#no third option I need a gut reaction here

[hampop]

*let’s do favorite OC, not primary. I’m sleep deprived sorry lads.

[anime-grimmy]

Soooo, you've probably noticed Ive been replaying HZD recently so my mind's been stuck on the franchise for a while.

I finally took the time to actually try and experience Burning Shores for the first time, this time with an unbiased opinion.

Bcs, ngl, when it came out, I was very negative towards it for a couple of reasons. It already started out with me not being able to freaking play this DLC, even though I was so excited for it, cos while HFW was on PS4, the DLC wasnt. And Im wasnt going to buy a whole ass PS5 just for a DLC.

(I will get it once I buy a PS5 for MH Wilds though).

And then, ofc, the elephant in the room - Seyka, or rather Aloy's relationship with her.

I'll preface this with, though it should be obvious with my content, I do NOT have a problem with Aloy being in a gay relationship.

What rly irked me, and honestly still irks me, is that Aloy finally gets to experience new feelings IN A FUCKING DLC. AN EXTENSION A LOT OF THE PLAYERBASE WONT PLAY.

The second reason I didnt enjoy this decision was bcs it felt so rushed. I mean, we're talking about Aloy here! Miss "I dont have time for feelings bcs I gotta save the world"! Miss "I barely just learnt to let others in"!

From what Ive heard, the DLC is over the course of a few weeks/months, so it's not like they fell in love just like that, but Ive also heard that while playing you do not get a feel for that passage of time. I'll have to experience that for myself though.

Now that Ive had some distance from the franchise though, my feelings have changed a bit

Im not going to lie and say I now loooove this decision. No, I am still miffed such enourmous character developement for Aloy is stuck IN A DLC. Not to mention that it was such a bold move to try this with a new character, cos this relationship being perceived well hinges on the player liking Seykay and that fast. Imo she's a fine character but also nothing special.

Now, I do have to say, I am really happy that Aloy has finally come so far that she allows such intimate feelings to develop, or rather, that the devs let her be this way. I know a lot of us still perceive Aloy as this single minded protag, that wont let anyone in bcs "the mission is too important", so Im glad Guerilla shows us that Aloy has undergone quite the growth.

Im also pleasantly surprised that Guerilla has the guts to include romance for Aloy, bcs they were one leg in the "strong women need no (wo)men" pit, so it's great to see they dont let Aloy fall into that trope.

Now, for the FUN part.

I actually have a conspiracy theory, ie I am gaslighting myself on why such a big thing is stuck in a DLC.

I think Guerilla is testing the waters to see how players react. I am pretty sure they can gather the data on what dialogue options players used, so Im thinking this:

Guerilla is trying to gauge the player reaction on a) Aloy developing feelings, b) players thinking Aloy is ready/willing for a relationship, c) same sex relationships. They tried killing quite a few birds with one stone.

I have seen quite a few teasing, winky face posts and replies from Guerilla staff about romance options in the third installment, so my guess (delusion) is that the relationship is hidden in the DLC so Guerilla can plan on how much and obvious to include several romance options in the last title.

I know this is all just wishful thinking, but even if Seyka is a good character, I hope to fucking god that they dont just take that relationship decision away from us, esp with a character bound to a DLC.

Guerilla gave us such a wonderful cast of characters over the last two games, and if they want to give Aloy an "end game" in the third title, I hope they do let us choose with who. Or at least I hope they dont force a relationship we cant choose onto us.

Cos as much as Aloy is her own person, it is still US that make the decisions in game. Through our individual playstyles , we give Aloy our own interpretation. Now, we cant change her core values, but still, I hope to GAIA that Guerilla will give us enough wiggle room.

(Guerilla, Im begging you, Ive already waited 8 years, please dont let my ship sink)

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

i tried to check the fics u had available and it wouldn't let me save draft so here is a picture love u love u love u

NOVA <3 I am also going to do 10 for YOUR literal Gotcha prompt. Here we go!

30 for ⚡️:

---

 He just kind of has a look like a cat that fell into water. Which usually means something family-related happened. Usually with his parents. Who have both been a lot better lately, honestly, so Buck really hopes that’s not the case. Regardless, once Chris is out of earshot, Buck asks Eddie what’s up, expecting to hear whatever crap Helena has said this time. 

He is not expecting what comes out of Eddie’s mouth, instead. 

Which is… If Buck understands it… Pepa has a friend whose granddaughter is pregnant, but whose parents are horrible, and Pepa wants them to adopt the baby instead of following through with their plan with Adriana and Kameron. 

Buck’s instant reaction is a feeling of gut-deep discomfort. But he doesn’t know why. There’s nothing wrong with what Pepa has asked of them. To meet the young woman. To consider. To keep their options open. Buck knows it’s not a problematic ask, in itself. He’s just… He doesn’t know. He feels irritated about the whole thing. He wishes he could rewind, back out the door, and still be enjoying a simple day with Chris, where their future baby’s origins aren’t up for a larger Diaz family discussion. 

“I’m getting a sense you’re not thrilled about this,” Eddie observes when he’s done with his explanation. 

Well, no. Buck isn’t thrilled. But it’s not like Eddie is leaping for joy, either?

“I’m not thrilled,” Buck admits. “But I’m… I”m just processing.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Honestly? Me too.”

---

30 for 🔼:

---

“And maybe that’s why you’re mad?”

Eddie swallows. “Yeah, okay. Maybe.”

“It’s not about you,” Shannon assures him. “Even if it hurts. I… I mean, that’s hard for anyone to accept, right? I know I suck at it.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I think it… It hurts more because…”

“Because you love him?” Shannon reminds him, ever so helpfully.

Eddie makes a pained noise. “Not just… But… Look, don’t get mad when I say this, okay?”

“Okay,” Shannon replies. Not a promise though. If he says something absurd, she’s going to react. 

Eddie takes a steeling breath. “Ever since we first met… Okay, ever since our third shift together… It’s been like…”

He’s struggling a lot. 

“Like what?” Shannon asks. 

“I was overwhelmed,” Eddie says. “I needed help, but I wasn’t going to ask for it. He… He just appeared in our life, Shannon.

---

30 for 🌲:

---

In all that he’s experienced, in all the nightmares he’s suffered over the course of his life, there is no recurring dream that leaves Eddie more unsettled. No bullet wounds, crashing helicopters, or cold, flooded wells. None of it makes Eddie feel so wrong and twisted than those dreams. There’s something about them that always makes him feel like he’s concealing something, when he wakes up in a cool sweat, presses his fingers to his spine, and finds it there. Like he’s a fraud. And one day, when he reaches back, he’ll find that the nightmare has become a reality. 

Eddie can’t give these nightmares a start date that he specifically remembers. Or, unfortunately, an end date. Just periods of intensity and periods of absence. They always seem to accompany periods of stress. After Adriana was born, when he crashed his father’s truck. When Shannon got pregnant. During all the rougher periods of their marriage. When she died. When he was shot. When he left the 118. Any time something bad happens to Eddie, he can guarantee, like clockwork, that hollow backed dreams will make a reappearance. 

This time, they come back after Buck nearly dies.

Or, not nearly. He did die. Briefly, but nevertheless. Buck died, and when Eddie can actually sleep again - because that takes days - his dreams are plagued. 

They’re elaborate this time. That’s not always the case. Sometimes it’s as simple as laying in bed or standing in the bathroom mirror, and discovering the truth of himself. The hollowness. This time, though, he’s at Buck’s funeral. Except, it’s not quite right. It’s not quite what a funeral should be. 

---

30 for 🤕:

---

They share a quick, routine kiss before they get out of Buck’s Jeep. Routine, but still very much wanted and enjoyed by Eddie. 

They have this rule. Once they get out of the vehicle, and their feet touch the pavement, they’re coworkers first. Obviously, still husbands and best friends and family in the way the whole 118 is family. But everywhere else, being husbands is priority number one. Here, and in order to make the case to the LAFD that they can in fact work together - and are better, working together - they had to make the distinction. So, one final kiss, before every shift. 

“Love you,” Buck says.

“Love you.”

Eddie has never been one for rituals since he left the church growing up. But this one always feels important. As simple as it is. 

9:02am

“Hey, look,” Chim says, grinning, as his phone dings with an incoming notification. He lifts his phone to show an iMessage photo from Hen of Denny and Mara grinning, walking on a trail through California’s redwoods. 

“Aw,” Buck smiles at the photo. “That’s awesome!”

“I take it they’re having a good time,” Eddie says. 

“Seems like it,” Chim confirms. “The kids even managed to keep the bickering to a minimum on the drive.”

Bobby laughs at that. “Now that is an accomplishment.”

“Well, hey I’m glad,” Buck says. “They deserve it.”

“They sure do,” Chim agrees. 

“Even if Eddie has to be in the ambulance all week,” Buck teases. 

Bobby sighs. “You’re truly hard done by, Buck.”

“I know,” he nods theatrically. “I’m being very brave.”

[barracuda-shark-games]

Progress Update 11/2/24

First, I want to apologize for failing to meet the deadline I set for chapter 1. The coding has been getting more complex and after doing some play testing I realized I'm going to have to actually make some keys and guides for myself so that it's easier to keep track of everything. (What? You mean to tell me I can't just vibe and write as it comes to me and that, in fact, organized planning is a necessity especially when coding is involved???)

I'm not happy with the way it plays yet, so it will need a bit more tweaking before I can post this rough draft of chapter 1, part 1. :')

This has very much been a learn-as-you-go experience for me! I really regret that I don't have an update ready for you all. I don't want to to give you nothing, so as a show of good faith here's a little peak into some of the code (minor code spoilers under the cut, no lore spoilers, though):

Example 1: Relationship Code

A character's relationship score determines how well your MC and the character know each other.

A character's friendship/rivalry score determines how ideologically aligned your MC is with that character.

And the flirt score is rather self-explanatory.

Example 2: Banquet Reaction

Your MC's gut reaction to the banquet reveal is noted and will come up in future flavor text as early as the start of chapter 1.

Example 3: MC's Sexuality

There are three factors that you decide which set your MC's sexuality.

The first is your character's orientation, i.e. who they can experience attraction to. The options are:

men

women

all

none

The second is whether or not they experience sexual attraction/desire. MCs who experience attraction to "none" are automatically asexual, setting this code to "true". For all others, the player will be prompted to set whether or not they are asexual.

The third is whether or not they experience romantic attraction/desire. MCs who experience attraction to "none" are automatically aromantic, setting this code to "true". For all others, the player will be prompted to set whether or not they are aromantic.

Note: this kind of coding for MC sexuality isn't necessarily how it's going to be done in future titles, but feels necessary in a setting in which the MC is expected to adhere to heteronormativity for the sake of their duties. A MC who experiences same-sex attraction has added layers to their situation, as does a MC who has no desire for sex regardless of orientation. In a story like my other planned IF, Binary Stars, the MC's sexuality doesn't play such a big factor in their life circumstances and only comes up in their romance paths, so there's a lot more nuance and flexibility and it isn't as reductive as "men, women, all of the above, or none of the above."

Thank you for your patience and for reading! I hope the wait is worth it, and I will post an update this month. <3

-Janus

[barbex]

Well @pinkfadespirit, in typical hellsite fashion, tumblr lost your ask. I still have the email, even though even from that button in the mail, I can't reach the ask. Amazing. This is surely a website.

Screenshot to the rescue:

Thank you! I wrote you a fenders scene for @dadrunkwriting but I have to warn you, it got a bit sad because of the boys fighting and Anders missing Karl. It's complicated. When is it not with them, right?

Fenris x Anders, with a bit of Merrill x Hawke.

---

Four days ago, Danarius died. Three days ago, Fenris stopped drinking. Two days ago, he stopped pacing. Yesterday he stripped the walls of the mansion bare and dragged the corpses out into the back, and piled them up with the broken furniture. Today, Hawke comes by with Merrill, and they burn the pile of corpses, old wallpapers, and splintered pieces of wood.

Merrill lets the barrier around the fire drop, now that it burned down enough to not light up the sky with an orange glow. She kneels down, gently brushing over a yellow flower, blowing ash away from the bloom. The fire still smoulders at its core, like a wild animal hidden under a bush. Like Fenris feels, deep inside, where he buried his fire. 

"Why is Anders not here?" Merrill asks, looking up at him from the ground where she kneels. 

Fenris catches Hawke's pained flinch before he expertly hides his expression. He has gotten good at that. Merrill must have seen that flinch too, but she either doesn't understand or doesn't care. Or a third option of Merrill being much more attuned to their dynamic than one would think. 

Merrill turns to another flower, blowing ash away. "Are you cleaning the mansion so you can better hide from him?" 

The third option, it seems. He nearly snaps at her, but he promised Hawke to be nicer to Merrill. He already fucked things up with Anders, he can't disappoint Hawke now. "I don't know?" he says truthfully. "I needed something to do and this needed to be done." 

Merrill stands up and steps in front of him. Even though he is taller than her, it feels as if he should look up at her. "You cannot hide from what you feel," she says, and the barely controlled fire in his gut wants to break out.

"Nobody asked you, witch," he hisses at her.

Hawke narrows his eyes at him, but Merrill steps closer, putting her hand on Fenris' chest. "I'm not afraid of you. I don't care what you think of me. You are miserable and it's your own fault and you have to fix it. Burning corpses will not solve this problem." With that, she turns around towards the backdoor. "I'm going home now," she says to Hawke.

"Wait, I'm coming with you," Hawke calls after her. He looks over his shoulder at Fenris. "You know she's right. You love him and you have to apologise." 

Four days ago, Danarius died. And Fenris called the man he loved a monster. 

A mage. A monster. Just another magister waiting to leash him. Anders looked at him and left without another word. Just after he risked his own life fighting a powerful bloodmage, Fenris called him a monster.

Maybe he is the monster. The look of pain in Anders' eyes should have woken him from his anger, but the fire kept burning. Like poison in his veins. Monstrous.

"Fenris?" 

Anders' voice coming from the hall. He runs inside, skidding to a halt in the middle of the room. Anders stands in the doorway, looking around with wide eyes. "You cleaned?"

He doesn't want inane small talk, he wants to... he wants to know why the fire still burns in his gut. 

Anders hasn't moved, still standing in the doorway, as if he wants to make sure that he can leave quickly. "It looks good," he says, not looking at Fenris. "I wanted to ask... are we okay?"

"No!" Fenris yells. "How can you ask that?" He whips around, turning his back to the hurt in Anders' face, pacing again. "Nothing is okay after what I have done. I poured my anger on you, I called you a monster, I... I should have apologised but —" He looks back to see Anders' reaction but — he's speaking to an empty room. Anders left. 

"Anders?" Running through the hall, he reaches the front door, nearly ripping it from its hinges. He sees Anders' coat disappear near the stairs to the Chantry and only grabs his sword before he runs after him. But by the time he reaches the stairs, he lost sight of Anders. He slowly climbs up the stairs. As he passes a decorative pot with flowers, he catches a glimpse of something hidden behind it. Anders' staff. 

If Anders left his staff behind, then he must be inside the Chantry. A massive risk. Even without his staff, people could recognise the mage healer of Darktown. Fenris hurries over to the doors, slipping inside with a handful of Sisters as the bell rings. They look at him with suspicion but leave him alone. Fenris keeps to the side, in the shadows. A few people kneel at the statue of Andraste, but the Sisters move up the stairs. As he follows them, he sees a speck of blond hair and feathers on a coat. 

Hidden from view behind a column, Anders looks at an altar, flanked by red tapestries with the chantry symbol. Fenris steps to his side, careful not to scrape his sword against the balustrade. 

"What are you doing here?" Fenris whispers.

Anders is silent for a long time. "I could ask you the same," he finally presses out. Tears fall from his eyes, but he makes no other sound.

"Anders —" Fenris starts, but Anders shakes his head. 

"Don't. Don't say that you're sorry." He takes a small object from his pocket and places it on the floor in front of him. It's a small stone, red with blue sprinkles. Pretty. Anders must have picked it up on some adventure on the Wounded Coast. He wipes his thumb over the smooth surface of the pebble. "Do you know where we are?"  

"The chantry," Fenris says.

Anders points towards the altar. "There, that's where he died. Where I killed him."

At last, Fenris realises. Back then, he didn't know Anders at all; it was one of the very first missions with Hawke. Anders was supposed to meet with a mage in the chantry, it had been a trap of course, and the man, Karl, spoke without emotions. Without a soul. Tranquil. He remembers the heartbreak, the horror in Anders' face and then the exploding anger, his Spirit taking over, killing the templars and how Fenris feared for his own life.

From the corner of his eye, Fenris notices a Sister whispering with a templar, looking over to them. He grabs Anders' arm and pulls him up. "We should move on. It's not safe here."

Anders lets himself be dragged away, only looking over his shoulder once, when they step through the doors. Fenris retrieves his staff from its hiding place and hurries Anders forward, aware of several templar helmets turning to them and following their movements. 

In the shadow of an alley near the chantry, he stops. Anders leans against the wall next to him, closing his eyes. Another tear runs down his cheek. Fenris listens for footsteps and creaking armor, but nobody seems to follow them. 

"That was dangerous," he says, leaning his head against the wall. "Why did you..."

"I miss him." Anders looks down at his hands. "He always knew what to do, how to calm me down. It was easy with him." 

Because he was a mage. Because he understood, better than Fenris ever could. "I am sorry," Fenris says. "I was angry and lost and I lashed out. I shouldn't have —"

"That's fine, I understand that." 

"You do?"

Anders laughs out, even though tears still run down his cheek. "Your whole world was blown apart and it didn't feel like a victory. These things never do." He looks at Fenris. "I gave you time, I left you alone to gather your thoughts. You are a thinker, always. I thought you would come to me when you were ready." 

"I wanted to. But I was so angry."

"I know." Anders wipes the tears from his face. "It sounded like you were taking the whole house apart." 

"You were there?"

"Yes. I thought I could help you, but then I realised..."

Fenris takes Anders' hand, a gesture so familiar and yet so foreign right now. "What?"

"I'm your problem. Because I'm a mage." 

Anders' eyes blur in front of him. Only when he wipes at his face, he realises that he's crying. "That is true." At Anders' hurt expression he hurries on to say, "but I want that. Exactly that."

"Problems?" A smile pulls at Anders' lips. "You want more problems?"

"I killed my master. We killed my master. Freedom would be too easy now."

Laughter breaks free from Anders' mouth and he laughs until his laughter turns into sobs. Fenris pulls him close, crying with him. 

"I'm sorry," Anders says as he calms down.

"No, I am sorry," Fenris says. 

"We're really good at saying sorry, Merrill would be so proud of us." 

Fenris winces. "I have to apologise to her, too. I was not nice."

Anders presses closer, pushing his nose behind Fenris' ear. "Can we go home first?" 

"Yes." Fenris takes Anders' hand and he doesn't let go until the door to the mansion closes behind them.

[angie-long-legs]

FROM THE DESK OF RACHEL THE SHEEPY CHERUB

Dear Mr Dust,

My name is Rachel and I am a Cherub clerk in Heaven. I am writing with a proposal to assist in your redemption journey - if you agree to it.

Having observed you in the recent trial, I came to ponder how difficult it is to become virtuous while surrounded by the vicious. You have undoubtedly made great progress under the auspices of the Hazbin Hotel, but one can all too easily slip back into old habits when said old habits are right outside one's doorstep.

So I have an idea.

I can sneak you into Heaven.

I can smuggle you up, disguise you as an angel, and concoct a cover story about your life and death. Then you will be able to roam freely in Heaven. I would keep an eye on you and take notes of all your good behaviour (which I am certain you would do, lacking the means to indulge your vices), with a view to presenting this to the Seraphim as proof that you are good enough to stay in Heaven.

The only thing is, I would need to fudge the numbers to obscure your ascent until it is safe to reveal you. And my boss, Deerie, is most particular about these matters.

But I have a possible solution.

If a soul from Hell disappears, another soul would have to descend from Heaven to cover it up.

There are not many angels who would agree to wade into the muck for the sake of a demon. Luckily, I have found one, and one is all I need.

Her name is Molly. I believe she is your twin sister.

She has told me that she would be amenable to a "holiday in Hell" to assure your place in Heaven - provided that it was temporary and she would be able to return and see you in Heaven.

I aporeciate that this is a lot to take in. Do not feel pressured to answer straightaway. Take as much time as you need to think on my proposal.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely,

Rachel the Sheepy Cherub

Heaven

Angel read through the entire letter. And then he read it again. And then, for good measure, a third time.

He didn't care for this Heavenly stranger's plan to "sneak him into Heaven". He didn't give a fuck if being in Hell kept him nearer to his vices. If he was being truly honest, he wasn't sure if he was entirely ready to give it all up. However, one thing did stand out to him.

Someone up there was in contact with his sister. And they were trying to get her to trade places with him.

Even on a short-term basis, Angel knew from his gut reaction that sending Molly down here was not an option. The utter fear that shook him at the idea of his sister, the person he had loved and trusted most in life, in a place like this... it terrified him. Sure, Molly was a tough cookie. You had to be, coming from the kind of family they both came from. But what if she fell to the same vices that had such a hold over Angel? What if she wound up in the exact same place he had: on the end of someone's chain, with no hope of escape?

He wouldn't consider it.

Molly deserved to be in Heaven. She shouldn't have to deal with Anthony dragging her down to his level. Not anymore.

Wordlessly, he balled up the paper and tossed it into the trash.

[eurovision-del]

Eurovision season is well under way! It’s only December but we already have our first song, and we’re going to get another one soon when Czechia select their entry. I waited to hear all the songs for the first time live at ESCZ, then went back to the studio cuts, and after a few days to get familiar with them, here’s what I think:  

Tom Sean – Dopamine Overdose

MYDY – Red Flag Parade

Lenny – Good Enough

Elly – The Angel’s Share

Tomas Robin – Out Of My Mind

Gianna Lei – Starlet

Aiko – Pedestal

My gut reaction after watching ESCZ was that unlike previous years we’re missing an obvious standout this year, since I enjoyed quite a lot of the songs equally, but actually I’ve come to think that MYDY are head and shoulders above the rest. Red Flag Parade is the most immediate of all the songs, designed to grab your attention with that dramatic opening, and it’s super catchy – it’s been in my head all week. The live performance had the clearest visual identity, The red marching band outfits are distinct and fit the song. The lead singer, Žofie, has fantastic energy and sells the attitude needed. Her vocals might not have been pitch perfect, but the sound system didn’t do anyone any favours, and it works fine for this style of music. However, while its catchiness is this song’s best quality, it’s also part of the reason why I didn’t rank it first – I’ve grown kind of tired of it just over the past week, and I’m not a huge fan of the melody in the chorus. By the third time it comes around, I want the song to be over already. It also kind of bothers me that the studio cut is censored – I understand it for the live version, but if you’re not even gonna say it in the studio cut, what’s the point of even writing a swear word at all?  

While I respect MYDY a lot, and think they have a great package, my actual favourite from this selection is Tom Sean’s Dopamine Overdose. It’s a little less in your face, but still energetic and memorable, the sort of dance music I vibe with. I’m not hugely keen on the ‘sweet like teriyaki’ line, but other than that I enjoy this song a lot. The performance was alright, Tom felt a little awkward at points, but I think the overall staging concept is solid. I really enjoyed how the dancers were used, though I think there’s a lot of potential to take it further and improve the choreography, it’s a good starting point.

Finally, I also really enjoyed Lenny’s performance of Good Enough. As a song, it’s alright. I enjoy the contrast between the stripped back opening and the second half where the instruments ramp it up and it becomes more of a power ballad, however I feel it takes too long to get there – I feel myself getting bored with the second verse. However, Lenny really impressed me, apparently she’s pretty established in the Czech music industry, and it comes across, she seems very experienced and professional. Her vocal at the start is very exposed by both the composition of the song and the ESCZ sound system, but it sounds great. Her rough voice really fits with this song and its jaded, mature tone.

I would be happy with any of these three songs representing Czechia at Eurovision this year. There really isn’t much separating them for me, I have issues with all of them but also plenty I enjoy. MYDY is probably Czechia’s best option with how catchy Red Flag Parade is, and the most realised concept in terms of performance, but I think the others also have decent performances with a lot of potential there too. With how close these songs are for me, I’ve decided not to vote, I’ll just wait and see what ends up winning!

[space-blue]

Trick or treat!

Poor anon... Let me beam you 90% of the first chapter of an original story I worked on years ago and never finished.

Phobia

Did you ever wonder if you could spend a day without drinking? Even if you were thirsty, to just stay locked in your room, and hope that "thirty days without food, three days without water" weren't an urban myth?

I have, of course, as a sort of intellectual exercise. Like wondering whether you'd rather die of thirst or hunger; such merry thoughts usually triggered by some piece of sensational news about people surviving against all odds, trapped under buildings, licking wet concrete for weeks.

Never had I considered it as seriously as that morning, sitting on the edge of my bed, head bobbing on the knees I'd gathered in my arms. My bare feet drummed a matching rhythm, following the erratic patterns of my anguished thoughts. I had already given up on the morning's plans of course. Why worry about jogging or work when I wasn't sure I'd get a glass to drink. Or a thing to eat. Or an access to the toilet, either.

I cursed myself for keeping my room so tidy. I rolled back across my bed, tumbling in my duvet like this was some slumber party. But there were no half eaten meals, no bags of chips or popcorn, no bottles or glasses laying around, half full or half empty. No one either, to hit me with a pillow—let alone open the door for me.

I sat back up, starring at this hideous obstacle in the wall, this repulsive thing I could barely stand to look at. The idea of touching it, opening it and being confronted with what may lay behind made my stomach lurch and my body break in a sweat.

A fucking door.

How did I not see it coming? The endless question. As if I could plan for everything. I reached for my phone, checking for messages. Answers to my desperate cries for help.

Nothing yet. I'm no sexy princess to be delivered out of my dungeon, for sure, but at least Virgil would help. He'd come for me—not on a white horse but in a white sedan. And if he found my desiccated corpse, I knew he'd get some epic line carved on my tombstone. Something witty like "Finally got a phobia of living".

I laughed at the ceiling and, for lack of a better thing to do, started reviewing the series of events that had led me here, trapped in my own bedroom by a paralysing fear of its door.

It all started two years ago. I'd scored a great job, working a management desk in a brand new animation studio based in London. I loved what we did there, but work was slowly turning into hell because of commute. I simply couldn't afford rent anywhere near my work—could barely afford to breathe and eat, actually; fuck London.

And you see, I had a crippling phobia of trains and cars... and buses, subways, trams—basically anything that had me inside a metal box travelling at great speeds. I insisted on riding my bicycle everywhere. You can imagine how things got, between the woeful weather, the waste of a time I didn't have, the lack of sleep snowballing into absences, sick days and increasingly sloppy work... Within a year it was a toss up as to what would get me first, between my boss waving a P45 or a car clipping my wheel.

I needed to act, and fast. That wrote off drawn out therapy, so I got an appointment with a hypnotist. I didn't really know what to expect. I'd heard about them from a concerned friend who'd seen some tv show about them. Third hand information at best, yet my GP confirmed hypnosis was an option and gave me a reference to a private hypnotherapist in Whitechapel who'd only set me back one third of my rent a pop.

I went in with low expectations and high hopes. I can't stress enough how pleased I was to walk out of that first session entirely cured. My fear, the entire gut reaction, the physical distress at the very idea of being trapped in a car, was gone. The poor hypnotherapist was so taken aback, she scheduled a second appointment later in the same week and asked me to try and sit in an unmoving car before then and report how that felt.

I went home in a taxi, crying my eyes out in happiness, thinking there would never be another session.

It lasted for a few days. Retrospectively, I think I just failed to find the proper triggers.

My first fright, I was getting to the subway entrance and froze. I found myself taken by nausea, feet glued to the steps. An all too familiar cocktail of feelings. I could not bring myself to go underground. It was like it would swallow me. Like it was a hole, not a tunnel. An anthill, swarming with sweaty hordes of people who didn't seem to notice how close the walls were, how dense the air... Everything screamed danger at me, every sense on high alert, except for my knees, ready to go to sleep.

Do you know someone who has a phobia of planes? People always talk those poor folk down.

"Hey, planes are safe!"

"One in a million chances!"

"It's more dangerous to take the bus across town, or to cross the street!"

Does it make a difference to them? Of course not. You can be perfectly reasonable about the object of your phobia. You can know for certain that it is safe, and yet remain utterly terrified of it. It's a gut feeling, a horror without sense or reason. Of course a frog can't eat you. Of course a house spider as large as a finger nail is more scared of you than you of her, and she couldn't even pierce your skin if she tried to bite you. As harmless as a mayfly, yet you climb up the curtains and wail.

It's really insulting, to have someone laugh at you as if your logic were what's at fault. It's not, it's some deep, poorly wired connection in your brain, wherever it breeds mortal fear.

And if people try to cure plane-phobia folks with hard Facts and Logic, just imagine how they react to a grown man shreaking in the supermarket aisle, suddenly discovering himself a phobia of tuna cans?

Yes, that happened too. The day after the underground fear. And yes, I knew that cans—of tuna or otherwise—wouldn't hurt me. But it was terrifying. I didn't see it coming, I had grabbed it while fumbling with my shopping list. When I saw it and the fear locked into place...

Yet the next day I could open my kitchen cupboard and grab any can I wanted.

The phobia, I slowly came to realise, was jumping to some new, unknown objects every day. It left me wondering where I'd be, next time something caught me off guard. I woke up stressed, tensed for the day ahead. I went to bed fighting sleep, my dreams often plagued by whatever thing or concept had scared me all day.

Fear and anguish and tuna cans.

Now featuring doorknobs as well.

The hypnotherapist had been eager to believe me. It was easier for her to accept something was wrong with my head than to believe she could cure me my phobia in a single session. Her recommendations sent me down a string of doctors, all more academic than the next. I quit my job when it became clear I couldn't hold it. My girlfriend left me the day after I woke up screaming at the sight of her in my bed and ran to lock myself in the bathroom.

Phobia of women is a thing. It's called gynophobia and it's stupid.

Eventually, I moved to Edinburgh, Scotland. I got a flat and a stipend for working with the University there. With Virgil and his team at the neuroscience department. Malcolm Evans became M. E. in all papers on my rather... unique condition.

The man whose deep sleep cycles resets his phobia! The man with gremlins for brains. That was me. That had become my life. To be prodded and tested and written about. Paraded at talks and flown about the world, put under and medicated and cat-scanned and ultra-sounded and punctured and dressed up in more electrodes wires than a Christmas tree with fairylights.

[randommusingsstuff]

Why Ben and Devi are Endgame (Meta)

At the heart of every rom-com, it always comes down to this: what does the protagonist truly want? 

Why Devi and Paxton Don’t Work

In the season 2 finale, Devi triumphantly says “So, I guess I'm Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s girlfriend now”. She got what she thought she wanted at the start of her journey, only it’s not what she wants anymore. 

Although Devi cares for Paxton, she views him as a status symbol. Paxton, for all his growth, still sees himself as cooler than her. And no, he was not just embarrassed because she cheated on him. Before he knew she was cheating, he invited his friends on their first date and refused to call her his girlfriend. In the finale, it once again takes someone else to point out that he shouldn’t blow her off. As Devi and Paxton walk into the dance, he gives his friends a sheepish look while they judge him. Not only does he still have lingering feelings of embarrassment, his friends’ reactions suggest turbulence ahead for their relationship. 

There is also a lack of communication between Paxton and Devi. They have a magical kiss by the window, and makeout sessions afterwards, but they don't actually talk about their relationship in that elapsed time. Devi makes the assumption that they are together and Paxton doesn’t articulate what he wants until it is forced out of him. 

What can we conclude from this? Paxton is a great character, but he is not the one for Devi. They have differing interests and goals, a lack of communication and they do not see each other for their true worth. 

Can the writers surmount all of these issues to give them an endgame? Yes, but it would require fundamentally changing who Devi and Paxton are. 

Why Devi and Ben Work

In episode 1 of season 2, Devi wants to pick Ben but her friends talk her out of it. This is crucial to understanding why they belong together: her gut instinct has already revealed the truth. She had both guys vying for her and she wanted Ben. Just by this one fact alone, we can infer that Devi’s relationship with Ben was more meaningful to her than her pursuit of Paxton in season 1.

When it’s revealed that Devi is two-timing the boys, Paxton is hurt but Ben is devastated. Paxton likes her, but Ben connected with her on a deeper emotional level. Devi follows Paxton out of the party, which is understandable because he is the one walking away. Again, this is cleverly hinting at their communication styles. Paxton wants to avoid the situation and Ben wants to talk about it. From Ben’s perspective, Paxton is the guy she has wanted for so long and he is the second choice. 

Throughout the season, Ben never considers the fact that Devi could want him over Paxton, which is equal parts sad and infuriating. Her therapist asks what she wants more than anything and she says Ben. In context, it’s a comical line, but it’s also Devi revealing her truth. Like she does at the beginning of the season, she makes a choice and it’s Ben. She pursues Ben romantically before Paxton even though Paxton is the one more willing to forgive her. 

It takes Ben longer to forgive her, and yet he is still there for her when she needs help. The little things he does like give her advice about Aneesa and make her feel better about Paxton’s rejection all show Devi’s ability to be vulnerable with Ben. 

As an aside, they had the opportunity to show Devi being vulnerable with Paxon but didn’t take it. In episode 8 of season 2, Paxton sees Devi crying and she reveals that she got into a really bad fight with Eleanor. I was thinking: here it is, here is the moment that Paxton finally helps Devi with her problems... but no. His response is “seems like you’re in a fight with lots of people” and the conversation quickly shifts to her apologizing and helping him yet again. Devi is able to open up to Ben and be supported by him in a way that she can’t with Paxton.

Before I talk about the finale, which is arguably the biggest point in Ben and Devi’s favour, I want to look at the season overall. The entire story arc is Ben and Devi wanting to be together but constantly running into roadblocks in the form of Eleanor/Fabiola, Paxton and Aneesa. It was so alarmingly obvious they belonged together after season 1, that the writers had to find ways to forcibly separate them for the time being. It’s important for Ben and Devi’s relationship that she dates Paxton first. If she had been allowed to go for Ben, they would have had to explore Devi wondering what she missed out on. When Devi and Ben do get their happy ending, it will be because Devi has realized that Paxton is not the person for her. 

In the finale of season 2, we get 3 crucial scenes from Devi and Ben. The first is the bathroom scene which reaffirms Devi’s ability to be vulnerable with Ben and his ability to support her (something she doesn’t have with Paxton). The second is their tension-filled scene at the dance where they longingly stare at each other. This directly contrasts the scene in episode 8, where Devi tries to reframe her mindset and stop seeing Ben as someone she is attracted to. Here, it becomes apparent that she is unable to stop thinking about him in a romantic way despite actively trying. 

The third scene is basically Eleanor saying “you dummy, she wanted to choose you!”. The writers intentionally reference the pros-cons scene from episode 1, re-affirming that Devi wants Ben. The only reason they are not together is because he is not an option. 

Then we get the line “it wasn’t always him”. Many Devi and Paxton fans believe her choice was Ben, but he took too long and now it’s too late. But when has it ever been too late for a main love interest in a rom-com? Mindy Kaling is a rom-com savant, and she knows as well as I do that it’s only ever “too late” for douchey guys who do not acknowledge the self-worth of the heroine. That’s not Ben though, he has always seen Devi for who she is. 

The heartbreak on Ben’s face is infinitely worse than Paxton’s voicemail at the end of season 1, although these scenes are meant to parallel each other. Devi and Paxton are two people who like each other but do not work as a long-term relationship. Ben and Devi are two people who work as a long-term relationship but never acknowledge their feelings for each other at the right time. It’s a tragedy just waiting to be rectified in season 3.

Season 3 Predictions

Now that I've given my analysis on why Devi and Ben are meant to be, here are some predictions I have on the Devi-Ben-Paxton love triangle for season 3.

Fabiola/Eleanor will be the ones to help Devi act on her true feelings for Ben. This one is a no-brainer for me. After sabotaging their chance to be happy in the first place, Fabiola and Eleanor will decide that they want their friend to be happy and set things right. It will also parallel Ben mending their friendship in season 1.

Paxton and Devi will have some sweet moments in the first half of the season, but not without their issues. The lack of communication and their respective status (the way they view each other) will cause them to fight. They will break-up mid-season, but the ending will leave hope for reconciliation.

On that note, I do not think they will kill the love triangle. Even though we will likely see Devi confessing her feelings for Ben and saying that she wanted to choose him all along, this is still a TV show. Contentious love triangles = buzz and money.

Ben and Aneesa will break up by mid-season, but probably earlier. Ben will find it hard to be in a relationship with Aneesa as he grapples with his feelings for Devi.

Ben will be a pillar of support to Devi as she navigates how to be a girlfriend. It’s the classic trope of the guy helping the girl win over the man of her dreams, only to realize that the person she wants is right in front of her.

 Devi and Ben’s friendship and lingering feelings will culminate in an epic finale confession and kiss. Everything that they were unable to say to each other last season will be spoken aloud in season 3.

Ben and Devi are soulmates, drawn to each other and unable to avoid their feelings. I can’t wait for them to take over my life again next year.

[inhonoredglory]

The following commentary was written by @tenyai​, concept and storyboard artist for Hisirdoux Casperan on Wizards: Tales of Arcadia, in response to my meta on the closing scene of Wizards 107.Killahead Part 1 (link here):

Great analysis! You’re right on point!! I had the pleasure of boarding this scene and I’m so glad you picked up on a lot of the symbolism here. You’ll also notice Douxie, despite being told there is nothing that can be done, tells Jim that they will find a way to reverse his ailment.

It’s a huge part of who he is that even in this moment where he as to abide by Merlin’s orders he is still fighting for what he believes in, the need to fight relentlessly to save a life. He makes a promise he has full intention to keep, but it’s the very opposite of what Merlin would have done.

Other fun things to notice in this scene is the staging. You’ll notice Douxie is backed by the turning gears and green light of the Heart of Avalon. I staged him there because the chaotic spinning of the gears alluded to his chaotic turmoil emotionally and internally. And the green light symbolizes Merlin. Together the gears and the lighting are Merlin’s words and his way pressing down on Douxie’s soldiers and his conscience.

As contrast, Claire is backed by the square, rigid lines of the castle wall. She is rigid and is desperately pulling him towards what she believes is stability or something that can guarantee his survival. You’ll also notice directionality here. Left symbolizes staying in the past and going right means returning to the present. You’ll notice Claire pulls Jim leftward, and Douxie pulls him right.

But one key moment is the hand clasp (also the profile shot) where you are neither looking left (where Claire pulled him towards the past) nor are you looking right (at the Heart of Avalon). You look center, and this center symbolizes Douxie fighting for a third option. It is neither left (disruption of time, altered life by staying in the past) and it is neither right (returning to the present/certain doom). He is promising that he will help them find a way to save Jim, and to trust him.

That’s why that dialogue is specifically staged over those shots, and the hand clasp at that angle. In the boards, I actually had his bracer hand up, so you saw the blue light of his magic which was also symbolic of Douxie finding a third option, but they just had his right hand in the final (shucks!!! My symbolism!!).

If you also look closely at the composition you’ll also notice Claire and Jim are separated by the Bg elements, wall vs sky. And when Jim turns to tell Claire the news... You guessed it, he’s backed by the green rotating gears representative of Merlin. He is breaking to her the messed up reality that Merlin forewarned him of. 

Anywhere you see those gears and the green, it’s the weight of this decision pressing on the characters. And you already remarked on the end of the scene where Douxie takes accountability for his action. The staging there follows everything I just described as well, as does the lighting!!

Anyway, fun little tidbits for you! That was a super fun scene to craft, a lot of visual language and symbolism in there, all reinforcing and emphasizing the emotional state of the characters and their struggles :)

––––––––––

Teny, having the person behind the story telling me exactly the kind of symbolism she intended in a scene is just... absolute gold. I love symbolism and parallelism and how narrative, characterization, and meaning are all supported by every tool in the visual narrative box. And as a fan-turning-pro, I’m still learning a LOT and commentary like this helps me see just how much care and thought went into this show, and validates the gut reaction all us fans have had about how narratively masterful Wizards (and the TOA universe) really is.

Like the directional symbolism! That blew my mind! Cuz in the end, we have Douxie leading them rightward (to the future), through Merlin’s green light, but guided fundamentally by his own staff’s blue and thus his own conscience. Also I wonder if the stable arcs behind Doux in that last GIF are a mirror to the unstable ones of Merlin’s Heart of Avalon––a way of pointing out that although Douxie is following the pattern set by Merlin’s shifting moral compass, he’s still holding to Claire’s stability. Using Merlin’s magic, but with his more constant, noble morality. (And going off that, these arcs mirror each other by cascading upward in opposite directions––Merlin’s arcs rising to the right and to the future, and Doux’s rising to the left and to the past, or Claire’s moral standard.)

Also the fact that Merlin’s Avalon arcs rotate downward in such a way that they cut through/push down on Douxie’s head, with an especially high-contrast panel––Unlike when he’s making the promise, in which the Heart of Avalon fades just a tad into the background and doesn’t rotate down on him so much as around him. In framing Douxie against the Heart, the shots move from a Medium Full Shot to a Medium Closeup and finally to a Closeup when he makes the promise––making him slowly larger against Merlin’s Heart of Avalon, his own morality against Merlin’s philosophy. Exquisite combination of prop design, lighting, shots, and narrative symbolism.

And the lighting you mentioned!! Jim’s is red, Merlin’s green, Douxie's blue. Claire’s is purple, but here it’s also the natural, human light of the doorway she’s trying to draw Jim towards. And like you said, Jim choosing Merlin’s path puts him in the backdrop of the Heart of Avalon, bringing Claire into that moral space too. Now this sweet Jlaire moment is heightened by tension just knowing this symbolism!!!

I always loved the interplay of Merlin’s green magic with Douxie’s hair, and knowing your intentional purpose in clashing them makes me all the more excited for scenes like the one before Charlemagne destroys the staff, because the green in Doux’s hair is almost as strong as the blue––showing how much he doesn’t want to let go of Merlin, and how much his staff and his presence is overwhelming his own sense of self and confidence.

Thank you, Teny, for sharing your incredible thought process behind this pivotal scene and letting us know the kind of visual narrative techniques you’ve used to bring out the drama and poignancy of everyone involved. Your love for these characters and this show is truly inspiring. I’ve just started my animation degree at San Jose State University and interactions like yours inspires me to know that the kind of professional I want to be is out there making art, being a storyteller, nerding out, and being awesome. Thanks again!

all gifs are mine

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 1

And, here we go. Chapter 1 of this monstrosity (no pun intended) is now up and running below, on AO3, and on FF.net.

I'm going to be completely and 100% honest with everyone before you start reading, so please heed this warning! This first chapter is rough in the sense where it contains a bit of brutality and the death of a child. So far, this is the only gruesome chapter, and while the gore is NOT detailed, I still want my more sensitive readers to be wary.

This is the most action-packed fic I've ever written, and also the most expansive world I've ever built (in my humble opinion). With that being said, while the setting is a bit more on the historical side, there are plenty of modern references. For instance, not in this chapter but in future ones, a bathroom is just a bathroom. I don't mention plumbing or the lack thereof. My attention and energy was on more important things and I just didn't care about those details, lol. Additionally, a lot of slang, jokes, and references are fairly modern. Don't @ me (but also do). All-in-all, what I'm trying to say is I built my own damn world where there is no historical accuracy, so don't go looking for it, lol.

Unless otherwise stated, I plan to post each new chapter every Friday. So, yeah... I think that's all I've got to say.... have fun! Enjoy! Thank you for reading! Ily! Bon Voyage! Don't hate me!

----------

The responsibility is ours.

Kagome gasped as her feet slid in the mud, the small decline of the path she and her younger brother hurried down gradually becoming more slippery as the rain began to pour harder. Through the noise of the droplets and the sloshing of their boots, she heard a slight commotion; horses’ huffs, heavy feet, and boisterous men barking orders. Initially, she’d figured it was the village men ushering their families indoors, their livestock into barns, their carts and tools under shelter, and their firewood into a dry place as the storm reared its ugly head. The sunset sky was shadowed in gloom, thunder making it’s entrance in the far distance as it was bound to be banging on their doors and windows in no time. But, at the tug of her arm by her sibling, her attention was shifted to the actual cause of it all: Naraku’s henchmen.

“Again?” She shuddered resentfully.

“Third time this month.” Sota confirmed, clenching his jaw as he slightly tugged his sister behind his smaller frame. He was perfectly aware that he was only twelve, well in the know that he stood no taller than her shoulders, but he’d be damned if he did nothing because of it.

This time, there wasn’t a hoard of them. No, there were merely four, all of which were already off of their horses on the main path through their little village, making demands and threatening anyone who got in the way of their objective.

Throughout the last four and a half years since Naraku rose as a fearsome demon that easily brought down peaceful powers and attempted to control the world Kagome knew, she’d become more than familiar with this procedure. It wasn’t until just recently that they’d started coming more often than a monthly visit, though. And, it was no secret what, or who, they were after.

Her.

Anyone of her kind, really.

She was different. She was hunted. Those like her were supposedly powerful, but matters being what they were had caused anyone who shared a similar fate to subdue their abilities to the point of total lack of recognition of their true potential. At least, that’s how it was in most cases. Because, if they were found out, they were killed on sight. The reason for it was entirely unknown. Naraku didn’t just target them, though; he made everyone’s lives hell, especially if they stood out in a supernatural manner. So, while she figured there had to be a yet-to-be-identified reason, she felt it was safe to assume it was also just because he could. Maybe he didn’t like the threat of other, similar forces that could collide against him. Maybe he was egotistical enough to think he was the only deserving being. Whatever the case, he was cruel.

Kagome’s kind had several names through the decades - so many, she hardly knew the correct term for herself. At one point, ages ago, they were called banshees. The title didn’t make sense whatsoever, given their powers and what a banshee actually was, and the story was so old that she didn’t know where the justification even stemmed from, but it caused them to be feared, and for that, she honestly wouldn’t have totally minded if the name stuck around. They were called priestesses, but then it sounded too peaceful, too practiced, and it painted them as “good.” They were called witches, mages, sorceresses, but they committed no typical magic of that sort. Kagome didn’t know a single spell, nor did she have nearly enough time in the day to pack an array of herbs, spices, and what have you into jars that were sealed with candle wax - though she had caught wind that there were some older women of her kind with the ability to curse. Now, they were called conjurers. Their abilities were that of the spirit, aiding with protection, purifying dark forces - passively or forcefully, bringing forth light, and more she was sure.

In Kagome’s unpopular opinion, given what they could do and what they supposedly stood for, priestess was more suitable a term, but she also understood that there was nothing holy about the world they lived in.

There was no birthmark of the conjurer. There was no dead giveaway of their kind. The powers were gifted at random, as far as she knew, not passed down through lineage. The only thing Naraku and his followers seemingly had to go off of was that conjurers were born female.

Sometimes, they’d conduct their mission by way of senseless inspections. They’d rip apart the insides of homes looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. Truthfully, with how absurd they carried themselves, it was obvious they didn’t know the telltale signs they were looking for and were wasting their time. Which was what made it clear that for them to be so clueless, even Naraku didn’t know all there was that made up a conjurer. They were ignorant and they were blind, but they were also relentless and ruthless.

The days where they singled women out were the worst. Kagome, so far, was spared that cruelty, but that didn’t make it any better. It was usually the more mature, the elderly, that received the short end of the stick.

More often than anything, they’d line up every woman and girl in town and go down the rows one-by-one, stimulating their nerves in one way or another to see if they could get a “conjurer’s reaction.” Kagome could only guess that meant a sudden surge of purification power. It was the main trait conjurers were known for; but they were going about it wrong. Screaming in their faces, threatening everyone, or jostling them around a bit wasn’t going to get the demons purified, no matter how much she wanted to toss something their way. Of course, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that.

Every so often, they’d come in a pack and create havoc with violence. They said it was their way to pressure people into giving up any information they might have, but in all honesty, the smiles some of the brute demons wore said they were bored and simply wanted a little entertainment. Apparently, screaming and pleading were equivalent to a musical number in their bloodlust eyes.

Their own little group of demon slayers that resided in the village helped prevent this from happening when they could, which was why the henchmen came in numbers. The demon slayers fought for a sense of control, not to kill. They would only allow so much, but belligerent violence was not an option. It was obvious that, as of late, their village was a targeted spot, one that got a little more attention than neighboring towns, and for what reason, no one knew. They didn’t have the fighting power to win that sort of fight, though, and the leader of the group of slayers was sensible enough to understand this and explain it to the masses that questioned them. They were made up of a handful of men with rigorous combat skills they didn’t learn from home, refused to take recruits below a certain age, and could only train so many at a time. As much as they’d all love to retaliate and end things for good, intuition was telling them not to in that manner. Even Kagome felt that. Deep in her gut, she knew that even if they could, killing them would only put the people of the village in a worse position. This wasn’t something that would stop by taking out the underlings. Not at all. Far from it. Anyone who was paying attention could see that they’d need to exterminate the head honcho in order for any positive difference to be made.

Unfortunately for them this time around, their little pack of demon slayers had left on a request to take care of a troublesome demon a little ways off just that morning. And, listening to the henchmen now, seeing them in their dark leather, their cloaks, feeling their dangerous energies wafting through the streets of their little town, Kagome could tell that they were going to do whatever they wanted tonight, despite the fact that it was just the four of them. It wouldn’t be horrible, and would most likely be a lineup, but they were definitely going to take their sweet time and see who they could break.

“There’s still time. They haven’t noticed you. We can hide you.” Her younger brother said, his tone more on the convicted side as opposed to suggestive. He should have known she wouldn’t have gone for it, though. So long as every other woman and girl had to stand in front of their villainous promises and vile breath, so long as her mother had to keep a straight face, Kagome would always stand there with them. She’d made a promise to her brother, her older cousin, and especially her mom that she’d never willingly out herself for no reason, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hide when everyone else had to stand through their harassment. She swore that if the demons were ever convinced an innocent was a conjurer, that was the reason to give herself over.

Never would Kagome allow another to mistakenly go down in her stead.

No one but her family knew of her powers, and until necessary, it would stay that way. According to her cousin, the more people that knew, the increased danger she was in.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She shook her head, minding her steps through the small slope of mud as she gently pulled her arm out of Sota’s grip.

“Miroku would say the same thing if he were with us.” He argued.

“Yeah, well he’s not. In fact, he’s probably getting himself into trouble by picking a fight with one of those goons.”

“Kagome, I have a bad feeling about this. Come on, just listen for once.”

“Okay,” She stopped, turning around to challenge his look. “Say something bad is going to happen. Knowing these assholes, you really think my absence will stop that?”

“No, but -“

“Right. They’re going to do something no matter what, correct?”

“Kagome -“

“And then what?”

“And then they’re wrong, but they didn’t get you.”

“How is that fair to the person they might hurt?”

“That person isn’t my sister.”

“What if it’s mom?”

Sota’s eyes slighted to the side, a heated huff leaving his lips just before he begrudgingly sealed them. His jaw clenched minutely as his head gave a little shake, brown eyes once more meeting his sibling’s. “Miroku and I will protect her.”

Kagome gave a fed up smile, sighing, rolling her eyes, and turning back on her heel to continue toward the main path. Families came out of their homes dressed in cloaks as they prepared to, once more, be harassed until Naraku’s men exhausted themselves, husbands and male relatives holding resentful expressions as they guarded their female family members until they couldn’t any longer.

“Kagome!”

“Sota, quit it. The louder you are, the more suspicious we become.” She quietly warned. Kagome heard her brother’s aggravated grumble before he jogged forward to catch up, his demeanor holding much like every other male in the village.

No one’s feet rushed toward the excitement. The tension of the town was up so dramatically that Kagome could physically feel the crushing weight of it all, the anxiety as they made their way closer to their disgusting visitors was causing her stomach to bubble and waver, and her throat constricted nervously as she and Sota finally met up with the crowd, her brown eyes scouring over shoulders to scout out her family. Sota’s hand encircled her wrist firmly, tugging her to the right as he found them and guided her over. Miroku stood tall in front of their mother, brows noticeably creased and indigo eyes straight ahead until he’d caught their movement in his peripheral vision. Immediately, his posture squared further, as if enlarging his shoulders so that he’d be able to successfully hide both Kagome and his aunt behind his frame. Her mother held out her hand for Kagome to take as soon as they were close enough, a peaceful smile unsurprisingly gracing her lips while she pulled her in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Somehow, no matter the circumstances, she always did her best to calm Kagome’s nerves with the simplest of sweet gestures. Sota took his spot before them, influenced by Miroku’s stature as he replicated it.

Allowing herself a brief moment, Kagome bowed her head further, bracing it on her older cousin’s shoulder. She shut her eyes, inhaling slowly, deeply, attempting to release her trepidation with a long and heated exhale before composing herself and straightening out.

“- But this is too much! Why the hell are you back again!? There’s no conjurer in our village! Don’t you fucking get that by now!?” A man shouted, livid, and it was evident she and her brother had missed the beginning of the argument playing out in the center of the uneven circle created by people.

“Get the fuck out of the way!” One of Naraku’s men yelled back.

“Not until you tell us why you’re back for the third time!”

“Would you rather we made ourselves at home!?” Silence from the opposing man answered his question clearly. “That’s what I fucking thought.” He spewed, and Kagome could hear the spittle fly out as he cursed. His attention returned to the general public, his tone shifting from vicious to gruff as he made his command. “Only girls ranging from ages five to twenty, line up! Now!”

Increased unsettlement coursed through the crowd, mothers and fathers clinging to their young daughters, little girls’ fearful whimpers polluting the air as they hid their faces in their parents’ legs, and even Kagome’s own mother’s hand tightened her grip as a breathy gasp left her lips - understanding that this meant her eighteen year old daughter was being sent into the fire without her. They were narrowing down, slimming the numbers, and the small smiles on the villains’ faces made Kagome assume that something last time may have tipped them off to lessen the demographic.

“What do I do?” Kagome whispered to her cousin, failing in her attempt to hide the sudden panic striking her.

“Nothing. You do nothing.” He urged quietly, shifting his head to look into his younger relative’s eyes. “Listen, Kagome, treat this like routine -“

“This isn’t routine.”

“Treat it like it is. Keep your head down.”

“If they -“

“No.”

“But, they’ll -“

“Kagome, no. You made us a promise.” Miroku reminded firmly, knowing exactly where her mind was traveling. In the case of an incident, which there seemed to be a higher chance of this time around, she may need to intercede.

She took a deep breath, straightening her face as much as possible so Naraku’s men wouldn’t grow suspicious as they impatiently yelled again for the girls to gather before them. “If this means they suspect something -“

“It may just be a tactic they’re using. For all we know, they have nothing and could leave here with the same. So, treat it like routine. Okay?”

“Promise.” Sota insisted during Kagome’s silence. The mens’ barking got louder, more demanding, as did the crying of little girls being pulled away from their parents. With the building weight in her chest, like a liquid filling her lungs quickly, the density making it almost impossible to take full breaths of air or move without falling forward, all she could muster was a meager nod before forcing herself to walk out. Miroku and Sota both leaned to opposite sides to part their shoulders for her to move through, her mother’s soft hand still lightly holding her own until she was far enough for their fingers to slide away from each other’s.

At most, there were about twenty girls in that age range to offer, and Kagome’s brown eyes drifted over the uneven row of heads as she approached, finding her friend in the mix trying to calm the little girl beside her. Sango glanced her way, as if feeling Kagome’s eyes on her, giving an apprehensive grin and waving her over.

“Ready?” Kagome asked, though it was completely rhetorical. It was just habit for these things. It was unavoidable, unexpected, and overall, impossible to be ready for. But, when they bounced the question off of each other, it was like one final reminder to stone.

Sango knew. Sango and her family were the one exception to the familial rule. She was Kagome’s closest friend and Miroku’s significant other. She was more than trustworthy. And, more importantly, had known since Kagome accidentally found out, herself, as a kid. Because, that’s how it was being a conjurer. You weren’t born knowing. You didn’t have an outward appearance that proclaimed your status much like demons did. It was always an accidental happenstance; in her case where she put a little too much oomph into her bow and arrow lessons and purified the evil - and life - right out of a passing crow demon after missing her target.

She remembered the feeling of total surprise, then tremendous fear because she thought she’d be in a lot of trouble. Kagome had literally thrown her bow to the ground like the thing, itself, was the culprit of the power. Miroku was gawking, Sango was covering her mouth with both hands, and their dad’s shared an identical, tight-lipped expression. Her papa was motionless for an overwhelmingly-tense sixty seconds before shifting his wide, curious eyes to her.

“Did you know you could do that?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, daddy.” Kagome innocently answered, but she could feel the red, hot heat in her face from her lie. She was awful at those when it came to the people she was close to. Still was to this day. Give her a stranger and she could keep it straight, but in the face of friends and family, she cracked almost too easily. It was a guilt thing.

But then he’d laughed, ruffling his little girl’s hair before reassuring her that it was okay. He said they’d just have to go about her training a little differently from that point on to make sure accidents like that didn’t keep happening, and it was only because of him, his adventurism, his accessibility to knowledge from his travels, that she even discovered what she was in the first place.

Back then, though it wasn’t quite as dangerous to exist as a conjurer, her papa had still suggested they keep her abilities under wraps. She distinctly remembered binding that with a pinky promise after Sango’s dad had a private discussion with her own. Maybe it was because Sango’s dad was even more educated with the world, and knew the potential hardships that could come her way, being the leader of the demon slayers that he was - and still is. Honestly, the reasoning was hard to determine now because she didn’t put much thought into it when she could and should have. Being the young, spunky, loyal girl that she was, if her dad wanted her to keep a secret and held out his pinky to her, that was all the reason Kagome needed, and nothing pleased her more than making her papa proud. And, when he and her uncle were fatally wounded in a demon attack on their village, even though Naraku’s name had never once yet been muttered near her ears, he still made her do one final pinky promise to him saying, “Protect yourself for me, my little bird. Keep it in its cage. I love you so much, Kagome.”

She wasn’t even a teenager when that had happened. There was a part of her that wondered here and there if he was secretly clairvoyant, or if he merely studied the patterns throughout history of people of her kind and wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and make her life as easy as possible, given the reputation they had, their ever-changing titles, and the ignorance others had of their nature. If only he knew where she was now. Would he still ask his little bird to stay in the cage while the door was wide open?

“Ready. You?” Sango returned, standing straight and allowing the little girl to cling to her leg.

“Ready.” Kagome breathed.

Those not lined up hesitantly backed away, creating space and growing agonizingly silent as they seemingly held their breaths for those that were chosen. Kagome hated when they did that. It was like she could physically feel the onlookers’ anxiety, and it was the last thing she needed on top of that of those actually subjected and her own.

The four men walked back and forth, up and down the two rows of girls, criminal eyes taunting them with silent threats and menacing grins. It was creepy, but no longer was it fear-inducing. Kagome had a bad habit of not shying away anymore. Sure, she was nervous beyond belief, but the last thing she was afraid of were their snarls, scarred and dirty flesh, and crooked teeth. That, of all things, was the least intimidating factor for those who were calloused to the routine.

But, when an abrupt instruction was given by the leader, her already-loose expectations of “routine” fell apart completely.

“Hold out your left hands, palms up!”

Confusion soared through every individual, and Kagome met Sango’s brief side glance, minutely comforted by the fact that she wasn’t the only one without a clue as to what was going on. Questions weren’t allowed though, and even the little ones were well aware of that, so as the small group of men demanded everyone shut up and do it, all outward bafflement dissipated.

Slowly, Kagome raised her left palm, her arm outstretched, swallowing as she willed the slight trembling to cease. Brown eyes searched quickly as she waited for whatever to begin, weeding through the crowd and finding Miroku already pinning her with a stare. It was wary, but hard, his jaw visibly tense.

The sound of an unsheathing blade was unmistakable, and immediately Kagome’s attention bounced to her left where the leader danced the grip of a knife in his fingers, his lips curved downward into a permanent frown. The first girl in line couldn’t have been any older than fifteen, noticeably shaking as her anxious stare bounced from the man to the blade.

A man in the crowd began shouting, stirring, pushing forward through the heap of villagers to reach the forefront, “Hey! No! What are you going to do!? That’s my daughter; what are you going to do!? Don’t you dare touch -“ Abruptly silenced by a defensive elbow to the diaphragm, gifted by an all-too-fast demon.

The young teenager shuddered, not sure what to worry about first as the leader gave her no moment to react, grabbed her hand, extended it further, and gave a small slice with the tip of his knife to the center of her palm. She winced, a whimper easily escaping her mouth from the sharp pain, tears leaking from her eyes quicker than the blood that seeped from her laceration. And then he grabbed her hand in his, sealing their palms together as he stared her in the eyes for a moment. She was utterly terrified, wanting to pull away while knowing she shouldn’t, but as nothing else happened, the man released her, murmuring to stay in line as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his blade, his hand, then moved onto the next.

Kagome’s attention snapped back to Miroku as it dawned on her, his eyes holding the same idea as he gave a steady but stern shake of his head in retort. They were looking for the untrained conjurers. The conjurers who weren’t skilled in holding back. Everyone was already scared, and the wound inflicted a heightened sense of fight-or-flight. Then their hands gripping the victims’ - their demon hands against the victims’… they were working to spark a purification reaction, and they were going about it right this time. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill them, nothing that small or unsuspecting would be, but it would hurt - much like the notorious fairytale of a vampire taking a quick step into the sunlight before swiftly turning around and heading back inside. And, that was all they needed.

Unbeknownst to everyone but Sango and Miroku, Kagome wasn’t completely helpless. Not only was she well-versed in subduing her powers, but alternatively speaking, she could knock a guy completely on his ass. She’d practiced. She’d practiced for hours at a time for several years now to see what she could do, what sort of strength she possessed, all on the far outskirts of the village, hiding near caves with only her friend and cousin who'd agreed, despite promises and secrets, that they all should try to be prepared for anything. By no means was she an expert, but she could handle her own for the most part and a situation like this was something she’d been well-conditioned for, for quite some time now.

Especially since she’d first received that message in a dream.

The responsibility is ours.

Whatever it meant, no matter how bleak it felt, it was a no-brainer that Kagome couldn’t go on without some sort of knowledge of her own potential.

She took a shallow breath, diverting her gaze to the goon before her as he happily took out his own blade, the other two following suit as they set out to narrow the time this was going to take. He stepped forward, grasping the wrist of the frightened and resistant girl beside Sango, who Sango had to hush into calming, telling her it would be done quickly. When nothing gratifying came from the occurrence, the man moved on to Sango, pinning her with a glare that she challenged right back. She hardly flinched at the slice of her skin, brown eyes never leaving the demonic ones of her assailant. When she shrugged a brow as he clasped their hands together, Kagome could practically see the heat rising in the man’s body language, quickly fuming from how audacious Sango was acting - which Kagome couldn’t help but respect, not knowing if the chuckle she forcefully swallowed was one of matched humor or nervousness.

The man threw Sango’s hand to the side, merely wiping her blood from his palm and blade on his pants before vehemently grabbing Kagome’s and extending her arm completely, bringing an inadvertent gasp to escape her throat. As the tip of his knife pierced her palm, dragging slowly to create a burning gash - one larger than Sango’s, so she suspected her nonchalant pass of amusement wasn’t as admissible as she’d thought - Kagome couldn’t stop the hiss that slid off her tongue, her brows creasing and jaw dropping as crimson dripped from her hand to the mud. With a clap, he pressed his palm to hers, fingers squeezing her small hand with unmitigated pressure. She felt a flurry in her abdomen, her diaphragm, her chest, warmth that drove her power, and that was her cue to hold her breath, to pretend everything was fine, to tell herself she was safe and trick her mind when she really wasn’t. She pretended she was holding Sota’s hand - the first person that came to mind, and the least intimidating one that she knew. Sota as an adult whose hand was finally bigger than hers. She couldn’t help but feel this was a huge insult to her younger brother, so she subconsciously apologized as she continued her visualization. It was like a lump built in her throat, the kind that grew too difficult to swallow, but she also felt completely in control, returning the man’s stare before he dropped her hand and moved onto the girl beside her.

“Shh,” Sango gently hushed the small child. “Everything’s fine now, but you have to stay quiet. Give me your hand.”

Kagome slowly let out her captive breath, the air she sucked in to replace it cold and not the least bit comforting despite the danger she’d evaded. She kept her palm face up but closer to her heart, cradling it for a moment as she tried to ignore the searing pain, diverting her attention to Sango and the kid. Her best friend was already looking up at her, using the long sleeve of her shirt to clean the blood from the girl’s hand and apply pressure so it’d stop bleeding, never minding the bleeding of her own palm. Thankfully, it only looked to be a little knick, and Kagome wondered if the creep of a demon that had handled them secretly had a soft spot for children.

“You okay?” Sango silently mouthed to Kagome. She nodded in reply, picking up the bottom hem of her own shirt and pressing it to her wound.

A sudden, deep, and broken yell punched through the air as one of the demons stumbled away, his hand yanked back, fingers furled in offense, and face twisted in rage. A little girl shrieked as he lunged forward, grabbing her by the collar of her cloak and pulling her out of the line, her feet stumbling to keep up as she cried apology after apology.

No. Conjurers weren’t common; now more than ever. How could there be two in one village? Especially one as small as theirs? How could there be more than one not even miles apart? How did Kagome not know? Didn’t conjurers have the ability to sense one another? She’d only assumed that was the case because of the seemingly-prophetic dreams she’d been having; because of the woman that had been coming to her in those very dreams. It was a weak hypothesis to go off of, but it was the only answer that made sense to Kagome. But, now there was a child being dragged into the center of where the town congregated, begging and pleading for her life while her mother screamed from the sidelines where she was being held at bay, and Kagome was none the wiser to her existence.

She wanted to yell that they were wrong, but how could they have been? It was a physical test. The accidental reaction of her powers was a dead giveaway. They couldn’t even lie their way out of this, or pretend the allegation was false. She was a conjurer. And they were about to kill her.

Kagome’s heart twisted and bunched painfully, that hard lump once more building in her throat, a murmured, “no,” barely leaving her parted lips, and her brown eyes caught a pleased grin on the approaching leader’s face that, just moments ago, seemed stuck in a scowl. He twirled his dagger in his fingers before kneeling down in front of the weeping girl.

“Found you.” He snickered, plunging the blade into her abdomen.

“No!” Kagome gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth in shock. The village was alight with terror, screams, cries, the rumble of defeat, the wailing of a grieving mother striking over all other sounds. Still, she was withheld from her little girl, reaching for her over the shoulder of the unforgiving demon who kept her away.

The knife was yanked free of the girl’s gut and she fell to her knees, her hands braced before her stomach as crimson crawled out, staining the front of her rain-soaked dress. Small hands weakly pressed into her abdomen, the wide look of horror, of pain, of fear etched into every inch of her expression as she gasped tremblingly. All too easily, the leader stood and walked away, not an ounce of remorse displayed.

“She was… she was just a kid.” A sympathetic village man stated morosely. “She wasn’t even ten yet.”

“She wasn’t dangerous!” Another testified.

“Would you like to be next?” A demon threatened, thinking his raised voice would retain order.

Kagome could hardly breathe, tears burning and brimming at her lower lid. All she could think to do was try to stop the bleeding, try to save the child, her feet moving on their own accord as she rushed out of line. Beyond the anger building in the crowd, the yelling growing louder, and the intense disturbance increasing rapidly and overwhelmingly, Kagome heard her name called multiple times. But, she couldn’t bring herself to listen, to stop, as she skidded to her knees in the mud, her arms catching the little girl as she fell forward. Her mother was finally freed, racing over and falling to the ground at her child’s side, helping through her weeping to lay her on her back.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.” She soothed as best as she could, hovering over her daughter's face so the rain wouldn’t hit it, shaking fingers pushing sopping hair from her cheeks.

Kagome grabbed the length from the girl’s cloak that stuck out on her side, bunching it and pressing firmly into the wound. The choked gasp that came from the kid was agonizing, and Kagome apologized profusely, blinking away her own tears as she whipped her head around to take in the rousing group of people, fury evident in their tones, in their bodies, as they returned threats with the offending demons.

“Where’s the doctor!?” Kagome asked as loudly as she could, her soaked, dark hair whipping her in the face as she spun her head around to try and find their town's self-proclaimed physician. “Help! We need help!”

“He isn’t here; he left for herbs yesterday.” Sango informed as she dropped down beside Kagome.

“And he still isn’t back!?”

“The storm must have delayed him.” Sango shook her head in response, her brows creased together as she glanced over her shoulder to quickly mind the budding commotion before turning her worried expression back toward the crying child. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“I don’t - I don’t know.” Kagome stammered, her breathing growing heavier as she panicked, noticing the blood was barely halting, the stain in the girl’s dress expanding and absorbing through the cloth she pressed against the wound.

“Apply pressure!” Miroku instructed when he slid to his knees in the mud on their opposite side, careful of the girl’s mother.

“I am!” Kagome cried.

“Stay with me, baby! Stay with me! I’m right here, look at me!” The woman coo’d, sniffling and gasping with her tremors while the comforting smile never left her lips.

“Hey! Leave her! Let her die, or we’ll kill you too!” One of the vile men demanded, though his shouts went ignored, easily drowned out by the encroaching, enraged men who finally appeared fueled enough to physically challenge them. Kagome could only hope they’d hold the demons back so they’d have the chance to save her.

“Here, let me see!” Miroku pushed Kagome’s shaking hands away, pulling aside the cloth of the cloak to take a peek at the wound in her stomach. Kagome had to look away then, the sight of the thick blood seeping through too much to handle. Instead, she focused her attention on the little girl, crawling up to hold her cold, bleeding hand.

Scared, pained, blue eyes focused on Kagome as she took shuddering breaths, her chest convulsing slightly as her small voice broke with her cries. Little fingers softly gripped her hand in return, and the tiniest of smiles curved her lips upward, light beginning to dim from her irises.

“Miroku!” Kagome urged. She glanced back at him and noticed the hopeless expression on his face. One that claimed there was nothing anyone could do. Her heart dropped, a nauseating weight filling her stomach. Quickly, she turned back to the little girl, leaning an inch closer. “Kikyo and the other conjurers, they’re gonna win, okay? We’re gonna win. I promise.”

“Who’s…”

“You! What did you just say!?” Heavy steps sloshed in the mud toward them, his voice low, growling, dangerous.

Kagome had spoken up to be sure the girl had heard her over the yelling, but she hadn’t realized that it could have been heard by anyone else. She didn’t think about the ramifications. She didn’t think. She’d just wanted to fill the child with some form of final hope. What was wrong with that? Was it the fact that she’d said Naraku would fall?

She’d hardly had enough time to turn and react before she was grabbed by the hair and lifted to her feet, yelping as she was dragged back and away.

“You mentioned Kikyo!” He exclaimed, giving a forceful yank as Kagome loudly gasped from her constant stumbling, the pain on her scalp, the fear racing through her. In the thick of it, she’d forgotten Kikyo wasn’t a person who was widely known. She’d forgotten Kikyo was a secret beacon of hope to the surviving conjurers, who appeared in dreams and spoke in riddles.

“No!” Was all she could manage to reply, screamed brokenly, heard clearly throughout the number of villagers around as the action died down and all attention was on them.

“How do you know her!?”

She yelped again, forcefully pulled backward and released to only trip and fall over some tools.

“Tell me, wench!” He demanded, picking Kagome up by her throat and slamming her back against the wall of a home.

“I don’t!” She adamantly swore, still able to speak. His grip was there, but not choking.

“Liar!” He said, slapping her hard across the face. “How do you know Kikyo!?”

“I heard of her in passing!” Kagome cried, wincing from the sting before she was forced to look at him again.

“I find that hard to believe.” He growled, inching closer to her face. His hold on her throat tightened, cutting off air, thick fingers pinching painfully into the sides of her neck. “Where is she?”

“I - I don’t know.” She sputtered, wheezed, her tears hot as they glided down her face. The rain was nothing but a drizzle now, though the distant sound of thunder roared angrily. She was both cold and hot, her lungs begging for air as his hand pushed further against her windpipe.

“Stop it! Let her go!” Miroku barked, and his presence was just enough to distract Naraku’s henchman and cause him to release some tension from her throat. Kagome greedily sucked in as much air as she could, though he still constricted his fingers against her. It was like breathing through a straw.

Her cousin stood there, dark hair sticking to his temples, bloodied hands braced before him as if to reason. “She doesn’t know anything; she just told you!”

“Oh, another tough guy?” A demon behind him chuckled. “A little scrawny for that, don’t you think?”

“You have me wrong, I don’t want to fight. Release my cousin, and we’ll back away peacefully. She meant no harm.”

“The harm was done when she stepped out of place to save the girl!”

“She was a child!”

“She’s a conjurer! She has no place in this world!”

“She did! She did have a place in this world, and we all know it!”

“You best shut the fuck up, boy.” The leader said from the sidelines. “Word may carry that you’re on their side. Now, you wouldn’t want that. Would you?”

“Tell him to let go of her.” Miroku sternly ordered.

“Back off.”

“Let her go!”

“Suit yourself. Have some fun.” Their leader flicked a finger at the two other demons, allowing them to do as they pleased.

Miroku hissed a low, “Fuck,” before dodging a hit from one of the two demons enclosing in on him. He was able to throw one of his own, nailing an ugly bastard in the face before he was grabbed from behind, bulky arms wrapping under and over his shoulders to hold him in place. The other demon was eager while he arrogantly approached in front of him, smiling as he punched Miroku in the stomach.

“Stop! Miroku!” Kagome squirmed against her own offender’s grasp, her instincts beginning to kick in as she felt a wild sensation build in her veins. Something righteous whispered the power she held in her ear, told her to use her abilities to save her cousin, further fueling the heat that made her forget about the nip in the air.

“Kagome, don’t!” Miroku coughed, pinning her with his indigo gaze before his eyes pinched shut from a swift hit to his diaphragm, blood dribbling over his bottom lip and down his chin.

Control sucked Kagome back to the present, the earnest crackle of Miroku’s voice ringing in her ears and overpowering the one that told her to fight. The grip against her throat tightened again, closing off her air passage as red eyes turned back to her, the lines of his frown deep.

“Don’t, what?”

Kagome wasn’t sure if he actually expected an answer or not, but he’d made it physically impossible. She clawed her nails along the thick skin of his large hand, trying to pry him away so she could breathe. It was dire that she didn’t use her powers; she understood this. But, as the adrenaline raced violently through her body, it was growing increasingly harder to keep it subdued. She’d be killed in a heartbeat; she’d already witnessed their unforgiving lack of hesitation. Her mother and younger brother would have to watch. Her cousin, too. She’d promised everyone she would protect herself, and she'd promised herself that she would protect them. Above all that, a different, deeper, more rational voice spoke to her, drowning out the one that told her to take action just a moment ago, telling her that her fight was meant for somewhere else. Something bigger. She could practically feel the breath hitting her ear, urging her of the importance. It told her to swallow it, hold it at bay, keep it buried no matter how badly it burned for release at the underside of her flesh. Keep it in its cage.

Finally, the demon released his tight hold on her neck, opting to firmly grip the front of her shirt. His upper lip twitched in disdain while Kagome sputtered, and coughed, and gasped for air to fill her lungs.

“Don’t, what?” Naraku’s henchman repeated, this time a little lighter, and it was impossible to miss that he was visibly analyzing for any sort of body language that could tip him off.

“Fight.” Kagome attempted to say, though her voice came out incredibly raspy and broken.

“Like I’d be worried about what a girl as small as you could possibly do to me. Unless,” He cocked a brow. “I’d have a reason to worry. Unless, you’re a conjurer.”

She shook her head, scared to look away from him, hyperaware of any movement she made in that moment. She was absolutely terrified of letting him know she was lying, but what if her stiffness was what told him the truth? What if the vehemence behind her objection was exactly what he needed to convict her? Where was the happy medium? Was there one? Kagome’s bottom lip quivered, resisting the impulse to glance Miroku’s way when he continuously coughed, the sound slightly gurgled, scared the shift in her eyes would be mistaken for something else.

“How else would you know who Kikyo is?”

“I - I h-heard of her in p-passing.” Kagome said, still unable to use her voice, and she wondered if the strangulation was enough to damage her vocal cords or if her anxiety was the cause of it. “I-In a nearby town. By - by the r-river.”

The demon yanked her forward and slammed her back against the wall, the back of her head smacking the wood painfully. “Are you a fucking conjurer, wench!?”

“No!” Kagome wheezed, releasing her own hold on his fist to emphatically present the blunt cut on her palm to him before she repeatedly smacked it against his forearm, smearing hers and the little girl’s blood, showing him the exact reaction - or lack thereof - they were looking for in coming today in the first place.

“Let - let her go.” Miroku was on his knees, breathing impaired, holding his side with one hand while the other braced his weight in the mud. “She’s not a conjurer. She’s not. She can hardly even hunt. I have to take her everywhere. There’s no way anyone that knows her would believe she’s one of them.”

“Being a conjurer doesn’t have anything to do with hunting, boy!” One of them spit.

“Well, how the hell would anyone know!?” Sango shouted from the side, still seated on her knees beside the child. Her cheeks were flushed furiously, and her hands were held out inches from her chest, palms up, covered in blood that she was afraid would never wash off. Their attempts were in vain and the mother wept, clinging to her little girl, her face buried in her daughter’s still chest. “Conjurers are practically going extinct; you’re all winning! We don’t know what they can do! They probably don’t know what they can do! Conjurers either have to hide to save their lives, or they don’t even know they are one yet!”

For a brief second, Kagome allowed herself to glance beyond Sango’s head, finding her family. Her mother’s hands were cupped in front of her mouth, trembling as she never removed her eyes from her daughter. Her brow was creased deeply, concern etched so thick you’d think an artist may have been too heavy with their pen. Kagome couldn’t tell if her mom was breathing slowly, or if she was holding her breath. She couldn’t tell if her mom was saying a silent prayer, or if words could barely form in her mind as she had no choice but to watch the scene unfold. Her mother had to witness a daughter torn away from another; a daughter who held the same, supernatural fate as her own. Kagome could only imagine the stress that currently laced her mom’s system.

Before her stood both her brother and Sango’s, Sota bearing a wide expression, neck tense and lips parted uncertainly, and Kohaku wearing a more cautious grimace, watching apprehensively. Knowing her onlookers were nervous, worried, should have been the very thing to cause Kagome to proceed carefully, but instead it served as the switch that flicked on in her head. She was tired of living like this, done with the dreadful thought that this was their normal. This wasn’t going to continue.

She’d been waiting for a sign, waiting for her cue. Bags were packed and weapons were stored in a hiding place where they’d been training outside of the village. Miroku, Sango, and she had discussed a while ago that they were going to eventually leave together and find the called-upon conjurers, and join Kikyo to fight against Naraku. It was their - the conjurers’ - responsibility. As much as she wanted to know why, pleaded with the apparition of this seemingly all-powerful conjurer time and time again for an answer, at this point it was no longer deemed necessary. Not anymore. Kagome figured she’d hear this magical invitation telling her when and where - which was farfetched but a fair assumption given she barely had anything to go off of. She even thought she might have to wait a while longer until she was stronger, more trained in her capabilities, before Kikyo gave her some form of clear signal instead of these ominous, detail-lacking prophecies in her subconscience that she was currently getting every other night. But now a tick in her core, an itch in her chest, a steady deepening in her resolve told her the time was now. Screw waiting, screw messages, screw rolling over, screw self-pity, and screw Naraku. If he wanted a fight, if this was his initiation all along, his declaration of war, then he was finally going to get one.

“If that’s the case, bitch, then what were you telling the girl?” The demon holding her collar jerked her slightly to demand her attention, receiving it with vexation.

“I,” Kagome took as stable a breath as she could, her throat aching and voice pathetically weak, clearly evident now that it was due to the ruthless strangling she’d received. “I told her Kikyo would kill Naraku.”

“And, why the fuck would you say that?” He asked, almost surprised at her bold statement.

“I wanted her to go with hope, not fear.”

He guffawed, his chest pumping. “You don’t actually believe that!”

Without hesitation, as straight as she could manage while she halted his laughter, Kagome replied, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His smile faded quickly, humor replaced with anger as his fists bunched tighter and he heatedly pulled Kagome away from the wall and threw her to the floor. Kagome landed on her front, quickly pressing herself to her hands and knees just before he pushed her belly down, her wrists sliding and giving out so the side of her face planted in the mud.

“Kagome -“ Her cousin called, stumblingly crawling her way before another demon kicked him in the side he’d been clutching, a tiny crunch being heard just as Miroku choked in pain.

“Miroku, stop! I’m fine!” She attempted to say clearly, a foot braced on her back.

“Enough.” The leader stated. “Everyone back in line. We haven’t finished yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” A man asked disbelievingly. “You don’t think you’ve done enough damage already!? Get the fuck out!”

“Yeah, get out of here!” Other villagers began to call out, joining in. “You aren’t welcome here! You’re only taking advantage because our demon slayers are gone!”

“You think that matters?” The leader chuckled. “Go ahead. Revolt. Fight back. Make us leave. See how quickly your entire village will be wasted the next time around. You see four of us and think you stand a chance. You see a large group of us and think you’re safe because you’ve got a little pack of demon slayers protecting you. Funny, that’s never stopped our inspections before, so I don’t see why you think that’d stop us now. Either way, not a single one of you would be left alive if we brought a fraction of the wild demons under Naraku’s control, and he wouldn’t bat an eye if we borrowed them to kill you all. In fact, that’s already in the plan if we don’t check in. You kill us all, congratulations, but you’ll be worse off. Compared to him, we’re the most compassionate monsters you’ll ever meet, and I suggest you learn to appreciate that. Now, get your girls back in line.”

“It’s okay, papa.” An older girl spoke. Kagome couldn’t see from where she lay, but she recognized the seventeen year-old’s voice. Ayumi. She was soft-spoken normally, but also fairly brave and kind. The only child of a widowed father, and a girl, like the rest of them, forced to grow up too soon.

Ayumi walked forward, having backed away from the rowdiness with the majority of the girls who hadn’t run back to the safety of their parents. Notching her chin upward, she raised her left palm, “Let them finish. They won’t seem so big forever.”

“Bold girl.” The demon complimented.

“Yeah. The more I find myself hoping the conjurers win, the bolder I feel.”

“Careful, now. You’ll wind up getting yourself killed.”

“Looks like being female might just get me killed, anyway. So, I might as well go down confident that Naraku is the true evil here, and evil never wins.”

“What a disgusting cliche.” He groaned. “Grow a brain and come up with something original before you spew that sort of shit. It’s embarrassing. Look, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but as the chick over there stated, we already are. We’re winning. Now, I won’t argue that we’re the bad guys here, but at this point in time, that doesn’t really matter.”

Ayumi swallowed thickly, eyes faltering downward for the smallest moment before she rose them to meet the red eyes of Naraku’s henchman. As sickeningly as that notion sat in her esophagus, Ayumi felt it would be worse if she’d sunken her shoulders at the validity of their power. By no means was she strong, and by no means was she actually all that courageous. Ayumi, true to heart, was a daydreamer, was a fantasy-enthusiast, was a soft, sweet, and hopeful wisher, was tired, was passive. So, while she could admit her stare wasn’t striking, her irises would never be vivid with the passionate heroism she dreamed about, her lips would never curve with a compelling and threatening snarl, she could also admit that just the act of matching his gaze was all she needed to do to defy defeat. With chapped lips parting, not a waver traveling over her tongue, she spoke. “Yes, it does.”

“Yes, it does.” Another girl agreed, approaching to stand beside Ayumi.

“The world hasn’t always been this way. Naraku only grew large less than five years ago.” A woman said, a mother, holding her fearful daughter in her arms. Several more girls got back in line, their shoulders a little more broadened than before. “I find it appalling how arrogant you all have gotten in such a short time. I assure you, conjurer, demon, human, or anything in between, I’d give them my trust sooner than I’d yield to the idea of life staying like this. Good and evil, the difference will always matter. So, yes. Yes, it does.”

“Inspirational.” One of Naraku’s demons remarked sarcastically, cringing.

“Hey, whatever blows your skirt up, lady.” The leader shrugged. “You can believe whatever you want. No sweat off my back. Funny enough, I’d put down all the money in my pockets right now to bet not a single one of them would return that trust, nor would they risk their lives to save you. I mean, not to play devil’s advocate or anything, but look at the twisted circumstances. What the fuck have you done to help them? Human’s are selfish; only looking out for themselves. You hate us showing up because you don’t want us to hurt you. It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with us hunting down conjurers, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with that little girl on the ground over there. If it did, you would have never watched it happen. If it did and it was just the ‘shock factor’ holding you back, you still would have done a little more than yell at us about how unfair it was. Oh, cry me a fucking river.” He grinned, stepping over to the first girl in the newly-formed line. There were less than half left that hadn’t been tested, and he got straight to work, unforgivingly slashing at the pre-teen’s palm and slapping his own to hers as he continued his heartless speech. “Even better, there’s two of your own on the floor, both of them getting quite the beating, and not a single fucking one of you did a damn thing to help. I understand the lad; that’s his - er - sister? Cousin? And, I mean, at least the chick tried to help the conjurer survive. I’ll give them kudos, but I think I speak for all of us non-humans when I say fuck the rest of you egotistical pricks. Oh no, my child might have a scar on her hand. Oh no, more trauma.” The leader mocked, his tone high and whiney. “Yeah, well, at least they’re not dead in the mud like little Suzie over there.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience at the harsh and morbid insensitivity. Still, no one challenged him. Someone should have, and no one said a thing.

Kagome tasted bile on the back of her tongue from the disgusting sentiments plaguing the thick, electric air. How cruel. She wanted to open her mouth and beg him to stop and just finish his job already, force her broken voice out to demolish his train of thought and hope he doesn’t mention the death for the remainder of his stay. The only thing stopping her was Miroku’s steady stare on her. It held more power than an order from his mouth to stay quiet ever could. With a foot on her back as a warning for more damage, the impending threat that he would easily be hurt again, and the fact that she’d said enough as it was, no matter how bold she felt in the face of this evil, she knew she was meant to face the source. She could only do that alive. So, begrudgingly, she obliged to his logical demand.

If they wanted them to finish, they needed to stop fighting. They needed to shut up. A double-edged sword. Like bowing their heads to the abuse. Enabling it. Allowing it so it ends quicker.

Kagome could feel her palms burning in the mud, a sense of humiliating defeat flooding her chest, making her feel sick to her stomach. She kept her eyes on Miroku, he kept his eyes on her. She tried to raise the volume of her thoughts, no matter how negative they were, to tune out the gasps and muffled cries of the young girls as they received the cut to their palms for testing.

How could she hold any form of power, yet still feel so powerless? How could she have the privilege of a voice, but feel so irrevocably silenced? She wanted to believe she could save everyone there if she just untied the knots concealing her abilities, but it physically pained her to understand that it was the wrong thing to do. It would be counterintuitive. It would wind up getting them all killed later. She could fight, but she also couldn’t.

“And, there you have it.” The leader finished by wiping his knife clean and slipping it back into the little holster on his hip, the hint of pride and sarcasm on his tongue. “Thank you so much for your cooperation and understanding. We’ll be seeing you.”

The demon holding Kagome down applied a small kick of pressure as he lifted off of her, chuckling as his dirty boots stuck in the mud with each step away.

There was an eerie silence, one that grew more deafening as the henchmen took their horses and disappeared from the village. It was heavy, thick, like sludge. Weighted with failure and death. Even the cries from the mother were muted. For a moment, Kagome thought that instead of drowning out the pained noises with her own thoughts, her brain had responded late to her distress by completely disabling her sense of hearing instead. But, she could hear the stickiness of the mud as she peeled herself from the ground to sit on her knees. She could hear feet slowly walking - most likely children rejoining their families. She could hear the thunder threatening them of the next onslaught of rain to come. The silence that captivated them was one that couldn’t be lifted with a simple, “Thank god that’s over.” No one could make it dissipate by asking if everyone was okay. Because, it didn’t matter.

And, that was something everyone, even the young, could recognize.

The small talk that would eventually come when everyone was back in their homes, the whispers, the crying, and maybe even tiny chuckles from people trying to find the little joys to get them through this, they would all be irrelevant. Because, outside there would be a blanket of despair thicker than the friction-inducing clouds hanging over them at this very moment, and it promised them there that it would stick around as long as it needed to.

“Hey,” A soft voice spoke in Kagome’s ear, a gentle, cold hand brushing her arm, and it was only when she gasped and jerked upright that she realized she’d been hanging her head, sights stuck on her hands on her thighs. “Sh, sh. It’s just me.” Her mother reassured, kneeling beside her and using her sleeve to try and wipe her face clean of some clumpy mud. “Are you alright, honey?”

Out of sheer reaction, she gave a meager nod.

“Look at me, Kagome. Look at me. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Kagome said as convincingly as possible. When Miroku groaned, catching her mother’s attention and even her own, she was happy to have the focus off of her. Kohaku and Sango were beside him, trying to sit him up, freezing as he struggled.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you home.” A couple, larger village men came over, better suited to help. One of them firmly clasped his hand in Miroku’s, quickly pulling him up to his feet so the pain wouldn’t be dragged out. Her cousin hissed at the shock, clenching his throat to try and swallow his grumble, and the two men supported him by pulling his arms over their shoulders.

“Can you stand?” Kagome’s mother asked.

“Yeah.” She whispered, not wanting to irritate her throat further and finding no real need to speak up right now. “I’m fine, mama. Don’t worry about me. Miroku needs your attention more.”

“Even if that were true, he’s kind of surrounded. I don’t think I’m needed there, love.” She replied, grabbing her by her elbow to support her as they stood together. “Sota, take her other side, please. Just in case.”

“Wait.” A broken voice called to them, trembling but by no means weak.

They all stopped just two steps in, looking over to the mother on the ground. Her daughter’s body, from head to toe, was covered by a long cloak belonging to one of the villagers beside her now, attempting to give comfort.

“Kikyo? Is that what you’d said? Kikyo?” She asked Kagome.

As clearly as she could, with a little nod of her head as she processed the question, Kagome said, “Yes.”

“Who is that?”

Kagome could feel the tension in her brow falter as the sympathetic, concerned curve in them wilted away to change more into dubiousness. “You - you don’t…” She didn’t know who Kikyo was. Even her own mother knew who Kikyo was. Her mom was the first to hear about her dreams before she started discussing them with the rest of her family. Had her daughter not had the same messages coming to her? Or, was she so confused, so distraught from them all, that she chose secrecy over being seen as insane?

“She’s a conjurer.” Kagome answered.

“Is she - is she a strong conjurer?”

“I think so.”

“I’m sorry, did your daughter never mention anything about Kikyo?” Sango carefully asked.

“N-no. Why would she?”

“We were just under the impression that she may have been sending survivors telepathic signals of sorts.” She said.

“That’s preposterous.” A man scoffed.

“Maybe. We heard it in passing. From an old man, no less.” Miroku said, discomfort laced in his tone.

“What - what could she possibly have had to say to a little girl?” The mother asked, her bottom lip quivering while her hand rested on her daughter’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew.” The words were painful to speak. Not from her throat, but from the fact that she had to lie to a woman who’d had her everything stolen from her. A woman who, more than anyone, deserved the truth.

When she’d said what she’d said about Kikyo before, the little girl had muttered something in return before the demon tore Kagome away. It seemed like she was about to ask who Kikyo was. Kagome was sure now that the kid didn’t know. She hadn’t had the dreams, the premonitions, the one-sided conversations, nothing. She hadn’t had any communication with Kikyo, whatsoever. Maybe Kikyo was kind to exclude the young, and only spoke to the older, potentially more conditioned conjurers.

Or, maybe there was a possibility that Kagome was the only one.

And, it terrified her.

“Will she win? Kikyo? Will she defeat Naraku?” The crying mother asked.

Kagome was finding it hard to reply, to communicate. Her throat was tightening up as she watched the woman’s body begin to crumble once more toward her little girl’s; like she needed to be connected with her to prevent her from going cold. She could feel her eyes stinging, tears brimming, her fingers quaking and legs growing weak. Her cheeks felt hot and her chest wouldn’t allow a full breath of air - only unsteady, unmatched, quick puffs that burned. A hot hand slid into her right, her brother’s fingers tightening their grip, but she couldn’t control her body enough to grab it back.

“I refuse to believe otherwise.” Sango answered confidently.

The mother now sobbed, nodding in acknowledgment as she weeped over the covered body of her daughter. “Thank you.”

Kagome wanted to apologize profusely. For failing to protect her. For failing to try to protect her. For her loss. For the chance she was never given to learn to defend herself. For the silence she had to keep. The guilt was so heavy on her shoulders, she was ready to give in in front of them all, but the hand in hers pulled her back, made her move.

More villagers were moving toward the mother and child to help comfort while they removed the body, and that was the prime opportunity to get Kagome out of there. Sota could tell from the moment it started that she was going to break down, maybe even panic. He knew his sister, he knew the signs, he understood the stress she was under, and he wanted nothing more than to get her away and help her as best as he could. So, he disregarded everyone else and began pulling Kagome ahead. Miroku would have to move at a slower pace, Sango and Kohaku would stick by him and the men that helped, and he figured their mom would respect that they needed a moment of peace where they weren’t under more eyes than necessary.

Sota ignored the broken utterances of his name that came from his sister, he ignored the threatening weather, and he ignored anything that could potentially get in his way. He directed Kagome around their house, to the back, and toward the tree line of the woods. Three trees in past the shrubbery bush, on the opposite side of the trunk, Sota found the rope ladder to the treehouse their dad had built them hanging. Holding it steady, he released Kagome’s hand.

“Come on. Climb.”

-> | next chapter |

[disneygirl626]

Peter Parker x Reader :Journey: (2/2)

(Y/n) stood sideways in front of the mirror, a frown etched deep in her features.

“If you keep frowning like that your face is going to get stuck.”

She jumped and turned, watching her husband walk over to her. “Haha, very funny.”

“What’re you doing anyway?” Peter asked with a chuckle.

“Pete, look, the baby bump is already showing! They’re going to see right through me!” (Y/n) said, looking back at the mirror and placing her hands on her stomach.

While she was right, there was a bump, that’s also all it was. A bump. Barely even that, to be honest.

“Honey, I don’t think they’ll notice it,” Peter said, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind. His hands landed on her stomach and she smiled.

“What time is dinner again?” (Y/n) asked.

“Pepper said to be there at 6, but Tony said 7 so I have no idea,” Peter said, earning a laugh from (Y/n).

“May and Happy are coming too, right?” (Y/n) asked.

“Yep. How do you think we should tell everyone about the baby?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know. There’s so many options!” (Y/n) had been watching YouTube videos all day in preparation. She figured this is something they should’ve planned beforehand, but time had gotten away from her and before she knew it it was the day of the dinner and they still had no plan.

“We could do the picture thing,” Peter suggested.

“But who would take it?” (Y/n) asked as she went back to getting ready.

Peter plopped down on their bed with a bounce. “Oh yeah… Why don’t we do the onesie thing? Where it says ‘coming soon’ or something like that.”

“I think you have to have those custom made,” (Y/n) said.

The couple sat in silence, each racking their brains to think of something.

“What do you think of the ultrasound idea?” (Y/n) asked.

“Nah, it needs to be more creative,” Peter said, making his wife smirk.

“What’s that look for?” Peter asked, grinning.

“You’re just adorable,” (Y/n) said.

Peter’s grin widened before it slowly started to fade. “Have you.. have you thought anymore about telling your parents?”

His wife’s smile faded as well. After (Y/n) had gotten engaged to Peter, she and her family had gotten into a huge argument with her family. Her parents highly disapproved of Peter and wanted (Y/n) to go back to school instead of settling down so quickly.

They’d been invited to the wedding but no one had shown up. When Tony found out about that, he had offered to walk (Y/n) down the aisle and give her away. To say that she had started crying was an understatement.

Anyway, she hadn’t heard from her family since before the wedding so she hadn’t planned on telling them about the baby.

“I’ve thought about it. I just don’t know, Peter. There’s only two ways this could go and neither of them are good.”

“It’s completely up to you, (N/n). I’ll support whatever you choose,” Peter said. (Y/n) gave him a small smile.

She finished getting ready, but couldn’t shake that thought out of her head. If she did try to call them they could either ignore her or answer and give her a lecture about how she’s too young to be a mom and yada yada yada.

Her and Peter discussed how to surprise the rest of the family during the whole ride to the compound and came up with the perfect plan.

(Y/n) began shaking with nervous excitement as they pulled up to the compound.

“You ok?” Peter asked, frowning a little bit.

“Mhm,” she replied, climbing out of the car as May came to greet them.

“Hi guys!” she said happily. She ran over to (Y/n) and squeezed her in a hug. “I’ve missed you both!”

(Y/n) laughed as she hugged May. “We’ve missed you too!”

“Are you ok? You look… different. Not bad different, just different. Like you’re… glowing almost.”

(Y/n) froze for a split second. Peter saved her from having to answer as he walked over and squeezed his aunt in a hug.

May eyed (Y/n) suspiciously as the trio headed inside, but she didn’t say anything else about it.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Tony said with a grin.

Peter rolled his eyes but (Y/n) just smirked. The night continued on with (Y/n) on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She was sure they saw right through her. What if they weren’t happy about it? What if they thought they were too young to be parents? Her mom had been in her life, but she wasn’t exactly the best mom in the world. What if she wasn’t a good mom? What if-

“Hey.”

(Y/n) pulled herself out of her spiral of worry and looked up to find her husband watching her with a frown. “You ok?” he whispered, giving her hand a squeeze.

She forced a smile and nodded. “I’m ok. Just… tired I guess.”

Peter didn’t look like he believed her, but they didn’t have the chance to talk about it before FRIDAY announced the takeout they ordered had arrived.

As they sat around the living room and munched on the food, (Y/n) caught her husband’s eye and nodded, biting her lip in a smile. Her hands trembled as she handed May and Happy and Tony and Pepper a small gift as the conversation died down.

“What’s this?” May asked suspiciously, eyeing the small rectangle box with a little smile.

“A present,” (Y/n) replied, sitting next to Peter and taking his hand.

The couple’s opened their respective boxes, pulling out a sandwich baggie with ‘Spider-baby coming soon!’ written on it and a positive pregnancy stick in it.

Pepper was the first to catch on. She let out a happy little scream and jumped up, throwing the baggie at Tony in the process.

(Y/n) stood as Pepper practically bounced over and threw her arms around her and Peter. (Y/n) laughed as May caught on next, having about the same reaction as Pepper. Happy and Tony caught on shortly after that. They were excited but their reaction was a bit calmer than the women.

The months seemed to fly by after that. The first trimester had been rough. Morning sickness had hit (Y/n) like a brick wall. Most of the time she could only eat a couple saltines and drink some chicken broth.

There had been one point where they’d almost had to go see Helen, but thankfully everything worked itself out. They did call Dr. Cho a couple times, but without being able to actually see (Y/n), she had to guess it was from the radiation that changed Peter’s DNA.

“But-but he or she isn’t going to be an actual spider-baby, right?” (Y/n) had asked, having gone pale.

“No, I don't think so, (Y/n). He or she might have some powers, but I highly doubt it,” Helen had replied.

During the second trimester, the morning sickness gradually left and (Y/n) was hit with a whole bunch of cravings. The second trimester became (Y/n)’s favorite part of the pregnancy. She was able to actually eat normal food without puking her guts out ten minutes later and she felt great!

“(Y/n), are you sure you should be up there?”

“Ned, relax, it’s just a ladder.”

“Exactly, it’s a ladder! It could topple over at any second!”

“It won’t if you’re holding it.”

Ned tightened his grip on the metal ladder as he watched one of his best friends attempt to paint the wall in front of her. They were keeping the baby’s gender a surprise until he or she was born, so they had been a pretty sage green for the walls.

Peter was returning tomorrow night from a  business trip with Stark Industries, so (Y/n) had called Ned and MJ to come help her decorate the nursery to surprise Peter.

The puking from the first trimester had taken its toll on (Y/n). She was a lot thinner now, except for the growing bump, and got dizzy pretty easily.

(Y/n) inched closer to the wall, much to Ned’s dismay. “(Y/n), do I need to call MJ?”

“No, I’m perfectly capable of doing this,” (Y/n) said, tongue poking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated on not hitting the ceiling.

“Capable of doing what?” MJ asked as she walked in. She carried bags from various baby stores, which she set in a pile in the middle of the room.

“(Y/n)’s trying to give me a heart attack,” Ned replied.

Said woman glared at him. “Am not.”

“(Y/n), do you really think you should be up there? What if you have a dizzy spell?” MJ asked, crossing her arms.

“I’ll be fine. Just let me get this last part then I’ll - oh!”

MJ and Ned raced over, but (Y/n) didn’t fall. Instead, she dropped the roller as her hand flew to her bump.

“What? What’s wrong?” Ned asked.

“He or she kicked!” (Y/n) said, grinning. She got down from the ladder and grabbed her friend’s hands, placing them on her belly. The baby kicked again, making grins pull at Ned and MJ’s lips.

“I wish Peter was here!” (Y/n) said, smiling bigger than she had  in a while.

“(Y/n)?” someone called, making all three heads turn to the living room.

“Peter!” (Y/n) said happily, running to the doorway. She planted a kiss on his lips before grabbing his hand and putting it on her belly.

“(Y/n), what-?”

“Shh! Just watch!”

Sure enough, the baby kicked Peter’s hand. “Whoa!”

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

The third trimester brought cramps, swollen feet, and weekly checkups. As the baby grew bigger, (Y/n)’s body began having a hard time adjusting. She became iron deficient and was confined to bed rest within the last couple weeks of her pregnancy due to other complications.

“Peter, I swear, I’ll be ok. Go be Spider-man for a little bit. I’ll call you if anything happens,” (Y/n) said, giving her husband’s hand a squeeze.

“But-”

“No buts. Baby and I will be ok, I promise.”

“What if you have to go to the bathroom? Or what if you get hungry?” Peter asked.

“I called MJ. We’re going to have a girls night,” (Y/n) said, one hand rubbing her large stomach while the other held her husband’s hand tightly.

Peter hesitated. “You swear you’ll call me if anything happens?”

“Yes,” (Y/n) said with a loving smile.

“Fine. I’ll only be gone for a few hours though, ok?”

“Ok. Stay safe, love,” (Y/n) said, pecking his lips before he got up.

“You too,” Peter said. He gave her belly a kiss before suiting up and jumping out the window.

“I will never get used to that,” (Y/n) sighed.

MJ showed up half an hour later and the girls filled up with junk food and cheesy rom-coms.

“So when are you due?” MJ asked as she left to refill the popcorn bucket.

“Two more weeks. But we don’t even know if it’ll actually happen on that day,” (Y/n) said, resting her head on the pillow behind her as she scrolled through Instagram.

A sharp pain shot through her body, making her wince. She didn’t think much of it, it’s been happening a lot lately. Then water began pooling under her thighs. She paled and muttered a curse.

“Uh.. Michelle?”

“I’m coming! Don’t play the movie yet!” MJ called back.

“MJ, my water broke!”

A crash came from the kitchen as MJ ran back into the bedroom. “Are you ok? Does anything hurt?”

“No-no, I’m ok. What-what should I do?” (Y/n) said as the situation began to set in.

“Call Peter. I’ll get your bag and your shoes,” MJ said.

(Y/n) had never been more thankful for her friend’s calmness before now. She tried her husband five times before giving up and leaving a message. She then tried Tony, who answered on the third ring.

“Hey, (Y/n), what’s up?”

“Tony, my water just broke and I can’t get a hold of my husband. I sent him out to be Spider-man for a little bit, but now he’s not answering!”

“OK, stay calm, (N/n). I’ll go look for him and make sure everything’s ok. Are you by yourself?”

“No, MJ is here with me. Call me when you find him!” (Y/n) said as MJ ran back in with (Y/n)’s sandals and hospital bag.

“Will do, kid.”

They hung up and called the hospital. Due to all of her complications so far, they told her to come in right away.

So MJ hailed a cab and helped her very pregnant friend down the stairs and into said cab. ON the way, they call Ned who met them at the hospital.

(Y/n) was called back into a room almost immediately with her friends by her side.

“Anything from Tony?” (Y/n) asked MJ.

As if on cue, her phone began ringing. MJ put it on speaker and said, “Tony? Did you find him?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. We’re on our way now. How’s she doing?”

“I’m fine, just get here quickly please!” (Y/n) said.

“We’re almost there!” Tony said before they hung up.

Well, after that phone call things rapidly went downhill. They gave her an epidural, and shortly after that (Y/n)’s blood pressure began dropping drastically, resulting in some panicked nurses and doctors.

(Y/n) began having trouble staying awake and the epidural wasn’t even working, which meant she was still in pain.

“MJ!”

MJ and Ned looked up from the seat they’d claimed as Peter and Tony ran in. Peter had a black eye and a cut on his cheek, but other than that he looked ok.

“Where is she? Is she ok?” Peter asked.

“Her blood pressure is dropping. They kicked us out,” Ned said.

“She’s in that room,” MJ said, pointing discreetly to the room across from them.

Peter raced in to find his pregnant wife pale and asleep while a doctor and nurse talked next to her. They both looked up when Peter walked in.

“I’m Peter, I’m her husband. What’s going on?” he said quickly.

“We’re going to have to do an emergency c-section, it’s not healthy for your wife or your baby if we try to wait,” the doctor said.

So that’s what happened. Almost three hours later, the Spider-baby was brought into the world and (Y/n)’s blood pressure started rising back to normal. She woke up almost thirty minutes after the baby was born to find Peter sitting next to her bed and holding her hand.

“Is the baby ok? Where-what happened?” she asked weakly.

“The baby is great. They have her in the NICU just to be safe for a couple days, but they said as soon as you feel like it we can go visit  her,” Peter said, a soft smile on his face.

“Her? It’s a girl?” (Y/n) asked, smiling.

“We have a daughter, (N/n),” Peter said.

They found (Y/n) a wheelchair then went straight to the NICU.

“You must be Baby Parker’s parents. She’s doing great, she should be able to leave in a few days,” a nurse said with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” Peter said.

“Pete, she’s so beautiful,” (Y/n) said with tears in her eyes.

“What should we name her?” Peter asked.

“You pick the first name and I’ll pick the middle name,” (Y/n) said.

“Clara,” Peter said almost instantly.

“May,” (Y/n) said, just as quickly.

They smiled. “Clara May Parker.”

——

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! I know I brought up the parent thing, then never did anything with it so I was thinking of doing a little spinoff oneshot of this later on. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed these twoshots!

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #147: Gorgon

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the one goddess of the three goddess alliance who actually had some skin in the game, Gorgon! This misbegotten monstrosity of a Medusa is made of a Undead Warlock for some scary surprises and the ability to make all her enemies into statues as well as a Rune Knight Fighter for a bit of help winning at basketball.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Purrsonally I purrfurred Tamamo Cat, but ny’all can pick whichefur you want!

Race and Background

Sadly there aren’t any large player races, but we can still go Yuan Ti for all the goodies you get from there! As a snerson (snake person), you come equipped with Darkvision, Innate Spellcasting for Poison Spray and Animal Friendship (to snakes) at will. Starting at third level, you’ll also be able to use Suggestion once per long rest. All these spells use Charisma to cast. Finally, you get a defensive buff thanks to Magic Resistance and Poison Immunity. The former gives you advantage on saves against magic, while the latter makes you immune to poison damage and the poisoned condition.

Since you’re the only goddess in the alliance that believes in the destruction of humanity, we’ll call you the Goddess Alliance Cultist, but we’re messing with the background a bit, so instead you’ll get proficiency with Athletics and Religion.

Ability Scores

If you want monstrous Strength, you better be ready to invest a lot in it. As a walking apocalypse, you’re pretty scary-that’s Charisma. You can’t be a video game boss without plenty of Constitution either, so make that #3. Your strongest weapons are based on your eyesight, so make Wisdom next. Surprisingly enough Guda didn’t try to defeat the giant rampaging monster with a math quiz, so we’ll just have to assume your Intelligence is average. That means we’re dumping Dexterity. You are literally a giant target, it’s not that surprising. 

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: Fighters start off with a better hit die, plus you get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves as well as Intimidation and Survival checks. Your Unarmed Fighting Style lets you punch people for 1d6 damage, or 1d8 if both your hands are empty. You’re not big on “weapons”, so that’s fine by you. You also get a Second Wind, letting you regrow some snake heads as a bonus action. I might be getting my myths mixed up.

2. Warlock 1: Quite a bit of your power is coming on loan from Tiamat, and she literally can’t die, making you an Undead warlock. This gives you Pact Magic, spells you cast with Charisma that recharge on short rests. You also gain a Form of Dread, transforming a little bit into Tiamat for 1 minute. While transformed, you gain temporary HP, can force a wisdom save (DC 8+proficiency+charisma mod) to frighten a creature you attack once per turn, and you become immune to being frightened yourself. You can transform proficiency times per long rest.

Going back to spells, you get a lot of them thanks to your background. For cantrips, you get Fire Bolt and Vicious Mockery, and for first level spells you get Burning Hands, Dissonant Whispers, and Hellish Rebuke. There’s a lot of fire in there, but we can reflavor it in a couple of levels, don’t worry. 

As far as spells we can choose, you get Blade Ward to make up for the 9 AC you’re rocking by gaining resistance on most physical attacks, Eldritch Blast to shoot snake hair at your foes, Armor of Agathys to make attacking you a losing proposition thanks to your temporary HP and counterattack, and Arms of Hadar for more snakes, turning the area within 10′ of you into a snake pit.

3. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, letting you customize your eternal servitude how you see fit. We’re swapping one next level, but use the other to get Armor of Shadows, boosting your 9 AC to an amazing 12 AC! Wow!

You also learn the spell Hex, cursing someone to deal 1d6 extra necrotic damage and giving disadvantage on one kind of ability check.

4. Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge, letting you slap an extra action onto your turn once per short rest. Raid bosses can cheat the action economy a bit, everyone knows that.

5. Warlock 3: Gorgon did give us a bit of trouble when it came to their pact boon- she doesn’t use weapons, doesn’t rely on familiars, and she’s definitely not a bookwyrm. By process of elimination, you’ve earned the Pact of the Talisman, giving you a trinket that can add 1d4 to a failed ability check proficiency times per long rest.

That alone isn’t particularly scary, but the invocation Rebuke of the Talisman lets you deal a bit of psychic damage and push an attacking creature away from you as a reaction.

You also get the prerequisite flood of second level spells- from your background, you get Crown of Madness, Enthrall, and Flaming Sphere. Honestly I think Enthrall works for you- it’s not like there’s something out there that’s more distracting than you, right?

You also learn Hold Person for baby’s first petrification.

6. Warlock 4: If your AC’s really going to be that bad, we should at least use this Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Constitution for better HP. You also learn Infestation to summon your first Demonic Beasts (they’re just small) and Earthbind to stone up flying creatures enough to force them to land.

7. Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks get another invocation and third level spells! From your background you get Fear and Haste, both of which are actually in character for you! You also learn to Summon Lesser Demons for some small-fry demonic beasts. Just remember you don’t actually count as a demon yourself in D&D, so they will happily kill you as soon as anyone else.

You also get the invocation Cloak of Flies, giving you a poisonous 5′ aura that you can invoke as a bonus action once per short rest. The aura gives you advantage on intimidation checks, but disadvantage on all other checks, and deals damage to anything within it equal to your charisma modifier. Just be glad Guda didn’t summon your other sisters.

8. Warlock 6: Sixth level undeadlocks are Grave Touched, meaning you no longer need to eat, drink or breathe- the full servant experience! You can also replace the damage of any attack with necrotic damage, and while your Form of Dread is up, you add an extra die of damage to the attack as well!

You also learn how to make a Spirit Shroud, dealing extra necrotic, cold, or radiant damage on all attacks you make within 10′ of yourself. You also slow down creatures that start their turn in the shroud.

9. Fighter 3: As a Rune Knight, you become a Rune Carver, letting you stick runes on weapons, armor, jewelry, or other small objects for small bonuses-you can also invoke them once per short rest for bigger bonuses. 

The Fire rune doubles your tool proficiencies, and you can also invoke the rune add extra fire (or necrotic) damage to the attack. If it fails a strength save (dc 8+proficiency+intelligence modifier) it becomes restrained, and takes extra fire damage each turn.

The Stone rune gives advantage on insight checks, and gives you extended darkvision. You can also use your reaction to charm creatures who end their turn near you, leaving them incapacitated if they fail a wisdom save.

More importantly, you also get Giant Might, using a bonus action to grow to Large size for a minute. While transformed, you have advantage on strength checks and save, and deal an extra d6 damage per weapon attack. You can transform proficiency times per long rest.

10. Warlock 7: Seventh level warlocks get fourth level spells. From your background: Confusion and Wall of Fire. Neither are great for us, but you also get Shadow of Moil, making attacking you an even worse idea thanks to a necrotic counterattack.

You also get the invocation Protection of the Talisman, letting you add a d4 to a failed save proficiency times per long rest.

11. Warlock 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma for better spells, and to make it easier to control your new spell, Summon Greater Demon. For up to an hour, you can summon a demon of CR 5 or lower. If it continually fails a charisma save each turn, it will obey you. Otherwise it’ll run wild. Honestly? Both work for you.

12. Warlock 9: Fifth level spell time! You know what? Since we’re not making a Tiamat build, we might as well have some fun with the primordial sea while we still can. Dominate Person, Danse Macabre, and Minions of Chaos will help you raise a Ushiwakamaru Alter army in whatever flavor you prefer- living, undead, or elemental!

13. Warlock 10: Our last undead goody makes you a Mortal Husk, giving you resistance to necrotic damage (or immunity while using Form of Dread). On top of that, once per 1d4 long rests you can blow up your body when you hit 0 HP, dealing necrotic damage in the area and reviving yourself with 1 HP. It’s one hell of a guts skill, but it does give you some exhaustion.

We also continue our Ushiwakamarufication tour with Negative Energy Flood, a spell that deals tons of necrotic damage and turns a target into a zombie if it kills them. It can even heal your existing zombiwakamarus! 

14. Warlock 11: Your Mystic Arcanum gives you the option to cast Flesh to Stone once per long rest. If a targeted creature fails a constitution save three times, they become stone. If they succeed three times, they escape. If you keep concentration on the spell for the full minute while they’re petrified, it lasts until dispelled. 

15. Warlock 12: Our last warlock level is another ASI, which we’re putting into Constitution for better concentration checks and more HP. You also get the invocation Sculptor of Flesh, letting you cast Polymorph once per long rest. Have you ever wanted to actually be a giant snake? Now you can! (You can also do, like, a T. Rex, if you wanna powergame.)

16. Fighter 4: Another ASI already? Bump up your Strength for better punching. That’ll be relevant soon.

17. Fighter 5: It’s soon! This level gives you an Extra Attack each attack action, for two punches per action, or four in a turn with Action Surge.

18. Fighter 6: Use this ASI to bump up your Constitution for even more HP.

19. Fighter 7: Seventh level rune knights can use their Runic Shield to force a creature to re-roll their attack when they hit an ally. You can do this proficiency times per long rest. You also get the Hill rune, which has absolutely useless passives, but you can invoke it as a bonus action to get resistance to physical attacks for a minute.

20. Fighter 8: You thought we were gonna max out our constitution this level, right? WRONG! Grab that Tough feat for an extra 40 HP!

Pros:

Thanks to your Spirit Shroud being forcibly maxed out, you have terrifying short range damage options. With an action surge, your Form of Dread, and two eldritch blasts, you can deal 16d10+24d8 Necrotic damage in a single turn, and that’s not even including any critical hits! That gives you an average damage just shy of 200, and a possible maximum of 352. Plus rolling that many dice is probably really satisfying.

Adding to that, you have plenty of other reasons for enemies to avoid melee range- your counterattack game is wild. Armor of Agathys, Hellish Rebuke, Shadow of Moil, Cloak of Flies... getting too close to you really is dangerous.

For a mostly spellcaster build, you are incredibly thick. With over 200 hp and a couple different ways to give yourself protection from most attacks, it will take a lot of hits to topple this kaiju.

Cons: 

Speaking of a lot of hits, you’ll be taking those! Your AC is only 12, 14 at best if you’re hasted. Of course this problem could be solved with some heavy armor, but I doubt they make it in your size.

You also have a heavy focus on Necrotic damage, meaning that your options will become much more limited against undead, Aasimar, and demons.

Speaking of, you summon Demons. That’s kind of a deal breaker for a lot of adventuring parties. It’s not even like you could keep a low profile for plausible deniability, people are going to notice the big snake lady hanging around the demon attacks.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Tangled In Your Lies

Anonymous commission for someone who requested a full fic for Revenant/Reader for an old drabble.

Summary: It should have just been a quick win bet to let you finally get your fix of Revenant again. 'Become champion' shouldn't have been too hard, considering you'd nailed him and his squad before he could get you in the past. And yet, of course, Revenant wants to always win. And he will win, especially if it means you're up on the table for him to have. Or! In which you and Revenant have a FWB situation and he's been teasing you for weeks with no relief. So you come up with a bet to mutually solve your issues, totally set on winning. How hard could it be?

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the content you Like!

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked on sight!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Revenant/Reader 

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral and has a vulva, bondage, Revenant being tsundere, FWB relationship/Squad mates with benefits, Revenant has a cock attachment, simulacrum headcanons/Robophilia at its finest

Words: 3.3k

______________

There were some things that the Apex Games had made you understand better. One of those things being the legends that fought within them.

Some examples being that; Sometimes people who were deadly predators were actually humble and soft people in real time, more interested in playing with their familiar birds and humming tunes. Or that people who threw up a shell of bravado and confidence were the loneliest of people, who found it hard to make friends and near broke your heart when you had offered for said person to sit down with you and have lunch. Or perhaps that a big, smiling, friendly man did not mean he did not feel heartbreak at a time in his life, or that his kind eyes did not mean that he was weak.

It was that these games could be for money, fame, or some sort of statement. Whether fighting for sacrifice, fighting to make a difference, or even for a higher following, everyone was here for a reason.

Except, it seemed, for the newest member of the Apex arena, none of these options seemed to fit him. It was almost as if someone had thrown a wild animal into the cage with you all. One that was stolen from the wild and had no interest in sharing the space with anyone else.

~Rest under the cut~

Revenant, the simulacrum, paced the dropship zone like a predator often, bright orange optics flicking to specific people as if marking them for death right at the start. It was as if he were looking into all of you like meals, nuisances. As if one of you in particular had done something that day to deserve the sweet embrace of death.

When you had been set up with him on the same squad, he did the same thing. Paced, looked around, spotted who he seemed to be looking for and would threaten them in some fashion. He’d chuckle, low and dark, as if echoing what must have been a worst fear. Or a nightmare.

Sometimes he’d take his finger and slice it across his throat. Sometimes he’d form a gun with his thumb and forefinger, pretend to aim it at their forehead perfectly, and then laugh darkly again. Haunting and almost beautiful if it didn’t send shivers down your spine.

He seemed to have some twisted humor about him, so you took that as a good sign as far as finding how to get this guy to at least not despise your guts. You find very quickly that Revenant is unlike anyone you had met here already. There’s no on and off switch with him, as far as his personality in the ring and out of it. He seemed just as sadistic and eager to shed blood out of it, practically always pacing, always wanting to pick fights or scare someone.

You were his focus sooner than later, due to you seeming to want to try and get close to him. Or at least get under his skin. Either way he picked it up as a threat, guessing that you were just trying to make him weak. Revenant, in turn, often did things that made your heart pound heavy in your chest. Such as backing you slowly into the corner of any room you were perhaps in, making low threats about staying out of his way, or how he’d gut you with a single slice to your belly. Until he was growling in your face and tilting his head with a low, grumbled, “Am I understood?”

Unfortunately, for him, you only took these threats as a challenge.

The first time he threatened you like that, you had smiled at him and batted your lashes and said sweetly, “You can do better than that, can’t you?” A reaction he had not prepared for. He could understand anger, fear, maybe even could have understood if you had shoved him aside with a huff.

And instead, you stood there, leaning closer to him and watching Revenant move back away from you instead when you get close enough that your breath fans across his plating.  

If he could sneer, you’re sure he would. Instead, his silicone bottom lip had parted slightly to show sharp metallic teeth blended to match his plating, watching his optics spin and turn as if trying to come up with a response.

Then, he’d grunted, huffed at you and walked away.

That’s when you knew that Revenant could be more than the aggression he just put out. Programming be damned, something about him had felt something. You weren’t sure what you saw, but that wasn’t anger it had been. Surprise, maybe. And that?

That was as good of a starting point for you as it was for him. Because for you, that meant you could press and learn more about him.

For him, it meant you were the first target on his list in getting you to crack and stay far from him.

In the end, it wouldn’t work out well for him. Depending on the angle you looked at, that is.

--

To present day, you’re paired up with him on the same squad.

Revenant has at least gotten used to your presence enough that he won’t threaten you, but he’s gotten...possessive. Whatever you two had, he refused to label it, and neither would you.

As far as you knew, you were the only person who he’d let touch him. He was completely sensitive to any sort of affection, something you had accidentally found out when you had made a joke of him actually making due on his choking threats, you’d run a hand down his chest plate and over the small silicone waist he sported and watched him full body shudder as you took his metallic hand in your own and brought it to your throat.

Revenant had looked surprised, only to hiss for you to not touch him, even if he didn’t move his hand AWAY. In fact, his thumb had brushed over your jugular, ever so lightly as he stared down at you intensely.

It had been...interesting, to say the least.

That had started an interesting tradition. Full of you explaining to him that MRVN attachments also worked on his body. Something Revenant had claimed no interest in, going so far as to scoff at you and tell you, instead, how desperate you must have been to receive such pleasures if you were willing to tell him about such stupid things.

Yet, Revenant the next week had huffed about how he’d looked into it. Grunted, “To sate your pathetic urges, I have acquired a cock attachment. I’ll be taking what I want, when I want it, got it?” With a snarl to his voice.

You had fought a smile, told him of course, that he could have whatever he wanted. Just to see him stare at you like a predator for what must have been five minutes, as if gauging to see if you weren’t kidding.

But today, in the arena, it’s just you two. Your third had taken off, claiming something about solo-ing.  You’re sure if Revenant had eyebrows they would be raised as he looked at you and grunted out, “That’s an option?”

“Absolutely not, and don’t think about it or I’ll rip out your inner wiring and use you like a goddamned puppet.” You reply, pointing a finger at him as a threat and a growl to your own tone. You watch as he looks at you, unfazed and simply huffing in amusement as your shorter height threatens him with not even your weapon, but a finger.

Cute. Not that he’d say that out loud.

--

The match in itself was rough. Revenant liked to charge in without waiting on the defense for any sign of another squad, in his eyes another squad meant more fun. Meant more blood to spill. It meant, to you, that cross fire was bound to happen, not to mention miscommunication when you’re trying to ping an enemy, but before you can fret too hard you find a skeletal robotic arm around your waist yanking you around cover.

You grunt at him in annoyance to silently tell him you didn’t need his help, met with a snarl that silently meant he Wasn’t helping, just as you whip around his back to cover his flank.

You two work fantastically as a team, there’s no doubt about it. His gruff voice is a growl in your ear as he calls out, “Meatbag on the left, give ‘em hell.” Making sure to ping the location and giving you enough time to steady your Spitfire enough to catch the enemy off guard as they turn the corner.

His death totem goes up, watching his body shroud itself in black and orange as you quickly dart to it and touch the side of it. It always made you nauseous, the covering feeling of almost being encased in something oh so wrong. Your mind works hungrily, as if starving for the very blood he craved any time of the day.

Two squads down in a fire fight means by the end of it, you’re both weak, trying to throw up shields and heal as you hide behind a building. It means you’re easy to catch off guard, and that’s just what happens when you hear the PING of a zipline end slamming into the building above your head and the new squad approaching guns blazing.

Shit.

--

The bickering starts near instantly when you’re cleared from the medical bay and Revenant catches you heading towards your room. He likes to pick fights, especially in telling you when you were wrong. You huff back at him, bite back just as hard with your words.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so blood thirsty and wanted to run in BLINDLY-” You began, walking in a brisk, angry pace towards your room as he pursues you, lithe and quiet with his steps like the stealthy predator he was.

“Perhaps if you had more spine.” Revenant snarls back, curling around to your side as you push open your door. You go to shut it right in his face, but he follows just as easy, pushing it open and whipping around. You let your back press to your door, let him lock it, your eyes meeting his as your jaw sets straight with you clenching it.  

The tension only causes your body to light aflame with desire. It’s as if he thought you hadn’t noticed when he’d been marching beside you angrily, that his loin cloth wouldn’t shift and let you see he had an attachment on. As if he thought bickering with you like this would end any other way.

You lick your lips, watching his optics flick to the action and know for a fact you’ve got him now. You still pretend you’re angry, pushing off the door and walking towards your bedroom. You take note of how he follows you almost like a puppy- more like a wolf, stalking and hungering. “More spine? Are you seriously acting like I didn’t save your ass?” You finally jut back, letting the backs of your knees nudge the bed, making yourself look vulnerable to him.

You hide your grin when he falls right into your trap, stalking closer with his snarl rumbling in his throat, “I don’t need saving from a pathetic little-” His hand reaches for your throat, and you let one corner of your lips quirk in a smirk.

Your leg curls around the back of his where the knee joint rested, yanking forward and grabbing his wrist to yank him towards you. Revenant is made almost entirely of heavy joints, machinery, and silicone, it means he would be heavy if he landed on you. Thankfully, you move to your side, letting his weight drag you down as his back hits the bed and you’re quick to straddle him.

There’s no warning as you scramble for your nightstand on top, taking the heavy, thick metal wiring you’d gotten to prepare for this sort of thing. Revenant is near immediate in snarling, but you’d recognize his attachment getting hard anywhere against your ass.

He’s not using his full force as he squirms when you grab his arms and yank them above his head. He’s not even using blunt force, his hips buck up, he thrashes, only managing to get himself higher on the bed and head resting on your pillows. You’re able to tie his wrists together, wrapping the wiring around his forearms and tying the knot underneath, throwing it over the head of your bed and tying it to one of the bars there.

You’re lightly panting when you finally finish, sitting back on his hips and watching him struggle underneath you. It’s half-hearted at most, a show really, but you watch him test the bonds with light tugs then harder. The headboard threatens with a groan, but the bonds don’t so much as shift. You let your smirk show, and that seems to set him off.

“I’m going to rip you limb from limb!” He snarls, optics heated and swirling as he bucks up, trying to throw you off. He’s heavy, as mentioned before, but it only serves to rock you a bit off balance. Your thighs stay locked, strong as he forgot you are as you stay perfectly atop him.

You’re able to feel that the loin cloth he wears has been shifted away to reveal his cock attachment. Hard, leaking the lubricant reserves he’d had left in him, the nodes on the sides are glowing an angry red and if his flesh wasn’t made of black silicone on the attachment you would have guessed it would have been purple from arousal.

You see it at the same time he seems to notice you did. He’d be red in the face if he could be, but instead his silicone lip is parted from his metal plating, letting out pants without a need for air. When you grin cruelly, he throws his head to the side and snarls at the wall next to his head as if the poor thing caused this.

“Are you going to rip me apart, hm? When you like it this much?” You murmur your tease, shifting down his hips to straddle his upper thighs instead, stroking a finger up the length of the warmed material and watch his hips jerk up from his sensitivity. “Oh, you poor thing, don’t want to admit you like when I take control?”

“Fuck you!” He practically roars, yet when his eyes meet yours, he’s quick to avert them. His jaw clicks with a metallic noise, his sharp teeth threatening the metal plating of his ‘mouth’. You laugh a bit at him, letting your hand wrap around his cock and letting the pre-cum act as lubricant for you to pump him twice. You watch as his hips come up, lifting you with the effort, the wiring in his neck shown off with the turn of his head and you feel your mouth water from the effort not to sink your teeth into it.

--

Stretching yourself had taken time, but it was worth it in the end to watch Revenant stare at you hungrily. You had leaned back on his lap, spread yourself open with your fingers so he could see how wet your cunt was before using his own pre-cum as lubricant. It was, well, lubricant anyhow, it would be useless to let it go to waste. But, regardless, it still makes him moan low in his throat, almost a plead. Almost.

You’re two fingers in, palming your clit as you practically hump your palm. You let your other hand tease his cock, letting your nails run along the underside and occasionally pump with an almost painful squeeze at the base to remind him you’re in charge. Surprisingly, he doesn’t back talk, but he doesn’t beg either.  

His voice box is full of static by the time you finally sit on his lap properly, guiding his cock inside of you. Revenant looks like he’s going to short circuit any second, or blow a fuse for that matter. His optics have turned to a dark, deep orange as if dimming to a deeper color, his cock already threatening to jerk inside of you. Always so easy to cum, it was cute.

Right on cue, he’s cumming with a strangled sort of noise in his throat. He wouldn’t let you hear him moan properly; It was something you’d only heard accidentally slip out. Yet, even now, his optics flash in warning as his body becomes even more heated.

“Revenant-” You whine out, letting your eyes flutter and your head roll to the side as you ride him. You don’t pause to let his sensitivities reside. You get a thrill out of the way his typical snarls and grumbles turn into shaky hisses, easing into low moans as his struggling begins to ease.

It makes riding him a lot easier. Letting your hips bounce steadily and biting your bottom lip to force your own sounds to silence. At some point you’ve let your hand slide up the warm plating of his chest, sliding up to his throat and resting there. Your fingers idly press to the dark red wiring on the side of his neck, feeling his hips twitch upwards until you let your index finger hook one and gently tug.

It causes an immediate reaction as he lets out a static filled groan, almost resonating in his chest from the effort. His feet plant firm on the bed, hips slamming up into you every time you come down. It’s rocking your body in time with Revenant’s, edging you closer and closer with every thrust getting hard enough to make his prior orgasm spill from you. The messy red seeps out of you, onto his loin cloth, making every slam of hips a wet slap.

Your breathing is heavy as you pull at the wire again, able to hear the second his voice box crashes when a low, rolling growl echoes from his chest as he cums inside of you again. You cum with him, your body shaking with tremors as you try to catch your breath. Your eyes are closed, your head lolled to the side. You’re perfectly unaware you’re being watched by the simulcrum under you, who is quietly committing your imagery all to memory to replay in more...private moments.

Not that you had to ever know that.

The cleanup comes soon after, as well as unbinding him. Revenant begrudgingly lets you clean him up with a cool, wet wash cloth. Wiping up the mess from his lap and getting him to give you the fabric so you could wash it. He only grumbles once or twice when you check over his forearms and wrists for any damage, “I’m not made of flimsy, squishy flesh like you are.” He reminds you, only for you to shush him as you press a kiss to a possible scratch to his plating.

“But, aftercare is important, even if you’re going to complain the entire time.” You remind him back, moving up onto the bed to rest next to him and gently guiding him to you. You rest your arms around his body, something that should be uncomfortable but with the dips in his waist it made things easier.

Gently, you guide him to your neck to rest his head, feeling the grumble building in his chest before you silence him with a sigh, “Think of this as more for me than you, would that make you happier?”

“Nothing makes me happy,” He grumbles, only earning him a gentle stroke down his back, following the plating to make out a spine. Something that makes him grunt in approval to.

“Mhm, alright, keep being edgy.” You yawn, gesturing for him to pull up the blankets and murmuring an idle ‘good boy’ when he obeys.

He chuffs like an annoyed big cat, but is quick to silence this time.

Revenant would never admit that your soft, warm body was a blessing at soothing away any aggression he had for the night.

No, he couldn’t let you know that in reality?

He actually...maybe...sort of...

...Thought you were okay.

[ghostinthebau]

Super Fanfic Rec List -- Iron Dad Edition (because I just wanna share the love)

I’ve had such a blast reading fanfic of the IronDad and SpiderSon variety over the last 6 months or so, and I thought I’d just make a rec list of some of my favorite stories.  Most of them are angsty, with whump and hurt/comfort because that’s what I live for.  

This is in no particular order or in any way complete because there’s just way too many amazing fics/authors in the Iron Dad fandom, but it will still be hella long, so....here goes! 

First off, @yellowdistress:

What We Are series - Bio-dad Tony series that goes all the way through Infinity War.  Endgame AU.

Someday I’ll Make it Out of Here series - Adoption AU!  It’s so good.

The Missing 92 Days - A take on HYDRA Peter that destroyed me emotionally.

Reviving Peter Parker - This about killed me.  Peter actually died during his fight with Toomes and SHIELD brings him back a la the TAHITI project like they did with Phil Coulson.  

A Sailor Went to Sea - Gut-wrenching Endgame fix it.  

Double, Double

@losingmymindtonight:

Webcams and Webshooters series

I Never Lived ‘Til I Lived In Your Light series - !!! TISSUE WARNING !!! Peter dies, but there’s another one shot with a happier ending if you need it.

And You’ll Blow Us All Away - Adoption fic!  A lovely one at that.

5 Times Peter’s Mental Illness Made Him Stumble And The 1 Time He Refused To Falter - I really love a well-depicted take on mental illness, and losingmymindtonight delivered 100%.

If You Can’t Catch A Breath (You Can Take The Oxygen Straight Out Of My Own Chest)

Cyanide? In My Shawarma?

@justme--emily:

The Guardian - Adoption AU with a lovely Loki and Peter friendship!

Radioactive - Peter endures the after effects of the spider bite, and scares bio-dad Tony to death.  Lovely, lovely, lovely.

The Good Fight - Peter gets hurt at the airport in Germany instead of Rhodey.  

@iron--spider:

ever in your favor - Hunger Games AU and an epic work of art!  

Lazarus, come forth - The Endgame fix it before Endgame.  Peter will break your heart.

dear mr. fantasy

this isn’t a game - Highly underrated fic based off the PS4 Spider-Man game.  I’ve never even played the game, and I loved this story.

what if there is no tomorrow? - This story actually made me kinda like Justin Hammer, if you can believe it.  

blindness

@tempestaurora:

hydra’s not a home series - HYDRA Peter, and also bio-dad Tony and bio-mom Pepper!

i’ll find you in the drift - Pacific Rim AU, and I have never seen PR, but I adored this so much.

it’s okay, we’re okay [whumpvember 2018] series

@jolinarjackson:

Lights To Guide You Home series - Another adoption AU.  They are my weakness, and this is one of the best out there.  

... and when you can’t crawl ...

Damaged At Best (Like You’ve Already Figured Out)

@blondsak:

No Life But This

come morning light (you and I’ll be safe and sound)

Burying Grounds - Eeeek!  Tony has to choose between saving Peter or Pepper and it hurts.

hold on, hold on

Something the Soul Needs

@madasthesea:

turn back the clock (and I’ll try again in the morning)

when my body won’t hold me anymore (where will I go)

They have so many other lovely looking fics--including an adoption au series (which I, of course, love), but I just haven’t gotten around to reading them yet.  I’m pretty sure anything they write is golden.  :)

@signofuncertainty:

It’s Always the Little Things

I’m sure their other fic, The Third Option, is fantastic and I really, really wanna read it but I’m trying so hard to wait until it’s complete!  It’s really difficult to wait, though, tbh....I may give in soon.  

@upcamethesun:

Twelve Days Of Peter Parker - So cute and fluffy, and then it kills you at the end.

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud

5 Times Tony Didn’t Need To Worry About Peter

5 Times Peter Pretended To Be Tougher Than He Was

@frostysunflowers:

Between how it is and how it should be - This story made me love a Peter and Bucky friendship.

@kitcat992:

Identity Theft - This was one of the very first Iron Dad fics I read, and it was a doozy.  Full of whump, medical accuracy, and hurt/comfort!  The author is posting a sequel now, too: Identity Crisis.  :D

For Pete’s Sake!

@camelot-queen:

Goner - A perfectly heartbreaking kidnapping fic, but heed the warnings!

Who Saves The Hero

Never Meet Your Heroes

i’m the satellite (and you’re the sky) - Tony is Peter’s bio-dad but Peter doesn’t know it.  I haven’t actually finished this yet, but it’s good.  So, so good.

@peter-stank:

built from scraps - YOU GUYS, this is one of the best fics I’ve read on AO3.  It’s a ‘Tony gets dusted instead of Peter’ AU, and it’s got such an amazing dynamic between Peter, Pepper, and Morgan.  It’ll also make you tear up a few times, at least.

@geekymoviemom:

Sins of the Fathers - So, I’ve only read the first 5 chapters of this epic length (303k words@) adoption AU so far, but I’m LOVING it so I wanted to add it here.  They also have an even longer bio-dad Tony with added Stony bonus series, Pieces of Echoes, that they’re posting the 3rd installment to right now.  I’ll definitely be checking it out!

@too-many-bees:

let’s kick it

like a bridge over troubled water

@jbsforever:

it’ll be over (and I’ll still be asking when)

@tnyystark:

where the memories reside

@whumphoarder:

Quieting the Void series - Peter kinda has an eating disorder due to the spider bite, so take care if you read!

Poison Apple - Loved how medically accurate this was, and Ned’s reaction to Peter’s condition was heartbreaking.

@seek-rest:

It Hurts to Become

Someday We’ll Know - This is a Walk to Remember AU, so there’s MCD.  I’ve gotten about halfway through, but I can only read it when I’m in the right mindset.  But it’s lovely and so well done.  

This author has so many fics that I’m sure are amazing, and they’re on my ‘to read’ list when I’m in the mood for beautiful Spideychelle stories.

@caraminha:

The Primary Reason Tony Stark Would Throw Down With an Anti-Vaxxer in the Street - Hella scary depiction of Peter with tetanus, and it’s SO GOOD.

@tonystarkstan:

it all comes back to this

skeletons series

to build a home series - I love recovery fics, and this was a beautiful story of Peter dealing with the aftermath of being snapped and coming back.

lay your weary head to rest

@foolscapper:

Exploding Head Syndrome - Everyone comes back when the snap is reversed, but Peter is sort of catatonic--stuck between the living world and the soul stone where he’s with Gamora.  It’s such a lovely fic.

@alice-in-ink:

It’s a Little Bit We Do

Danger Pizza

@legalassie:

oh, darling - Peter’s kidnapped and Tony frantically searches for him--one of my favorite things.  Peter uses his smarts to help him get out of the situation, too, which is also one of my favorite things.

don’t think about tomorrow. 

@blackwatchandromeda:

Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything)

Leave Me to Dream

A Nightmare to Remember

@emma--anacortes: 

Accepting the Tides - Here I am with another adoption AU.  Can you see a pattern yet?  I love them, and this one has danger and whump and comfort as well.  

@ardenskyedarcy221b:

they are standing in the garden - This hurt.  Several times the author had me tearing up and there’s a few lines that will stay with me forever.  It was just immensely lovely to read.

@iamallyetnotatall:

At the Start of the Universe - This was so much better than I was expecting! Peter is an Angel, and he knows Tony from the very beginning of the universe. It’s different, but absolutely gorgeous.

@starktowr:

somewhere outside my life - I don’t wanna say too much, but just read this.  It’ll break you and you’ll love it.

@jessicagoddamnjones: 

too bad (but it’s the life you lead)

@silver-bubbles:

The Fire’s Out (But Still It Burns)  

@day-dreamer176:

Like A Strike of Lightning - I kinda took this as a demonic possession a la Supernatural, but I don’t think it actually was.  Either way, it was fantastic.

fifty-four

five, tops

The World Stopped

@ambivalentmarvel:

Into His Fold series - Where Thanos brings Peter back from the ashes to make him into his new son (a la Nebula and Gamora).

@notaparty-trick:

Doom and Gloom - A ‘Peter doesn’t get dusted’ AU, filled with whump and Iron Dad and an awesome Carol Danvers.  Angst!!!

Dust and Blood - Peter is hurt much worse when Toomes drops the building on him.  More angst!!!!  This author does angst very well.

@ema--vee:

You don’t have to hold your head up high - Peter can’t thermoregulate!  I love that trope.

@forensicleaf:

All the Things We’ve Lost (And All the Things We’ve Gained) - This one gutted me, and then made it better.  But there’s pain to be had before the comfort!

They just posted the first chapter of a new WIP that looks AMAZING, too: Can’t Part the Sea, Can’t Reach the Shore.

@plnkblue:

foolish, fragile spine - Peter’s severely injured in his fight with Adrian Toomes and Tony finds him.  

@helloitisiafellowgay:

god did not craft us as altars, but as dying gods - Okay, guys.  This one is heavy.  It deals with Skip coming back into Peter’s life, and it’s not pretty but it’s handled superbly.  It’s a tough read, but one I definitely recommend if you can handle it.  Take care of yourselves first and foremost, though.  <3

~ ~ ~ I’m not sure if the following authors have a tumblr, so I just linked their AO3 pages ~ ~ ~

eccentric_artist_221b:

Only for a Little While - This is a Titanic AU, and it’s AMAZING.  There’s several scenes that just took my breath away and brought me to tears (not an easy feat). They’re also working on a WWI sequel!!!!

tiaylasglass:

the one who made it out - Short, simple in a gorgeous way, and poignant.  

And finally, I thought I’d humbly add my own little contribution to the fandom.  So far, I’ve only written the one fic, but I hope to write more in the future!

@ghostinthebau:

For Want of a Dad (in need of a son) - There’s a bit of blood, and a very distraught Tony at one point, so warning for angst and injury!

Again, this list is probably severely lacking, and if someone has a rec that’s not on here please please please reblog this and let me know!  I’m always in the mood for more fics.  

And I hope anyone reading this finds something they enjoy!  

I’m sure you will.  

ilu 3,000

:)

[salandition]

Something Amazing

Hop x Reader

A/N: here it is! The first fic in the fake!engagement series. I’ll be writing one fic for Piers, Raihan, Leon- and others, if people request it, but only one fic per character with this prompt. I’m really happy with this one and I think it’s a great way to start the series, so hopefully you all enjoy it, too! Enjoy some good Hop angst!

Added note: the beginning of the story is told in your POV, and then the story shifts to Hop’s POV for the rest of the fic.

———

There’s a lot of ways you could ask this question. Some good ways, some absolutely awful ways- it all depends on how you decide to approach him and how you formed your words. As you’ve found yourself backed against the corner, lacking all other options, you decided that as you ask this somewhat big favor, it needed to be formatted perfectly. The least you can do is make the idea seem appealing in some way, lace it and sprinkle some sugar over the idea to make it tempting. 

But when you’re finally alone with him, the perfect opportunity presented to you, you botch it all up as you ask in the lamest way possible:

“Would you want to get married? To me, maybe?” 

Hop elegantly spits and drops the several important books he was holding, one of them hitting him right in the foot as they fall to the floor. He yelps at the pain and almost falls over in surprise before you quickly rush over and catch him, the two of you making awkward eye contact as you hold him as if it’s a dip for a dance. 

To make it better, you drop him on accident. 

His back hits the floor with a hard ‘thud’ and your hands fly up to cover your mouth as you gasp. 

There were better ways to ask that question, and there were definitely better reactions to said question. You take half the credit for how horribly this went. The other half went to Hop and his lack of grace, because he’s always been like that, and you can’t control his explosive reactions to things. 

Except you know the man well, so you should have predicted he would’ve at least slipped. So, fine, you take two thirds of the credit. 

“I’m so sorry, Hop!” You apologize, and then you apologize again as he groans from his spot on the ground and he fumbles underneath him, holding a book that he most definitely landed on as well, “I’m so, so, so sorry, oh Arceus,” 

“Married?” Hop coughs, sitting up and fixing the glasses that sit on his face. Thankfully, they didn’t fall off- you would’ve felt even worse if that was the case. His golden eyes are shining and squinting in confusion as he looks up at you- “why- why? ...Why?” He sounds like a broken record, but you can hardly blame him as your body deflates with a sigh. 

Why, indeed. 

“You know how I’m from Hoenn?” You offer your hand and Hop takes it, his long and slender fingers almost engulfing your hand in size as you help him off the ground. Your friend nods at your question, beginning to pick up the scattered books, and you quickly move to help him. “And you know how I have really pushy parents who really don’t like that I moved here?” 

“Well, yes,” Hop comments, and he thanks you under his breath as you hand him the books that you picked up. “But that- that doesn’t explain why- married?”

You give Hop a sad look. “It’s not like I’m a fan of it either. My parents don’t control me, and I know that. I moved here for that very reason- to prove that they could never control me. But then some… legal issues came up.” 

“Legal issues?” Hop’s eyebrows raise. 

“It’s all bogus!” You practically explode as a reply, and Hop’s eyebrows raise even further up his forehead and you freeze. “Sorry,” you mumble, your tense shoulders going down as you sigh again. Truthfully, you haven’t been able to talk to anybody about your situation yet, so the stress is starting to pour out all at once and you have to try and reign it in. “I’m sorry I brought it up in such a bad way, too. Can we- sit? For a minute?” 

Hop frowns with a nod and the two of you descend the staircase in Sonia’s lab, heading to the table next to the entrance. Once the two of you have sat down, you explain to Hop as best you can. 

You tell him how your parents both owned a somewhat successful company that’s been passed through the generations, and because it was family-owned, you apparently had responsibilities as ‘heir’ to the company. You refused, moving to Galar just to prove how much you didn’t want to be stuck managing a Pokeball production company, and that’s where the trouble came into place for you. It didn’t matter how far you ran from Hoenn and your parents; because they had signed your name on pretty legal papers without you even knowing it that you would take their place once they retired. You could go all the way down to the place you grew up to talk with a lawyer to reverse those papers and their implications, but your chance of getting sued was higher than winning in court against your parents. You’re also not sure how much you want to go to court with your parents, anyway- the fact they signed something under your name without your consent was wildly illegal, but you don’t have the guts to punish them for it. 

This is where the marriage part came in. Your parents said that if you could prove you had a life in Galar worth living (in their old minds, that was a spouse with a successful job that could ‘take care of you’, maybe some children, or a fancy job you couldn’t get anywhere else like being the god-damn president of Marco-Cosmos or some impossible goal like that), they would take care of the issue themselves and leave you alone. So, that was your situation. 

Get married, move to Hoenn and work at your family’s company, or get sued. And you already told your parents that you were planning to get married this summer. 

When you’ve finally finished explaining to Hop, he takes a big breath and lets it out slowly with an expression that can only be described as a wince. “That’s… Mate, that sucks.” He says simply, and you couldn’t agree more. 

“It does,” you groan with a long frown, your hands folding together atop the white table. “So… I know it’s a lot to ask- but if… If you’d be willing to help me with this, it would mean so much to me. And it’s not like we’d have to be married forever!” You quickly explain to him. “Just until they get rid of those completely-illegal papers. Once that’s done, we can get divorced and go back to being friends like normal.” 

Hop squirms in his seat, humming unsurely as his arms move across his chest. “___, I’d love to help, but…” His eyes go back and forth between you and the wall. “Are you sure you’d want me to help you? You said your weird parents are looking for a successful partner. I’m not exactly sure I fit that description. I mean, if we talked about it, we could probably convince Leon-” 

(As much as it grosses him out to suggest such a thing...) 

You quickly interrupt him before he can even finish. His arms drop from their defensive hold, eyes widening in surprise when you steadfastly refuse.

“No! No,” a nervous fit of laughter escapes you, “no way. I am not marrying your brother, even in this kind of situation. Like, sure, the fancy title of ex-Champion is nice and all, but it’s also… Leon.” You shake your head several times. “No.” 

Despite himself, Hop finds himself laughing too. “Yeah,” he smiles, “that’d be a bit too much for me to handle, anyway.” 

(It’s embarrassing to admit how relieved he is by how much you hate that idea, too.)

“Glad we’re in agreement, then. And, honestly, Hop-” it’s a bit of a bold move, but you reach forward and grab one of his hands as gently as you can. His eyes widen some more and there’s a pretty blush on his cheeks when you do, and you’d tease him normally, but not now. “In my mind, you’re plenty successful. And even if my parents don’t agree- that’s not the point. I’m sure as long as I’m married, they’ll change their minds. And I-” now you’re the one blushing as you finally look away from his golden eyes, “-I want it to be you. I’d- I’d be really… really thankful if it was you.” 

The suggestion- the mere idea of it was ridiculous and outlandish, you knew that. Of course you knew that- but you’re at your wit’s end. This is the last option that you feel could work to get them to leave you alone for good. 

Silence grows between the two of you, along with the tension in the room, tighter and tighter as Hop takes longer and longer to reply. As time ticks away, you grow more aware of the mortification growing in your belly and how you’re still holding his hand- eventually you have to let go as you quickly curl into yourself as best you can and put your hands in your lap. 

...At some point, you’re somewhat convinced that you’ve broken your best friend. He’s probably trying to find a way to tell you he can’t- which- which is fine. That’s fine, and you expected as much. There’s other people you can ask, really… So you’re not disappointed. Not at all. Slowly you stand from your chair, taking a deep breath as you bite your lip. “I get it- it’s definitely okay that you can’t. I should probably go before I make things even worse-” 

At the sound of your voice, Hop jumps in his seat, and he looks up at you with furrowed brows. Quickly, he stands up too- “No- I-” he stutters, gripping his chair so hard that his knuckles turn white, “no, that’s… I can do it.” 

Now it’s your time to stutter as you look at him wide-eyed. “R-really? You will?” 

(He can’t breathe.)

He smiles, wobbly and genuine as a small laugh escapes him. “Yeah. I’ll- yeah, I’ll marry you.” 

In a rush of pure happiness and genuine shock, you jump in place and wrap your arms around Hop’s neck. He stumbles back in surprise, one of his hands wrapping around your back to keep you steady as you almost squeeze the life out of him. “Hop! Thank you- thank you so much!” 

“No- No problem! It’s not a problem!” Hop laughs, his face and ears feeling awfully hot, and his arms slowly wrap around you as you keep embracing him. “Happy to help,” he nervously swallows. 

(Definitely happy to help.)

——— — ——— 

Hop can’t breathe. 

It’s hard to believe any of this is real, honestly. Getting engaged to you- hell, Hop hadn’t even gotten the courage to ask you out on a date, and here he was, engaged. Under unfortunate circumstances, yes, but you’re literally his fiancé. That’s a real thing. Technically speaking. 

It’s solidified when you bring him a ring from your house- a simple silver band for the two of you. For some reason, probably because Arceus wants to laugh at him some more, the ring fits perfectly, and just looking at your matching rings makes his belly do awkward flops. 

Eventually, you’re going to have to fill everyone in on your situation. Which is going to be even worse. Hop makes sure to appreciate the days that pass when no one knows. 

And then Leon comes to visit him at work and he ruins it. He ruins everything. Because like the dunce his brother is, he sees the ring, and he asks, “when did you get a ring?” 

And like the dunce that Hop is, he replies, “when I got engaged.” 

And he’s never felt his soul leave him so fast. An odd feeling that is, really. It’s as if he got frozen from the inside out, no warmth left as he just stands there and wishes that someone would come and push him over so that he’d break and shatter into a million little pieces. Sorry, ___, he couldn’t marry you to help you out with your crappy parents anymore, because now he is dead. 

Except he’s not really dead because he can hear Leon’s hacking and coughing as clear as day from the other end of the lab. 

“Just kidding!” Hop whips his head around fast enough that his glasses almost fall off as he looks at Leon, his face successfully several degrees warmer than it should be. “That was a joke!” 

“No, it wasn’t!” Leon stands quickly and rushes over, and Hop tries to back away but his left hand is already in Leon’s as his brother looks at the ring as if to make sure that it’s real. “It’s on the right finger and everything! Who on Galar are you marrying?!” Leon looks up from the ring to Hop’s eyes, and Hop still can’t breathe. 

“Um- u- um, I- I-” 

“Hey, Hop!” The door to the lab opens. Perhaps, Hop thinks, he really is dead, and this is just the unfortunate afterlife he was shoved into. This isn’t real. Surely that’s not you walking through the door, bringing him lunch like you said you would earlier today, in a text that he had completely forgotten about until this moment, “I brought you lunch!”

Surely not. 

Leon gasps as he drops his brother’s hand, and dramatically, he points at you. “It’s you, isn’t it?!” He asks gleefully, and he looks back at his brother with a big, stupid smile- “when did you-”

And Hop starts laughing, very, very loudly, “___! You brought lunch! Guess who knows about our agreement!” He enunciates the word ‘agreement’ and promptly elbows his older brother in the gut before he quickly runs away and over to you, taking the plastic containers out of your hands happily. “Can you help explain it to him before I go jump off the nearest bridge?” 

He’s not feeling like he’s kidding, but you laugh anyways as you hold up your own left hand, showing it to Leon. “Pretty neat, huh?” You sing happily, and Hop busies himself with setting up the table for lunch instead of focusing on how embarrassing it is that you sound happy to be fake-married to him. Not real-married, fake-married. It’s an important difference. “It’s all a ruse though, as sad as I am to tell you.” Your hand lowers as you place it on your hip. 

“A ruse?” His brother asks, and he walks over and takes your hand just like he did to Hop so he can inspect the ring. 

Hop leans over and smacks Leon away from you with a glare and his brother snickers. 

“Yeah. Hop agreed to help me out, really. I’m stuck in this weird moral decision to not throw my parents behind bars over legal complications,” you shrug, “but getting married is basically what’s going to shove it all under the rug. Long story short.” 

“Huh.” Leon says, placing his own hands on his hips as he stands still, taking in the information. His eyebrow hooks up as he gives Hop a look, “you’re really okay with that? Well, I guess you would be. Y’know, considering.”

“You’re hilarious,” Hop smiles, but his voice is strained and so is the smile. Instead of entertaining his brother further, he sits at the table and you sit across from him, opening your container and digging in. Oblivious to the tension your best friend carries and how he stares at Leon. 

I’ll kill you, he mouths, and Leon smiles in return. 

“Well,” the ex-champion dusts his hands off, “I can see I need to leave the engaged couple alone so they can enjoy their lunch. And other things, probably, that need to be done in private,” 

“Ha HA,” 

“So I’ll take my leave!” Leon heads for the door and Hop lets out a sigh of relief- until his brother points at him, door open mid-way- “I expect you to call me later. Bye, in-law!” 

And then he leaves. Finally. You look Hop’s way, smiling as you take another bite of your curry. “So, looks like we’ll finally have to fill everyone in, huh?” 

Looks that way. 

——

Once you told everyone who needed to know (his parents and your shared friends), Hop knew for sure that he was in over his head when he first agreed to this. Because explaining it- having everyone jump in glee and surprise at the words ‘we’re engaged!’ only to deflate in confusion as you both hurried to say ‘but not really!’ 

You’d think the two of you would have found a better way to explain it, but you didn’t. 

Having to live through it, though- it was dreadfully awful. Not because Hop was saving it all- the genuine, lovely way that his mother first gasped and his father had frozen- the moment in his mind a beautiful picture that he definitely did not think about all the time. Because it’s not like Hop had only dreamed about this happening to him one day, and it’s not like it killed him when he could finally tell his parents that he’d found someone who loved him unconditionally, only for it to all be fake. As if Hop really needed to hand them another reason to be disappointed in him. 

But no, they were proud. They were happy he was helping you. They told him as much. 

But he didn’t forget those reactions. He didn’t forget how their eyes glistened, and he didn’t forget how they shattered. 

Once that was all over, it was established that the two of you would be having a small ceremony just to help convince your parents that this was a real marriage with real love. True love. 

Except you didn’t love Hop, and Hop surely didn’t love you- but they couldn’t know that. So there was going to be a ceremony. 

You and him. A priest between you. Speeches filled with words- fake words, lovingly beautiful hoaxed words. And then you’d put on your wedding rings, and then you’d kiss. 

Married. You’d be married on August 10th. Isn’t that nice? 

A beautiful summer day. 

——

“I do not envy that kid.”

It was shortly after you and Hop had visited Hammerlocke where you asked everyone to meet up for your news that Raihan finally broke the ice. Leon sighed beside him, along with Sonia who was frowning into the cup she drank from. 

“It’s so horribly obvious,” She says. “He talks about them constantly at work. And he’s been a mess this past week.”

Nessa hums, crossing her leg on the park bench she sat on and letting her head fall back as her hair flowed through the breeze. “I guess you’d see it up close, huh? How he’s so head over heels.” She opens an eye to look at Leon. “Have you talked to him? It’s nice that he wants to help, but maybe it’s not the best idea.” 

Leon shrugs, crossing his arms at his chest. “Honestly, he’s grown up now. He knows full well what he’s getting into. But I did call him personally once I found out,” he purses his lips. “His denial is impressive.” 

Raihan laughs as he hangs his head low, shaking it back and forth. “You fucking suck,” he wheezes. “You should really try to talk him out of this.” 

“Shut it!” Leon shoves Raihan who sways just barely, “I gave him my big brother speech, but I’m done now. He doesn’t want me bringing it up, so I won’t. He’s been stifled enough because of me as is.” The ex-Champion picks up his own cup that sat on the table they all surrounded, and he downs the rest of the contents inside. “So he’ll do as he pleases. I’ll be here if it goes south.” 

Sonia hums, her shoe rubbing at the grass unsurely. “If you say so…”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

“Oh, sorry I forgot to trust the guy who’s never dated anyone before,” Raihan snorts. 

“Yeah but I could nail your mum if I wanted to,”

“I dare you!” 

“I’ve got her number, I could do it right now!”

Laughter fills the park.

——

As the date for your wedding nears, you bring it up more and more. As you would, because even if it’s fake, there’s questions to ask and things to prepare for. Obviously you hadn’t done this before and neither had Hop, so… how do you put together a fake wedding in the first place? 

“We probably shouldn’t invite anyone,” you say as you lean back on your couch, your feet propped up and crossed at the ankles on your coffee table. “Or should we? For pictures? Memories?” 

“Are you sure you’ll want to remember this?” Hop raises an eyebrow at you. He flips the pen in his hand, notepad sitting on his lap. “We’re going to divorce just a few months after it all.” 

“Well, that’s true,” you shrug, “but we’re still getting married. Shouldn’t we make it fun? It could be a party.” 

Hop squirms. “I don’t know,” he says, but his tone makes it clear and you smile at him reassuringly. 

“It’s okay to say no, Hop. It’s your wedding too, you know!” 

“Kind of.” 

“Not kind of. It’ll be legal and everything- we should both be happy with it. So no guests? Or pictures?” 

He bites his lip. He’d like to say ‘let me think about it’, but truthfully, there’s no time. Decisions have to be made now. “It might be weird if it’s just us and a priest. We may as well go to the courthouse if it was just that, so...” he comments softly, and you beam. 

“True! Maybe we’ll just invite a few people. Ten, tops.” 

...Ten is probably around the exact number of everyone Hop knows. He doesn’t know a lot of people. And he already knows everyone you’re going to want to invite- the only people it makes sense to invite- and Hop squirms some more in his seat as he swallows the bile in his throat.

“Sounds good!” Hop smiles instead of vomiting like he wants to. “We should find some chairs and stuff too, then. Order a pizza maybe. No cake.” 

“No cake,” you laugh. “That’d be too much. Maybe we can slice the first slice of pizza together, though?” 

“You better not put pizza on my face.” Hop frowns, and you burst out laughing. 

...He laughs a bit too. He can’t help it when you look so happy and upbeat. He should really be more like you- Hop doesn’t know why he’s so tense. 

“I won’t! I swear. As long as you promise not to do it either- we’re going to be married so you can’t lie!” 

“Of course. I’d never.” He gives you a promising nod, and then his eyes light up as he thinks of something new. “...Should we dress up?” 

“Oh, right,” you hum and look at the ceiling as you ponder. “Well, you would look cute in a tux.”

Hop furrows his eyebrows in worry, “I don’t think I even own a tux.” 

“...Me neither,” you snort. “But we should probably dress up, right? Especially if we invite people. Even if it’s for a pizza party.” 

He can’t believe his first wedding is being described as a pizza party. Probably his only wedding. 

Isn’t that funny? 

“I guess I can see if I can borrow anything from Leon… he might have something that fits.” 

“Great! I’ll look around, too,” and that idea absolutely doesn’t give him more of those awkward stomach flips that he’s been feeling all week. Seeing you dressed up and looking gorgeous as you stand across from him, kiss him? Hop thinks that there’s no way this could end badly as he anxiously fixes the glasses on his face. “Let’s plan more on how we’ll decorate the backyard- we can have the ceremony there! And then we should both get our clothes planned, then the food, and we can ask Raihan to be our picture guy so we’ll have something to show my parents-“ 

There’s no way that this could end badly. 

——

It’s August 10th. 

It’s 9:43am on August 10th, specifically, and Hop didn’t sleep at all last night. Not even a wink. How could he? 

He distracted himself instead. His suit that he borrowed from Leon has probably been ironed 50 times by now, his house is sparkling clean- cleaner than it's ever been, and he even emptied some boxes and threw away the things he’d been meaning to get rid of for months. Hop did possibly everything and anything he could just so he could stop thinking about how he was getting married today. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. And it’s not. Because, Hop reminds himself again, you’ll be divorced and back to being normal friends in a few months, just like you said. Just like you wanted.

But what does Hop want? 

That’s why he’s cleaning. 

You decided that the party, the wedding, will take place at 2pm. That’s only a few more hours. The two of you spent all day yesterday decorating the backyard, so that was all finished. All you had to do now was step in front of the official looking people and make it... official! 

Easy peasy, Hop says to himself. He’s been standing still, staring at himself in the mirror for the past hour, and it’s easy peasy. 

Then the doorbell rings. 

It doesn’t process at first, so the doorbell rings again, and Hop slowly raises his head at the sound. He looks at the hallway outside his room, toward where the sound came from- and then his limbs go into motion as he walks toward the door. Who could it be? Maybe it was you, wanting to check in with him one more time if he was sure about this, and Hop would say he was definitely sure and then he’d joke that he’s not supposed to see you before the wedding, and then- 

When Hop opens the door, his brother is on the other side, and Hop doesn’t think he’s ever fallen apart so quickly before. 

Honestly, Hop wonders if he broke a record. How fast the tears and snot came, how quickly and harshly he crumpled to the ground- it’s got to be worth something. With how fast he was breathing in, in, in- how couldn’t it be? He definitely broke a record of some kind. 

Leon holds him securely- squeezing Hop to his chest as he follows his sibling to the ground, and he lets Hop sob all over him as he stays quiet. Quieter than he’s ever been, because Leon always has something to say, but not now as Hop cries and cries and cries- loud enough that he’s probably notified all of fucking Wedgehurst that he was definitely sure about this! Absolutely sure, happy to help. 

Happy to give you everything while he receives nothing? Yes. Because his whole life has been like that. 

So why’s he crying so hard? 

Leon’s hand is stable, heavy, and warm as it rubs Hop’s back. The movement is gentle and lulling, and Leon’s chest moves in a hypnotic matter as he slowly inhales deep and exhales just as deeply- over and over until Hop finds himself following along. Following along… he does that a lot. 

The panic spikes up again, and so does the hyperventilating, so they start all over again. 

Over and over, as many times as they have to, until Hop is simply shaking and exhausted as he’s cried all his tears into the fabric of Leon’s clothes. Which, he’s realized, is just a faded hoodie and some track sweats. Despite himself, Hop snorts and croaks. “You can’t come to my wedding if this is what you’re wearing.” 

Except that’s a joke. He can still absolutely come. Leon has to come, and Hop doesn’t care if he’s wearing only boxers. As long as he’s there. 

“Don’t worry,” Leon says as he loosens his hold on Hop, hands moving to securely hold his arms as he leans back and smiles at his brother. “I saved my fancy clothes for later, they’re with me. I had a feeling I’d need to be prepared for something like this when I came to see you. Aren’t I smart?�� 

Hop sniffs and laughs when Leon wipes at his wet cheek. “I guess so.” 

“I know I am, you don’t have to say it,” Leon grins, and he grunts as he starts to stand, bringing Hop up with him. “Come on now, up you get. We’ve got a wedding to get ready for.” 

“Does it have to be mine?” Hop asks and Leon wraps an arm around his shoulders, walking them out of the doorway and finally closing the door behind them. 

“Afraid so, Hop. Afraid so.” 

——

Things are still scary, but it’s a bit more manageable with Leon by his side. The crying session was embarrassing, yes, but needed. Leon practically threw Hop in the shower afterward, which was also very needed, and then when he’s finished, Leon had cooked a hearty looking breakfast for them both. Which they demolish. 

It was mediocre and there were some eggshells in the pancakes, but that’s to be expected if Leon did all the cooking. 

Then Hop gets dressed in his suit that his brother lent him and puts in his contacts, and Leon coos and calls him handsome. Hop shoves him, telling him to quit it, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Not that he’d say that, really, but he thanks his brother genuinely for being here with him. 

Leon’s eyes soften at that and he mutters ‘of course I’m here’, and then they move on. 

Time flies a lot faster when it’s not just Hop and his muddled thoughts. Sooner than he’d realize, it was a quarter to 2pm, so it was time to leave. Leon asked him if he was ready, Hop said he was definitely not ready, and Leon laughed as the two walked over to your house. It was a short walk, which was appreciated, because they’re both walking in public with fancy suits on and Hop doesn’t like the looks they get. Especially from that one girl who was walking her Yamper. 

He could kill that girl for looking at him so funny. 

“I can’t believe you’re taller than me now,” Leon says with his nose scrunched up and a frown on his lips, right as they’re about to approach your doorstep. Hop smiles, his ego successfully lifted at his brother's words. 

“That might be the only thing I’m winning at with you,” 

“That’s not true,” Leon shakes his head with a raised brow, “you’re also about to get married. I’ve never even dated anyone.” 

Hop rolls his eyes at that, digging his hands as deep as he can in the silky pants pockets of his suit. “Hardly. I’ll get divorced before you too, so that’s really an achievement I’ll want to brag about to the family.” He scoffs and Leon elbows his side gently. 

“It doesn’t have to be like that, you know.” 

The two brothers are in front of your house now, but Hop comes to a stop when Leon does and he looks at him strangely. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you’re in love with that person,” Leon looks toward the door, then back at him as he shrugs, “and you love them so much you’re going to marry them in order to help them out. But just because it’s a marriage of convenience doesn’t mean it can’t turn into something different.” 

Hop frowns at that. He hadn’t ever entertained that idea, and that was on purpose- he doesn’t need to get his hopes up, only to be crushingly disappointed. “We haven’t even dated. It’s- it’s ridiculous to stay married, even if they felt that way toward me.” Again, his brother shrugs. 

“Is it? Sounds awfully convenient to me.” 

“And so the marriage of convenience stays convenient… right.” 

“But it’s true!” Leon laughs, “look, I’m not going to act like I know what I’m talking about. I don’t. But don’t let this crush you. Everything has the opportunity to turn out amazing.” He places a hand on Hop’s shoulder, holding it securely as he looks into Hop’s eyes. Gold meeting gold- the two are practically identical, but so different. 

“Hop. You’re my brother, and I love you. And as your brother, I’m going to tell you something very important,” Leon leans in close, and Hop does the same. “You can make this into something amazing.” 

And then he slaps his brother’s shoulder, making Hop cry out in shock from how hard he hit with a look of betrayal on his face and Leon throws his head back with a barking laugh. The laughter is loud enough that you finally open your door, seeing the two brothers shoving each other on your doorstep, making you raise an eyebrow. “Look who it is!” You smile, their heads snapping toward you. You hold a hand out for Hop- it takes him a second to realize it’s for him, and when he does, he shyly takes it and you tug him toward you. “My husband-to-be and my brother-to-be. It’s about time you showed up.” 

Leon smiles brightly at you, skipping to meet you with a kiss on the cheek which you return. “Good to see you! And I heard there would be,” Leon lowers his voice, “pizza?” 

You meet his serious gaze, nodding firmly. “The best in town,” you tell him, and Leon whoops as he moves past you and Hop to enter your house. 

Beside you, Hop remains quiet, and it’s not until you squeeze his hand that he jolts in place and looks down at you with wide eyes. 

“You’re looking handsome,” you smile at him and Hop almost combusts. Why are you holding his hand, anyway? He’s sweating buckets. 

“Y-you too! Great- you look great. Really good. Better than me.” 

Hop sucks. 

But you smile even wider anyway, your own cheeks heating up in a beautiful way. “Thank you,” you say gently, and all of Leon’s words of advice from his apartment has flown right out of his head. Instead, it’s just- 

You’re in love with that person and you love them so much, you’re going to marry them. 

“We should head inside, before the great Champion becomes Champion of eating all of our pizza.” You break through his thoughts, tugging on Hop’s hands as you make a step to go inside. Normally, Hop would follow you right away, but he freezes as he holds you tighter and keeps you from leaving. His eyes are wide, and you give him a confused look. 

It’s a miracle he doesn’t stutter, but he sounds desperate as he asks you, “are you ready?” 

The question makes you stop in your tracks, and you grow quiet as you look up at Hop. He frantically searches your eyes- hoping to find an answer in them- and he wonders if this is how you felt when he went quiet when you first asked Hop to marry you. 

But then your blush deepens on your cheeks again and your eyes grow soft as your thumb gently swipes the top of Hop’s hand. “You know… I think I am. You?” 

A breathless sigh leaves him. Along with it is all of his ghosts, fears, and doubts- because suddenly Hop feels so much lighter. “Yeah,” he says, nodding just to solidify his answer more. “Yeah, I think I’m ready too.” 

The two of you enter your house, smiling and blushing, and the door closes behind the two of you. Ahead of you waits the beginning of something complicated, weird, and amazing. 

Hop thinks it’ll be amazing.

He really does.