#raven is an insult to little sisters everywhere

[streets-in-paradise]

Best Friends Till the End - Andy Barclay x (Fem) Childhood Friend! Reader - Part 7

Masterlist

Warnings: Chucky doing very fucked up comments.

Summary : Chucky attempts to play his first move against you with one of his classical stalker calls. You know he sees you as the weakest element of the group and his twisted Intervention preys in your biggest fears seeking to destroy your greatest hope. However, a crucial mistake on his part allows Andy to present you with a whole new purpose.

Tags: @barclaysangel ( i finally finished to write this while dealing with my anxiety over the current situation, hope you will like it. Also, i wrote it on the phone so sorry for the mistakes you may find. )

In the peace of your embrace Andy managed to be the first one falling asleep. Judging by the comments you have heard on his insomnia, he must have been too tired or feeling too comfortable with you in order to accomplish that. Confessing your feelings to each other wasn’t an expected part of your childhood reminiscent ritual, but it happened and you were feeling good about that. Finding out you felt the same for him had surprised him the most, Andy was already insisting on saying you needed someone better and you were claiming over and over there was no one else for you. It got to a point where you started to shut him up with more kisses every time he would start bringing up his flaws. The caresses and reassuring whispers must have relaxed him, so you kept doing that even when you began to notice he was getting sleepy. 

It was a perfect moment, you were almost sure nothing could have possibly ruined it until you felt the vibrations of your phone against the wood of your nightstand. Getting called in the middle of the night was suspicious enough already, only your sister in some severe emergency could justify that. Fearing something could have happened to her, you picked up without caring to consider the fact that the number was unknown. 

If she was in danger, her phone could have got ruined and she could be calling you from anywhere else. 

Your doubtful introductory salute found no direct answer, the person at the other side wanted to hear your voice first. Raven would have never done that, not at least at that hour of the night, so it couldn’t be her. 

It freaked you out a little bit, but you tried not to show it. 

“ In case you are wondering, my favorite scary movie is Halloween … Anything else, jerk?”

The Scream reference obtained a chuckle and you didn’t need anything else to understand what was happening. You looked at Andy, still lost in his sleep, and wondered if it was enough to justify waking him up. 

“ Don’t fuck with me, let’s start with that. Shall we?” 

Chucky was ruining everything again, somehow managing to do it exactly the same as the last time. It was only you hearing his voice in the dark while Andy tried to sleep. 

“ This is not what I expected. “ You admitted, then lowered the tone of your voice trying to speak in whispers. “ Of all the shit I could have imagined you say after decades of silence, I gotta say it’s disappointing. This whole thing is a letdown. I get death assholes don’t sleep but, really? A call in the middle of the night? Have you been watching the Scream movies, Chucky? “ 

He noticed the difference and immediately called you out about it. 

“ He is there, isn’t he? Had he already tried to fuck you and found out you are a frigid bitch?” 

The sick insult was vague enough for you to not be able to tell if he was just taunting you or if he had learned private details of your life touching someone who knew you. 

“ Poor babe is too tired. We are too busy keeping every single child in this town aware of you.” Was your strong sounding comeback. “ You reached my kids, they know one of yours was there and news travels fast. Friends, siblings, cousins … neighbors. Organized children are your downfall, that’s what I learned last time. You ain’t going to get a new family anywhere near, I have eyes everywhere. “ 

“ You are so fucking ungratefull.” He interrupted you, his way of complaining sounding too parent-like to not be twisted. “ I let you be, you could have done anything with your life and yet you dare to get in a business that enters in direct conflict with mine. Couldn’t you let it go? With your failed child actress thing and the daddy issues, I have always imagined you would end up in porn.” 

He disgusted you to the core, keeping in mind you were around five the last time he saw you made your stomach churn.

“ I found my call forced to take responsibility for what you left behind.  My mom got into occultism seeking for answers and found in that a passtime to escape my dad. She even tried to convince me that my fear summoned you in the apartment of the Barclays that night and the place was haunted. Her medium was the only one taking real care of me and we raised my sister, so now I’m a kinder teacher who does palm readings.” 

“The cunt inside your mother’s womb, I’m more excited about paying her a visit than the very little thrill I can get from you. “ He cruelly mocked you. “ The name was a very flattering touch. Did the shrink tell your parents to pick it for positive association? Was she left in charge of fixing your screwed mind from birth? “ 

“You will never get Raven, she will get you.” You pridefully recalled. “ She is the Scrappy of my Scooby and she grew up to my tales of Andy. If you would have come back for me, you would have found me running after another little girl who just put on a mask from her last halloween costume to recklessly chase you around the apartment with a butcher knife in hand.” 

“ Meaning literally everyone else in my list is more interesting than you … Do you see now why I never returned? Little bitch, you were just a replacement for someone else. There was a time when killing you would have given me great pleasure, but I got the real thing and I don’t need you anymore. You are becoming a pain in my ass in vain. Face it, no matter how hard you try you will never make anyone care. Your dad never cared, I didn’t care. Every single man in your life has abandoned you, maybe that’s why you couldn’t let me go.” 

The words were like knives stabbing your soul, silent sobbing brought you back to the very same state you swore you would never come back. A lonely, hurted little girl preyed on by a monster. 

“ If I clinged to my memories, if I choose to stay awake … It was never for you. “ 

Despite not fully awake, Andy was giving signs of being listening to bits of your answers. You gesturally reassured him to stay calm, holding him tighter. 

“ You have been waiting for Prince Charming to return and slay the dragon. Even though he had also abandoned you, you have made excuses for him all your life. “ Chucky insisted, twisting your words the way he wanted. “ Andy is not your salvation, he couldn’t even save himself. You have no idea of the kind of man he grew up to be, I raised him. The bastard is a psycho and you are the last thing he remembers fondly;you really don’t want to be on his side. “ 

The card he was playing with was a powerful one, he truly knew Andy better than you. 

“ Bullshit. You may have broken him, but he is still a good man. A wonderful, broken man.” 

“ He is lost, he picked all the tricks in my handbook … Including how to rope the naive woman you got fixated on into opening the door for you. His obsession with you it’s more dangerous than what you think, before you could realize and fight him he is going to make you his new toy. You are going to spend the rest of your life locked in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and he will be telling you it's the only way for you to be together because he has to protect you from me. He will say he had to do it because he loves you, but he is the real danger. 

The grim speech should have been enough to make you hesitate, but it didn't.

" And you expect me to believe you called to warn me? YOU, of all people? "

" I called to offer you a deal, the same I did the last time … Give me Andy and I will let you and the babygirl live."

That time you were the one chuckling.

" If you really want to turn us against each other you are going to need more than that, Chuck."

Apparently, the cocky negatory wasn't what he expected and his persuasive tactics kept escalating in darkness.

" Deny it all you want, but I'm the last hope you have of walking out of this before Andy shows his true colors. Think carefully, little bitch … or you will remember me when you will be tied up begging him to stop forcing his damn dick inside you. In that shitty cabin no one is going to hear your screaming and he is so gone in his delusion that he will think you like it. He will even try to kiss your tears as he is coming inside, so happy that you are going to have his children!! You will wish i was there to fucking stab your growing womb, pathetic slut!!! It's over, you have no choice but doing as i say. DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE TO DISRESPECT ME EVER AGAIN. I'M ALL YOU HAVE, BARBIE!"

He hanged up out of sudden, almost as if anger would have made him deviate from his script accidentally.

Andy was awake near the end, your sobbing and the look on your face explained enough.

" He must have found my old therapist, otherwise i have no idea of where he learned so much of me." Was all you could explain. " He called to brag exploiting my traumas. The pregnancy phobia must have made him very proud, he was extra cruel with that. "

Your enamored friend took a deep breath, seeking to contain his anger because you were already terrified.

" You should have woke me up, never let me sleeping again. Even if you can tell he isn't approaching" He sweetly complained, sitting on the bed to hold you in his arms. " Whatever he has told you, remember it's all lies. It's exactly like you told me : he wants you to feel like shit so you won't stand in his way. "

Tears were still falling down your face, but he wasn't going to give up.

" We ruined part of his scheme without having to spill a drop of blood, and that was thanks to you. It's because you are so smart and kind hearted … and you found a usefull lesson in the shit we went through together. One I didn't seen before. Have you heard that ' kill them with kindness' thing? That's you, and Chucky is pissed off that it worked."

The comfort he was attempting to bring you would have worked, making be you all smiles for him, if you wouldn't be haunted by what you heard.

" Andy … Do you have an isolated cabin somewhere? He mentioned that. "

" It's not the most romantic place, but i can assure you it's not the Evil Dead one. " He answered, worried and weirded by you sudden fright. " … No, no, don't give me that look. Fuck, I should have know he would bring that up. "

You released yourself from his grip to stand up at a prudential distance and he let you do it, but the sudden lack of trust seemed to be hurting him.

" I don't know what he said, but I will tell you the truth. I didn't want to do it before because I feared it would scare you away. " He started to explain himself. " The place is a hunter's hideout and i have one of them prisoner there. As far as I can tell, it's the original."

You weren't dissaproving it completely, so you hesitantly awaited for his tale to end.

" I did all kinds of fucked up things to that doll. Kept only the head as a trophy and tried every single method of torture I had available, that's how i discovered the fire trick. You have seen some of that yourself; I can be a bit too trigger happy when it's about hunting him but that's all. "

The mere posibility of loosing you precisely then, ríght after finding himself enjoying a bit of your romantic affection, got him sincerely desperate.

" I would kill protecting you, but I would NEVER hurt you. " He insisted, approaching to round your hips with his arms looking at you with such broken beauty that you could tell he could be about to cry if he wouldn't feel too ashamed of releasing the tears. " You have to believe me, like you always did … Please. "

It was sincere enough for you.

" i'm so sorry, baby. He had spent more time with you than I ever got, made me feel as if he knew better. " You explained, caressing his face. " He said such horrible things, he wanted me to fear you … It felt exactly as when he threatened me as a kid, he even used the old nickname … Barbie, I can't look at one of those dolls without remembering it. "

As you were speaking, and encouraged by your well receivement, he placed a few pecks on your lower belly. The fabric of your nightgown was a barrier to reach your skin, but that wasn't necesarily the point.

It was a reassuring gesture to prove his devotion loving the spot of you that Chucky hurted. His sweet attentions only stopped to the mention of that name.

" Are you sure he said that? "

Only then you realized you have never told him that specific detail.

" Of course! It was an inside thing he had with me. Whenever he would loose his patience, he would start calling me Barbie. I believe he intends to mock my femminity as fragility. Definitely a mysoginistic thing implying weakness and reliance on him. I was this pink lover girly girl, never have been the queen of challenging gender norms, and I guess Barbie was easier to come up with than Daphne. "

Your guesses didn't convince him.

" … Barbarah Pierce. " He whispered to himself, connecting dots out loud despite you could still hear. " Shit, I'm being such a jerk, there is something else you need to know. "

He encouraged you to climb back on the bed with him before starting and held your hand the whole time.

" You were ríght all along, what Chucky told you that time must had been a twisted version of the truth. " He admitted, hesitant to carry on because he feared your reaction even more than before. " There was another family before mine: a woman and her two daughters. The eldest was of your same age and her name was Barbarah. "

The very few things he knew about the Pierces came from what he managed to read online and his failed experience trying to save Nica. Still, he told you all he could and there was no doubt that had to be the true origin of the nickname. In you Chucky found a reminder of another little girl he despised and that was all. You understood why Andy kept silence on the matter, since untill then he couldn't tell for sure if there was a connection and he didn't want to trigger you in vain. That was your worst nightmare, just like he had the memories of each time the doll attempted to possess him. He was being so considerate of your pain and you loved him for that, but there was no way you would let it go. Andy knew it well. He ended up being the one sedating you with reassurance untill you both finally managed to get some sleep.

That didn't stop you from freaking out the morning after. Kyle offered herself to make breakfast, since she was almost sure you had lost your mind because of Chucky's call. The siblings were watching you sip bits of coffee while nervously revisiting a pile of old books, handwritten notebooks, letters and packs of notes.

Inheritance of your deceased medium friend that you revisited with desperation to find anything usefull.

" You must be scared and I completely understand you… Wouldn't you prefer to talk about it?"

You closed the book before replying her.

" I already called Raven and she is fine, but i don't know for how long. I am aware she is perfectly capable of kicking his ass if he tries to kill her, but never stopped to think what would I do if he possesses her. I'm not going to let her alone for him to take and i am not abandoning Barbie's sister either. "

Before Andy could attempt to calm you down, you pointed at the pile.

" Pick one and start digging, we are looking for anything that could work as an exorcism or to possibly prevent possession."

Your serious determination made him chuckle a little bit.

" … This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. You will get as obsessed as i am, only through a different route. "

He checked the things you recommended him and while digging the pile he did a very strange finding.

" The fuck is this ? "

Picking that particular item from the pile, he then showed it arround.

A Voddoo for Dummies book. Kyle bursted into laughter noticing you mixed that with real stuff.

" Remember when I told you that despite i don't appear in the front page of the search, eventually people always find out? Someone gave me that as a phrank gift like a decade ago. " You explained to them." Even if it's not legit, it can serve as a guide for the mythology. "

He gave you a skeptical look, more amused than concerned.

" Whatever you say, gorgeous. "

Curiosity did make him look into it briefly, but he wasn't actually reading it. It wasn't surprising that you found something first because you knew what you were looking for.

" THE HERMETIC PRINCIPLE!!!" You cheered yourself in a language nobody else was understanding. " How did i missed it? Nadia told me about that so many times!!! Ughhhh, i'm such a dumbass!!! "

" English, please?" Kyle mocked you. " If it's good news, how good is it?"

" Maybe not enough for an exorcism, but it may work as a preventive hack. " You began to ramble away. " When I was told about it I would call it the Upside Down Rule, a bassic prínciple bonding things with their natural contraries. Surprisingly, an example of it was portrayed in Pirates of the Caribbean 3. If the theory is correct, we may just have to twist Chucky's chant to turn his words against him. "

The precise explanation was concluded with a pridefull smile. Despite of how strange it was, the idea has still a sense of inside logic that the audience catched.

Amazed as he was, Andy kissed you ríght there and without any warnings.

" Dating isn't enough, i should marry you. " He sweetly joked ríght afterwards. " ... And then you wonder why he did that? He must be desperate! Soon he would be paying us a visit. "

His lovely encouragement did work that time

" Excellent moment to test the theory. "

Kyle remained silent for an instant, untill realizing nobody seemed to acknowledge what just happened.

" So, Chucky called and you both are going to start dating …. Is there anything else that i missed last night? "

[mcmusing]

Ohhhh yeah, this snippet from that rage-inducing dofp deleted scene. @rage-serenity please hold my low cal OJ.

Throughout Days of Failed Prequels, Logan stayed consistently on Charles' side, recognizing and vocalizing Erik for the a-hole he is. Unlike most of fandom and the producers, Logan remembered Magneto as a sanctimonious bs-er. At the beginning of this deleted scene, it seemed the time traveling mutant did the same with Raven, unabashedly telling her what a cold-hearted blue b she grows into.

Then, of freaking course, as soon as Raven leaves the room, Logan joins in on trying to convince the audience that Charles is an overbearing dictator. As opposed to a depressed, self-medicating, emotionally vulnerable young man who is awkward and uncertain after being reunited with his only family member. Keep in mind, Logan reached this fundamental conclusion after hearing Charles tell Raven to get some rest and have Hank look at her leg because, y'know, she'd been SHOT by a magnetic madman earlier that day. Raven expressed her gratitude by vindicating said madman and claiming she would have gone the murder route, too. Yep, that poor misunderstood Erik, not a brain-washing predator in the slightest.

Despite this, Logan takes his turn to dump on Charles' good intentions. This is all a part of this forced desperation to make Raven a mighty mary sue and warp Charles into a sexist. There's even some implication that Erik's troubles are all the telepath's fault because Charles rescues people solely to control them. So.... the younger, smaller, affection-starved man had a position of power over the older, physically stronger, conniving, experienced older man. The older man who spent all of FC doing what he wanted without deliberation, putting Charles down whenever he expressed any hope, forced him to be complicit in and feel the pain of a murder, paralyzed him, discarded him, and who restarted the emotional abuse immediately after they met again....

Tell me the truth. How many members of fandom were/are also Ted Bundy groupies? You can tell me. You don't have to be ashamed. You *should* be but you don't have to be.

Even though the scene didn't make the final cut, it still demonstrates how void of morality the prequels are compared to the original trilogy. Remember when Erik being sent to prison, his garbage being called out, the way all of his diabolical scheming led to his humiliating downfall were considered GOOD outcomes?! Now, apparently, the lesson is to let people do whatever they want- be it their pick of afternoon snacks or global genocide- otherwise the world as we know it is doomed.

I don't care how many parts of fandom enjoy and agree with this scene. Yeah, betcha do. The perfect vehicle to project your (white)man-hate caused by residual resentment against your fathers/brothers/ uncles/ex-husbands/ex-boyfriends 1-12/unreturned crushes and/or desire to join hateful internet cults comprised entirely of trendy buzzwords.

These dumb sheepish twats who soak up this demeaning false pandering. The only thing intimidating about Erik is the unfortunate truth that there are parasites like him all over RL with a horde of ignorant prey to easily devour.

Deleted scene from X-Men: Days of Future Past

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[mcmusing]

And now, for a rant years in the making....

The longest thing I've ever written began because X-Men First Class was such a well-acted breath of fresh air. The dynamic between Charles, Raven, and Erik really captivated and inspired me. Enough to create an ongoing series that has had more good years than bad.

Unfortunately, starting with Days of Future Past, FC's legacy was sacrificed to the creatively bankrupt egos of the very production team that ruined the X-Men film series in the first place. This, along with the misandry/racism disguised as empowerment/diversity plaguing modern media, torpedoed what could have been an amazing series. James McAvoy pulled off the impossible by cementing himself as an iconic Charles Xavier on par with Patrick Stewart. After years of Ian McKellen's hammy one-dimensional villainy, the God's gift to acting that is Michael Fassbender emerged as the definitive Erik Lehnsherr. In Jennifer Lawrence's casting as Raven, the producers took an asinine, fanfic-esque concept like making Mystique Charles' adopted little sister and pulled it off so unbelievably beautifully. Despite their limited screentime, Alex, Hank, and Sean displayed more personality and likeability than any depiction of Jean and Storm across multiple films. However, moronic Brian Singer and Simon Kinberg could not wait to destroy all of FC's good will for their own agendas.

James McAvoy portrayed Charles as spirited and slightly mischievous yet highly intelligent, altruistic, nurturing, and self-sacrificing. Then the sequels tried in forced desperation to paint him as an overbearing, elitist misogynist and the one responsible for Raven and Jean's destructive abuse of power. Even though all he did was give them a home, make difficult choices in order to protect them and others, and brought both of them onto his team due to his personal relationships and trust in them. Because women are so strong and capable except when it comes to taking responsibility for their horrible choices. No, human flaws are strictly of the Y chromosome. Charles has been abandoned his entire life, received no real support, had his body and mind mangled because of his 'best friend', yet puts everyone before himself and always forgives the undeserving. Still, the producers and equally idiotic fandom reduces him to a spoiled white male with no concept of pain or hardship.

Through extensive research and dedication, Michael Fassbender put more into portraying Erik than, quite possibly, any actor taking on a comic book role. Erik is so worldly intelligent, handsome, sauve, and masculine to alpha levels, but with a pained vulnerability about him. FC is the ONLY film to paint him in this light. According to the sequels, Erik completely abandoned the friend/brother he crippled, couldn't hold his own team together for even a year, got captured by regular humans- the strategic nazi hunter got captured by REGULAR humans for ten years, betrayed his friends who freed him at the first opportunity, took no responsibility for the unforgivable things he did to Charles, abandoned his pregnant lover, almost ruined the lives of mutants everywhere by attempting a terrorist attack on TV, then ran off with his tail between his legs once thwarted. And that was only DoFP. In the next movies, he gave up his mutant identity completely, married a regular woman two seconds after declaring war on regular humans, was a pitiful excuse for a father who couldn't train his ONE mutant child to control her powers, got his family killed by his own past actions, then went on a murder spree with a lunatic that resulted in Charles' torture, Alex's death, and the destruction of the school- with the students being saved only by Peter's coincidental presence. I'm not even going to talk about that stupid phoenix movie. My blood pressure is already to the ceiling. No wonder Michael Fassbender grew to hate his character.

Speaking of hating their own character, even Jennifer Lawrence doesn't like how the warm, familial relationship between Raven and Charles deteriorated into something so cold and bitter. Raven abandoning her devoted brother is not only never properly addressed but the sequels want to pretend like it's Charles' fault they're estranged. Raven spends their every scene being a hostile, rude ingrate towards him right up until she's killed by that monotone wet rag they call Jean. Charles is willing to sacrifice his own life multiple times for Raven but she shows more regard for her attempted murderer Erik. So, I suppose the feminist message is that a protective, peace seeking, reasonable man is too controlling and toxic but a violent, unhinged, homicidal man is worthy to be praised. That phoenix movie sure thought so, considering they completely demolished Hank McCoy.

These movies also have no care or concern for life itself. The hellfire club slaughtered an entire facility full of people and killed Darwin yet Erik and Raven jumped to join them. Then, we're supposed to care that those monsters are dead by DoFP. Meanwhile, Sean and Alex's deaths are glossed over but Raven's is supposed to be tragic and meaningful.

That brings up yet another problem with this cursed series. Mutation is supposed to be an allegory for various prosecuted groups. The producers really wanted the live action mutants to be lgbt stand-ins. I can't even begin with how insulting that is. So, Magneto's the face of the gays, huh? Meaning if other people do anything but pledge absolute loyalty to that  lifestyle, gays will react with violence and destruction, willing to kill anyone- even their own-, who gets in their way. Also, those who believe the lgbt lifestyle will lead to inevitable chaos are proven right by X-Men execs. Mutants have caused massacres of government officials, killed their own family members during uncontrolled rages, and nearly doomed the planet too many times to count. This is what gays relate to? This?! This infantilized depiction as sadistic megalomaniacs?!

Overall, FC- as engaging as it was- is a mere anomaly in the grand scheme of the X-Movies. A dour, joyless, soulless catastrophe of unforgivable discontinuity, underdeveloped characters, multiple horrid actors, outrageous missed opportunities, and nonexistence ethics with a transparent, hypocritical agenda.

I started my fic in 2011 as a way of addressing the growing racial upheaval going on in the US at the time. Ten years later and things are infinitely worse than anything I could have predicted back then. There are no intelligent conversations to be had nor heroes to look up to. The entire entertainment industry has become a battleground for the war of identity politics. Not even just fandoms arguing amongst themselves but also Hollywood creators taking the time to be aggressively insulting and dismissive of their own fans. The flames of hatred are being fanned and everyone seems so blind to it.

[malaks-perch]

pomegranates and sugar

julian devorak x reader

a crazy night with your favorite doctor

warnings: fluff?? pretty domestic actually for something about murder talk about a sweat drop

a/n: i didn't plan for this to go this way, i played it by ear

this was not how the night was supposed to go.

"now before you do that light up magic thing, you have to promise me that you will be calm and rational" julian's words coming slow and careful as he stayed hidden in an alley next to the rowdy raven.

"i'm always calm and rational." came your response as you tried to get closer to where he'd tucked himself behind barrels.

julian stepped out of the shadows and into the dim lighting at the mouth of the alley. you dropped your bag upon seeing him.

blood was everywhere. drenching his clothes, staining his face, arms, even legs. his patch was nowhere to be found and both of his stunning grey eyes stared at you.

"who the hell did—" he cupped a clean hand over your mouth whilst his finger hovered over his mouth.

"i was doing an act at the theater and it turned into a brawl, the fake pomegranate juice got everywhere and it clumped to me when people started throwing disgusting powdered candy."

he brought his hand to his lips, licking up the vermillion substance and crushing a fiery kiss to your lips before you could think.

he was right. sugary popping candy nearly drowned out any taste of pomegranate on julian's tongue. it was sweet, but the kiss was far from it. when he pulled away, you blinked still trying to register what happened and the kiss julian nearly got you drunk off of.

"but this blood might become very real as there was a very angry patron who—"

"julian, what the hell?"

he pulled you both into the shadows, nodding and running a hand through his hair. "you're right. i'm so sorry. how are you tonight, love? you look ravish... why do you look more beautiful than usual? who is this for?"

he raised a brow as he examined you. one of his white shirts hung loosely on you and a wine colored vest portia graciously found in mazelinka's old chest. paired with pants that really showed off everything from the waist down.

"you're in costume?"

"valerius has that party-"

julian cringed. the one he promised to escort you to. you even asked him what to dress up as and here you were, a nevivion pirate. you'd even drawn the symbol most pirates wore on your neck.

guilt flushed through him and his heart sank into his chest. he had gone to the theater for a play and completely forgotten about his duties to be your date for the night.

this was not how the night was supposed to go.

"it's alright—"

"no, love. i.. you were really looking forward to seeing asra"

it shouldn't have hurt so bad when he said it, but bringing it up made you feel a bit of an ache. you hadn't seen asra in nearly a year from the constant travelling around with julian.

you brushed it off, cupping his face and wiping pomegranite from his cheek. the small smile you offered only made julian feel worse.

"there will be more opportunities."

julian cupped your cheek, but before he could respond someone shouted behind you both. "we should actually be running right now!"

both of you took off in a sprint, weaving through alleys and dodging people on streets. julian did the latter as his long limbs would bump people every now and again as he tried not to trip over himself.

they were getting closer when julian bolted left into an alley, pulling you with him when you pulled him back into an empty building.

"i think they went this way!"

both of you were panting, trying to cool yourselves down in spite of how close your bodies were pressed against the wall.

julian was muttering out apologies for potentially ruining your entire night when you finally managed to wheeze out your laughter.

"that was amazing!" you cupped his cheeks and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips making julian grin and raise his brow.

"usually when people are about to get murdered, amazing isn't the word they would use to describe it." julian smiled as he leaned over where you were leaned on the wall. his arm by your head as his face dipped closely to yours. "maybe it's all the adrenaline, my dear."

"adrenaline ashmenaline. that was better than any party i could've gone to." you smiled, leaning up so your faces were inches apart. "i want to go again."

"well, well, well... it seems we've found our old friend doctor devorak and.. who is this lovely creature?" one of them grinned from the doorway of the empty building.

"it looks like you'll have that chance, love!" julian tugged you out of a window, you stumbled, but the same man that was nearly tripping himself tugged you beneath an arm and sprinted down the alleyway.

with julian's arm holding you by the waist close to his side, you could see the frantic men running behind him with swords out and arms raised.

you twisted out of his arm to run beside him, "what on earth did you do?!"

"they didn't take kindly to poetry about their ships!"

in front of you, you spied two horses hauling a wagon with stacked barrells. you practically shoved julian towards the wagon, both of you climbing up the structure as you muttered a spell that made the barrells go tumbling towards the men.

the wagon collapsed and both of you jumped on the horses. they reared and you'd both taken off towards the markets, racing each other as the men themselves still tried to catch you.

"we should do this every night!" julian shouted as you guided your horse to take lead through vesuvia's busy streets.

"every night?! and miss a good night's sleep?" you glanced back at him, but the one glance made your heart swell.

julian's brows furrowed and a daring smile on his face. his tall figure was leaned forward on the chestnut horse he rode. a confident smile on his face as he passed you to take lead.

it was rare for him to ever look like this even in his most comfortable state. here, in the middle of danger, high on adrenaline, and running from pirates, julian looked his best.

this was not how the night was supposed to go.

"a fair point! this way!" you'd turned right and bolted out towards the higher classes of vesuvia.

you slowed down, julian laughing as he reached over and took your hand. both your steeds huffing and grumbling as they slowed.

"amazing. quite a show you put on there, y/n." he smiled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leaned forward murmuring praises to the horse.

"i think we stole a couple of horses, julian." you sighed as you tangled your fingers in the mane of your steed.

"tomorrow, my love." julian sighed, casting you a warm smile. "we worry tomorrow."

you turned your eyes to the houses around you. beautiful, elegant homes were built here. the aqeuducts looked cleaner, the sidewalk looked as if you could eat off of it.

"it's beautiful here." julian smiled, mindlessly threading one of his hands through the mane of the horse he rode.

"would you like a house here, ilya?"

his given name usually would've made him fluster, but this time around he smiled. a sigh coming from his lips, "i would love for pasha to have a home here. i don't think our children would care too much for being royalty."

"our children?"

julian nodded without missing a beat. he flushed then when he realized what he was suggesting, "only if you're open to the idea."

"i'll run it by my council."

he chuckled, turning so you saw the fond smile dancing on his lips.

with both his eyes on display so outwardly, it was a little overwhelming. paired with that soft smile? your heart raced at the mere sight of him. how could you not? he'd come so far as to be this confident.

"you saved my life." his bowed deeply, nearly falling off his horse. "how may i ever repay my beautiful hero?"

there he was. your ever dramatic doctor pirate.

"promise me we will be together forever and always." you clenched a hand over your heart, gazing up to beautiful stars above.

"it is forbidden!" julian cried out in agony, thrusting a hand into his hair. "for we may never be together as long as we live in amongst the rules of this damned nation! my sister wouldn't allow it—"

"yes, she would—"

"oh, how she would strangle me for—"

"refusing my hand."

groans and insults thrown from windows. you and julian took off in a fit of laughter, rushing down the streets until you'd come upon a path sheltered by brillant oaks.

both you and julian had taken the time to get off your horses and walk down the wide road. one hand entwined with his while the two of you lead your horses.

"should we ever be in that position, i would run away with you." you confessed.

julian furrowed his brows, shaking his head. "my love, i would never want you to give up everything you know to be with me."

"and i would never want you to give up everything you know to be alone." you smiled, pulling his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. "i would know that you wouldn't be alone and that would be better than casting you off to suffer in isolation."

julian's eyes were shut when he tilted his head up so his face was to the sky. a shaky breath escaping his mouth before he finally decided to speak. "when you say beautiful things like that, it makes me want to give you my entire world."

"i don't understand how that would work." you tugged him close by the nape of his neck to peck his cheek. julain pulled back revealing his furrowed brows and twisted lips. "you're already my world, how could you give me more than that?"

julian stopped walking, a sticky cheek pressing to your neck. the pomegranate and sugar still lingering on his cheek from earlier.

"i gave you a night that started because of a brawl that ended with me in pomegranate juice and sugar. we get chased through vesuvia, magically steal two horses, profess our love to strangers, and here you are declaring that you want no one else, but me."

"don't forget about the part where we have children." you smiled making him laugh into your shoulder before pulling away to gaze at you with tear-filled eyes.

"the council unanimously decided?"

"the council wanted to keep the dramatics in play. they already had their answer before their brief recess."

"one of them better have my name!" portia was practically squealing as she rushed over.

nadia, asra, and muriel not far behind. muriel went straight for the horses, but not before bidding you a quiet hello.

"at least you two had fun." nadia smiled as she watched portia squeeze the air from your lungs. "as it turns out, vlastomil's worms crashed the party."

"so julian finally settles down." asra's teasing grin made the redhead smile.

"i don't think you've met my darling dear." he shot you a grin, "anyone would be lucky to stand next to them."

asra wrapped his arms around you, a gentle laugh escaping him upon finally seeing you again. "to think you would be here to tell me you were going to be parents."

nadia brushed off julian's shoulder, "i'd love to be a godmother."

"as long as i get to be the godfather." asra grinned, turning to you with a teasing smirk.

"you get to be godfather as long as you don't teach them to pester and prank people with magic."

asra shook his head, "i can't promise that."

portia laughed, picking up a stick to imitate a sword. "and i will teach them the ways of a pirate."

julian went to chastise portia when muriel's voice cut through, "and i'll teach them to properly care for horses."

asra immediately latched onto muriel, teasing him while portia and nadia discussed names. you and julian walked hand in hand down the road with your friends at your side.

babies or brawls, you wouldn't have had this night go any other way

[mcmusing]

Please, Erik and Raven are those trifling ghetto siblings that just dump their kids on the good brother's doorstep.

And don't tell me nothin' about Kurt not being confirmed as Raven's kid. Please, I see that daggon blue elephant in the room.

Peter likes Charles more than he likes Erik. Discuss

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

INTRODUCTION: For centuries, the Magnus Irae Institute stood proud along Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy as one of the leading schools when it comes to the education of young witches and warlocks. However, unlike its sister schools Magnus Irae is all-boys academy that follows the philosophy of “canis canem edit”. 

Among the top students there are the eight Prefects, leaders of their dorms, whose authority is unquestioned by anybody but the school’s Headmaster. Thrown into this environment by accident, MC comes to face the true dangers of magic and arcane power, especially when Head Prefect Alka issues the following request: “Ensure that by the end of the year the eight Prefects and dorms have reached a state of harmony.” 

Prefects:

Sweet Brat x Little Brother Type

“I’ve grown up a lot, so you better not think of me as just some kid brother, got it?!”

Presentation: Reed Morgainne is the young, energetic type that’s often cast into the “younger brother” role. As a famous actor he’s (second-hand) experienced a lot of interesting and odd events, but his actual life lacks many remarkable deeds. His appeal lies in his friendly and approachable nature, that is somewhat tempered by a childish streak. He wants more than anything to appear as a reliable man in the eyes of MC to whom he got attached very quickly.

Route: Roses & Thorns 

Height: 172 cm

Type: Wild

Favorite Disney Princess: Mulan

Cool Headed x Sharp Mind

“I... I’ve never really cared for such things as love before, but... no, never mind... that was nothing.”

Presentation: Basil Dion is the youngest son of a prestigious family with good breeding and even harsher expectations. Having chased all his life after his father’s approval, he’s become unaccustomed to casual interactions with those his age. He believes that everything in this world is merely a mystery waiting to be uncovered. His appeal lies in his serious and steadfast nature which lets MC know that when he falls in love it’s not just a trifle. 

Route: Heart-Shaped Patterns

Height: 175 cm

Type: Dignified

Favorite Disney Princess: Tiana

Ambitious Con-man x Womanizer

“Ha? Where I got this from? Hey, hey, it’s no good to sweat out the details! Your pretty face will get all wrinkly~”

Presentation: Marcus Pyroeis is a renowned athlete with a big appetite and an even bigger mouth. He’s always on the run, doing odd jobs and taking any menial work he can find just to make some extra cash. He says that he likes to be rich and well-off but none of his possessions seem to be brand new, so whether he’s telling the truth or not is hard to discern. His flirty personality and friendly disposition make him a hit with his fans, but it seems that his charms are lost on MC. Marcus isn’t sure whether he should be insulted or not, but he’s definitely intrigued.   

Route: Want Not, Waste Not 

Height: 179 cm

Type: Energetic

Favorite Disney Princess: Ariel

Tsundere x Protective

“The fuck ya want? If ya got nothin’ to say beat it, ya shit. This ain’t no place for weaklings.”

Presentation: Rough around the edges, with a temper that is always ready to burst and an even fouler vocabulary, Jun Himalia is the youngest son of a family of farmers. His life back home made him exceptionally good at manual labour and he’s surprisingly reliable for somebody who says he doesn’t want to get involved with others. MC notices that he tends to take the small and the defenseless under his wing, so there must be a heart of gold hidden underneath that scowl he’s always sporting.   

Route: The Roots of Wrath

Height: 205 cm

Type: Feisty

Favorite Disney Princess: Cinderella

Carnivore x Elder Brother Temperament

“Hm? Your scent... No. I like it.”

Presentation: Dean Arrow is the definition of a carnivore: quiet, imposing and dangerous. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does people listen. He’s followed everywhere he goes by his dorm mates who are proud to declare themselves his ‘lil’ bros’ so MC can’t help but think he comes across as a sort of “boss monkey”. However, for all of that he possesses a very sharp mind and cares deeply for his dorm members and the monsters in their care. His honesty and confidence are the most appealing of his traits, and MC realizes that he’s the sort of person that can be easily trusted.

Route: Wilder Song   

Height: 185 cm

Type: Clever

Favorite Disney Princess: Belle

Demure x Pure Angel

“To be allowed in your presence so easily is surely a blessing from above. Let us freely enjoy our time together now.”

Presentation: Caleb Delphinne was hailed as a wonder child in his youth - his impressive talent of predicting the future earned him attention from people from all walks of life, but following a traumatic childhood incident he’s sworn off fortune telling altogether. Melancholic and fragile he seems like he’d break at the lightest of touches, but there’s a glimpse of steel hiding behind silk as well. He treats MC with the utmost respect and kindness and it’s hard not to become attached to him.  

Route: Whispers of Stars

Height: 168 cm

Type: Kind

Favorite Disney Princess: Sleeping Beauty

Self-Centered x Cursed Person

“What... misfortune... to... be... paired... up... with... me... Hm... ?... You... say... you... don’t... mind... it... ?... What... a... stupid... chowder... you... are... Heheheheheh... it’s... rather... cute...”

Presentation: No one is sure about the origins of Adrien Voisin. He certainly has no desire to share them either. Stalking the halls of the academy at night, his gait slow and frightening, he seems to take a certain delight in frightening his fellow classmates. He’s far from a regular delinquent though, as for what he lacks in force he more than makes up in intelligence. He seems to form a strange attachment to the MC who has so far reciprocated his strange attempts at friendship, though it’s clear that his understanding of such concepts is rather skewed. 

Route: The Depths of Abyss

Height: 156 cm

Type: Accepting

Favorite Disney Princess: Snow White

Mysterious x Malicious

“My, you shiver before me like a mouse, little one. Do you fear the expanse of my desire? You possess more common sense than I expected, fufu.”

Presentation: A mysterious young aristocrat from a prominent family, Vito Dies enjoys toying with others for his own amusement. He’s a very secretive man who always wears a mocking smile, but his charming demeanour often has others eating out of the palm of his hand. He talks about an unseen lover that he left behind and is separated from, but nobody is sure just who exactly that is. Still, he seems to have taken an unusual interest in MC regardless. Whether that is good or not, MC isn’t sure just yet.

Route: -- 

Height: 184 cm

Type: ???

Favorite Disney Princess: ???

Happy Fools’ Day!

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him.

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two

chapter 2 - horned god in the woods

SFW, Heisenberg being Heisenberg, 1.3K words.

The beauty of Castle Dimitrescu did wonders to mask the brutality that took place inside its walls, Heisenberg mused as he crossed the main hall. Gold wherever one looked, comfortable cushions made of velvet to make any old butt feel like royalty. The curtains probably cost more than all the furniture he had in his own chambers combined, he’d wager, the shiny brocade imported from some far away country, crafted by hand by the finest whatever they were called, et cetera, et cetera. Alcina would always pick something to brag about, the rugs to the drapes to the china to the wine, and always when he was within earshot. She would invariably compare her riches and elegance to the riffraff of a sibling she had - not that she would name any names. He had always wondered why she bothered, considering that none of the foreigners, dignitaries or peasants that heard her tales ever lived long enough to appreciate them. Regardless, he always made sure to trek through the mud when he came to visit, use her curtains as an ashtray, throw a doily in the fireplace. It had become a bit of a game, to see how long it would take before she finally noticed he had left his mark, and the worse she treated him, the worse he’d ruin her precious property.

Twenty three years and counting was the longest he had gone unnoticed, a fight bad enough erupting over her insulting his long dead parents that she had threatened to slice him to ribbons when he fired back. He remembers the headache the morning after, the soreness in his throat from yelling so much. Remembers the tears, too, though he had bitterly swallowed them as she opened the floodgate of shit she called her mouth. When the metal claws came out, he had ripped them right out of their sockets, her knuckles bleeding as she looked to Miranda for something, anything. Mother intervened when he pointed all of the blades to his sister’s neck.

He had gone down to her basement that night, while the others tended to her injuries, or at least pretended to. Super-sized bitch always did regenerate faster than all of them. He had stomped out in the front door’s direction, only to take a turn through the courtyard and into the dining room. Sneaked past the kitchen maids, into the tasting room and down to the vats. The place was dark and damp, and like most everywhere else, it reeked of blood and death. Heisenberg soon found what he was looking for: the barrel of fresh wine she had boasted about earlier that evening, ready to be bottled, aged, and then sold for a premium. It had been twenty three years since he had unzipped his pants and pissed inside that barrel, a confused moroaicǎ that was too slow to catch him as his only witness. Not that she would tell on him. He thought about that barrel sometimes, and every day that passed since the whole situation it sounded funnier. He almost wanted to tell her sometimes, ask her to rename the vintage - A Taste of Heisenberg.

The frequency of their “family gatherings” diminished after that, and Miranda had asked him, kindly, that he never harm any of his siblings again. “Or else” implied. An idle threat, naturally; Miranda had influence, but no power over their choices. As it stood then, he had nothing to oppose her, his powers still growing, uses still being explored. As for now, she had played with their heads to get their full devotion - even if he could kill her, he would still have his siblings to deal with.

He’d taken to spending ever more time in his factory then, his public appearances kept to a minimum. Sometimes she would request that he visit the village to grace them with his divine presence, to bless some newborn named after him. None would go past the gate or the altar, and most did not even know a way to open the way to his home. Even Miranda had no domain over his mountain, and he had gone through great pains to make sure it became an impenetrable fortress. For that reason they rarely visited him, and such occurrences dwindled even more in the years that followed; no one had dared to set foot inside his factory after the incident. All the better for him.

“My lord, I would speak to you, if you allow me to do so?” He was brought out of his thoughts by the pathetic voice of the servant he had seen earlier, all rags and bruises and a mess of hair, kindness in her eyes. She looked starved and sleep deprived, empty silver tray shaking in her hands even though she held onto it for dear life.

She had stopped him in the hallway before he could step outside, her cheeks flushed, a bead of sweat resting on her brow. It seemed to him like she had run all the way to catch up, a sense of urgency in her words as she spoke. She had no reaction when he lowered his glasses to get a good look at her, flashed her his best smile.

“I thought it best to warn you, Lord Heisenberg. About the beast that lurks in the woods.” There was… Concern? In her expression. Like she feared he, too, would disappear like the others, or be drained of blood and left to rot in the snow. Had she any idea who she was speaking to? Was he not revered as a God, offerings made in his honor, heads bowed as he passed? “The Horned God stalks the forest. A great beast with a voice of thunder.” Her voice was quiet and solemn, tray falling to the side as she freed her other hand to cup over her mouth. “Some say it can shift from beast to man, take the form of a beautiful maiden of raven hair. Most dare not speak of it, but others…” She trailed off and looked around, worried that their little exchange would be heard by another maid, or worse still, by one of the ladies of the castle. “It has been known to trick those who stray from the Black God. It offers to heal their families and hurt their enemies, to perform rituals bathed in blood. What it asks for in return I do not know for certain; I would never dare to speak to a heretic who would contact such a monster.”

He had found it all too amusing, but something about her terrified expression, the way she had held her hands together in prayer as she finished saying her piece, had all but crushed his urge to burst out laughing.

“Good, my hunting skills have been a little rusty.” He offered in response, adjusting the hammer over his shoulder. “What better way to practice than to kill a god, huh?” She shushed him as his voice roared, apologizing immediately after, whispering a plea to not tell the lady anything about any of it. “Your secret is safe with me,” Heisenberg put his hand over his heart, the missing touch of melodrama that permeated all of his performances. “Thanks, darling.” He held her chin up to look at him as he spoke, and there it was, that blush again. Ah, he did so love… Entertaining maidens. “Any idea where I can find this thing?”

“Past the West Old Town and into the forest deep, my lord.” She announced in that same somber tone, as if this was the last time she’d ever see him. All things considered, it might be.

“Take care, sweet pea.” He waved as he walked away, pushing the doors to the castle open to be greeted by the comfort and vastness of the field of snow.

Heisenberg searched through his pockets as he made his way across the village, humming a tune and watching as every window and door shut with a bang at the mere sign of the sunset. In the distance, the familiar sound of lycans making their way to town to prey on unsuspecting victims, howls he had become far too accustomed to.

A screw, some knives, some change, but not much else. He wondered if the “Horned God” would accept some whiskey.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, theydraggedmein!

For @theydraggedmein. I hope you like this story!

Fic inspired by Melsephant's Monster of the Week Comic, specifically Solidarity and by the freedom of creation from my Secret Santa giftee

Tags: Supernatural is somewhat known, Stiles is a Selkie, Alive Hales, Friends to Lovers, Quickburn, Workplace Setting, Light/Background Angst, Communication

Read On AO3

*****

Selkie Solidarity

Stiles’ alarm doesn’t go off when it’s supposed to and he wakes up about two hours late for work.

Thankfully, he has an understanding boss with even more understanding bosses, so when he calls in, they just tell him to get himself there safely and don’t worry about it.

Stiles hops in and out of the shower so fast his suit doesn’t even have time to dry before he stuffs his clothing into a waterproof bag, chucks his phone and wallet in too, and leaps off his balcony to do a perfect seal dive into the water below.

He makes good time swimming, but nothing changes the fact that he’s late and he and his office mate were supposed to be running expense reports all day today.The final step before the merge negotiations happening next week.Thankfully they got most of it done this past week, but still, Stiles feels bad about slacking when his office mate is such a good sport. Without him there, Derek’s probably gone a little grumpy around the edges, the way he always does whenever Stiles is inevitably late.

Stiles passes a delicatessen and backtracks. He’s already late, so a few minutes more isn’t a huge deal, and Derek does love everything bagels.

Stiles climbs out of the water, ducks behind some brush, and sheds his suit. He tugs on his clothes, checks his phone for messages—none—and grabs a twenty out of his wallet.

Then, bag slung across his back, he troops into the deli and orders three everything bagels, two for Derek and one for him because he hasn’t had breakfast yet.

Then, it’s an exchange of his clothes for his suit, making sure the bag with the bagels is secured in his bag, and then leaping back into the river to finish his commute.

He’s already apologizing when he races into his and Derek’s office.

“Dude, I know I’m so, so late, but, look, I got us bagels!”

He stops short at the sight of Derek, shifted into his full werewolf form, hunched over his computer and poking at his keyboard.

He looks miserable, his snout long and dripping with saliva where his teeth are too big to retract anymore. His claws keep catching on the keys and he stares at them sadly before huffing out a sigh and starting again.

Stiles digs out the bagels and plops the bag onto Derek’s desk. Comically, Derek’s nose twitches. He looks at Stiles with his baleful eyes before gently opening the top of the bag and with far more care than Stiles is used to seeing from Shifted-Derek, he plucks out a bagel and pops it whole into his mouth.

As Derek chews with the power of a ravenous wolf, Stiles glances at the little calendar Derek keeps pinned to his side of the office.

“Oh man,” Stiles remarks, tracing the outline of the day. “Full moon? That’s rough, buddy. I’m sorry.”

Derek shrugs and picks out his second bagel. “s’okay,” he mumbles, spraying saliva and crumbs everywhere. “T’nks for bagels.”

His over large teeth and flopping tongue make his words nearunintelligible and kind of fascinating. Stiles wishes Derek would talk more during his shifts, but he also knows that Derek doesn’t like making messes even though he’s good at cleaning them up, so he tries not to make messes. And talking with his shifted mouth is about the messiest Derek can be. Second only to eating while shifted.

Stiles takes his bagel and sits down to boot up his computer. Derek hasn’t eaten his second bagel, and instead seems to be waiting for Stiles to start eating his. A quick bite confirms this, and Stiles smiles at Derek.

“So, shall we get those expense reports done?”

No argument from Derek, who seems to be trying to savor his second bagel.

Whatever. It’s cute. That’s why Stiles got them for him. He likes doing things like that for Derek, even when he isn’t almost two and a half hours late.

After a few more minutes of Derek struggling to type with his claws, Stiles turns to him. “Should I shift too?” he asks, gently. Derek barely moves his head, but Stiles feels stared at all the same. “I mean, if you’re stuck in your form, wouldn’t it be less awkward for me to be shifted too?”

“Work?”

Stiles shrugs. “I was late today. How productive am I really going to be?”

Derek looks at his keyboard. It isn’t really functional, and he’ll probably just keep tapping at it and then replace it on Monday when he can shift back. “Broken?”

Stiles waves his hands. “They’re flippers, dude. I don’t think they can do that much damage.”

Derek tilts his head while he thinks about it. It’s such a cute pose that Stiles has to physically turn back to his computer and enter his password before he accidentally squees out loud or something equally embarrassing.

“Okay,” Derek finally says. “T’nks.”

“Be right back!” Stiles grabs his bag and skips off to the bathroom where he exchanges his clothes for his suit and then happily bounces back to his and Derek’s shared office.

Derek straightens for a few minutes when Stiles gets back. At first, he thinks it’s because Derek is laughing at him. Stiles isn’t the most graceful in his human form, but in his seal form, he’s simultaneously better and worse at moving. If the office were water, he’d be grand.

Derek huffs a few times before slowly stepping off his chair and motioning Stiles to his chair. And, whoops, yeah, Stiles forgot that he’d have to climb all the way up there.

He gives Derek a hopeful bark and Derek nods. Together, mostly because of Derek’s brute strength, they get Stiles situated in his chair and ready to do as much work as his flippers can manage on his keyboard.

Surprisingly, despite Derek’s general malaise of being a werewolf in the midst of an uncontrolled shift, and Stiles’ selkie solidarity, they get a lot of work done. And surprisingly, Derek just holds half of the second bagel in his mouth for a long time before it disintegrates into mush and he swallows it.

Their boss pokes his head and shoulders in around lunchtime, some request dying on his invisible lips.

Stiles gives him a happy bark, and Derek follows it up with a less-pained wuff than he’s been giving lately.

“I just wanted to see how those reports were coming along, but I guess never mind.” Kindly, he adds, “If you ever need time off something like this, just let us know. We have a secondary set of time off for supernatural afflictions.”

Derek growls lowly before nodding. He stands up, hands his ruined keyboard to their boss, and walks out.

Stiles waits a few seconds to see if Derek will come back. It’s insulting to call their supernatural abilities afflictions, but Stiles can kind of see where their boss gets it from. He is invisible after all. There’s so many things he can’t do anymore because he inherently gets called a creep. In fact, he has to wear clothes on top of his invisible clothes constantly or risk being called out for being naked.

To him, being invisible is an affliction. To Derek, being a werewolf is like being human: natural.

Same with Stiles and his selkie side. He doesn’t even think of it as an affliction.

Derek doesn’t return, and Stiles decides that he might as well shift back and actually get something done, so he bounces off to the bathroom, tucks his suit away, and walks back to his office.

He finds Derek’s sister Laura standing by his desk. She has a note in hand and a tray of coffees. Stiles doesn’t think he was gone that long.

“Derek wanted to apologize for running off,” Laura says, thrusting the coffee tray at Stiles. One cup is already missing.

She hands him the note after he selects a mocha cappuccino. Then she installs a new keyboard at Derek’s computer and heads out.

Stiles opens the note. It’s a shaky apology written by Derek. Stiles flips it over and, avoiding the tears made from Derek’s claws, writes an acceptance of the apology and leaves it on the brand new keyboard. He’s not insulted by Derek needing time off. This full moon seems rougher than normal.

If Stiles really thinks about it, Derek’s tolerance and control during the full moons has been getting less for a long time. Almost six months. Something to think about.

He decides that he’ll bake Derek some of his prize winning double chocolate chip cookies when he sees him again.

It’s Friday today, so that means that Stiles won’t see him until Monday, and they have a meeting, so maybe he should do the cookies thing on Tuesday?

For now, he focuses on his computer and manages to complete all the expense reports they had planned.

5:00 rolls around and Stiles all but dances into the bathroom, switches into his suit, slides his bag on, and bounces out into the river for his commute home.

~ * ~

All weekend, Stiles does his normal routine, which involves staying up way too late and playing online games with friends halfway across the world. Then, he takes a quick, two hour break to make his apology-accepted-sorry-your-full-moons-suck cookies, because why not?, and clean his apartment.

Monday, he makes sure he has everything, including an actual suit for the meeting with their new clients, the ones he and Derek were doing expense reports for, slides into his suit, and speeds off to work.

He barely gets to greet Derek with the tin of cookies before they both have to change into their suits for the meeting. Stiles slings his bag on his back. He doesn’t like leaving it out of sight for too long, his mom and dad impressing upon him at a young age that selkies can’t trust people with their suits when they’re not in them. In fact, Stiles has a cousin who only just got away from her abusive partner that kept her suit locked away the whole time they were married.

Their boss is standing at the door to the conference room. He is made up to look as if he’s got an actual face for once. He’s wearing gloves and is dressed fully in the required suit. It’s a little uncanny valley, but has the desired effect of making all of him visible.

“Sorry, Stiles, you need to leave your bag somewhere secure.”

“What? Why?”

One of Derek’s ears twitches as he squeezes past them and sits next to Laura, who in addition to being Derek’s sister, is the head of their IT department.

“The clients. They’re human. We’re presenting as human today. I’m sorry, but you have to leave your bag off for this meeting.”

Stiles wants to bite out something about discrimination, but he knows how hard the supernatural world has worked for this. Their firm is the first human-supernatural merger, and if it goes well, there will be others.

“Isn’t this the meeting we reveal ourselves?” Stiles asks. That was the rumor around the water cooler a few weeks back.

“No.” His boss shakes his head. “We merge. Business goes on as usual. Another, more visible, supernatural business merges with another human business. The humans are told at that merger, and if there are any uprisings, we represent cases of discrimination.”

“What if our partners end up being discriminatory against us?” one of the more timid department heads asks. Stiles thinks his name is Boyd. He’s a werewolf, like Derek. It’s a good question, and it’s good coming from Boyd. He was rescued from a hunter farm where they bred and-slash-or forced werewolf creation so that they could “find out what makes them tick.”

Thank fuck that had been shut down right quick.

That’s what these mergers are all about: eliminating the humans’ natural instinct of being afraid of or hurting their supernatural counterparts.

“This firm has been heavily vetted. There can be no room for error here,” Stiles’ boss says. “Unfortunately that means that, for the press release, there can be no evidence of supernatural. Stiles, I am so sorry, you have to leave your bag somewhere. You will be compensated for your time without it.”

Stiles scoffs. “You think you can name a price and buy off my anxiety about my suit?” He looks at Derek, who looks murderous, at Laura, frowning, one hand on Derek’s arm, like she’s restraining him, at Boyd, who looks terrified. He sighs. “Fine. I’ll go hide my bag. But,” he adds, vehemently, “only because not doing so would endanger more than myself.”

“Hurry back,” his boss says. “The meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”

Stiles mutters a curse under his breath as he heads back to his and Derek’s office. There’s no place here at work that he feels safe enough to hide his suit, and there’s not enough time to call his dad to guard it for him.

Then he thinks about the file cabinet. It’s kept locked all the time. Paper copies of all the files he and Derek work on. He and Derek have keys, as does their boss. If he locks it in there, it should be safe for the meeting.

And he can check on it at lunch to make sure it’s still safe and sound. Stiles unlocks the top drawer, shoves the bag as deep as it can go, and heads back to the conference room, pausing to sneeze as some scent tickles his nose a little much. He slinks to his seat next to Derek and sits down.

Derek pats his arm, whispering, “I’m sorry,” without moving his lips.

Stiles shakes his head, turns to watch as the merging firm marches in, and the meeting begins.

~ * ~

Four hours later, Stiles heads back to his office under the guise of a quick refresher break.

When he gets to the room, he stares in shock at the destruction he sees there.

His and Derek’s computers have been knocked over, the towers scratched and smashed. Thank goodness for external servers. At least their work won’t be too disrupted while it’s fixed.

He turns to survey the rest of the room and his heart freezes in his chest.The file cabinet is leaning against the wall, all the drawers jimmied open, their contents spilled everywhere. Derek’s meticulous filing system ruined in a few moments.

But most heart-stopping of all is the fact that Stiles’ bag is gone.

It’s not anywhere in the mess and it isn’t still in the drawer he left it in.

Stiles runs around, digging frantically, in case he missed it. He also sneezes again and again, and finally pauses. He’s been gone too long. He’ll be missed at lunch, which they’re having catered in the conference room.

No. This is too important. Stiles isn’t hungry. He feels rather sick and on the verge of a panic attack.

He knows his nose is good, better than a human’s, but he knows better noses. He remembers when he first met Derek, and Derek was an awkward co-worker who claimed that Stiles stunk of the river even though, at that time, Stiles only went swimming on the weekend and used regular transport like his less aquatically-inclined counterparts.

Stiles hurries back to the conference room, grabs Derek’s arm, and drags him out, muttering something about a number or some shit.

Derek reverses their grip, holding onto Stiles as he leads him back to their office. Derek stares at the mess.

“What happened?” He doesn’t sound like he’s asking Stiles, so Stiles doesn’t bother to answer. He just goes to the file cabinet and points at the drawer where he’d stashed his bag.

Derek nods sharply, inhales deeply, and then points back out to the hallway. Stiles follows him as he goes through the building until they’re out on the street.

Lunch is probably being served now, but Stiles can’t find it in himself to worry about it. He and Derek already presented their expense reports. They’re clear for the rest of the day. It’s just that the firm wanted representation from all departments to be there for the whole of the negotiations. And lunch is also negotiations for some reason.

“Here,” Derek says suddenly, jerking Stiles into a coffee shop down the block from their building.

There’s a few customers in line and they all jump, muttering angrily as Derek budges.

He stops in front of the barista, a woman in her twenties, with long brown hair pulled into a requisite ponytail, green visor “protecting” her eyes.

“Sir, the line starts back there,” she says, bored.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Derek asks.

Stiles frowns at him. Girlfriend? He leans closer, catches a whiff of something spicy on her. It tickles his nose, and he stifles a sneeze into Derek’s back. Oh hell. They’re both still wearing their suits. It makes a hysterical laugh bubble up in his throat. Derek pats at him clumsily but comfortingly.

The barista blinks. “My girlfriend is none of your business,” she snaps.

“She is when she steals something from my boyfriend,” Derek snaps back.

Stiles chokes on his spit. Boyfriend?News to him.

Derek gives him a quick, apologetic glance, before turning back to glare at the barista.

She caves rather quickly then. “Sorry. She’s in the back. What did she take?”

“A green bag, waterproof. Everything that was in it had better be in it when you get it back. My boyfriend will confirm.”

“I’m sorry about this. I thought she’d gotten over it.”

Derek just points to the back.

Behind him, the line takes a collective step back, some of the people mutter about being late, but for the most part, they all look too intrigued to leave. Shame.Stiles really doesn’t want to reveal to a whole roomful of people that he’s a selkie.

Derek grips his elbow and steers him to the far side of the counter so that they’re no longer in the line’s way. Another barista steps up and things start flowing again. No one leaves even after they get their orders. Crap. It’s like daytime TV, so hilariously bad as to be completely riveting. Stiles could do without the starring role though.

The first barista comes back, leading a pinkish-tinged woman with bright pink hair and cat ears headband by the hand.Stiles sneezes as soon as he catches her scent, the same spicy one on the barista, and definitely the same one in his and Derek’s office.

The pink woman has Stiles’ bag clutched tightly in one hand, the other is still being held by the barista.

“She’s sorry about taking your bag,” the barista says. She squeezes her girlfriend’s hand, and wordlessly, she offers Stiles his bag. Stiles grabs it, digging through to see that everything he’d left in there is still in there, including his suit. He strokes it before hugging the bag to his chest.

The pink woman nods at him. “Soft,” she says, voice low, sweet.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the barista says. “It’s just, she’s a pixie, y’know? She has compulsions.”

“Soft,” the woman says again.

“Yes,” Derek agrees. “It is soft. But it’s his.” He draws his eyebrows down, but it’s not his mad face. Stiles has become quite the expert on Derek’s faces after a year as office mates.

He knows they’re friends now because Derek doesn’t make his I-hate-you-and-want-to-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teethface anymore, but he hadn’t known Derek thought they were dating. They haven’t gone on any dates. It’s an oversight Stiles will have to correct, and soon.Unless, a stray thought mocks, Derek only said that to get the bag back quicker. Stiles’ stomach drops. They’re still friends, so whatever direction Derek decides to go in after today, Stiles will respect his choice, even if it doesn’t include him.

“Soft,” the pixie repeats, making a gimme motion with her free hand.

“I’m so sorry,” the barista says again. “I used to have a coat like that, but it got lost.”

Derek’s brow furrows. “Where did it ‘get lost’?” he asks. Stiles leans closer. Derek has his I’m-going-to-solve-this-even-if-it-means-an-international-incident face on. Stiles has seen that face exactly once: when he ousted a hunter cell that was operating near their firm. Derek’s mother, high level ambassador in the supernatural-human merges, had come down swiftly and kept other hunter groups from retaliating. Stiles surreptitiously slides out his phone and picks out Laura’s number. He doesn’t dial quite yet though.

Derek’s faces, while always a clear sign of what Derek is going to do, are not always indicative of the trouble they may or may not cause. Mostly, it depends on the other parties’ reaction to 200 pounds of pissed off werewolf suddenly appearing in their faces.

The barista makes a face. “My ex-boyfriend stole it one night. And I couldn’t exactly tell the cops what it was, so he’s still got it. I’m unharmed for the most part. Sometimes,though, I can feel him stroking it.”

“That’s good that he hasn’t hurt you through it,” Stiles says. He hasn’t really gotten into dating specifically because of the horror stories from his mom and dad. From the look on Derek’s face, this ex-boyfriend is going to be dead when they meet him.

“What’s his name? Where does he live?”

Derek is speaking lowly, but even the pixie draws back, a look of fear on her face.

Stiles pats at Derek’s arm. “The full moon was just yesterday,” he explains. “He’s really good with control, but it might still be affecting him.” He shows the barista his phone. “This is his sister. His whole family will help you get your coat back.”

She covers her mouth, tears already running down her face. The pixie turns to her and starts swiping at them, making little distressed noises.

“No, no. they’re happy tears. They’re going to help us get my soft back.”

“Soft?” The pixie gives both Stiles and Derek a long, assessing look before nodding fiercely. “Friends.”

They get more information from the barista before she checks her watch, flinches, and says, “I have to get back to work. Thank you for doing this. Bye.”

Stiles checks his own watch. They’ve used up all their lunch break and if they don’t leave right now, they’ll be late for the other half of their meeting.

Derek seems to realize it too, because he deflates a little. “I’ll call my mom. She and my uncle can go get her suit back.”

“Coat,” Stiles corrects. “I call mine a suit. She calls hers a coat.”

Derek smiles then. “Remind me that I have to tell you something when all this is over.”

“What?”

Before Stiles can attempt to get it out of him now, Derek starts running, and Stiles has to run to keep up with him. As much as Stiles knows Derek, Derek knows Stiles too. It’s frustrating sometimes, like now, when they’re running half a block back to their firm.

When they get back to the conference room, their boss, looking a little less visible with some of his makeup worn off, ushers them into the room. Derek fakes needing the restroom, promises to be back in two minutes, and runs off. Stiles sits down and pretends to pay attention.

Derek comes back in the promised two minutes, sits next to Stiles, and together they just listen as the finer details of the merge are finalized and suddenly, they’ve doubled in size.

Derek and Laura both get a call as soon as the workday ends, and before Stiles can ask what’s up or what Derek needs to tell him, they’re both shifted and gone.

Stiles sighs. There’s always tomorrow.

He changes into his suit, glad to have it back, and swims home.

~ * ~

Tuesday dawns bright and early without sun and with a dripping wet werewolf sitting on the end of Stiles’ bed.

Stiles screams and throws the first thing he can grab—his alarm clock—at the werewolf, and Derek tumbles to the floor with a muted oof.

Stiles flicks on the light and points at Derek. “Explain,” he says. “Why did you try to give me a heart attack in the middle of the night?”

Derek rolls his shoulders in a self-conscious shrug. “’snot the middle of the night,” he mutters, pettily.

Stiles points at his clock. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I had to use my timepiece as an improvised weapon.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go. I didn’t mean to—” Derek spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. Stiles can’t read it. He’d gotten so good at reading Derek’s facial expressions and tones but he forgot to learn his body language as well.Mostly because Derek doesn’t use body language. He sits still and doesn’t give clues. Stiles takes a metaphoric step back, studies Derek for a long, solemn moment, and then offers his hand to pull him up on the bed.

“Why are you wet?” he asks, more gently.

Derek rolls his shoulders again, like he’s trying to work out a kink, but it’s probably embarrassment that’s pinching his nerves.

“I wanted to update you on the pixie and the selkie,” he says, eyes fixed on his lap. “I only know you smell like the river a lot, so I followed it up.” A flush creeps up his neck, and he ducks his head down more. “I fell in,” he says miserably.

Stiles can’t help the laugh that comes out of him. He slaps his hand over his mouth, but the damage is done. Derek shakes his head once, and moves to get up. Stiles grabs his wrist.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you—well maybe a little. I mean, you’re a werewolf and you fell in the river?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Derek says.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Derek says, and then mumbles the next part too low for even Stiles’ selkie ears to hear.

“What was that?”

Derek repeats himself louder and faster. It’s still just a jumbled mess of syllables that mean nothing to Stiles.

“Couldn’t catch that, dear, repeat again please. And enunciate.”

Derek lifts his head, determination burning in his eyes. “I said,” he speaks slowly, more, Stiles gets the feeling, to get the words out, than through annoyance at having to repeat himself for a third time, “that I fell in because I caught your scent and got distracted.”

Stiles doesn’t know how to respond to that, because, aside from the pretend-to-be-boyfriends to get Stiles’ suit back, Derek has expressed zero interest in Stiles like that. So why would he fall in the river after catching Stiles’ scent?

Stiles decides it’s too early and goes with a less confusing topic of conversation. “You said you wanted to update me on the pixie and the barista?”

Derek nods, grabbing the offered opportunity gratefully. “My mom and uncle found the ex-boyfriend easily. And because werewolves, they were able to locate and secure the coat quickly. Turns out he’s just a regular human obsessed with selkie lore and just wanted to have control over her.”

“Is he in jail?”

Derek shakes his head. “How can we arrest him? Humans aren’t exactly aware of the supernatural yet. My mom is going to keep an eye on him, and my uncle promised to put the fear of Peter into him.”

“‘The fear of Peter’?”Stiles raises an eyebrow. “That’s awfully cocky of your uncle Peter.” He gets a quirked smile in response. Stiles has met Peter once, and that was enough for Stiles to realize that Peter, if he didn’t like you, could make your life miserable.

Thankfully, Peter seemed to like Stiles, and he hasn’t been subjected to more of his particular brand of Peter-ness.

“Anyway,” Derek continues, “I wanted to tell you that Ari got her coat back, and Livie is sorry for taking yours.”

“I get it. She probably thought it was Ari’s.”

“Yeah, and one more thing: I think I love you.”

Stiles blinks at the confession. Blood rushes in his ears and it’s a little difficult to breathe.

“What?” he manages to whisper.

Derek makes eye contact with the wall past Stiles’ head. Choked, he says, “I think I’m in love with you. It’s why my full moons have been getting worse. My anchor is shifting. It’s you.”

“What?” Stiles repeats. Derek’s head drops, his shoulders droop. Confused, Stiles just stares at him.

“My anchor isn’t what it was before. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. It’s too much. I’m sorry.”

He stands up almost too fast for Stiles to grab him again. “No!”

Derek looks at where Stiles is gripping his wrist. “No?” he asks, and it sounds so, so hopeful.

“No,” Stiles says, settling back, tugging Derek gently until he’s back on the bed. “Don’t go. Tell me more about your anchor. Tell me more about you. ‘Cause, Derek, you’re not the only one who thinks they’re in love.”

Derek’s eyes go to Stiles’ chest—his heartbeat. “I love you,” Stiles says, and the skip in his heartbeat isn’t from a lie. It’s because he’s realizing the truth. He may have been able to reason with himself at the coffee shop yesterday, and even explain away all the little anomalies of being attracted to his officemate as being friends, but he knows with certainty, he wants to be actual boyfriends with Derek.

He wants Derek here, in his space, wants to help him get his wolf back in control during the full moons, wants to get him bagels every morning, wants, wants, wants, so steady, it’s like his heartbeat.

And when Derek leans in, asks, “May I?” so gently and carefully before kissing Stiles’ like he’s the most precious thing in the world, Stiles knows, Derek wants too.

Warmth surges in his veins and he deepens the kiss, holding it like a breath, kissing like their lives depend on it, and trying to climb into the space in Derek’s heart that is already calling his name.

~ End ~

[mcmusing]

Fandom talks about this a lot. And they can't agree with the moron of magnetism fast enough.

Essentially, if it's anything to do with calling Erik or Raven to the carpet, no one wants to talk about it.

Things we don't talk about enough #6

That scene in DOFP where they just picked Erik up and they're on the jet when Charles is like "You abandoned me!" and Erik just absolutely DRAGS Charles with all the names of their fallen comrades and then ends it with "You abandoned us ALL."

😩 yeah

[imherongraystairstrash]

The Broken Hearts pt 3

Did I exclusively write this during my Zoom classes? Yes.

(You can find the previous parts in my pinned post called “master list”)

-Ana 

The ballroom was complete and utter chaos. Shadowhunters scrambled to find family members, and attempt to begin to comprehend what had just occurred. Ben was looking around the room, perhaps for his older sister and his nephews.

“Go to them, Ben.”

“Ella, I can’t just leave you here in the thick of this mess.”

“Yes, you can.” Ella smiled. “I am more than capable of finding my way around the institute, which has been my home since birth, mind you.”

Ben still hesitated.

“I would be offended if you stayed here. It would be insulting my abilities.”

Ben looked into her eyes. “I’ll keep an eye out for your family and direct them towards you if I find them.” He said. “Be safe, Ella.”

“You too.”

And he was gone.

Ella moved through the sea of Nephilim, hoping to find a familiar face amongst the strangers, minutes stretching onto what felt like hours until heard a familiar voice call her name.

“James?” She called out.

“Ella,” he saw her pull her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him.

There is no feeling more wonderful than being hugged by a loved one, after a frightening moment. He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so relieved that you are alright.”

They hugged until he pulled away abruptly.

“Have you seen Owen?” He asked.

Ella’s heart stopped. “No.”

She saw the worry on James’ face amplify. He looked over to Cordelia, who was a distance away, and shook his hand. Poor Cordelia looked like she was going to break down right there in the middle of the room. She was holding little Caspara in her arms, one of Ella’s nieces.

“We should split up. Alex and I look over here and we can get Thomas and Kit to look there. Everyone else can help, too.”

James nodded and kissed her forehead. “Be careful, Ellie.”

“I will,” she said and began looking for her parabatai.

…

It was easy enough to find the Lightwoods; they were all as tall as trees, after all. Cecily and Matty could barely be seen amongst them due to their shorter stature. Alex was talking with Gabriel and it struck Ella, as always, how similar they were. While Ella was a hybrid of both of her parents, there was no doubt that Alex was Gabriel’s son. They shared the same green eyes, lean body and facial features. The only difference was that Alex’s bone structure was a bit softer and that his hair was raven black, like Ella’s.

She walked up to them and Cecily pulled her into a hug.

“Are you alright?”

Ella nodded. “But Owen is missing. I was going to go look for him.”

Alex stepped toward her. “I’ll go with you.”

“Me too.” said Matty.

Cecily reassured them that she and Gabriel would go looking after she’d alerted Will and Tessa that Ella was alright and would ask around for anyone to help search.

They had stepped away when somebody called.

“Ella.” Her heart skipped a beat.

“Ben.”

Alex looked like he wanted to stay, but Matty pulled him away, saying they should find her sister and Carstairs so they could aid in the search.  

“What happened? You look paler than a ghost.”

“It’s Owen. He’s missing.”

Ben’s eyes widened.

“We’re sending out a search party.”

“I can help look.”

Ella’s eyes stung. “Thank you.”

Ben reached out and caught a tear before it fell.

“You would have done the same for me.”

It’s true.

Theirs was a peculiar generation. All of the friends Ella had have been an aunt or uncle as long as they could remember. Alex had Anna and Christopher’s children, Carstairs had Alastair and Cordelia’s and Ben had his sister’s. Another thing that connected them all is that they would quite literally die for their nieces and nephews. Matty would, even for Charles’, though she and her brother don’t exactly… see eye to eye.

“Ella,” Alex called from a distance, cutting off her train of thought. “Let’s go.”

Ella and Ben exchanged a look and they were off.

The search was quiet, the mood too sober to try and fill the silence. Carstairs had joined them, Jocelyn already having embarked on the search. The path she took would wrap around, meaning she would eventually meet them, when the search was over. Ella heard her heartbeat in her chest, and was hyper aware of her footsteps, bouncing off the walls of the corridor.

Alex looked at her. She did a double take and found that he was still staring at her.

What? she mouthed.

Alex mouthed something she couldn’t understand, because Ella obviously couldn’t read lips, something Alex should have known, being her parabatai and all. Ella rolled her eyes. Men.

What? she mouthed again, conveying her frustration in her facial expression.

Alex had the audacity to roll his eyes at her before leaning in and whispering.

“Are you in love?”

Ella elbowed him in the stomach. He grunted.

“Are you an idiot?” She replied.

“What are we whispering about?”

“Shut up, Carstairs.” they both said in perfect synchronization.

“Geez,” he turned to Matty. “Parabatai, am I right?”

They all began walking in silence again. It was terribly awkward.

“Elle.” Alex whispered once more.

“What.” she hissed.

“Am I an idiot for not knowing, or—?”

“Could you be a good parabatai and stay out of my business?”

Alex frowned but obliged.

“Carstairs, take that path.” Ella pointed.

“Why?”

“Because someone has to meet Jocelyn.” Ella said, practically pushing him down the hall.

“Jocelyn’s mean.”

“She is not,” said Matty. “She just doesn’t tolerate childish behavior.”

Everybody looked at Matty and blinked. Carstairs’ mouth hung open.

Matty, having realized what she had said, covered her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Carstairs looked at her. “I’m going to ignore that comment because you are the only nice one in this cruel world, Matty. Everybody is allowed to slip at some point.”

As much as they joked about Carstairs, he was kind and understanding. They all loved each other and would never speak behind each other’s backs.

“Well, I know you will all miss me greatly. Please refrain from flooding the Institute with your tears.”

“Don’t you worry we won’t.”

The last four walked deeper into the echoing halls. They finally reached what can most accurately be described as a fork in the…hallway? Yeah, a fork in the hallway. There were three different sections splitting off.

“Should we split up?” Ella said.

“Divide and conquer.” Alex said.

Matty and Ben agreed.

They were about to split up when Alex put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“It will be alright,” he said.

Matilda gave her a tight hug. “We’ll find him,” she whispered.

Ella simply nodded, because words refused to come out of her mouth.

“We meet back here in ten minutes.”

“Be safe.” Matty said, to nobody in particular.

Ella looked down the darkened hall and without even a glance back, she walked.

One might have been frightened, but all Ella felt was restlessness. Every corner she turned, she prayed she would find her sweet nephew waiting for her. She loved him so dearly that to lose him would break her heart beyond repair.

No matter how many times she turned the corner and held her breath, hoping to find him and no matter how many places she checked and double checked, ten minutes later she had not found him.

As she was coming back, she took the opportunity to look everywhere a third time, just in case. She did not find anything.

…

Much to Ella’s despair, Alex and Matty were both waiting for her empty-handed. Alex caught her into a long embrace and Ella cried on his shirt.

“There are many people searching. One of them must have found him. The Institute is big.”

Nobody dared voice the question looming in their minds: what if he wasn’t in the institute?

Ella pulled away. She couldn’t hide in Alex’s arms; she had to face her problems, not shy away from them.

She looked at Matty and Alex’s faces. They reminded her of two concerned parents.  

As of a sudden, Matty’s eyes saw something behind Ella and they widened. Ella turned slowly, hoping it wasn’t a horrible demon. Instead, she saw Ben and holding his hand…

She ran to him, practically sliding on her knees, as she got down to hug him. His slim arms wrapped around her neck as he pressed his face into her neck. She kissed his head and hair, her arms tightening around him. She pulled away and examined his face.

“Are you alright, Owen bach?”

He simply nodded and looked over to Ben.

“Thank you.” Ella said to him.

He inclined his head toward her. She couldn’t find the words to empress her infinite gratitude.

Owen held his arms out to her once more and she pulled him into another hug. She stood up and walked. She rubbed his back and kissed his face.

“Sweet darling.” She said to him. He kept his head buried in the crook of her neck. She paced around the room a while.

“Ella, they’ll be worried.” Alex said. “We should go.”

Ella nodded and started walking toward the ballroom before realizing someone was missing.

Ella turned and saw that Ben was still rooted to his spot, perhaps unsure whether he should follow.

“Are you coming?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

He looked relieved, and caught up to her.

…

Finding Carstairs and Jocelyn is simple: Just follow the bickering.

“You found him!” Jocelyn said when she caught sight of Owen. Her eyes narrowed, “Is he all right?”

“I think he’s just a little scared.” Ella said.

“Poor darling.” Jocelyn said, stroking his cheek.

“Where’s Carstairs? We thought we heard him.”

“He’s down the hall.”

“You were arguing from down the hall?”

“Correct.”

“How did you two find something to argue about? You weren’t even in close proximity.” Alex said, sounding incredulous.

“Jesper Carstairs is a phenomenon.”

“Jocelyn is a stone cold— Owen!” Carstairs said. “What happened to him?”

Carstairs stroked Owen’s hair.

“I think he’s just scared.”

“We’ve already had this conversation.”

“Congratulations, Alex, you’ve pointed out the obvious.” Jocelyn said.

Alex put his hands up.  “Don’t attack me, Carstairs is the enemy.”

“As much as I would love to continue this conversation, we should probably get Owen back to his parents, who are probably aging five years every second we keep up this pointless chit chat.” said Matilda.

“Rude.” said everybody minus Ben, who was looking back and forth between all of them.

“You’ll get used to it.” Ella whispered to him as they walked back to the ballroom.

Ben shook his head. “It’s not that. None of you have changed since the last time I’ve seen you. It’s like watching you act out bits of childhood script.”

Ella felt a pang in her heart. They all loved their new family, but those childhood memories were sticky with nostalgia. It was back when the family left or passed away.

“Do you miss it too? The past?”

“I try not to,” Ella said. “We’ll never be able to go back, so what’s the point?”

“That’s true, but if you shove good memories into the deepest corners of your mind, you might lose them.”

“So?”

“So, what if one day, you're lonely, and you want to remember? You won’t be able to, because you’ve lost them.”

“So you’re saying when I’ll need them, I won’t be able to find them?”

“Exactly.”

“Wow, Ben. You’ve gotten so wise.” Ella said.

“I see you’ve gotten more sarcastic.”

“I am my father’s daughter. It was inevitable.”

“Oh yes, I’ve forgotten all about the Herondales and their sarcasm.”

“I’m sorry.” Ella blurted out.

“For what?”

“For what I did.”

“Ella, it’s all right.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“No. You were afraid. It’s alright to be afraid.” He said that last part a little louder. Ella realized it was probably for Owen’s benefit, and instantly shot him a grateful look.

There was a certain tension that left her. Ben was not angry. He understood. As crazy as her reasoning was, he understood and forgave her. Suddenly, she felt silly for having dreaded this talk. What had she been afraid of? Even if he didn’t forgive her, it would have been so much easier to just apologize and let him know she was sorry.

It turns out, no matter how old you get, you keep learning simple lessons.

…

Ella found her family easily enough. As soon as they walked into the ballroom, the Lightwoods were easily seen, as were the Herondales. Ella had always thought it so extremely unfair that Herondale men were always so tall, whereas Herondale women came out short as Cecily, Lucie and herself.

“Jamie!” Ella said.

James looked up and all of the tension seeped out of him. James ran to them and embrace Ella with Owen still in her arms.  

Owen lifted his head up just enough to see James and hold his arms out to his father. James lifted him and held him tight.

Ella watched Owen dig his head into James’ shirt, as though wanted to disappear into his father’s embrace. She and James exchanged a look, for they were both thinking the same thing: something was wrong.

“Daisy.”

Ella turned around and saw that Cordelia was speaking to Thomas behind them. Cordelia looked up and practically flung herself at them.

“Owen joon.” Cordelia said, cradling her son’s head in her hands.

Ella knew not to interrupt such a beautiful moment. As she walked away, Ben followed.

Ella saw Matty being equally embraced and scolded by Charlotte. Jocelyn watched away from sight, amused by her sister’s misfortunes. She found Alex sitting with Gabriel, the former with his head on the latter’s shoulder.

One moment Ella was watching her extended family, the next she was being tackled into an embrace.

“Ella, where were you?” Tessa said. “We were worried sick.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tessa held her face in her hands and Ella felt a blush creep into her cheeks. Thankfully, Ella found Ben and Carstairs talking in a distance.

“Never do that again.”

“But if I hadn’t gone, we wouldn’t have found Owen.”

“You found Owen?”

“Not me. Ben did.”

“Bless his soul. I haven’t seen him in years. You thanked him, yes?”

“Profusely.”

Tessa nodded.

Ella felt another pair of arms embrace her.

“Ella, where were you?” Will asked.

“You both ask the same questions. You are around each other too much.”

Will and Tessa smiled at each other.

“How could I stay away from my beautiful Tess?”

Ella groaned and closed her eyes, knowing that, even though her parents were lovesick puppies, she was here with them once more. She let herself stop worrying, even if it was just for a second, and relished this moment.

It would seem as though she knew what they were about to face.

Tagging: @lucieblckthorn

If you wan to be tagged for this fic series, or all of my fics, let me know!

[vannahfanfics]

The Joys of Fatherhood

Category: Family Fluff

Fandom: Gintama

Characters: Tae Shimura, Gintoki Sakata

Requested By: Anonymous User

“Gintoki!” 

Gintoki wrinkled his nose in distaste as his wife’s voice floated in from the entryway. Whenever she called him by his full name, it usually meant that he was either being scolded, inconvenienced, or both. Even after years of marriage, Gintoki was not so much in her favor to spare himself from her ire, so he peeled himself from the living room floor. Though his limbs moved, his eyes remained glued to the weather report on the screen until the very last second that his body was passing into the hallway. 

“Yeah?” he finally addressed Tae, head swiveling from a nearly one-eighty degree turn to look at her. She stood in front of the front door, slipping on her shoes and holding her clutch. Their young children ran in a circle around her, giggling loudly as they tugged insistently at the hem of her cotton kimono. 

“Mama, Mama, let us go too!” Their older child Shouyo, who was five, pleaded as he used both his hands to pull at the skirt like it would make a difference. His sister, three-year-old Ayano, parroted his words before stuffing her fist in her mouth and sucking on it. Gintoki was caught somewhere between disgust and affection as he watched drool pool at the edges of her lips and begin to dribble down her tiny wrist. 

Tae responded with a motherly tut and patted the tops of both their heads. 

“My dears, I have to go shopping in town. Mama will bring you back something nice, but please stay here with Papa today, okay?” 

Simultaneously, the two toddlers turned to fix their eyes on their tall, lanky father. As if a switch flipped, they released unearthly squeals and bounded forward to begin dashing in circles around him. Gintoki grimaced as Ayano gripped the bottom of his yukata with her grimy, spit-coated hand. 

Tae smiled charmingly at Gintoki as his frown deepened into a scowl, pink gums on full display. “Honey, I’ll be back in an hour or so. Please watch them for me?” It was phrased as a question. Gintoki theoretically could refuse. 

But he didn’t. He’d married the woman, first of all. Secondly, Gintoki Sakata was many things, but a deadbeat dad was not one of them. 

“Yeah,” he droned in a small sigh, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Tae hummed happily at his compliance, giving the three of them a little wave before she opened the front door. Ayano had finally discovered that her hand was covered in spit and began to shrilly scream, making Gintoki grimace. “Just don’t take too long, okay?” he asked in a pleading voice. 

Tae giggled and mouthed, “You’ll be fine,” before trotting out onto the porch and shutting the door behind her. 

Gintoki exhaled tiredly as the latch clicked, exhausted though his wife hadn’t even been gone five seconds. Ayano had plopped down on her butt, holding up her slobbery fist as fat tears rolled down her round cheeks and shrieking wails spilled from her gaping mouth. Gintoki rubbed the back of his neck as he regarded his screeching daughter puzzledly. 

“Ayano, Ayano,” he sighed as he crouched down to wrap his hand around her tiny wrist. “Why are you crying? It’s just spit. It can’t hurt you.” The baby girl stopped wailing for a second to blink blearily at him, sucking her snot back up into her nose. She reminds me a little of Kagura, Gintoki thought amusedly. The girl cocked her head to the side slightly as she beheld her glistening fingers. 

“Look, all you have to do is wipe it off,” he said as he tugged her to her feet. The girl giggled, refusing to bear weight on her legs so Gintoki could lift her like a ragdoll. He was careful to leave at least her feet dragging against the floor so that he didn’t risk wrenching her shoulder out of socket as he carted her into the kitchen, Shouyo following behind curiously. Gintoki snagged a dishcloth from the counter to wipe the goop from her fist. “See? All clean.” 

Ayano blinked at her now-dry hand, gave Gintoki a bright smile, and then shoved her clenched fist back into her mouth. Gintoki grimaced and just watched his daughter suck on her chubby hand. This is gonna be a long couple of hours, he thought with a small groan and rubbed his face tiredly. 

“Papa,” Shouyo asked quietly, tugging on the hem of Gintoki’s kimono. The white-haired man grunted and looked inquiringly down at his son. “M’hungry.” 

“Hungry? Mama didn’t make you lunch before she left?” That was usually Tae’s policy before running out on errands. Somehow the woman had mastered the art of cooking, though Gintoki had to stomach the myriad of trials and tribulations on the rough road to her culinary prowess. 

Shouyo puffed out his lips into a small pout. 

“Well, yeah, but… I’m still hungry. I want sweets.” 

Gintoki had to laugh; that was definitely his son, all right. He smiled in amusement down at the boy and ruffled his hair affectionately, making Shouyo smile happily. 

“All right, all right, but don’t tell Mama I let you squirts have sweets before dinner, okay? She’ll plow me through the wall, and not in a fun way,” he chuckled as he began rifling through the cabinets. After a few moments of critically inspecting the goods occupying his kitchen, he procured a container of ginger cookies coated in powdered sugar. 

His children tottered at his heels as he strode across the tatami flooring to the table. He set the box down and then grabbed Ayano under her armpits to hoist her into the chair. “Uuuuuup we go,” he grunted as he lifted her up while his daughter squealed and kicked her chubby legs elatedly. Shouyo clambered into the chair beside her, and Gintoki discreetly leaned on its rounded back as it teetered dangerously on two legs. 

“Cookies!” Shouyo squalled demandingly and slammed his fists down on the table. Ayano mimicked her elder brother, filling the air with a rhythmic pounding. Gintoki momentarily considered the efficacy of duct-taping them to the furniture and opting to just shovel cookies into their mouths. 

Tae would drop kick him through the floorboards if he did, so he saved that solution as a last resort. 

“All right, all right!” Gintoki shouted over his children’s insistent shouts and reached for the box of cookies. He tore it open with little ceremony, poured several onto plates, and then set them in front of the kids. They dove into the dishes before he’d even put them onto the wood. Gintoki watched, a little disturbed, as they tore into them ravenously, shredding them in their teeth like hyenas ripping apart a zebra carcass. He debated getting a cookie or two for himself but was admittedly a little frightened they’d sink their teeth into his hand, too. 

“Papa, don’t you want a cookie?” Ayano asked through plump, stuffed cheeks with cookie crumbs and powdered sugar coating her lips. Without awaiting his answer, the little girl held out her plate to him, offering up the last remaining cookie. “Here you go!” 

Gintoki had to admit, his heart warmed a little. 

“Why, thank you, Aya—” 

With a devious snicker, Shouyo plucked the ginger cookie from the plate and crammed it into his mouth. Gintoki just gawked at the now empty plate, rapidly going through the five stages of grief as his son relished in his cruel, insensitive prank. His little eyes glittered as he chewed on the cookie, and every crunch of its sweet crispiness broke Gintoki’s heart a little more until nothing remained but shattered shards of hopelessness. 

“Hey! That was not for you!” Ayano screeched angrily. She slammed the plate against the table and stood up in the chair, fumbling for the box of cookies. Gintoki just watched tiredly, thinking the child was just going to get another one for him. 

Instead, she dumped the box of cookies into Shouyo’s hair. 

The scream Shouyo released as sugar powder cascaded into his hair and face and cookies bounced off his head was ear-splitting. Gintoki’s body sagged as the cookies crashed onto the floor, splitting into pieces and spreading gingery sugar bits everywhere. Ayano cackled triumphantly and threw the box in Shouyo’s face to add insult to injury. Shouyo began to sob, the tears cutting rivers through the sugar coating his cheeks, and pointed angrily at Ayano. 

“She’s a meanie!” 

“You’re the meanie!” Ayano accused. “You stole Papa’s cookie!” 

“I want Tae,” Gintoki moaned and slammed his forehead against the rim of the table a few times. His children continued to squabble over his head, and Gintoki felt powdered sugar raining into his silvery hair as they flung it back and forth at each other. 

“All right. All right!” Gintoki griped in a raised voice, sitting up. The two children immediately froze, looking at him doe-eyed. Gintoki suppressed his strong desire to yell because he and Tae tried not to scold their children that way. Seeing the two coated head-to-toe in ginger cookie dust made that so very difficult, but he managed. 

“That’s enough of that now,” he exhaled sharply while pinching the bridge of his nose. “While I appreciate the back-up, Ayano, you should not have dumped cookies on your brother’s head.” 

Shouyo was still sniffling pitifully, trying to cheer himself up by licking all the crumbs from his face that his little pink tongue could reach. Ayano screwed up her face bitterly and crossed her arms with an exaggerated huff, making a show of glaring at her brother. Gintoki nudged her in the side of the head with his elbow a few times. Soon, she began giggling and swatting at his arm. 

“Papaaaaa!” she squealed and hung on his arm with a cheesy smile. Gintoki couldn’t help but smile back. His kinds may be hellions in the making, but damn it, they were so cute. 

“Apologize to Shouyo, Ayano.” 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yes, you have to, or I will tell your mother when she gets home,” Gintoki insisted with a raised eyebrow. Ayano’s face scrunched up in distaste. Tae definitely was in charge in their chaotic little family and did most of the disciplining in the household. The children were not fond of her stern talking-tos. 

Gintoki really wasn’t fond of them, either. 

“I’m sorry, Shouyo,” Ayano said begrudgingly. Shouyo, who had inherited a sweeter disposition (though they had no idea where from), nodded forgivingly as he wiped at his eyes. 

“S’okay, Ayano. I shouldn’t have taken the cookie. I was jus’ tryin’ ta be funny…” 

“Well, whatever the case, it’s over now,” Gintoki cut in before Ayano could jump into the assault again. “You’ve both gone and made a mess. What’re we going to do about that, huh? Mama will not be happy to come home and clean up, now will she?” 

The two children shook their heads in unison. 

“Right. Now, first things first, you’re going to get a bath, and then we’ll come back and clean up, all right?” 

“Yes, Papa!” they chimed. 

Gintoki inhaled in relief. Crisis successfully diffused. The children climbed down from the table and dashed off to the bathroom, leaving a trail of powdered sugar and cookie crumbs in their wake. Gintoki stared at it tiredly, already dreading the clean-up effort he’d have to undertake. Take it in stride, he told himself wearily as he headed after his children before they could tear apart the bathroom. I don’t want to hear anyone chide me about ‘the joys of fatherhood’ ever again, he thought, but the fond smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. 

Somehow, he managed to avoid any more disastrous catastrophes while giving his son and daughter a bath, though he did have to chase Ayano buck-naked around the house trying to dry her off. He only caught her when he slipped in the puddled water and flopped right on his back; she came to check on him, giving him the prime opportunity to strike and wrap her up in the fluffy towel. After dressing them, he limped to the kitchen, nursing his aching back while the two children were glued to the television watching their favorite afternoon cartoon. Gintoki deflated as soon as he saw the mess he had to clean, leaning against the counter with a groan. 

Tae found him there thirty minutes later, laying on the floor with his arm slung over his eyes, snoozing. She crouched down beside him with an amused hum and stroked his bangs out of his face when he lifted his arm to gaze tiredly at her. 

“Worn out?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Apparently, you’re not the only one.” 

Gintoki looked down with raised eyebrows to see his children curled into his side, one on each side. Shouyo had his thumb stuck between his lips, while Ayano, snoring quietly, had her tiny hand latched onto the front of his shirt. A smile bloomed on Gintoki’s lips, and he reached down to gently stroke her hair while using the other to hug Shouyo to his side. Tae watched him with eyes lidded in pure love. 

She then tapped her thighs, making to get up and mumbling something about making dinner. Gintoki’s hand snatched up to pull her down on her rump, making her squeak in shock. Gintoki forcibly maneuvered her to snuggle next to him. As Ayano was squeezed between them, she mumbled something incoherent before flipping on her side to nuzzle into Tae’s stomach. Tae smiled as her daughter pawed at her front, then looked unsurely at Gintoki. 

“Gintoki! What about dinner?” 

“Later,” he groaned, tucking her head into his shoulder. “Nap first.” 

Tae’s face scrunched up like she wanted to argue. Then, she released a quiet sigh and obediently cuddled into him, looping her arm over the front of his chest. As she hummed in contentment, Gintoki closed his eyes, drifting back into the comfortable twilight of half-sleep. 

The joys of fatherhood, all right, he thought with a small smile as he hugged his family a little closer. Who knew…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[rhyaxxyn]

Madame Foruj was fuming when she dragged Amaranthine into the House of Halos, her freshly manicured nails digging into her upper arm. Perhaps it was because she ate too much for breakfast this morning, or that she was covered head to toe in leaves and mud. Probably the ladder.

She was shoved around the corner, passing a number of giggling girls and women who watched her, hoping her punishment would knock her down a peg. As if being the prize of Foruj was a bragging right. Still, Amara gazed at one of the workers her age, Serao, who was smirking at her, and winked. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the girl’s smile turn into a scowl. Again she was shoved, and she lost track of the chestnut-haired girl.

At last, Madame Foruj pushed her into her rooms, face pinched like always, making useless promises and threats as she she called for the high-class maids she had especially for Amara. Frankly, Amara expected her lecture to last hours. Last time she got in trouble, the Madame had lectured while she was in the tub, and then when she was drying off... while she was dressing. But Foruj left with a slam of the door, Amaranthine’s hanging silk textiles waving in her wake. Even the maids flinched, but Amrar stared at the spot Foruj once stood.

Maybe she got off lucky. That’s what she hoped as the maids pulled her gently into the bathroom, nimble hands stripping her of her muddy blouse and trousers. The moment the wrap around her breasts was unwound, she was covered in a robe, her hair expertly tied up to keep from ruining the expensive material.

In the next hour, steam filling the bathroom, the dirt was scrub from her skin. She would complain about how rough they were being, but she was used to the sting at this point. In fact, she preferred the stiff brushes to Foruj’s beatings.

“Did you hear about the man Madame Foruj is bringing in, M’lady?” Her heart stilled when the maid brushing her hair spoke, voice like the crunch of an autum leaf. She had nothing to fear, the price of her entire body was too high for anyone in Kayala except those in the Court of Glory--but they wouldn’t bother with her. Not when they knew she was nothing more than a nameless, and the whole daughter of Khozyain lie was a selling point.

Sometimes, men would purchase a kiss from her for good health, a date for luck. Then, occasionally, her more intimate dealings were bought, but she had yet to be marked. If she had, then she could’ve already gotten out of the House of Halos.

Amaranthine quieted her mind and heart and asked, “What man?”

“A thief she bailed out from a small village a few towns away.” Right. Foruj had left not long ago to visit her sister in Castyhi. “She intends to make him into your guardian.”

Amara had to hold in her laugh. A guardian? Oh god, Foruj was really at the end of her rope. Did she actually think hiring some random person would stop her from being a nuisance?

She bit down on her smile and leaned into the hands of the maid brushing her hair. Well, even if this thief proved to be an annoyance, he could be entertainment of some sort.

“What’s his name?” she wondered, sounding entirely impassive. The maid behind her paused and tried to remember, the cogs in her head turning. Amara loved her maids. They heard all the things Amara would never hear on her own. Ten ears were better than two.

---

Amara sat in silence in Foruj’s office, shuffling a deck of oracle cards she had bought with the little earnings she was given on a monthly basis. It was all she could hope to do with the man sitting in the chair in front of her, eyes everywhere but her. She inspected him a long time when she was sure he was looking at the expensive landscape painting on the opposite wall.

He had hair as white as the stars in the sky, long enough to tell him he didn’t come from the higher classes, but short enough to tell her he still cared about his appearance. His calculating, eternally bored green eyes seemed hard and ready for any threat, even here. The thief--which she had to keep reminding herself that he was--had good posture and a pretty face, gaunt like most other citizens of Kayala, but his eyes were deep set and heavy-lidded. He must hail from Shenzou then, or the border. There were plenty of girls from Shezhou in the House of Halos for the men whose tastes were, according to Foruj, “eastern.”

She scowled as she split her deck. One day, she’d get out of here. She’d leave all of Aniveroseá, smuggle herself onto a ship and sail west until this damned holy city was only a memory.

For now, she’d find ways to entertain herself.

“It’s Soryn, right?” she mused, running her fingers over the edge of a card, feeling for something to  pulse into her. When nothing came, she suffled again.

Meanwhile, the thief finally looked at her. “Yes,” he said. No accent, at least not one he revealed. He must’ve been born here then.

“Any last name?” Soryn made no effort to answer her. “Ah, you’re nameless then.” She offered up a smile. Finally, the pulse ran through her fingers. Amara looked down and flipped the cards as she said, “You’ll fit in here perfectly. Not a single girl here was born named.”

Suddenly her hands froze. There were three cards before her, all in the major arcana. In fact, it was the first three; the fool, the high priestess, and the empress. Amara looked up at him, eyes narrowed. Why would the universe have played a role in his arrival?

She slowly put the cards back in her deck.

“Not even the daughter of Khozyain?” he asked.

Amara laughed, although it was forced all the way from her lungs to her mouth. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

“No.” Soryn shook his head, and for the first time since she’d met him, he lips tugged up into a ghost of a smile. “Not for a moment.”

“Then a religious man.” She pushed her cards aside and leaned forward a bit. Foruj wouldn’t like that her greatest item was so interested--not when Amara had been taught that being mysterious and distance lured in more men, but Foruj wasn’t here.

His smile grew. “I don’t consider myself a con man in such a respect.”

She laughed, short and sweet, pushing back into the velvet chair. Her corset protested, shoving into the walls of her ribcage, making her breathing short.

At least he had a sense of humor.

“Then in what respect are you a conman?” she wondered, turning her gaze back on him. “Daggers? Hearts? Magic?” When she said it, Soryn’s eyes fell to the deck of cards, lingering there longer than they he should’ve allowed them. Had he seen what she pulled for him then? Did he know the meaning?

“Coins,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t have your gifts, M’lady.”

But even as he said it she knew it was a lie. Everyone had magic, even if only an ounce, and had the universe truly sent him to her, then Soryn had more than he knew.

There was more she could say, but her time alone with him was limited, and as soon as Madame Foruj came into her office Amara would have to be the obedient lady she’d been taught to be, even though Soryn was to be stuck with her. She crossed her legs, folded her hands on top of her lap. Soryn’s eyes caught on her, and then flicker to the door. At least he understood her duty, but she needed to know his.

“May I ask what your intentions are, nameless?” It was no insult. Rather, it was an alliance. If she was to be stuck with him, she may as well know if he stood with or against her.

Soryn’s gaze slipped away from the door, back to the painting. “To protect you, nameless.” He tweaked his fingers, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a single card slip out of her deck. Amara blinked.

The doorknob clicked, and she quickly shoved her cards behind her, keeping the one he pulled out hidden her sleeve.

Madame Foruj stepped into her office, raven wing hair swept over her shoulders, and was met with a thief and concubine who seemed to not give a damn about the other’s existence. She huffed and went over to her desk, making a point of readjusting Amara’s legs as she did so. As her master took a seat at her desk, beginning to go over the terms of Soryn’s guardianship, Amara slipped the card out of her sleeve just enough to see which it was.

She smiled softly and pushed it back in. Two of cups.

She was going to enjoy Soryn’s presence much more than she originally expected.

THE MAJOR ARCANA | WATTPAD (not published yet) | WIP PAGE

Taglist (pls ask to be +\-)

@azrance @sautrns @talesofthedivine

[madlymiho]

Scenario: next part of Ace and his Marine. Marineford. She's gotta go all out to save this pirate that she somehow fell in love with, though she still wouldn't say it to his face. Ace has to live!! Angst me up!!! Thank you, Miho!!

Eddddddddie!!! You don’t know how much I was WAITING for this!! 😩😩😩

Such a damn pleasure to work on this scenario, again, I loooooove this story so much! Hope this will suit your little heart, my friend, that was so ANGSTY to throw myself back in the memories of Marineford.

Words : 2819

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Ace scenario : Save Ace! (read after the cut)

Her heart is about to stop. Her legs almost unable to lift her. Down there, on the frozen place, it’s an incredible mess. The Whitebeard’s crew, but also Luffy and his strange allies, are all fighting against the Marines. But for her, it’s not so easy to pick a side today. First because she has tried to help Ace a few days ago, begging him not to look for Blackbeard, throwing her vows to Akainu and his total justice to the ground. They have kissed, and for some reasons, she still feels his burning lips on her mouth, and the sweet scent of his body surrounding her. Second, because now, she’s nothing but stateless. Fighting with the Marines feels terribly wrong. She can’t barely look at any of them in the eyes, too ashamed to call them brothers or sisters, has she has deliberately tried to save Ace. 

Save Ace. Everyone seems to need this, at the moment. All those pirates, combatting the Justice as one man, despite their gripes and pasts; all the hate they once have sensed gone in order to reach the same goal. She’s lost. And terrified. Earlier, Ace has almost died in front of her eyes, the blades of the two executioners only stopped thank to Crocodile and his sand power. She has fallen on her knees, her eyes full of terror, and despair, watching the man she desperately loves dying in front of her. And now, this terrible feeling sticks to her soul, softly whispering her that she’s on the wrong side of the battle. She knows it. It’s hurtful to admit it, but she knows that she can’t live without him. Ace might be a pirate, a terrible teaser than she wishes to slap and insult… Yet, she doesn’t want him to die. She wants to feel his lips seeking for hers one more time, and his strong arms circling her body to hold her close. 

“What the hell is Garp doing?” A marine snaps near her, and she has no choice but to look up, one more time. 

Her heart wrenches when she notices that Luffy is now running on some new stone stairs, chasing for his big brother. He’s climbing fast, and she watches his assumption, her fingers holding her mallet with all her strength. She wishes she can encourage him, cheers his race, throwing away her guilty feelings to fully embrace her real nature. It really feels like this is what she really needs at the moment. But Garp is in the middle of Luffy’s way, and she doesn’t know if this young little man has the strength to fight the Hero of the Marine. However, despite her strong doubts about the situation, and before she can perfectly understand the situation, the scaffold is broke down, and the entire place sets on fire. She barely has time to jump aside and avoids a critical injury, yet, she doesn’t really care about her own health at the moment. She tries to understand what just happened, and for a moment, her heart is squeezed inside her chest, as she already imagines the worse. 

“Please…Please,” she only manages to whisper, her hand gripping hard the handle of her mallet. 

He must be alive. He has no choice but to remain alive ; otherwise she’s losing everything. She knows that if his heart stops, hers wouldn’t make it. But as soon as she’s sure that everything is done, she notices a sudden radiance coming up in the air. A soft glow which suddenly turns into a ravenous fire, and soon enough, Fire Fist Ace is like a devilish angel, holding his little brother to come down from the scaffold, jumping between his men down in the place. She runs to avoid the fall of many fragments, now as well in the middle of the crowded place, where the pirates cheer violently the return of their beloved captain. Her mind is boiling shamelessly, trying to figure out what she could do at the moment, and finally, she decides that it’s more than time to act. As she turns her head, she notices that one of the soldier who has been in charge of the execution tries to run away. She frowns, then jumps forwards to catch this person, recognizing someone with a 3 shaped with his hair, and who could be a great value at the moment. 

***

“You’re a coward,” a voice shouts as he runs behind Luffy and Marco to join the ships and escape this war. “You’re just like your father!” 

Ace stops his race, his heart falling deep into the depth of his guts. He recognizes that voice ; he has heard it many times. He turns around and faces the lovely marine girl he loves for many months now. She looks at him right in the eyes, her face scratches here and there, and her uniform seriously ripped in many places. She takes a step forwards, not even blinking, more determined that she has ever been before. Ace doesn’t really know what she’s looking for at the moment. He pinches his lips together and clenches his fist, ready to take care of it if need be. 

“Stay back, Name.” He says with a serious voice, far from his usual teasing habits. “Please, don’t come any closer.” 

“Or what?” She answers furiously, lifting her mallet from the ground as she’s now ready to fight. “You’re going to play like Whitebeard? You’re going to make me a beautiful speech about friendship, or love, and then you’re going to run away? You’re such a coward! Just like him! I hate all the pirates like your damn father!” 

Ace can’t believe what she has just said. She must know, how important Whitebeard is for him, and how it’s imprudent to tease his emotions on such a sensitive subject. She must know it, and yet, she’s standing in front of him, this furious gleam inside her irises, while she can’t control her words. Ace slowly raises his fist in the air, setting it on fire, hoping that she would understand that she needs to remain quiet. He’s a man of honor, and if she ever tries to insult his father again, she would suffer from the consequences. 

“Don’t try to pretend that you will attack me, Fire Fist” She smirks, so close right now that Ace can almost touch her skin with his flames. “Turn around and run, this is what pirates under Whitebeard’s orders usually do.” 

Ace is so furious, he wishes that she actually shuts her mouth. She keeps provoking him, and he clearly doesn’t understand what’s the point of being so mean, after all they have shared before that particular moment. That kiss was real, he knows it. Her feelings weren’t an utopia, and she has promised him to keep his hat safely. Why would she try to harm him, right now? Why trying to make him believe that none of their feelings are real? But before he could perfectly analyze the situation, she suddenly jumps forwards and tries to pelt him with all her strength. Ace feels that deep fury in her gesture, and more than wrathful because he has been so wrong about her, he decides to fight back. This time, there’s no teasing anymore. They fight like two enemies would do, every hits and every strikes here to harm the other. He feels that his fists sometimes touch her skin, and her rageous screams only prove how much he hurts her. He hates every minutes of it, but since she wants to play that way, he can’t let her saying these things without being lectured. She seems to have chosen her side, and truth is, perhaps it’s for the best. Now, he can properly fight her, his love but also his deception boiling inside his chest like a magma he can’t control. 

“Now!” She suddenly yells, pushing Ace with her gigantic mallet with all her strength. “Now, 3, now!” 

Ace frowns and catches his breath back. He turns his head to find the person who she addresses to, and only finds the deadly stare of Akainu on them, looking at their fight with some suspicion in his stare. She doesn’t seem to talk to him, and for a moment, Ace believes that she only fights him to avoid Akainu to face him. Ace curls his lips, disgusted by this man behaviors. He suddenly feels the handle of her mallet propulsed inside his stomach, and for a moment, he remains breathless, bending down as he looks back at her. She’s crying now. The look on her face is entirely different. Ace spits on the ground and straightens up, making a step forwards. What is she trying to do? She doesn’t want to hurt him anymore and he can tell it, but she keeps fighting. Is it because Akainu doesn’t trust her?

“I’m so sorry Ace…,” She whispers, lifting once again her hammer, pitifully staggering on her legs. “I…This is the only way…,” 

She seems almost lifeless, her white uniform burnt and torn everywhere, her face covered with bruises and dirt. Ace can’t even lift his fists anymore. He wants her to stop. He wishes that he could run and catch her waist, force her to stop her useless fight, and convince her to stay with him. But even if she’s shaking from her hair to her toes, her hand doesn’t move. Her digits are the only part of her who don’t hesitate, strongly maintaining their grip on her handle, as she looks at his face and tries to find some comfort on his features. However Ace remains impassible. He lets down his guard, and for some reasons, he accepts whatever she wants to do. He’s too heartbroken to actually remain mad at her, and he clearly doesn’t want to fight anymore. He understands that she needs to do something, and deep down, his instinct yells at him to trust her. To have faith, no matter what. 

“Name, there’s a submarine!” A particular voice screams at her, and Ace perfectly notices that spark of hope inside her eyes. “It’s now or never!” 

“That’s…,” she turns her head to look at the sea, tears falling on her cheeks, as a brightful smile grows on her lips. “That’s… Yes…!” 

Ace tries to spot her partner in crime, but he has no time to do it, because she seems more determined than before, and raises her weapon up in the air. He only manages to notice the odd shape of a 3 on the head of someone and a pill of wax next to them. 

“Wait, Name!” Ace tries to argue one more time ; but it’s already too late. 

And just like that, she closes her eyes, and with the most powerful swing of her body, she pelts him directly into the sea. Ace feels a few of his ribs crack during his fall. For a moment, he’s suspended in the air, his body flying over the ships and the battle, as if he’s already on his way for another world. He feels the wind blows his raven hair, and the weight of the world ripping his stomach apart. He thinks about everyone on that place, who has tried to rescue him, the laughter of his little brother suddenly bursting into his mind like a firework in the middle of the night. He’s ashamed. After all of his brother’s journey, all the risks he took to save him, he has abandoned the fight almost easily. He hopes that his brother would understand, that sometimes, when you love someone really deeply, you can’t raise your arms anymore, and refuse to hurt them, even if it leads you to your end. 

“Ace!” Someone yells, and a second before he digs into the cold sea, he perfectly pictures her body falling next to him. 

She tries to reach his hand, but as soon as their fingers softly brush, she lets out a painful cry, drops of scarlet blood splashing his own shocked face. She has been shot by a massive flying object ; a stack that she couldn’t avoid, probably sent by Whitebeard himself. Ace doesn’t even have time to catch her ; his body touches the salty and dangerous water, transforming him as a numb and useless puppet. He tries to desperately swim, screaming her name in the water as he vision becomes awfully blurry. His strength diminishes while his body keeps digging into the sea, his brain still on fire, trying his best to fight over the awful law of the nature when it comes to devil fruit users. 

But then, he feels a strong grip circling his waist, as someone is pulling him back at the surface. He can’t move his arms nor his legs, only focus on his dying breathing while he’s about to reach the fresh air up there. When he’s finally able to catch his breath, he furiously coughs and tries to call her name, his eyes desperately looking everywhere. 

“Don’t move like that!” A male voice screams at him, and Ace eventually notices that there’s something else than his body in the water. 

He turns his head and almost freaks out to come face to face with a gigantic polar bear in an orange suit. 

“Do you have him, Bepo?” Another voice shouts impatiently, right above their heads. 

“Yes, captain!” 

Ace raises his chin, furrowing his eyebrows because of the bright sun, unable to recognize the odd shape of the ship that the polar bear is strongly gripping. He pinches his lips when he feels that the talking animal is lifting him up, and before he can ask who the hell are these people, his back hits the metal deck of the submarine almost violently. Ace gasps and rolls on his hips, putting his hand against his ribs as the pain is almost unbearable. For a moment, he feels like he can’t move anymore, but he suddenly remembers that he saw her falling with him in the water. With difficulty, he finds the strength to stand back up, holding the metal rail boarding the deck, his eyes looking for any sign of her. He suddenly freezes when he finally spots a white human form floating at the surface of the ocean, a puddle of blood surrounding her body. Ace grips the barrier with all his strength, but a strong palm on his shoulder prevents him to stupidly jump in the ocean. 

“Look down,” a lazy voice says, the one of the captain of the submarine, Trafalgar Law. “It’s not her, there. It’s a body made of wax.” 

He immediately obeys, gazing down to the bottom of the submarine to finally see that two men are lifting a marine girl up to the deck. Ace ignores his own pain, and vividly jumps down to hang at the rail of the submarine, in order to extend his hand and tries his best to help the two men with her wounded body, gripping her uniform more than desperately to lift her over the metal bar. As soon as she’s safe on the deck, Ace drops on his knees and brushes her face, his eyes first looking at her scratches and bruises on her cheeks, to finally look at the stake stuck in her shoulder. 

“Name…,” Ace whispers, sitting behind her to lift her back against his torso. “Name, don’t you dare die on me…,” 

He circles her waist, gently putting some tender kisses on her temple, while he listens to her weak but present breathing. She coughs and spits some water, and after a moment, she manages to open her eyes, blinking because of the sun above their heads. 

“I’m…I’m the one who’s rescuing you, idiot…” She manages to answer, her powerless fingers finding their way to his arm. 

Ace laughs, even if his vision is full of tears. He tucks a strand of her damp hair behind her ear, unable to contain his emotions at this point. 

“That was very lame, if you really want to have a review of your work,” Ace jokes as he cries and smiles at the same time, his fingers brushing her face carefully. 

“Get lost, Fire Fist,” she smiles back, yet suddenly grimaces because of her wound. “It was a perfect plan because I’m so much better than you at saving your ass.” 

“Oï, Oï, you’re done, love birds?” Law says, slightly annoyed by their behaviors as he comes right in front of them and sighs loudly. “Your girlfriend gots a stack in the shoulder if you haven’t notice, Portgas D. Ace.” 

Ace nods, ready to let her go to have some medical assistance, but she grabs his arm and throws a deadly look to the doctor captain. 

“Who the hell are you calling his girlfriend?” She hisses, before she collapses against Ace’s chest, absolutely drained after her fight. 

But the job is done. She saved Portgas D. Ace. 

[skyystars]

oc info about all my ethermourne stuff below the cut, if anyones interested! it is. a lot. 

edit: after writing this what the fuck thats so much- if you have any questions about them please dont hesitate to ask but i would not blame you if you took one look at this post and ran HSJDFH there’s like 35 listed and thats still not all of them. zoinks

ethermourne is your typical dnd esque world. theres two kinds of people in the world, commonfolk and enchanted, and enchanted are people that can use various forms of magic. in the current story, a secret underground rebellion is going on against the kingdom, in order to free enchanted and bring justice to the world. theres a million and one characters here so bear w me. all characters belonging to my friends are marked with a *

on the black rock pirate ship,

captain shining - a fierce and protective leader. human. she’d do anything for her crew. commonfolk. damn near unstoppable with a sword. lifelong partner to orion ethermourne

johnathan bramwell - the first mate. human. quiet and reserved but goofy when he opens up. storm mage. lover of the sky- hates being in crowded areas on land. intelligent, loves to read and write letters. eventual boyfriend to nordwood thatch

aspen* (no lastname i dont think?) - boatswain. human. somber and stoic, a bit detached. big on family. half blind. ice mage. acts as a father figure to delphi

calvin - carpenter. old soul. human. does a lot of the heavy lifting for the ship. excellent storyteller. fire mage. usually brings some sort of wisdom or moral to someone on the ship.

nellie - cooper. human. misses her family, but has a heart of gold for the ship. scottish- often times hard to understand. ability to turn invisible. has a crush on tobi

galen* - doctor. timid and polite. wants to help people, will sacrifice his own health and safety to look after someone else. human(?). necromancer. arrived on the ship with enmea and quickly became like a brother to kaido

delphi - gunner. a young girl, easily excitable and a bit of a romantic. human. looks out for the people her age on the ship, acts sisterly to them. able to read a few moments into the future. 

kaido - navigator. young, free spirited, reckless. human. flight and telekinesis. eager to fight or find adventure. causes trouble. protects enmea like a younger sister, and is looked after by galen, who he eventually accepts as an older brother.

enmea* - powder monkey. goblin, steals and bargains with the crew for fun but never means any real harm. witty and sarcastic. illusion and misdirection magic. especially loves to bother bramwell and nordwood with her antics. 

faine* - cook. satyr. loves to be the life of a party. has lived many years and mostly achieved peace but like, loves to dick around. plantaemancer. has a big crush on aspen. 

nordwood percival thatch* - bard. half sun elf. cocky, expensive tastes, confidence, and flirty. magic can summon figures of light/magic to do his bidding/can impact emotions of people in vicinity. hopelessly in love with bramwell.

-

on land,

artemis ethermourne - the king of the empire. sun elf. main antagonist. commonfolk. younger brother of orion and husband to rietta

orion ethermourne - original leader of the rebellion. sun elf. warlock (jack of all trades), considered one of the most powerful of his time. was publicly executed by his brother when caught. left apprentice muriel in charge. partner of shining.

muriel becker* (murr) - aasimar enchanted. missing his halo due to an incident he doesnt mention. wants to become skilled in magic and art. raven symbolism- along with having his own companion raven, keeha. very tired and stressed. secretly dating amaris.

amaris hayles* (mars) - hunter/scout, commonfolk. drow/moon elf. dry humor, but a lot goes over his head. responsible and caring, looks out for much of the rebellion. doesnt talk much. dating muriel.

chevel troubleice - inventor, commonfolk. human. low self esteem but he’s Trying. interested in alchemy and learns more about magic through his teacher, murr.

evercon archer - enchanted rebel scout. wood elf. air magic. considers himself a loner. nomadic, feigns a know-it-all attitude. doesnt like cities. under technical responsibility of amaris. eventually falls for woodrow.

tuka archer - enchanted rebel worker. wood elf. fire mage. responsible for helping safe travel for other through the woods. fur trader. big social personality, loves people and doesnt care too much what anyone thinks of him. brother to evercon and eventual lover to phinehas.

phinehas* - aasimar. i assume hes enchanted but now im actually not... sure....???? omg. anyway he’s soft, kindhearted and a poet. loves to write and is into theater. level headed for the most part. in love with tuka, ex of murr but on good terms!! theyre still friends

woodrow jace andes* - enchanted tiefling bard. extremely sad but makes jokes to cope. sad jokes. the kind that make everyone else uncomfortable. necromancer. lives in a fucking dragon skeleton which is kind of badass. is embarrassingly soft for evercon.

vaughn hayles* - moon elf. idk if he’s enchanted or nah. protector, guardian, soft spoken. looks after a village, family means a lot to him (despite being unmarried). amaris’ dad.

elena bramwell - human, commonfolk, deceased. was small and determined. bram remembers her fondly, and recalls that she enjoyed music and dance, as well as having a talent for making flowercrowns and storytelling. bramwell’s mother. 

tobi* - tavernkeep. commonfolk. he is liddol and irish and knows how to play the banjo. has a massive crush on nellie. i love him dearly

-

on the sundancer pirate ship,

captain sylvan skybridge - enchanted human. light magic. is very tired but patient with his crew. false confidence has kept him going for almost a decade and hes not stopping now. only slightly concerned about... everyone on his ship

paige* - first mate. commonfolk witch, able to just barely cast spells and enchant objects. jack-of-all-trades, cunning, and incredibly clever at problem solving. mothers the crew if anyones in need. has a crush on michael.

michael grey* - doctor. commonfolk? enchanted? we just don’t know. a little disillusioned with reality. can see ghosts and has a small gang that follows him everywhere. sylvan and paige are the only crew members hes vaguely familiar with. has a crush on paige. **note: michael has 4 ghosts that follow him but im not listing them here just yet hh

ashton everett* - gunner. commonfolk human. fearless, exhausted of the shenanigans, genuinely just looking for a hot siren girlfriend and dismantling the monarchy. 

oscar* - boatswain. chaotic, will start a fight- but hes pretty terrible at getting himself out of trouble. needs tucked in at night. inseparable from lew.

lew* - boatswain. calm, collected, used to oscar’s antics. helps take care of the ship, has a turtle. 

rhubarb* - cook. human enchanted. plant powers. just trying to get along with everybody. don’t insult his cooking he’s trying his hardest. probably the oldest on the ship.

waverly* - enchanted human. like a bird selkie, can turn into a raven. spends a lot of her time this way. escaped from a traveling circus and joined the crew to help free others like her. 

cloud* - siren. tried to bring down the sundancers crew to prove herself, failed miserably and ended up liking them all. flirts relentlessly but is god awful at it. 

-

additional notes:

-some of them exist in a modern au, mainly involving bram/nord/mars/murr as a ghost hunting gang who always finds themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. bram and mars form a brotherly bond over time. in modern au elena is discovered to be alive. vaughn winds up falling in love with her (it is very cute).

-i often draw sylvan and captain ryan of the silent requiem. this pirate ship belongs to my friend sept and is placed in her own world, so none of that crew is mine ;w; most of their shenanigans are in a crossover state where a very sylvan begs ryan to teach him what to do as a captain, and ryan looks after him like a son (though he’d fucken deny it). young syl is far too curious for his own good and gets into trouble a lot. sorry dad

creds: galen, aspen, enmea, faine, nord, murr, mars, tobi, phinehas, woodrow, vaughn, and paige are all characters that belong to my friend bee. michael grey belongs to my friend jake. ashton belongs to my friend rueben.  oscar and lew belong to my friend kenzie. rhubarb belongs to my friend pasta. waverly belongs to my friend cal. cloud belongs to my friend sara. 

[triviaggukcore]

her blooming flower | prologue

prologue | one

→summary: you’ve known him since you were just a young girl during his trainee days. He watched you grow into a woman, but he’s always hated you from day one for whatever reason it may be. To you, he thought of you as a nobody. But what you weren’t aware of was a secret that he never wanted you to know

→pairing: enemy!jungkook x dancer!reader

→word count: 1.4k

→genre: angst, fluff, implied smut, maybe smut??, crack

→a/n: This is my first ever little series from the inspiration of someone else’s story I enjoyed reading (you know who you are). So this either may be good or not great depending on the reader’s opinion. So I’m hoping it turns out great for others. Enjoy! Part one will be out soon my loves. I’m working on it!

People around found you as the most sincere person out there. Mainly you were super nice and sweet, very caring. It was hard for anyone to have a dislike towards you. And if anyone was ever mean, the only thing you do is smile. You wouldn’t dare to defend yourself or even cry. Well, maybe you would find yourself crying if it deeply gets to you, knowing that you are pretty sensitive sometimes.

You barely know anyone who hates you, except one. Jeon Jungkook. One of the main vocalists of the Korean boy band that everyone around the entire world loves, BTS. Now how could an idol find distaste in you? Well, you grew up with him. You moved to South Korea from your country when you were only 12, not knowing any single word spoken there. Your mother who is the owner of a well known dance studio decided to move her business to Seoul. You grew up with a love for ballet and contemporary, soon then hip hop, from your mother’s influence. And then you also had huge passion for writing in general just because of the many books your dad has written as an author.

Back in your mom’s studio where you met your best friend Jess, she invited you to visit this new entertainment company that opened a few years ago called BigHit, and she was hired to be a music producer there. Jess came from the UK and is fairly a couple years older than you, so she’s considered a big sister that you can rely on for anything as you two became close. Being introduced to the world of K-Pop wasn’t something new to you before you moved to South Korea. Apparently, PSY and his glorious debut of Gangnam Style was brought to the radio in your country. But that was all you knew about. It was a random hit of a different language. You knew nothing about K-Pop until you moved to the country.

Your friend, Jess mentioned about you and your charisma talent in dance to Bang Si Hyuk, the CEO of BigHit, and she even addressed to JYP+SM Entertainment about you. Since then, you received offers to be a trainee for a girl group, but you declined all those offers. You weren’t sure of being an idol nor were you even sure on if you wanted to do anything that has to do with being a famous entertainer. You were really young and you only wanted to go to school, go home, then go to dance class. Your mom however, thought you should grow a little older to know the decision. And by the time you were 15, you wanted to be a choreographer and even dance behind famous singers. But at the time, you were just attending school and choreographing for dance recitals and competitions.

Back to Jungkook. You first met him during his trainee days, and it wasn’t a pleasant first meet. The day you went to visit the company, you were curious to see the dance studio they had. And so you went to wander off there. Frankly, they had some drinks, so you got yourself a smoothie as you walked around. When you found the dance studio, you were amazed by it as you found the atmosphere new and something you’ve never seen before. It was modern, very bright, and plain yet nice. Then you realized that the company was debuting a new boy band soon in the summer, so maybe this was the studio that they’ll be using for dance practices. You haven’t met the group or even any of the members yet, but supposedly Jess did.

It is then until when a voice startled you from behind, causing you to turn around and spill your delicious strawberry smoothie on the person. Your mouth opens in shock as you found yourself standing in front of a guy who’s almost 10 inches taller than you, despite your 12 year old figure standing at just 5 feet. The boy was definitely older than you, but obviously young. He had a black raven hair with dark brown doe eyes with snow yet golden skin. Usually, you’re not one who sees any attractive boys or even had many crushes, but boy, you thought he’s really cute. He looks at you with a furious gaze, his white shirt now drenched with a huge pink stain on it.

You, being the courteous person, gave a huge apology to the boy and even tried to wipe the stain off. But he was so angry that he totally spat many unpleasant words at you. To your response, you flinched from even the fact that he kicked you out and you felt bad. Who was this poor boy and what is he doing here at BigHit Entertainment? And then it came to mind that he could be one of the trainees for the new boy band.

Turns out, he was. And his name is Jeon Jungkook.

Ever since the smoothie incident, you became the one and only target that was easy for him to throw a countless amount of insults and make fun of you when you started coming to the company almost everyday with Jess.

You watched him grow just with the same amount of time as he watched you grow. The time when you started growing boobs, your body developing curves and a butt that makes it obvious. Jungkook started developing a more lean and muscular body with a sharp jawline and more of an attractive handsome face. All of that, he eventually got himself a girlfriend, in which she also dislikes you. It’s obvious Jungkook told her about how much you annoy him. There was even an unfortunate fact that you even started to have a crush on him. You liked the boy since day one. But he could never know that, you never wanted him to know. He hates you and wants nothing to do with you.

Hate has never crossed your mind nor even you being encountered with someone who wants nothing, but to make you feel miserable and constantly insult you hasn’t even once entered your life either.

But today is where that status does change. They say you should ignore people who persistently try to bring you down, but as for yourself, that’s the most difficult to deal with. You feel confusion. Why does Jungkook strongly dislike you? How could he be so sincere to others but super obnoxious to you? He’s nice, kind, very funny. All to everyone. Not you.

And, he’s got the looks of a gorgeous and mysterious specimen that has girls drooling for him. But since he is that much of an unpleasant person, isn’t that really what makes it the worst thing ever in a guy who has these traits? He’s the man every girl wants but can’t have. He’s got the girl that every other female wants to be. It’s hard for you to believe how they actually find themselves standing and let their body hormones do the rest. The ladies love him.

How famous can he get? He’s part of a worldwide famous boy band from South Korea. He can balance school, his career, and his relationship at a easy level. So he’s got the life he worked for. It’s weird to see him on a daily basis. You see him almost everywhere you go since one of your best friends is close to his band members, and to also add, is dating one of them. She drags you sometimes to at least spend quality time with the boys, but how could you maintain a comfortable time with them when there’s one person who intentionally tries to make it all worse and cause you wanting to leave almost all the time?

If anything, you are trying to be the best successful individual woman you can be without him trying to step on your block and ruin the sculpture. Yet, you let him every time. You can’t help your feelings… if that’s what they may be. What you ever wanted since day one was peace and to be concluded from him. But you can’t. There’s no way you can face him with defense, even if there’s a chance that there may be a one sided devotion. His words that he tells you everyday always pop up in your head when you wake up in the morning and when your eyes close at night.

You’re nothing but a nobody.