She had always known this. She had certainly known it when he set out on his errand, driven by a dream of his own. Yet, in some way, she had not known—not understood—and now—

Now, she must tell their mother.

[pillowfluffs]

Wake Up | Lee Jeno

Pairing: Jeno X Reader (gender neutral) ft dreamies

Genre: cuteness

Author’s Note: based on this tiktok that called me single in 5 different languages ;-; 

the hand is really like throwing me off for some reason

The time said it was almost noon and Jeno was still asleep soundly in bed

He usually woke up a little before, around the same time, or even a little after you did but so far he rarely slept in

The other members had already woke up and Renjun already began to make breakfast alongside Chenle and Jisung to his aid

Mark and Haechan was still washing up and Jaemin just sat across the table from you, drinking his coffee with his espresso shots

Jeno must’ve been very very tired for him to still be asleep this late

But it made sense they all just finished recording their new music video, Go, for this upcoming comeback

And they travelled out of the country for a music video

And from what they told you, it was very exhausting and it took two whole days with little room for error and rest in between

Ofc this part is just part of the story. Idk how long they actually spend recording

And since they recorded in a different country, they were all pretty jet lagged, specifically Jeno who had it the worst

He had trouble sleeping on the plane ride back

but since it was a comeback, this meant many different promotions on the different shows and then dance practices that were already scheduled to come up soon

It took a lot to be an idol and to be so young in the industry too with little free time

“If Jeno doesn’t wake up, he won’t get any waffles,” Renjun warned to which you took this as your queue to wake him

“Will I get any if I go wake him?” You teased already knowing you would get some

Renjun and you had been close friends since you met everyone else, almost your brother

“We’ll see,” he smiled but you knew you would or you would make him make more for you

But you were also surprised how awake they all were but then again, they were probably more tired than they were showing

Like they were trained to

Wearing one of Jeno’s super oversized shirts, you made your way through the dorm towards his room at the end of the hall

You opened his door to smell his cologne mixed with his natural scent fill your nose

It was such a pleasant smell, you loved it

He slept on his back, his bare upper body exposed with one arm stretched over his pillows above his head with the other slung over his stomach

His blanket draped over his legs

From the doorway, you could see his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he took

You crawled beside him from. The foot of the bed and laid on top of him, propping yourself by your arms  

“Jeno, it’s time to wake up,” you peppered featherlike kisses to his cheek, the heat from his body going into your body as you laid on his stomach

This only stirred him a little bit, getting him to hum in his deep sleep

“Jeno,” you dragged out a bit louder, “it’s time for breakfast.”

“Mmmm...” was all you got from him as he wrapped his arms around your form on him, cuddling you

Your face was suddenly squished between his arms and his bare chest as he continued to sleep

“Food time,” you mumbled into his skin, stretching your neck to kiss his jaw, rubbing the side of his arm

There really was no use

He was drained and could most likely sleep for another couple hours but he should stay awake and then sleep at night to fix his jet lag

“Wake up,” your voice soft against his skin as you rubbed his arm

But this only made him turn on his side, his hold still on you as he draped one of his legs beneath the blanket over yours

He rendered you immobile, all except your other hand

“Just a bit longer,” the first words he was able to speak to you

But his voice was barely there with how sleepy he was

“You’ll miss the breakfast Renjun made,” you said

“It’s fine,” he said breathily as he rested his chin to the crown of your head. “Mm, you’re so warm,” he said as he somehow fell even deeper into sleep

There really was no way you could wake him up

But a bit longer wouldn’t hurt, right?

You stroked your hand over his bare back, drawing light lines with the pads of your finger over his smooth skin

There was something about the way he held you that began to make you feel tired too

You ended up yawning more and more the longer you stayed in his embrace, surrounded by his smell

His weight on your body that was able to lull you to sleep faster than any weighted blanket or melatonin could

Your light strokes gradually slowed down to a stop as your eyes grew heavier, your body relaxing into his

“Wake up!” The sound of Renjun’s voice was loud enough that startled you, making you jump in his embrace that was able to finally wake up Jeno

“You came in here like half an hour ago to wake him up, how did you fall asleep with him?”

The room was suddenly filled with laughter as you woke up to find the other dreamies surrounding the two of you

Jaemin taking pictures to tease the two of you in the future with

“Wash up and go eat the waffles before they go cold,” Renjun scolded as he still wore his apron, waving his spatula menacingly at the stretching Jeno

“And put some clothes on!” He said as they all left the room, leaving the two of you

“Good morning,” he said as he blinked down to you, remnants of sleep evident in his low morning voice

“Good afternoon,” you smiled up to him, pressing a smiling kiss to his cheek, making him squeeze his arms around your waist, turning his body with you still in your grasp

He could get used to waking up like this

~~~~~ Masterlist for more! Thank you for reading!

[honeycombalbedo]

Cryo Visions || Genshin Impact Theory (Part 1)

(This so long I have to separate it into 2-3 partss)

Reason for doing this?? I just really like cryo characters ok

So to begin we have to talk abt why visions are granted

Visions are given to mortals by the god who represents said vision's element. The reasons why they give it to certain mortals can be seen in the vision tales for each character, the character level up gems and what the god's divine ideal is (freedom, contracts, etc).

As a few examples:

Pyro: She's a passionate mf who lives for those who have a passion in battle/adventuring/their craft etc and want to have their names know. You can see that in (basically) EVERYONE she's given a vision to. (I don't know how Diluc fits in but I don't really know abot his story other than the basics)

Geo: He values those who work hard and those he can trust with them.

The issue is, the cryo archon is the only one without a confirmed ideal. Everything else can be seen for the most part.

The gemstone:

"Sorry... to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world."

"Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn?"

"Then, burn away the old world for me."

The cryo archon, despite now being described as cold and bitter still seems to have a strong heart for those she deems as unfortunate.

Now it's character story time

Diona

People commonly see Diona as entitled and annoying which it kinda shitty tbh

Diona's father, Draft, who she idolises and adores, is an alcoholic. To quote Diona, "When he's drunk, he's like a wild boar rolling about in the mud!"

We also don't know if Diona's mother is present because only Draft is mentioned and when he's drunk he just, isn't there. She has an envy towards wine because it "steals her father away". She's a lonely child who's father is barely there because he pays more attention to alcohol.

Secondly, she's been blessed(or cursed) by a fairy. It's mentioned in one story chapter. It's why every drink she mixes is so good. This kinda hinders her one goal, to destroy the wine industry.

Finally, she got her vision when a 3 day long storm trapped her father outside. The knights couldn't get a search party going due to said storm. Diona was enraged that she may have her father permanently stolen from her, she rushed outside, puddles beneath her feet freezing as she followed her fathers tracks.

Ganyu

Ganyu is forever cursed to walk among and serve mortals who see her as nothing more as a servant, afraid to mention her qilin heritage due to the fear of people out casting her from liyue's society.

Because her countless hours of work, a thousand years goes by in a blink of an eye. Even the smallest of errors will cause her anxiety to grow and become intensely embarrassed by.

A qilin's nature/ideals is to be peaceful and harmless creatures, not to harm a single plant or bug, making Ganyu a vegetarian. Yet, Liyue's foods are incredibly enticing towards her yet she must stop herself from taking part in their delicacies because a lot of it includes meat. Seems trivial but it's one way Ganyu is separated/distanced from Liyue's society. Which is something she doesn't want to be, distanced, an outsider intruding on the locals.

Interestingly, when Ganyu's vision was granted, it was when she offered to be the Liyue Qixing's secretary, a vision had immediately appeared.

Qiqi

Qiqi is dead, she is a zombie.

When she died she was only a child, sent out the look for herbs by an unknown person, she got lost and trapped between the mortal realm and the realm of the adepti.

Adepti and demons alike watched her, all understanding that this was a innocent child who had the misfortune to be caught in something more than a mortal could handle.

While bandaging her leg's wound, she could hear the otherworldy sounds that emanated from where she sat.

She hadn't expected a large crash and to be forever trapped between life and death.

In her last breaths, she was gifted a cryo vision, the adepti couldn't let her die now, so they gave her a part of their strength to keep her alive. She had to be frozen in amber for a few years due to her body being unable to control the adepti's strength.

After a few hundred years, she was discovered, yet still in amber. She was going to be brought to wangsheng to be buried but due to the journey, the seal shattered and she ran away.

She continued her herb gathering duties, even in death, and that's when she met Baizhu, a man interested in immortality. She was taken in by him and became his herb gatherer, and his test subject.

It's offhandedly mentioned in her voice line about Baizhu "I can never remember Dr. Baizhu's face. But I don't mind." Which implies she has no attachment to him whatsoever and wouldn't mind forgetting him. Another thing that implies this, is in one of her stories, the only thing that can cancel orders is a hug from behind and to say something akin to "I love you the most". It's mentioned that when Baizhu does it, it ineffective because it has little sincerity.

Also, this is her vision story

"Qiqi's Vision was given to her in the last moment of her life.

She wanted to stop the clock from turning. She wanted to live happily again.

She feared death. She wanted to live. She missed her family...

These feelings coalesced at last into "ice."

"If only I could freeze time... How wonderful would that be?"

As she thought thus, tears fell from the moribund girl's eyes upon the Vision that had appeared before her.

The mighty and illuminated adepti all acknowledged that this was a legitimate form of "illumination" — the yearning of humanity for bygone days is, after all, a desire to protect the past."

And that's the end of the first part, next one will be about Chongyun and Kaeya, and hopefully a conclusion to this.

[eleanore-delphinium]

The Demon’s Head

Damian Al Ghul for a moment was a hero. And in that time that he was a hero, naturally he would meet other heroes.

That was how he met her.

His Raven.

He would describe her as a very graceful woman. She was quiet, kind, generous and lovely. Despite her name sounding as if it should belong to a lonely person or an unkind being, she was none of these. But her name did befit her origins. In the sense that she is the daughter of a being synonymous to satan; and of intergalactic alien origin, the conqueror of worlds. Therefore, the name Raven as ominous as it was, befit her well, and yet also-- not so well.

But that was the thing, he was only a hero for only a moment. That moment was all that mattered, since—after all, that was how he met her. As she continued on her heroic path, he returned to what he knew to be right as a child, the path of darkness.

He took upon himself, the name Al Ghul, a name synonymous to a demon, and he used it well. And thus, Damian Al Ghul was reborn anew, he became the Demon’s Head. The name became associated to a cruel, cruel man. But he changed the ways of his organization, and tread very, very strictly on a grey line. And in doing so, he keeps his Raven. And remember it well and do not forget, he only stays on that grey line to keep her by his side.

And if anything were to happen to his beloved Raven, he will cross to the darkness before one could even blink his own eyes, and will burn everything and anything in his path with his bare hands.

So, make no mistake by taking his Raven away or you will live a life even more painful than death. For Damian Al Ghul has a league of assassin as his army, who are extremely loyal to him. And him alone.

Killing for him was as easy as dropping a needle on a hay stack.

Damian Al Ghul, the leader of the league of assassins, stood inside his throne room made of beautiful marble in ivory and gold. The sun high up in the sky, its light entering the space so blindingly. The sunlight weaves through the pillars and mashrabiya* leaving beautiful intricate patterns on the marble floors. The sunlight helped give an illusion of brightness and happiness and warmth to the chamber.

Damian was facing his throne, his back against the door as he read the papers he was holding with his right hand. His left hand resting against his back, atop his green cape. He was wearing his black with gold uniform and armor with a green cape in contrast to the almost white room. And with his cold facial expression one would be reminded, that all the sunlight was giving after all, was just an illusion of warmth.

Damian Al Ghul was not kind at all. But of course, there is an exception to the rule.

The door suddenly opened with a burst and a loud bang, and Damian’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He had strictly told them that he shouldn’t be disturbed unless necessary. He coaxed himself thinking that it had to be an emergency. With narrowed eyes he tilts his head a bit to the left to acknowledge the presence of the intruder.

“My Lord!” A man in an all-black suit says hurriedly as he kneels on the floor with a thud. His left leg against the floor while the other propped up to let his right arm rest on top. His head bent toward the floor.

“What is it that you have to report?” His enunciation of every word unhurried and heavy. Damian could hear the gulp from his poor frightened little underling. Even if said underling was twenty meters away.

“It’s—it’s the Lady.” The poor man could barely say. And even though the sun was high up in the sky, and that it’s light shone brightly in the room, making the chamber look as if it was glittering, it became cold. So cold, that both people seemed frozen in place, but the poor underling was the one fighting his shivers.

“What about the Lady?” Damian asked a little too clearly, that the poor subordinate could only kneel on both knees, bend his body and rested his forehead against his hands that was now on the floor. At this point, Damian turned slowly, as his green eyes landed on the man in black.

“What about the Lady?” He repeated even more slowly than the last. And Damian saw his assassin shiver in fear.

“She-she has been missing for a few days, and we searched for her—but—but—she is nowhere to be found.” He reported as calmly as he could. The subordinate thought the room couldn’t possibly get any colder than it already was, but he was wrong. The moment he finished his report, he was kneeling there in pure horror, he was sure he will die today.

“It seems that my league of assassin who are supposed to be like a shadow, cannot protect their lady in the shadow.” It was spoken slowly that it was certain: that this was the calm before the storm. “It seems that my league of assassins lack training.” He concluded.

“You cannot even track down your lost lady, why do I even keep any of you!” Damian’s voice echoed through the chambers; his fury clear. And yet, anyone who knew their lord, would know that was not the full extent of his anger.

No, it really wasn’t.

“Lady Shiva!” He summoned and instantly a woman with black hair up to her neck in red appeared beside the kneeling assassin.

“It seems that you have been lax in training the league.” He tells her and as she bends her torso to bow. Before she could start with her apologies, he continued on. “Prepare the top ten men in the league, and have them follow me. We will look for the lady.” He started walking down his throne.

“No, in fact, I will be looking for her. And if you so choose to have people follow me then so be it.” He said when his eyes landed on Lady Shiva as he approached them, the assassin up on his feet, his head bent low as to be respectful to their Lord.

“When I find Raven, I hope my league’s errors would be corrected. But that would be wishful thinking, won’t it, Lady Shiva? I will personally see to their training when I return.” Lady Shiva and the assassin gave way to their Lord.

“Of course, my Lord.” She mutters as he completely disappears.

 ~.~.~.~.~

 Damian held a woman in blood stained and dirt-filled white robes on his arms. Her face had cuts and bruises and she looked so weak and small against his shoulder. When he looks down at her injured face, there was a softness in his glance. A gentleness unbefitting of the Demon’s Head.

But as gentle as he was as he held her, the scene behind him was not. Orange flames flickered as he walks out from the heat and the building calmly.

“I want anyone who is even remotely related to this tracked down, and I want them tortured.” He said so calmly as he held the woman he loves in his arms. His gentle glance has become cold as he looks at his subordinates in front of him. The crunch of green grass under his feet as he continued on into the night that was illuminated by the orange flames behind him.

“If done well enough, then maybe I won’t be so strict when I train you all. Prove that you all aren’t so useless after all.” His tone stone cold.

The gentleness from before must have been an illusion. Because this was the Damian Al Ghul, they all love, respected and oh-so-feared.

“Of course, my Lord.” One replied with a bow.

“No.” They pause as they wait for Damian’s final instructions. “Keep the master mind alone, I would love to capture and torture them myself.” And the shadows that was surrounding him disappeared. Raven stirred in his arms, against his chest.

“Damian?” She called out weakly. And he stood frozen as he took a peek eagerly at the woman in his arms. “They didn’t know.” She mumbles and he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes on her. She means that it wasn’t the Justice League’s fault.

“They didn’t know it was going to be a trap.” She tried to keep her head a float.

“And look at the price you had to pay.” He said bitterly as he sneered a little and continued walking to the jet.

“I—” She couldn’t even say anything to defend the Justice League, because she felt the turmoil in Damian. How could she defend the Justice League knowing what he was feeling?

“I didn’t mind that you wanted to continue being a hero. I would not take that from you.” He sets her down inside the jet. “And I know that you know this to be true, I only stay in between good and bad for you. If you are taken out of the equation, I have no qualms in being the Demon’s Head, in its truest sense. But you choose to love me, despite of who I am. And I will not have any one harm you. Less others think that the Demon’s head is weak.”

“You are not a bad person, my love.” She replied, as she cups his cheek. He closes his eye and places a hand over hers. He opens his eyes and meets her violets irises.

“But I can be, if I am without you.” He whispered so gently as his forehead laid against hers. The words completely true. They stay like that for a minute in silence, and he pulls away.

“You shall stay in Nanda Parbat as you recuperate. I will inform the Justice League.”  He stares at her sternly but she does not refuse him and he turns away from her.

The Justice League has been quite cautious about Raven. They knew of her relationship with the leader of the League of Assassins. And what the risk of putting her in imminent danger would mean considering Damian’s nature. Therefore, Raven was treated as if she was glass and yet, also fire.

“I begged them to give me the mission.” She said softly, she took note of Damian’s body twitching but she had to continue on. “After you left, and made a name for yourself as the new Demon’s Head, they were uncertain of where my loyalties lie.” She found it difficult to talk due to her injuries, but she had enough strength to heal herself a bit, to keep herself conscious and stop internal bleeding. And so Raven did, as she continued on.

“And then you made a point to show that you were not like your predecessor. And yet, you also made it clear you could be far worst. And I, your beloved, was someone who they could not risk in the forefront anymore.” She moved in her seat, as she felt her insides return back to how it should be. “I just wanted to do one more mission, where I wasn’t treated like a bomb, and after that, I will be done.”

He turned to look at her with a shocked expression. Her voice was calm as her face was gentle. Despite her battered appearance, she looked like a saint to him. The words he couldn’t seem to say aloud, she felt, and she responded as she closed her eyes.

“Yes, I was going to leave the Titans, and be with you. Commit fully to you.” Her voice was soft but his thoughts were a mess. And it was clear to Raven, all of his thoughts, as if they were all written on the air for her to read.

“The Justice League thought it was a harmless mission; therefore, they could let me go. It was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission, nothing more. But we were ambushed, and I was captured.” She sighs and opens her eyes to look up at Damian. The water in his eyes finally gave way as he blinked when their met, and she inhaled a breath.

“You could have died.” He said it lightly, that Raven’s heart started beating fast in her ears. His cold eyes that had never been directed at her, has finally landed on her. “You could have died, if I was just a minute too late.” And like his eyes that could no longer contain his tears. Raven could not ignore his emotions. And she broke into a sob, as she covered her lips with her fingers. He knelt beside her, as he put a hand on her cheek.

And his face was not cold nor was it warm. The eyes she had seen him use with his fellow assassins had disappeared. She didn’t expect that the day he would look at her, the way he did his subordinates, would happen.

“Are you crying for me?” He whispered and she sniffed as she looks at him. But still, even if his cold stare was frightening. She could never be afraid of Damian Al Ghul, even if he was an Al Ghul, and the current Demon’s Head.

“I’m sorry.” She tried to contain the emotions. And she could feel the apology he was about to say. And before he could, she leans her forehead against his. Places her right thumb over his lips as her palm rested on his jaw. “But I swear to you, I am done with being a hero. I want to walk that grey line with you.”

And his lips turned up into a smile. A smile that was only ever directed at her. His gentleness and kindness only exclusive to her. His warmth only reserved for her. And she could feel it all in her chest, and in her very bones.

The love he has for his beloved Raven.

And the danger, if he loses his bird.

 (FIN)

  Notes:

*Mashrabiya = those wooden windows with intricate design; (wiki says: is an architectural element which is characteristic of traditional architecture in the Islamic world and is a type of projecting oriel window enclosed with carved wood latticework).

[speechlessxx]

extremely wicked.

[dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Summary: After abandoning your ex-fiancé during his murder trial, he seeks you out for revenge. 

Warnings: drug use (prescribed tho), language, i could’ve made ransom a little darker but i chicked out, shitty writing, mild violence, mistakes probably 

Word Count: ~1.6k, a bit on the shorter side. 

i originally planned for smut but i pussied out (as usual)

Buy me a Ko-Fi - donations are unnecessary but GREATLY appreciated. 

You were fear stricken as the harsh winds blew against the tree, causing the branches to scrape against your front window. The screeching of wood against glass accompanied by the shadows left you paralyzed with wide eyes.

The advice the FBI agent told you still hung in the air – advice you should’ve heeded to, but you were always stubborn. “It’s unsafe for you, miss,” he told you and now you cursed yourself for being so dismissive of his concern.

You pried your eyes away from the window after a few long moments, staring at the brightly lit television screen that burned your tired eyes. The mindless sitcom proved to be a short-lived distraction as the show abrupted ended to deliver news. The broadcast did nothing to ease your anxiety, but every time you’d change the channel, you were met with the same story:

Breaking News: Serial Killer, Hugh Ransom Drysdale, at Large.

His mugshot was front and center as the anchorman warned the public to not approach him. “It’s unknown if Drysdale is armed, but he’s most certainly dangerous”.

You felt the color drain from your face as you continued to stare at the photograph.

The same pair of blue eyes stared tauntingly back at you. They were colder than you remembered. The smirk on his face was as charming as the day you met. Charming yet cynical.

A loud snap! pulled you from your thoughts, causing you to let out a small yelp. Your eyes immediately searched your surroundings as your breathing picked up slightly. The branch that hung over your window had fallen. The shadow and its silhouette were gone, leaving you a clear view of the full moon in the grey night sky.

You pressed your hand against your chest as you tried to steady your breath. Inhale, exhale… you thought to yourself. Inhale… exhale. You felt your heartbeat against your sternum, thumping against the bone as if it wanted to escape like the man who once stole your heart.

Your fear wasn’t misplaced. You had every right to be afraid.

It was your fault he was imprisoned after all.

The images of the women’s bodies flashed through your mind ever so often. During the trial, photographs of the cadavers were shown to the jury and audience. The audible gasps that were heard throughout the entire courtroom was almost as haunting as the very images that burned through your skull. You dabbed away at the tears as Ransom and his team of lawyers – the “most elite” group that Linda could buy just before disowning her son – congregated in the small office, coming up with a strategy. Ransom looked over at you before dismissing his team to “comfort” you.

It was then you gave back the engagement ring, telling him you couldn’t do this anymore. Despite Ransom’s insistence on his innocence, the evidence was stacking up against him. He looked guiltier and guiltier each day – even you doubted him. No matter how much you loved him, you wanted no part of this trial.

It was then he grabbed you. With a hand to your throat, squeezing the life out of you, he shoved you against the wall.

It was then he seethed his threat that haunted your dreams a year later.  

“If you leave me now, I swear to you… I will fucking kill you.”

He screamed it. Your ears were ringing as you begged him to let you go. When you managed to open the door and free yourself, you fell to the ground, coughing and wheezing. You were too caught up in your fear that you hadn’t realized Ransom’s outburst attracted a crowd.

It was that threat that put the final nail to his coffin.

You shook the memories out of your head. “It’s done, (Y/N).” You reminded yourself. “It happened. It’s over.” You took a deep breath as you turned off the television – it was doing you more harm than good anyway.

You walked over to your kitchen and frowned when the light refused to turn on. The wind whirled outside as you furiously flipped the switch but to no avail. The bulb was dead.

You groaned to yourself, thinking that this night could not go any worse. You poured yourself a glass of water before deciding to call it a night, reasoning you had an early shift.

The stairs creaked beneath your feet as you ascended the flight. As you prepared for bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The entire atmosphere of your house had shifted, placing you into an undesired horror film and leaving a strange feeling in your bones. You shuffled through your bedside drawer, in search for the orange Rx bottle containing the Ambien you were prescribed to help you sleep.

You flushed the pill down with big gulps of water, hoping that the sleeping aid would kick in faster. You snuggled into your comforter as a shiver ran down your spine. Your head whirled around the dark room and letting out a shrill shriek.

You swore a figure walked past your bedroom door and disappear down the hall. You blinked several times as if to adjust your eyes to the darkness – although with the power outage, they were already well adjusted.

“Nothing’s there.” You told yourself as you shoved the covers off. You poked your head out the door, examining the hallway. “You’re just paranoid… and tired.”  

Goosebumps rose on your skin as a familiar chuckle rang throughout the empty house. Menacing and wicked like a predator laughing at its prey.

“Oh, (Y/N)…” his voice echoed. Your breath hitched in your throat as you backed into your bedroom and locked the door; though, you knew it wouldn’t keep him out for long.

You fumbled with your cellphone, dialing 9-1-1. Within seconds the operator answered but you didn’t give him the chance to complete his script.

“I’m in trouble.” You whimpered. Your voice quivered and your hands – your entire body – was shaking. “Hugh Ransom Drysdale… he’s in my house. Please…”

“Ma’am,” the operator let out a long sigh. “Did you see him?”

“No, you don’t understand.” You rubbed at your eyes with frustration. “I’m his ex-fiancé. It was my testimony that put him in jail. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L).”

“Miss (Y/L), what’s your address?” He asked. The faint sound of typing could be heard on the other line. You recited it only for him to say, “you’re breaking up… Can you – “his voice began to break, muffled and robotic.

“No, no,” you begged as the line suddenly cut. Your mind slowly became fuzzier and fuzzier as the drug slowly began to take effect. You tried to redial, but the error message rang out throughout the phone’s speakers.

“(Y/N)…” he knocked three times.

“Ransom, please,” you cried. “Please, just go.” Tears rushed down your face as you tried to fight the drowsiness. “I won’t tell anyone you were here – “

The doorknob jiggled. “I just want to talk, my little dove.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Like you didn’t believe me when I said I was innocent?” He tutted at you. “Open the door, little dove. Let’s talk.”

“No.” You shook your head although he couldn’t see you.

Ransom let out a sigh before a thud slammed against the wooden door. You whimpered before scampering beneath your bed. The slamming continued until you heard the door break. Your eyelids became heavier as heavy footsteps stomped around your room. You pressed your hand against to your mouth, muffling your breath, praying to whatever god or deity that was listening that he’d leave.

The footsteps suddenly stopped as Ransom exhaled. “My dumb, dumb little baby,” he tutted. Two large hands grabbed your ankles and you screamed as you clawed the floor in an attempt to anchor yourself.

Ransom straddled your waist, holding your thrashing legs in place as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them at the side of your head. He leaned over you – faces centimeters apart.

“Do you remember the last thing I told you?” Ransom asked you, ocean blue eyes bearing into yours. You shook your head at him, crying as meaningless strings of pleads escaped your lips. Ransom cooed, nudging your nose with his. “My dumb baby…”

“Ransom, please,” you cried. “Just go.”

“No, little dove,” he smirked. “I’m not letting you go.” He watched as your eyes slowly became a bit glazed over. “What did you take?” Ransom’s tone suddenly became concerned as he pulled away from you. His voice became distanced as Ransom’s face became blurrier and blurrier until you succumbed to the peaceful darkness – hoping that this was only a nightmare and that when you’d wake, this cold blooded murderer wouldn’t be looming over you.

Ransom slapped your cheek lightly at first, hoping that you’d regain consciousness. He called your name again before slapping you harder. He shook your shoulders but was met with no response.

“Well,” he huffed as he pulled your limp body from the floor, throwing you over his shoulder like a ragdoll. “Makes it easier for me, then.”

The stairs creaked louder beneath your combined weights. He hummed to himself as he opened the found your keys sitting at the dining table and waltzing over to the garage. He placed you at the passenger seat, wincing slightly when he accidentally knocked your head against the roof of the car.

Ransom made his way to the driver’s seat as the garage door slid open. He smirked to himself as he drove. He glanced over you, fast asleep with your head pressed against the window, jolting when the roads became uneven.

“Oh, what wicked things I have planned for you, my little dove.”

[prose-for-hire]

Always and forever

Pairing: Buffy Summers x fem!reader

Request: Hi I love your writing , may I request a Female reader x Buffy where they go on a small date and the reader is clueless it's a date cause they're awkward and Buffy thinks it's cute 🥺💕

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I’m back writing (slowly, very slowly) and here with Buffy and a female reader no less – hope this is what you wanted anon !! 💜🖤

It started with a smile.

The first time you had met she had been entranced by your smile. She thought you were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. You had become close friends, the type where you could tell the other everything. Everything except your feelings for the other.

Buffy had liked you for a long time, she had come out to you first telling you that she liked girls. You had smiled, tried your best to be encouraging – explaining that you had those feelings for other women too.

She was beyond pleased when she heard this, she had a crush on your for a long time, but she hadn’t told you this just yet. She was trying to work up the courage to say something. She was usually more self-assured but when it came to you, there was no margin for error. She couldn’t lose you.

It was no secret to your friends that you both had feelings for each other, having both separately confided to the others. You, slightly awkwardly to Willow and Tara one afternoon in the Magic Box when it was quiet). The witches just smiled at each other knowingly, having had a recent and very similar conversation with a certain slayer about her feelings for you.

But nobody had clued either of you in, it was better to let you both discover it yourselves, they decided.

It carried on like this, with the stolen glances you would take at any opportunity. As well as the laughter and the way you both appeared to light up when the other was around.

Until today. Today, was the day. Buffy had just woken up and decided life was too short. You had all just fought your way through an apocalypse and Buffy decided she didn’t want to face the end of the world again without you knowing the way she felt.

She found you in the Magic Box sorting through some scrolls. You worked there and had been left to man the store alone as everyone else had some really important things to be doing until later.

The bell rang at the front and you looked up, smiling when you saw who it was. Buffy. She was wearing a cute cami and you complimented it as soon as you saw it. You wanted to continue, complimenting every feature she had. Every sweet smile and her rosy cheeks after she fought a demon.

Buffy smiled, looking down slightly as she spoke. She was usually so forthright, so self-assured but with you it all melted away.

This was so important to her – you were so important to her. She decided to ask you on a date first, so you could feel out how you wanted to continue.

“You wanna Bronze it tonight?”

“Uh, yeah okay – I’ll ask the others”

“No, uh, you don’t have to. We can have a girls night – where the girls would b-be just us” She hinted, your face smiling softly as you became excited at the prospect of having her alone.

However, you hadn’t realised that you had actually just agreed to a date. You were quite black and white and she made you flustered at the best of times so because she hadn’t actually called it a date – you hadn’t realised that was what it was.

Nevertheless, you dressed up with her in mind. Your favourite outfit, one she had compliment before. You were so excited that she wanted to spend quality time to you but you never even considered she wanted to hold you the way you wished to hold her. Kiss her the way she wanted to kiss you. Or even call each other girlfriend in the way you both desperately wanted.

She smiled as you entered, she had already saved a table. She wouldn’t usually come so early but she had been so excited (and she knew if she went for a walk around the block to kill time she would run into some demon and instead become hideously late because she would get into a fight).

You were right on time, not wanting to miss a second with her. You slid into the seat opposite her. She slid the drink over to you that she had already ordered. You were surprised to note it was your favourite: she had remembered. As you reached for the cup, your hand brushed against hers.

You felt a heat rising in your cheeks as you looked down at the way your hands had touched even slightly. You moved your hand reluctantly and took a massive gulp of your drink for something to do. To distract yourself from thinking about how her hand would feel in yours. How you were sure her fingers were made to entwine perfectly with yours.

She smiled at the contact but moved when you did, pulling her arms to cross them on the table reluctantly. She watched your hand as you clutched the cup and took a drink, you complimented her choice telling her you couldn’t have ordered any better yourself. She was very proud of this, shrugging a little and doing that pleased little smile you loved.

You were friends, you hugged and showed affection but because it was a date she wished she could reach over and take your hand without having to think twice about it.

She started to talk, asking you about your day. Your interests and any hobbies you had been enjoying recently. But she was unsure if you were having second thoughts. She had been really excited when you had agreed to go out just you and her. But you seemed uncomfortable or at least, uninterested in her.

This wasn’t true. Not even a little bit. You were worried that you were showing your feelings too blatantly when you weren’t sure she felt the same. You overcompensated and so it came off the complete opposite of what you felt.

All of Buffy’s not-so-subtle hints had clearly been lost on you.

Eventually you warmed up, knowing you were close friends should be enough. You knew Buffy cared about you so it was odd that you weren’t being the same.

You shared drinks, the best food that the Bronze had to offer and you were even convinced to dance with her. She lit up so beautifully when you agreed to dance with her. The proximity almost left you reeling. You were afraid you would faint at how close to her you were. How she guided your hands to rest on her as you danced to a slower song together.

She told several men more than once that all of your dances were hers. Nobody questioned it, especially seeing as they knew who Buffy was and the amount of strength she had.

You grinned whispering your thanks, despite you still not quite figuring out her reason for being so blunt with everyone else. All you could focus on was how happy you were with her. Swaying against her slowly. The way her perfume clung to her and her hands grazed your lower back made you shiver.

You were feeling so many things at once and she would never know. Never know how much this moment meant to you. You wished that you could take a picture and keep it in a locket around your neck. Keep her by your side always.

At the end of a really nice night, you walked out together, her insisting on walking an extra thirty minutes out of her way to walk you to your house. She needed to make sure that you weren’t ambushed by something big and gross.

When you arrived at your home you turned to thank her for a fun time. You smiled, feeling a little more confident to express your feelings with your close friend and rubbed her upper arm softly. She smiled at the contact, feeling the usual glimmer of hope she would feel. Pleased that now you had been on a date, this meant she had been right. That you harboured affection back.

This, of course was true, but you still weren’t entirely aware that she felt this way despite every sign. As you turned to leave she stopped you gently, holding your hand and smiling. She took a deep breath before finally saying something she had wanted to say for such a long time.

“We could kiss y’know, what with the date… only if the whole romantic kiss-age thing is cool with you and not totally outdated”

“This was… a date?”

“Uh, well, only in the sense that we had food and prolonged eye contact” She said, dropping your hand softly and looking away. She was expecting you to let her down gently. She was starting to get embarrassed, she had put her heart on the line. It had been so long and the last thing she wanted was to lose you as a friend.

“I-I didn’t realise-”

“That’s okay. It’s really fine I’ll just go” She started to babble, her eyes widening slightly, “Hopefully the Hellmouth will swallow me up on the way home” she muttered starting to turn away.

“Don’t go! I’m sorry, I was just trying to figure out how I got so lucky” You grinned, finally able to find your words. You moved closer to her, both of your eyes glistening at the revelation. You moved slowly and she blinked slowly, anticipating the contact from your skin. You tucked a stray strand of her beautiful blonde hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek, “Can I still have that kiss?” You whispered, barely audible. It still didn’t feel real. You were walking on air.

You adored her. And to think she harboured anything close to how you felt about her. You were beyond giddy.

Your lips met, it was perfection. The perfect release. You emotions were heightened and the affection you had both harboured for so long poured between you freely for the first time. It was a revelation, her lips gliding against yours. She pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. She wanted to know every part of you. Her lips were so soft, almost addictive. She tasted so good.

The cold nipped at your exposed skin but neither of you noticed it. You were warm. Filled to the brim with love. With such wanting that could finally be fulfilled. You clung to each other, whispering affection and your feelings between kisses as you started to slow and pull away. You looked at each other and smiled. Laughing slightly. She held your hands, squeezing them. That had been the most beautiful kiss either of you had ever had. You never wanted to part.

But you knew now, deep within, that you would never have to.

Your place was by her side.

For always.

[carelesscreativity]

DeathGlitch Comfort for TheMainAlpha: Commission for Ko-Fi

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(SFW, Fluff, Comfort)

Error hated crying. He hated it because it hurt. He hated it because it made him feel weak, but worst of all, it was MESSY. He stared down tearfully at the pile of string in his hands, stemming from both of his eyes. He inhaled shakily. It was the worst. There was so much of it and it was even becoming too tangled for him to use later. He began to uselessly pick at it, in hopes of untangling it. If he was going to cause such a mess, he wanted to be able to use it for SOMETHING.

His hands were shaking as well. For a moment, he didn’t remember why he was crying until the second throb came ripping through his skull in the form of several voices talking at once. He held his head shakily, dropping the strings for a moment. He let out a shaky exhale. They were all calling his name. Well, they weren’t calling HIS name. It wasn’t his name anymore. They were calling for Sans. He twitched violently, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“I-I’m not... not... not anymore...” He was sputtering out shakily. He was pixelating wildly. It was causing a massive strain on his body to the point where his damaged soul was being revealed through the pixels. There was a sudden chill from behind him and instead of making him shiver, he relaxed a little. He was hunched over on his beanbag, the strings of his tears littering the white floor of the AntiVoid.

He heard something be set down before a dark figure drifted around and settled on the ground in front of him. He continued to weakly cry and he felt a slight tugging as clean, white bony fingers began to gently pick at the piles of string tangled beneath him. Reaper finally spoke in that soft, thrumming voice. “Would you like me to untangle these? I’m sure you want to use them for later.”

One of his hands was slowly tracing its way back up the string until it stopped just before his face. Error shakily looked up. Reaper had activated one of his glowing blue eyelights, illuminating the usually dark socket. He knew it made Error feel better when the glitch could tell Reaper was looking at him. “I’m going to touch your cheek, okay?” The god said quietly. Error stared at him, his body giving another small fizzle before he nodded.

He felt the chill before he felt the bone. Reaper’s cold fingers slowly left the string, tracing Error’s cheek. Error shivered a little, but pressed his cheek into Reaper’s hand. “Are they hurting you again? They’re daring to belittle you and bring you back to such a painful place?” Reaper sounded vaguely upset. Error stared at him. Reaper’s other hand came forward, slowly wrapping Error’s string around his finger. He was being careful.

He gently followed the string up to where it connected to Error’s eyesocket. He drifted a little closer, murmuring that he wanted to help. He leaned forward and Error jumped as he felt the reaper’s cold teeth against his own. He reached out and shakily wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. He felt a sudden, slight sting from just under his eyesocket.

He focused on the kiss, shaking quietly. He felt Reaper’s hands back around his waist. The god gently nudged him, giving a soft sigh. “You’re okay, Error... it’s okay...” He murmured quietly. Error leaned against him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Error paused and Reaper nodded quietly, leaning his head over to muzzle him. “I’ll give you a moment.”

“Th-Th-They keep calling for me... but that’s not me anymore... I’m not Sans anymore...” Error whispered shakily, leaning into Reaper’s shoulder. Everywhere the god touched gave a small fizzle, but Error seemed fine otherwise. Reaper was rubbing his back. He asked quietly for Error to lift his head. Error did so, shaking as he stared at him weakly. “I-I’m not him either... I-I’m no longer him... and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be your Gen-”

Reaper silenced him with another kiss. Error melted into it weakly. He could feel Reaper’s finger quietly winding up the string under his other eyesocket. “Focus on me.” Reaper murmured quietly. Error did and screwed his eyes shut, weakly gasping as he felt a second sharp sting from under his other eyesocket. He trembled, screwing his eyes shut. “No, no, don’t start crying again. I JUST disconnected them.”

Reaper sounded exasperated and a little amused. He also sounded warm. It made Error’s body tingle pleasantly. He realized that Reaper had managed to successfully remove the strings from under both of his eye sockets. “Error.” It was the first time that he’d heard his own name since his episode had started. Reaper set down the strings and reached out to cup his cheeks again.

Error stared at him, feeling those hands cup either side of his face. He instinctively reached up with his own hands and pressed them on top of Reaper’s. He felt like he was going to cry again. Since Reaper had arrived, the voices had died down. They were much more tolerable now, though he could still hear whispers of a name that was long dead to him. He couldn’t help but still feel like Reaper blamed him.

He could tell Reaper missed Geno sometimes. At least, that’s what he thought. He stared blankly at the god of death, who seemed to catch on, narrowing his eyelight. “Are you doubting yourself again?” He murmured softly. “I know that face.” He refrained himself from saying it was the same. Geno used to make the same face. Reaper’s fingers were absentmindedly picking and pulling at the tangled string beneath him.

He was beginning to wrap it up into a sort of yarn ball. Error finally noticed his scythe, which the other had placed a bit away. He trembled as he leaned back in the beanbag, asking why Reaper had even come. The god glanced up at him with that one, glowing blue ring. “You know I visit you every chance I get.” He rumbled quietly. He gave a small smile. “And you love it.”

“S-S-Sure...” Error muttered, looking away as he felt his face heat up a little. He was trembling quietly. Reaper stopped wrapping up the string for a moment, carefully placing it off to the side. He moved forward, settling next to Error’s legs as he leaned against the beanbag himself. He asked quietly if something else was wrong. Error wouldn’t look at him as he answered with a tremor in his glitching voice. “N-N-No...”

“Error...” Reaper said quietly. He moved so he was resting his head on Error’s femur, looking up at the other. He reached up as Error stared down at him with a flushed face. “Please talk to me. I’m not allowing you to shut yourself away ag-” He stopped himself and exhaled shakily. “Not anymore.” Error felt his soul twist painfully. He felt tears bubbling back up and he felt bad since Reaper had just managed to disconnect the strings.

“Y-Y-Y-You miss him, don’t you?” He asked, his voice glitching and broken with pain. Reaper stared at him for a moment before sighing. He ran his thumb over Error’s cheek again. He managed to wrap his hand around the back of Error’s head and pull him down. He pressed their teeth together and Error melted against him. Reaper sighed as he let Error pull back.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t and you said you would kick my ass if I lied to you. I may miss him, but I know he’s gone and I’ve accepted it.” Reaper said quietly. “But now I have you. He may be gone, but I am not lonely. I do not grieve because you are here with me.” Error could feel his tears spilling over and Reaper sighed. “Guess I have to wait for you to stop crying to remove those, hm?”

Error blinked and mumbled for him to shut up as he wiped weakly at his face. It was a habit from when his tears didn’t become string the second they left his eyes. “Are you still lonely, Error?” Reaper asked. Error knew that tone. Reaper wanted him to be honest. Error trembled for a moment before looking away. He screwed his eyes shut and gave a weak nod.

He heard Reaper sigh and the other’s head was felt lifting from his femur. Error kept his eyes squeezed shut and jumped as he suddenly felt the beanbag shift next to him. He was pulled against Reaper’s chest, suddenly able to hear the beating of the god’s soul. He felt his cheeks heat up and he forced himself to open his eyes. Reaper stared down at him warmly. “I’ll stay a little longer for you. But you need to tell me.” He said quietly.

Error began to weakly protest and Reaper chuckled. “I would NEVER say no to spending a little more time with you, Error. I know that sitting in a void must drive you crazy.” He leaned down, pressing his teeth to the top of Error’s head. “Look up for me. It seems you’ve stopped crying again.” Error nodded weakly, tilting his head up for Reaper. Reaper leaned down, pressing their teeth together once again.

Error could feel the slight pinching under his eyesocket and jumped, blushing deeply as Reaper’s tongue suddenly pushed into his mouth. All of his attention was immediately diverted. His three tongues moved up to wrap around Reaper’s. Opening his eyes slightly, he could see the other’s face glowing a soft bright blue. He closed his eyes once again, making a tiny noise.

His multicolored fingers reached up and curled into the dense black fabric that made up Reaper’s robes. He felt another pinch under his other eyesocket, jumping a little. Finally, Reaper pulled away, his tongue still out as he panted quietly. Error stared at him, seeming just as out of breath. He realized both strings had been disconnected from under his eyesockets and he hadn’t even felt it. He stared at Reaper with wide eyes.

He watched as the god chuckled softly and moved away. He slowly untangled the rest of the pile, wrapping it up neatly for Error in a makeshift ball of yarn. He held it up, smiling. “Perfect for later use.” He said, setting it next to the beanbag. Error mumbled that he guessed so. Reaper kept his gaze on him before giving a soft chuckle. “Error.”

He summoned his scythe to his hand and pushed himself up so he was drifting above the ground. Error stared at him, his shoulders sinking in dismay. “Y-Y-You’re leaving already?” He asked weakly. What had all that been about staying with him?? He jumped as Reaper offered his hand.

“No, WE are. I think it’ll do you some good to get out of this void and I know a certain starry AU that you love.” Error stared at him before blushing and looking down. He reached up quietly, tangling his fingers with Reaper’s. He asked weakly if he had work. Reaper blinked before laughing and giving a shrug. “Probably, but I think you’re a little more important.”

Error weakly rolled his eyes at him before pushing himself to his feet. He watched as Reaper opened a portal to Outertale and Error felt a small tremble in his bones, his hand tightening on Reaper’s. He scrunched himself up into his scarf a little. He didn’t want to admit how overjoyed he was. Though, based on Death’s smile, he was sure the bastard could already sense it.