#reader. our rooms are parallel. we share a wall. there is NO WAY she can see my lamp from her bed.

[sunflowersolace]

my sister has a friend over and i just heard her complain about the sound of me typing like she and her friend haven’t been screaming for the past 3 hours

[rommahh]

Better

Word Count: 3.9K

Pairing: Buckybarnesxfem!reader

{This is for @metalbuckaroo's challenge. I had this brewing for a minute but college has got in a chokehold. I chose prompt #30 from the given prompt list. I hope y'all like this read. Love, R}

Bucky trailed behind Y/N as she ignored his calls. Her boots clicked loudly in the small hallway as she rushed towards their shared apartment. Her keys shook in her hand, body tense with anxiety and anger.

Bucky reached her at the door, his hands loosely gripping her arms. Y/N shoved the door open, her body snapping away from his. Y/N haphazardly throws her keys in the small bowl that sat on the hallway side table.

Her chest heaved with deep breaths as she tried to remain calm.

“Y/N please, what is going on? Why are you so mad?” Bucky questioned, slamming the door behind him as his own frustrations started to catch up with him.

“I'm going to bed.” Is all she said to him without even meeting his eyes. She was quick to enter her room and lock the door before he could say anymore. Bucky stood behind her door in confusion. His body still tingled with the lasting effects of the shots he took hours prior.

Sitting on your bed, Y/N finally released. Her shoulders dropped, her body hunching over itself as the tears started flowing.

Y/N had been looking for Bucky for what felt like hours. He was her ride back to the apartment and having been at this party for over four hours- she was exhausted. There was a twinge of disappointment that lingered in her caused by Bucky's disappearance. He invited her to this party tonight but quickly left her to her own devices the moment the both of them walked through the frat’s doors.

The house was mainly empty except for the few lingering bodies that were drunkenly wandering around. She climbed up the stairs that lead to a common room on the second floor. Y/N’s cute white go-go boots were tight on your feet, making her wince at every step. Fashion was a moment type thing, not a four hour long excursion.

Y/N heard a group of voices leading from the common room once you reached the top of the stairs. She listened out waiting to see if she could hear Bucky’s voice before walking through the doors of the common room.

“I don't know why you hang out with that girl Bucky.” Her ears perked at his name. Y/N almost walked through the door but she took a step back to listen to what they were saying.

“Yeah, shes fucking weird.” The group laughed. “I mean look at how she dressed tonight. She’s wearing a costume.”

Y/N looked down at her 80’s inspired dress with a frown. She thought she looked cute tonight, Bucky said she looked cute. She couldn't stop blushing after she heard his words.

“She’s a freak barnes. All she does is follow you around. Are you sure you guys aren't dating?” One of the boys asked with a chuckle. No one said her name yet but she knew they were talking about her. She could tell.

“Y/N’s not that bad. She just doesn't have any friends. I don't like her like that, not my type. She's got that weird anxiety thing.” Bucky's voice finally sounded out from the group. Y/N heart hurt hearing his words. Weird anxiety thing?

“Yeah, making her a freak. So you're just friends with her out of pity? Are you at least getting community service hours?” The group laughed again, Bucky's deep laugh standing out to Y/N.

“You have a lot of strength for a man who's not getting any ass from the girl he's keeping company with. Shes weird as fuck but her body is still bangin. Have you ever copped a feel of her tits? I would hang out with the loser if I got to fuck her too.” Someone commented. Y/N felt bile rise in her throat. She could feel a panic attack approaching having heard the sexual comments about her body. She stepped out from around the wall into the common room. All eyes snapped up to her, some eyes widening in shock. Bucky just looked up, not catching on that his roommate may have heard the horrid words said about her.

“I-im ready to go home, Bucky.” She hadn't looked up from where her feet were rooted on the stained wood floors. Bucky slowly wobbled up from his seat. The rest of the guys watching quietly, some snickering at Bucky's submissiveness.

“Here sweets, you're gonna have to drive.” Bucky says handing his keys over to Y/N. Without looking at him, she snatches the keys from his hands and quickly retreats to his car. Bucky stumbles behind her confused by her attitude.

Y/N walked to Bucky’s car, arms covering whatever they could cover on her body. Her mind telling her she was unsafe, her anxiety telling her even worse things.

Bucky eyes burned from the headache he had. He felt physically ill as he woke up from the living room couch. Last night's activities blur in his mind, no clear memories presenting themselves. He sits up to rest his forearms on his knees trying to calm his bubbling stomach.

The first thing he notices as he comes to his senses is the lack of Y/N’s noise. Normally the small apartment would be filled with the sounds of her sunday playlist as she cleans about. He also doesn't smell her extra dark and strong coffee that she only makes for sundays. He doesnt smell her out of the can cinnamon rolls either that she would normally wake him up with on a small tray with said coffee.

He finds it odd that her presence is lacking in the apartment. Standing, he makes his way over to her room knocking on it slightly. He hears shuffling from the other side but no one comes to open the door.

“Hey sweets, everything ok?” He knocks again to gain her attention.

“I-Im fine Bucky, please go away.” She stutters out to Bucky. Bucky is shocked by her statement not used to being pushed away by her.

“Oh ok, just let me know if you need anything.” He says quietly.

Y/N remained the same way over the next few days. She rarely came out of her room when she was in the apartment leaving Bucky on his own. She stopped making him meals out of kindness or filling up his canisters of water for workouts. She stopped baking him treats as midday pick me ups. She didnt wait for him to get out of classes so they could gossip about what was going on on campus. She didnt bother him at all.

Bucky felt uneasy about Y/N’s silence. He was hurt by her sudden disappearance. Hurt that she could just ghost him without any reason. But there was a reason, Bucky just didnt remember.

Y/N sluggishly walked into the apartment after taking an extensive exam in one of her classes. She tried to walk quietly throughout the apartment to not catch the attention of Bucky. She walks softly on her feet close to the opening of the kitchen.

“Hey.” A quiet voice makes Y/N jump in her spot. Her mission of going unnoticed failed. Bucky leans against the kitchen counter that is parallel to the opening of the kitchen. His feet are crossed in front of him, hands holding a cup of tea.

“Hi.” Her tone matches his. She turns her body to face his, hands fidgeting with each other. She slightly moved from foot to foot, a trait that had been acquired out of nerves. Bucky recognized her tic, his heart constricting at the thought that he might have done something to cause it.

“Y/N, please, what's going on?” Bucky can see that she's not wearing one of her normal outfits that are adorned in bright colors and fun patterns. Instead, her body is covered in a boring sweater that hides most of her body. She wears a large pair of jeans underneath, a belt tightly bounding it to her body.

“Nothing Bucky.” She dismisses. Bucky feels his anger peak. A range of emotion he tried to hide away breaching over its point. He missed his best friend beyond belief and all she could give was a few words.

“It's not nothing Y/N!” He snaps slamming his mug of tea on the counter. Y/N flinches at the sound. Her hands start to shake, not out of fear of Bucky but from unwarranted anxiousness. “I've given you your space but its killing me. I miss you Y/N. I dont get what happened?”

Y/N feels her eyes well up with tears.

“You hurt me Bucky.” It was Bucky’s turn to flinch hearing her words. He hurt her?

“I don't know what I did though.” His voice sounded childlike as he whined.

“At the party, you let your friends talk poorly about me. You-you let them call me a freak and-and weird. They made fun of my clothes and said you were hanging out with me out of pity and you just sat there and laughed James!” Her voice rose with every word. Bits and pieces of that night float around in his head. He can slightly remember the conversation but nothing is clearly showing in his head.

“I'm sorry they said that Y/N but you know that's not true. We both know our relationship, I don't know why you're letting them get to you.”

“They talked about my anxiety. You talked about my anxiety!”

“That's it? That's why you're not talking to me?�� He exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.

“You let them sexualize me!” The kitchen filled with an uncomfortable silence. Bucky’s exterior softened.

“What?” His tone was drastically softer than it was earlier.

“You just sat and listened to them as they talked about my body. They talked about my boobs and if youve had sex with me and you said nothing. They said that they would hang with the loser if they could fuck me...How could you let them say that about me?” Y/N whimpered. Her hands cradled her face as she sobbed. Bucky saw the way her chest heaved with each sob, tears forming in his own eyes.

“I didn't know. I wouldn't have let them say those things sober. You have to know that.” He almost fell to his knees pleading for her forgiveness.

“You even said you wouldn't date me. I know its stupid but I thought you liked me back. You told me you loved me. You've taken me out on dates. You've kissed me for goodness sake!”

“I know and I'm sorry. I do like you, I don't know why I said that. I like you so much.” His knees buckled slightly but he held his ground.

“Obviously you dont Bucky. We should just stay away from each other from now on and I won't be renewing my leasing contract at the end of the semester.” She finalizes. Buckys whispers a small no in protest. “You really hurt me, Bucky. I would never let anyone slander you. I respect you too much to allow for someone else to disrespect you.”

With that being said, she gave Bucky one last look over before walking away. Bucky was knocked out of his thoughts at the sound of her door slamming shut and the lock being secured.

Bucky sat on the kitchen floor, the cold tile seeping through his pants to chill his legs. His face adorned with a frown, tears sliding down his warm cheeks. Y/N was his best friend and he ruined it by being a shitty person. He knows he should have defended her, defended their relationship.

Bucky’s rolly chair was his only source of entertainment at his desk in the lobby of the admissions office. Today was a slow day. There were only a few students who came in asking for help finding buildings or looking for the financial aid office. Some high school student came in for tours but his coworkers beat him to doing tours so here he was stuck in the quiet office. He had already stolen a large amount of guest snacks, a cold bottle of tea and a sugar cookie with the school's logo on it.

His chair spinning activities came to a halt when he heard the front door open with a small jingle sounding from it. He took a moment to let the dizziness fade away before he looked up. Bucky felt his breath stop in his throat.

There stood a girl with overalls and a bright colored top. She wore dark green converse, high tops, with frilly socks that peeked from the top. She had large glasses that framed her face perfectly. She was looking around the office, eyes wide with wonder. Her eyes finally met Bucky's, making a large smile appear on her face.

“Hi!” She exclaimed walking up to Bucky’s desk.

“Hey, what can I help you with today?” Bucky asked cooly.

“I just transferred here and I was wondering if you knew where I could apply for on campus jobs?” She placed her hands on top of the counter of Bucky’s desk. He admired her baby blue acrylics that had white flowers on them.

“Oh um, the admissions office is hiring. We do all of the tours for highschool students, or package and mail acceptance letters. Sometimes we plan scholarship events. It's an easy pay type of job. I just sit here and do homework my whole shift.” Bucky answers. “What's your name so I can get my boss to contact you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky quickly scribbled your name on a post it note and stuck it to his laptop as a reminder. ��Do you really like this job or are you just trying to pull me in?” She jests with a small smile on her face.

“I mean it's a decent job but im sure with you working here it would make it ten times prettier.” Bucky smirked at the giggle that escaped Y/N. He wasn't normally a flirt but he couldn't help himself with this one.

“Oh really? How many times have you said that line to a girl?” Bucky put a hand to his chest in a fake offense.

“You think too low of me Y/N. I saved that one for the prettiest girl to walk through the door.”

“Hmm, ok. I'll believe it only because my ego needs this boost. Hey, you never told me your name. How am I supposed to write about this encounter in my journal if I don't have your name?”

“My name is James but I prefer if people just call me Bucky. Short for Buchanon, I know it's weird.” Bucky leans back in his chair, arms crossed. He can see her eyes checking out the way his muscles flex underneath his long sleeve shirt. He may have purposefully flexed a little extra for show.

“No, I love it. I dont think ive ever met a Bucky.” She counters. She leans forward, placing her elbows on the counter, her chest pressed against the front of the counter.

“Well I'm glad I'm your first Bucky.” He jokes with a small smile on his face. There was a small moment of silence shared between the two as they just looked at each other. Bucky couldn't help but think about how cute she was as Y/N thought the same thing.

“Oh gosh, I'm probably holding you up from your work.” She snaps out of her little spell rolling her eyes at herself. “I should get going.”

Bucky frowned at the idea of her leave, wanting nothing more than to continue talking to the new girl.

“Right, of course. Maybe I could get your number...so I can notify you about the job.” Bucky proposes. Y/N raises one eyebrow in question, a knowing smile placed on her lips.

“Sure thing bucky.” He hands her a pen and post it for her number. “I wouldn't be opposed to you using this number for things other than work too.” She suggested. She signed her name on the post it note ending it with a small heart.

“I will definitely take you up on that offer. No take backs though when I start sending you random shit.” She giggled, leaning up from her spot. Bucky basked at the sweet sound. He stood up to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“Well Bucky, it was lovely to meet you.” She stuck her hand out for him to shake, he reciprocated the action. Her hands were soft and warm, he thought. She gave him one last smile before walking away.

It was warm outside on the quad as Bucky sat by himself. He sat at the table that would normally be occupied by Y/N and him. Y/N would bring lunch- made by her. Anytime Bucky would try to help her by making lunch she would kick him out of the kitchen. Today, Bucky sat by himself, with no hand made lunch. He had a greasy bag of french fries and a large coke. He planned on eating his sorrows away.

“Hey Bucky!” A voice yelled out to him. Looking up from his fries, Bucky looked towards the sound that broke him out of his fries excursion. Tanner and Logan, his friends from the party, came walking over to him. They both sat down, throwing their lunch onto the table.

“Where's Ms. weirdo?” Tanner asks, mouth full of food. Bucky grimaced at Tanner's manners. He also felt the anger he should have felt on Saturday bloom in his chest.

“She's not weird.” Bucky snapped, fists tightening in his lap. Tanner scoffed, Logan laughing along with him.

“Says you. She is fucking weird. Did you finally get some from her or something? Defending her and shit.” Logan clapped Tanner on his back agreeing with him. “Shit, good for you dude. I would have fucked her a while ago. Probably would have kept her face down so I wouldn't have to see her-”

Before Tanner could finish his sentence, he was thrown from his seat from the powerful punch being landed on his jaw. His feet flew from where he was sitting, landing on his back with a heavy thud.

“Dude what the fuck?” Tanner stood wiping his face from the blood that started to trickle down from his bloody eyebrow. Bucky had never felt anger like this before. His heart was racing, his breathing labored. His cheeks were red and warm, eyebrows turned down.

“No, you don't get to make fun of her and make sexual comments about her.” Bucky snarled. Tanner rolled his eyes, walking closer to Bucky.

“Oh fuck off with that! You didn't defend her this hard on saturday.” Tanner's mistake after his words was shoving Bucky's shoulders back. Bucky reacted quickly by shoving Tanner with even more force.

Tanner threw a punch to Bucky’s jaw, making his head fly back. Bucky tackled Tanner to the ground, throwing punches left and right. Tanner fought back, hands flying landing punches wherever he could land them.

Logan was able to pull Bucky off of Tanner, warning the two that campus police would arrest them if they were caught. Both boys stared at each other fuming. Bucky snatched his trash and his backpack up, the scowl never leaving his face.

“If I ever see you looking or talking to Y/N, I will bash your face in.” Bucky growled.

Y/N felt better today. She found the strength to wear a cute outfit versus the oversized clothes she had been wearing prior out of fear. She didn't want anyone to look at her in any harmful way. She wanted to wear her cute outfits that were sometimes form fitting and short. She liked to wear her cute period pieces that had her own twist on them. She spent many years hating her body and the way she looked. She deserved to feel cute without thinking she is at fault for being sexualized and poorly treated.

She whipped out one of her favorite outfits today, loving the way it fit on her body making her feel confident. Sitting at the front desk of the admissions office, her feet propped up on the desk. Her shift was going by slowly, no one needing assistance this late in the day.

The door burst open making Y/N jump from her seat. She stood up shocked to see Bucky walk in with a huff. He wasn't supposed to work today but here he was. Y/N gasped looking at his cut lip and bruising eye.

“Bucky, what happened?” She maneuvered her way around the desk to stand in front of the beat up boy. She placed both of her hands on his cheeks to examine his injuries. He moved his face away from her tears brimming his eyes.

“I'm sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry. I should have protected you from them. I should've told them not to speak about you that way. You are more than some eye candy for men to act disgusting towards. You are beautiful and eclectic. You have a brilliant mind that shines brighter than anyone elses on this campus.” He spoke to her softly.

“I don't understand Bucky. What made you have this change of heart? You didn't give two shits about me last weekend.” She crossed her arms defensively.

“I know and I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe it was the alcohol but that's no excuse. I love you. I love all of you. You're not weird. You're your own person and I love everything about you. You do so much for me and I feel like shit for not doing the bare minimum for you.” His words stunned her.

“You love me?”

“God, with everything I have. Since the day you walked in here with those overalls. I've spent the past four years loving you.” Bucky whispered. He grabbed her hand, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

“I love you too, Bucky.  I really do and I'm hurt. I don't think the hurt will go away for some time. You let them speak horribly about me. If you loved me like I was your girl, you would have defended me.” She spoke sorrowfully.

“I know, I know. I can't change the fact that I did nothing but I can tell you that I'm sorry. I'm always going to protect you. I did today. Tanner may be sporting a nasty goose egg on his eye because of his dumbass words.” Y/N giggled softly, touching his bruising knuckles.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“I want to go back to normal. I miss you in the mornings and-and during our lunch breaks outside. I miss you.” Bucky stated.

“I miss you too.”

Bucky watched her eyes drop down to his lip, busted and all. He leaned forward slightly hoping she would meet him in the middle. She met him the rest of the way pressing her lips to his. Bucky relished this moment. He relished to be even sharing  moments with the girl he's been in love with since the second he saw her.

“I'm gonna be better, I promise.”

[adorethedistance]

City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

*** 

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner 

[writing-in-april]

Ghost Story

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Mood board is mine pictures were taken from Pinterest- Message me for credit.

This come from the wonderful @imagining-in-the-margins​ prompt list- go check her out she’s the best!

Warnings: One swear word- and if you’re super scared of ghost stories don’t read.

A/N: I’m really proud of this one! The ghost story is called whispers and I found it on the huffington post, it’s originally about Christmas but I changed it to fit Halloween (Even though it’s August- I’m just really ready for Halloween)

Masterlist

italics are the ghost story

——

“This is a story I do not often tell. I promise, sincerely, that this has scarred me for life and although I have looked into psychological explanations for what I heard and natural explanations for what occurred, they remain unsatisfactory.” Spencer’s voice cut through the air in a whisper. The pine green walls of our softly lit apartment gave me a sense of security that Spencer was actively trying to break as he relayed his ghost story.

It was nearly Halloween, the 28th of October to be exact, also known as Spencer’s birthday. Honestly it was the only reason I indulged in his request of reading a scary story, any other day of the year I would have flat out refused. So there I was perched on our leather sofa,  staring a hole into a slice of pumpkin pie that I had made for his special day trying to take my mind off of the story.

“When I was a child, I was scared of the dark. I swore to my mother I heard voices in it. They were not evil, but they were not familiar and so they scared me. It was not uncommon in the middle of the night for me to wake up and hear “whispers” as I would call them when asking my mom. She figured they were just “bumps in the night” and typical kids nightmare material. I tried often to explain to her that it was more than that; that they sounded different from one another the way people’s voices do. On some nights I would get so scared from these “whispers” that I would sleep in my mom’s bed with her.” I now understood why he was so eager to share a ghost story with me tonight, the story paralleled his own journey with his fear of the dark. We both had a shared sentiment of fear surrounding dark corners, but Spencer was far braver than I when it came to the dark, after all he saw the worst of humanity everyday at work.

“I should add at this point that when walking out into the hall to go to the bathroom, you looked directly down the stairs that would lead you into my living room on the first floor (as my mom’s bedroom was on the second floor). On one such night, around Halloween, I awoke and felt the need to go to the bathroom. I walked out from the door and distinctly heard the phrase “Look!” and to my astonishment, an orange light, almost like a spotlight, was cast upon the wall at the very bottom of the stairs. The light had no other source, it was by itself, and I was transfixed by it.” The inflection that he had adopted to tell the story chilled my bones, making me feel as if I was a skeleton in the dead of winter.

The pumpkin pie was no longer enough to stare at so my gaze wandered to the knickknacks that adorned the apartment. The spotlight in the story eerily mirrored the decorations we had strung up, the string of pumpkin lights basked us in an orange glow aiding in the creepy persona Spencer had taken up. Puppets in white shrouds, freshly carved jack o'lanterns, and handmade black construction paper bats also furnished our home to give the appropriate mood for Halloween. Spencer and I had spent a whole weekend that he had off from work decorating our apartment to the nines. I detested the horrifying aspects of Halloween, but that didn’t mean I hated the holiday. I reveled in the fact that for one day a year I could be someone else, letting my imagination take the reigns of my life even though it was only for a night.

“Being a little kid, and it only being a few days from Halloween, I KNEW what this light was. IT WAS JACK SKELLINGTON!!!My parents had just let me watch a Nightmare before Christmas, he must be visiting! I was so excited I began walking down the stairs to greet him, picking up my pace after the second step as it began to creep off the wall and fade into the darkness in my living room.” My heart felt stuck in my throat as I sat at the edge of the couch, anxiously awaiting the dreaded jump scare that I could feel creeping up around me. No matter how formulaic ghost stories tended to be I was still tricked every time getting sent into a state of fright, my body always getting a stab of panic and a jolt of terror.

“That’s when I heard him. A very strong, masculine voice. Different from the first. Not at all like my father’s (not to say he isn’t masculine, it was just distinctly different). It said, “Stop! Right now. Go back up those stairs.” I listened, turned around, and what happened next I am not sure I would believe if someone had told me this same story. After reaching the top of the stairs, I heard a very loud CRASH”  As If on cue from Spencer’s voice a loud clap of thunder shattered through our curtained windows, the sudden sound sent me cowering under my burgundy plush throw which swaddled me like a scared baby. My shaking form didn’t even notice that the story had stopped or that Spencer had retreated into the darkness. My eyes peeked out from under the blanket, the apartment was full of blackness- the power must’ve gone out. All I could see was the pale moonlight creeping through the drapery as my eyes darted trying to locate Spencer.

“Spencer?” I murmured into the shadows- no one answered back from the depths.

“Boo!” Spencer suddenly popped up behind the couch causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

“Fuck! Spencer Walter Reid!” I picked up one of our pillows, chucking it in the direction where I believed him to be hiding. His shriek permeated the apartment as he shielded himself from my wrath with what appeared to be candles. He must’ve retreated to find candles we had stashed in our bathroom when the power shut off.

“Most power outages will be over almost as soon as they begin, but some can last much longer – up to days or even weeks. Power outages are often caused by freezing rain, sleet storms and/or high winds which damage power lines and equipment.” He spouted off at me to try and quell my anger while setting down candles on the coffee table preparing them to be lit. From out of his pocket Spencer produced a disposable lighter- I always let him handle them because my fingers often got burned on them. Stroking the wheel, the lighter sparked to life lighting the apartment once more, soothing my frazzled state.

“I guess that’s kind of comforting…”

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?” The soft gleam of the candle flickered on my skin, illuminating the cringe that made its way onto my face.

“No thanks Spencer- I’d rather cuddle.” He flashed me a little stupid grin that I adored and joined me back on the couch. Spencer swathed the blanket around us settling into his position as the big spoon, the combined feeling of  my boyfriend and the velvet like blanket made me feel impervious to the outside world. I nuzzled against his neck sinking deeper into the sofa, letting the soft edges of sleep overtake me, Spencer had a way with cuddles that almost always immediately lulled me to sleep. Sometime later when our pumpkin pie had been long forgotten the lights flicked back on, the fluorescent bulbs combined with the still glowing candles lit our sleeping figures.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 5

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: more parallels between wanda and reader plus hayward being a bitch to reader. also pierce did not die during the winter soldier events in this universe. at this point this is called wanda and y/n collectively grieving over her how shitty their lives are.

previous chapter

The young woman held a small gun in her left hand, shooting the target at least 10 metres away from her with a mechanical precision, switching it to her right hand and achieving the same type of perfection and precision not even senior agents had. Yet, there she was, one of the newest SWORD recruits. Many people had opposed for her to join SWORD straight after escaping from HYDRA and the Red Room; however, Tyler Hayward had forced for her to become a new recruit. “Having Alexander Pierce’s daughter in our team will be an asset” he said and it somehow convinced all of SWORDs panel to take her in. She had nowhere to go after all, the Red Room will be after her in no time and she had no way to defend herself alone and so SWORD was her only option. An option she thrived under, being much more advanced than any junior recruit yet it was a far cry from what she wanted. She didn’t want to be an agent but that’s what she was, what she had been trained to do.

The trainer slowly blinked walking up to her and giving her a congratulatory pat on the shoulder which everyone could sense was filled of jealousy. She was thrown to the back of the line with someone else who also inspired jealousy in most recruits. Monica Rambeau, daughter of Maria Rambeau, the current SWORD director. They had never spoken too much other than orientation day where they introduced each other by their agent number.

     - That was the coolest thing I’ve seen today. - she hide a childish smile as the next recruit started  his training. - I’m Monica. 

     - Y/N. - she smiled and shook her hand. - Is it always like this?

     - Most of time yeah. The trainers are dicks about it when you’re better than them. 

     - Men. - Y/N rolled her eyes, getting an understanding nod from Monica. 

     - Excuse me? - Tyler Hayward entered the trainee room, always dressed in a polished suit as if that would be of any worth in a fighting situation. - I’m sorry for disturbing but I need Ms. Y/N Pierce to accompany me. 

Y/N Pierce. She always hated that name, even more than her code name. The mere thought that she had that last name, the name of one of the leaders of SHIELD was almost like a cruel curse on her. Everyone seemed to think of him as this all around saint yet she knew better; after all, if he had no reservations about submitting his daughter as a project and asset then he would have no reservation in hurting anyone else. SWORD had done their best to keep her existence a secret, not really allowing the connection to pass through but she knew he was looking for her and if he wasn’t the Red Room and HYDRA definitely were. 

She shared a confused look with Monica before stepping towards Hayward who led her away from the room and into the hall. He didn’t stop to explain to her why she had been summoned, instead he just kept on walking and she took the lead to follow him, entering a blackened window filled hall. They stopped in front of a window which gave way into an autopsy scene. Y/N was used to seeing death, some would say she was born surrounding it; however, she was not prepared to see what was being shown to her. It was almost as if she were sleeping, her mother. Laid across the metal table with various doctors surrounding her, the HYDRA symbol branded onto her foot. She looked over to the side, hand over her mouth as she felt sick just to see it. 

    - Our intelligence believes HYDRA is trying to send a message and we don’t believe they won’t stop anytime soon.

    - Was it fast? Did she suffer?

    - Gunshot to the head. Quite merciful, really.

    - Why are you showing me this?

    - Well, HYDRA experimented on you but there is the possibility your “enhancements” might be genetic. 

    -  What is that supposed to mean? Why did you really brought me here, Hayward?

    - We need the next of kin’s permission to perform an autopsy and it seems that would be you, following your mother’s will.

    - No. - she stepped back. - You’re not gonna tear my mother apart for a stupid hypothesis. No. You don’t have my permission

    - We’re being kind enough to hide you from your father for no specific reason. You either accept it or we’ll be forced to hand you to SHIELD.

The night air was crisp and sharp as he sat on the swing next to hers. She hadn’t changed much other than her hair which was much longer but her face was still unblemished by the tragic unkindness of the world. After all it had been about 5 years since he last saw her and he hated the fact he had forgotten her. Somewhere, deep within himself he knew her mark was still there; he could still hear her voice in his dreams but he always chucked it to his mind crumbling under the pressure it had been under for so many years. Nevertheless, he had heard her voice plenty times, specially in Bucharest. It had haunted him from nights and nights on end; “Promise?” “Yes”, turns out it wasn’t someone he had killed but someone he had forgotten. Her of all people. It had come back all to him after that woman gave him the file. Her name alone, her lips telling him her name. He remember telling himself he would not forget him as they prepared him to go back in the blender and he did. He forgot about her but looking at her everything came back to him; the good and the bad. But the most of it was he remembered loving her, he still did, a feeling that had been dormant for a long while and suddenly awoke in him. Of course Bucky did not expect her to love him back, he didn’t blame her either. She was a good kid, too good even. 

     - Uhm ... are you enjoying it here? - she motioned her hands abstractly. - In the hex, I mean. 

     - It’s better than in hideouts with Sam and Sharon. - he chuckled dryly, looking up at the transparent yet red tinted dome. - I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Sam is great, despite everything and Sharon ... Sharon has helped me so much, I owe her that.

     - Oh ... - her heart dropped to her stomach as an ugly feeling took over her. Sure, Wanda would say it’s jealousy but she refused to admit it. 

     - What about you? I never really asked what you did after ... you know, IT. 

    - You can say the name. - she smiled at him yet it was voidless of any emotion, as if she were used to people tip toeing around the subject which they always did. - I became a junior recruit for SWORD until the blip then ... I was gone for a while but it didn’t hurt. It was almost like I was finally at peace and then I woke up and Hayward was director. He sent me and Monica to investigate the hex Wanda created, mostly to keep his own project a bay. Then we all ran off, got classified as fugitives. The rest is really not important. 

     - I don’t really think I need to tell you what I’ve been up to.

     - You don’t ... most of it it’s my fault, anyway. - she got up from the swing once she noticed a purple light a few miles away from the limits of the hex. The back of her eyes started growing instinctively white. Bucky got up as he recognised her fighting stance, a hand safely placed upon her shoulder. - Go grab Wanda.

     - Y/N ...

     - Go grab her, now. - she stood there watching the purple light almost call out for her. Bucky chose to do what she said, the white mist involving around her fingers as she stepped towards the hex, fingers barely touching the wall. 

Bucky rushed inside the building, hoping to reach Wanda before Y/N could do anything irrational. However, before he could find the newly named Scarlet Witch, she found him with one of her twins behind her waist. Her eyes were glowing red, almost similar to those Y/N had except those eyes looked desperate, worried even.

    - Where is she? - she asked him with an ice like directness. - Where is she, Barnes?

    - Outside. She told me to come get you.

Wanda rushed past him with a speed that he had never seen before and he only followed after her. The two stepped outside the building, towards the swing tree where Bucky had left Y/N, except, she wasn’t there anymore. No, he couldn’t lose her. Not again. Vision came after the two followed by Yelena and Monica who had been awakened by the twins; however, Wanda did not need their help. She approached the hex, just missing the purple glow as it entered the woods. Bucky tried to step up but Vision pushed him back. 

    - Y/N? - Wanda broke through the hex, shutting Bucky out as well as Vision. It was night time, dark and cold surrounded by the woods of the place they had chosen to hide from the world. Breaking dawn was so far away and even the tallest individual would’ve melted into the dark night. - Y/N!

   - Are we not going to help them? - Bucky questioned back inside the hex, probably the most awake apart from the synthezoid and the former Red Room graduate.

   - It’s a witch thing. - Yelena smirked before springing into action. - We should activate the hex’s protective system in case something happens.

   - What about them? - Bucky once again interrupted, not receiving particularly kind looks from Yelena.

   - They’ll be fine, Mr. Barnes.

Y/N on the other hand walked further into the confused and dark woods, holding her small trusted silver revolver which reflected the moon light onto its surface; yet most of the light came from behind her coloured eyes. She did not know exactly why they did that, it was almost as if they light up whenever she felt threatened. Whatever it was, it was there inside of her. She, of course, knew it was Agatha lingering around; however, she never got dangerously close to the hex. It was an unspoken truth between the witch and Wanda Maximoff yet there she was. 

     - God, dear, I thought I’d have to break into the hex to get to you. - Agatha showed up from the darkness, dressed in her typical black and purple palette as if she were royalty. - So, how are you deary? Still playing Queen Elsa? Is that fun for you?

     - You’re trespassing. 

     - Come on, is that how you thank me for giving you Bucky Barnes on a platter? What else do you need to thank me? A love spell?

     - Go away, Agatha. What do you want? 

     - I am trying to help you, just like I helped Wanda. I mean how old are you, sweetheart? Old enough for HYDRA and SWORD to realise you can do much more than just magic tricks. Making a whole room objects disappear? Now that, that was impressive. If I knew you were gonna do that, I would’ve brought Barnes into your life much much sooner. - she crossed her arms. - I think you and I are very similar. Much more similar than Maximoff to be completely honest. Where were the avengers when your father handed you over to a terrorist organisation? Constantly overlooked, underestimated, seen as nothing but your father’s daughter. I understand, Y/N and I can help you if you let me help you.   

    - I ... - she faltered her response, slightly lowering down her gun. - You can really help me?

    - I know more about magic than everyone else, Y/N. I can train you, I can help you more than SWORD or Wanda Maximoff will ever help. I can even give you what you want the most. Barnes, a regular family, everything but a SHIELD recruit. A regular citizen and all I want is for you to give me my regular family. 

     - I can’t help you, Agatha.

     - I don’t mean to cause any harm, Y/N. I’m not the villain, I just want my husband back and only you can give that to me. That’s all I want. It’s a small price to pay for your happiness. I can even take it away, your powers, I can take them away and then you will have what you want. Pretty sure Barnes still has some swimmers and if he doesn’t surely Wanda can get you some kids, she sure did well with getting herself some. 

     - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice broke through the two woman’s conversation. Agatha smirked, purple eyes replacing her regular blue ones. - Y/N!

     - I think you need to make a choice, dear. 

taglist: @lookiamtrying

[raikangaru]

It’s Sexy - Zuko x Reader

Warnings: explicit content (smut)

one shot

The sun was out and harshly beaming on us, Sokka and I were seated on the steps of the royal family summer house. Zuko and Aang were sparring, trying to help Aang somewhat master firebending. “Zuko can we take a break I’m tired”,they’ve been going at it the whole morning, I feel bad for Aang. “No! You think you can take break when you fight my father”,he huffs frustrated at the air bender,”woah, sheesh I was just asking”,Aang raised his hands in surrender, he looked to me for help.

“Hmm Zuko, how about a 10 minute break! I think Katara’s about to bring out some watermelon juice!”

“Fine!”,he agrees, huffing as he trudges over to me, taking the empty spot beside me. He snakes his arm around my waist pulling me towards him,”Nooooo, you’re sweaty!”,I whine pushing him away,”mhmm but you like me sweaty”,he whispers in my ear, his husky voice making me feel hot. “Oi, Zuko”,I slap his arm my cheeks becoming flushed,”(your name) whats for dinner?”,I turned my head to face Sokka. “Thinking or dinner already? We just had lunch”,I giggle at him,”but I’m a growing man!”,he pouts at me. “Aww you’re too cute Sokka”,I feel Zuko nudge my knee but before I could turn back to him, Katara walks up.

“Brought the watermelon juice!”

“Finally! It took so long”,Sokka comments earning a slap on the head from Katara the whole group erupts in laughing fit, me almost choking on my drink. “Oh where’s Toph?”,I wondered out loud,”she’s training to master sand bending. I’ve already given her a drink”,Katara replies and I just nod my head. A comfortable silence blankets over us as we enjoy the watermelon drink and the sun shining down on us. The weather was great for a swim, we all stare out and I lean back on Zuko, looking up to him. His ember eyes focused at the ocean beyond, I reach my hand up to move his black locks away from his eyes, his attention shifts to me.”I love you”,he whispers quietly just for us to hear. “I love you too Zuko”,I wrap my arms around his neck,”(your name), don’t forget you need to go markets. We’ve ran out of stock”,Katara breaks us out of our trance, they all just stare us and both our cheeks burns red from embarrassment, forgetting we were not in the confines of our room.

“Huh, oh yeah!”,I awkwardly laugh, “uh Aang, let’s get back to training”,Zuko tries to break the awkwardness. Zuko stands from beside and Aang groans, unhappy to continue training, Sokka calls me over and I comply, moving to sit closer to him,”since everyone’s doing training, so you wanna spar with me?”, he asks. “Yeah sure! I’ve got time to kill before going to the markets”,I smiled giving him a friendly smile, from the corner of my eye, Zuko watches our movements, I smile to myself as an idea pops in my head. I was gonna make Zuko just a little jealous.

“Come on Sokka”,I take his arm and drag him, I position us parallel to Zuko and Aang, where Zuko and I are opposite sides, a clear view of him. Sokka prepares himself, swinging his sword around, I crack my knuckles waiting for him to strike me. Sokka charges straight to me, with his sword swinging to swipe my left side, I jump away from him and clap my hands as wall of fire surrounds Sokka. “(your name)!! Don’t bend, it’s unfair!”,Sokka whines and I extinguish my flames,”fine fine, you’re lucky I like you”. I get myself into a fighting stance, I charge for Sokka but my peripherals catch something more interesting than the current spar match. I see my black haired boyfriend strip off his shirt, revealing his toned chest, his sweat dripping down his body, it was such a hot site, I want to jump him. I was most definitely distracted and the next thing I knew I had crashed into Sokka where I had landed on top of Sokka, sitting on top of his lap, a very sexual position.

“Alright, that’s enough training for today!”, Zuko yells clearly frustrated, I made sure to not look at him. “Oh Sokka, I’m so sorry”,I slowly get up from the position and help the poor blushing older water tribe man. “I should probably head to the markets, I need to prepare for dinner”,I sadly look to Sokka, I leave them heading towards the house to get the money and bag for shopping. Just as I was about to head out the main door, a hand catches my wrist and I’m jerked back into a solid chest. I already know who is it,”you coming Zuko?”,a small smirk plays on my lips, I turn to meet his eyes which still held the anger from the previous events. “Let me get a new shirt, then we can leave”,he drags me to the direction of the room we shared. He picked out a shirt then we headed out to the markets.

We blended perfectly in, considering we are actual fire nation citizens. The market was crowded, there was a lot to purchase from the list Katara has given me, so I decided to split with Zuko just to make stuff quicker. “Hi, can I get squash, some potatoes and those carrots please”, I asked the vegetable vendor,”yeah right away, gorgeous”,he flashes me a toothy grin. I shake it off, once I had paid the young vendor and was about to move to another stall but the young vendor followed me. “Let me help you out, I know all the ins and outs of this market. I can get you the best deals”,he takes the bag I had been holding,”oh no it’s alright, I can handle it”, politely declining him. “No no, please I insist”,he places a hand on my lower back guiding me through the crowd, I was not comfortable with this guy around as he was a little bit on the touchy side, though I was able to get all the ingredients and stock we needed.

“Uhm, thank you for helping. I’ll be on the way now”,I tried to release myself from his grip, “oh, it’s no worries. Let me walk you back home”,he doesn’t budge, as much as I want to burn him I cannot risk getting caught. “No it’s okay. I don’t need anyone to walk me home”,this time I forcibly try to pull away but he wouldn’t let go, he was digging his nails into my arm.

“Let go of her”,the all familiar voice of your boyfriend rings in your ears, grateful that he has come. “Dude, just stay out of this.”,the younge vendor tells off Zuko, you begin to struggle in his grip,”Let go of my girlfriend”,his voice becomes more stern, sending chills down my spine, Zuko easily rips the guys hand off my wrist and pushed me behind him. “You want to go?”,the guy yells throwing a punch in Zuko’s direction but it fails as Zuko catches it and aggressively pushes the guy down. “Zuko, let go home”,I whisper so only both of us heard, I tug on his shirt, he whirls around to face me and I beg him with my eyes, he sighs and takes my hand in his as we journey back home.

We had finally reached the summer house, the walk back home was quiet, no words were uttered once we passed the threshold of the house I dropped off all the supplies in the kitchen. “(your name) room now”,Zuko orders, I nod my head and walk behind him to our room, “in the bathroom”,I hesitate before complying with him, once I’m in the bathroom he shuts the door and I backed up but the back of my knees hit the tub. “You’re very naughty baby”,his voice lowers an octave and stirs something in me, “but I haven’t done anything”,I say quietly.

“You think making me mad is nothing?”,he steps closer to me, my body starts to heat up loving this side of Zuko, I clench my legs together to ease the heat. “I didn’t do anything”,I played innocent, looking up at him through my lashes, “silly girl, you think I appreciate you sitting on that water tribe boy’s lap or having another man have his hands all over you”,he almost growls, the sight of him mad excites me, I figit in my spot. He finally closes the gap, he presses his lips roughly on mine, impatiently biting down to ask for access which I opened for him. We break away a trail of saliva between us, his hand finds itself on my neck slighty gripping, he pushes me until I’m seated on the edge of the tub.

“Zuko”,I moan out as his other hand squeezes my breast,”you want to strip for me baby”,he coos in my ear, I nod my head. He releases me and I slowly untie the knot that held the fire nation top. I turned away from him and slid the matching pants giving him a nice view of my ass, once I was fully naked I sat back on the tub with my legs wide open. “Such a good girl”,he returns to his position but this time kneeling infront of me, his fingers playing with my clit. Pressing hard on the sensitive nub, I let out a small moan before he continues to slide it up and down the length of my pussy and inserting a finger. It feels good and I almost lose my grip on the tub, “mhmm you like that?”,he asks.

“Yes”

“That’s good, hmm why don’t you suck my cock”,he moves to get rid of his shirt and pants until he stands before me in all his glory. He was a gorgeous man, toned stomach and quite a sizeable length. I take his already harden length and pump it a few times before I slowly slid it in my mouth immediately hitting the back of my throat. I move my head back and forth making sure to massage the part I couldn’t fit in my mouth, I hollow my cheeks and try to fit as much of him inside my mouth, he grabs onto my hair controlling me. He suddenly pulls away and gestures for me to turn around, I obey he positions himself on my entrance. He slides the head first before pushing himself all the way, I couldn’t hold in my moan, he was deep inside me and it felt so good and he groans fill the bathroom. As he rocks his hips into mine, he pulls on my hair again, he moves his hand to my clit and rubs hard circles on them making me clench my pussy around him, he pulls me all the way until my back is pressed against him, hitting me even deeper. “Zuko, it’s feels so good”,I say breathlessly,”that’s right, only I can make you feel this way, touch you this way and see you this way”,he growls possesively.

I start to feel pressure build up in my lower stomach, I was close to climaxing. He rolls his hips harder and I groan at the impact, my stomach tightens and I feel myself clench around him before finding my release. “Zuko”,I cry out as I grip the bathtub like crazy, he continues to thrust into me before he stills and unloads his hot release inside me. “aww fuck (your name), such a good girl”,he slaps my ass before pulling out. I turn to face him and share a passionate kiss with him, “you know I love you”he gently tuck a hair behind my ear.

“I know but I love it when you’re mad, it’s sexy”

//

m a s t e r l i s t

hey! kinda long and a smut one shot too (woo), hope you guys enjoyed it. please leave a like so i’ll know if you guys are interested in reading more. dm me if you have requests or suggestions i’m curious on what you guys think. oh thank you for the likes on the other stories really appreciate it, have a great day!

all the love xx

[mattmurdocksscars]

Miscommunication

Alright guys! Third fic in 24 hours, let’s go! ;) This is the start of my First Order Poe fic! I’ve been bouncing this idea around for a bit and I’m excited for yall to see it. I’m already working on the second part too so hopefully I’ll keep up with it and have a normal schedule! The first few chapters are going to be to introduce the characters and then after that, it will probably be snapshots. I hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: First Order!Poe x Fem!Reader

Rating: Teen for language! Reader likes the word Fuck, canon typical violence

Word Count: 2018!

Tag List: @criminal-cookies​ and @himbopoes​ (I tagged you cause of the post earlier, if you wanna be tagged in everything, let me know)

The mission was supposed to be a straightforward information swap. You were to meet up with your informant, get the information, and get out. When you landed your ship, you noticed the village seemed more deserted than usual. Alarm bells instantly went off in your head, but you needed this information. So, hood pulled over your head, you still made your way to the cantina and found your informant sitting in a back booth as usual. What was unusual was how nervous he looked. Every few seconds, he would nervously look around but when you entered, his gaze zeroed in on you. His eyes widened in panic for a moment before he pointedly looked at another booth in the cantina before looking back to his table. As casually as you could, you headed to the bar instead of the booth your informant was at and ordered a drink. Once you had it, you began to run your gaze across the room. Making sure to appear as natural as possible, you kept your gaze away from the booth you were interested in for a few minutes before finally looking it over.

Your heart immediately stopped in your chest. Sitting at the booth were four first order officers, one of which you recognized instantly. Captain Poe Dameron was one of the First Order’s best pilots and was known for being absolutely ruthless. If he was here, they had obviously been tipped off about the exchange. The fucking informant. He must have squealed which is why he looked so guilty, sitting at the booth. You were going to have to get out of this on your own. So far, you seemed to have the upper hand in that they hadn’t noticed you. This meant that they didn’t know who exactly they were looking for, which gave you an advantage. If you could maintain your sense of calm, you might be able to just walk out of the cantina and back to your ship.

Except Captain Dameron was approaching the bar and his gaze was locked onto you and Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit-

“Hello, sweetness.” Fuck. Not only was this asshole incredibly handsome, but his voice sounded like sin.

“Somethin’ I can help you with, sir?” You asked, purposefully pitching your voice. His eyes raked over you, not seeing much thanks to the cloak you were wearing.

“Little warm for a cloak, don’t you think?” Oh, this fucker was just playing with you now. If he wanted to play, you could play too.

“A little warm for gloves and a jacket, don’t you think?” You snarked back. Already you were working on a plan to get away from this man. So far, the other officers at the table hadn’t moved and didn’t even seem interested in what you two were doing. Your informant was still sitting at his booth, looking between the two of you, the officers, and the table. If you didn’t get out in the next few moments, you would be screwed. At least on the streets, you stood a better chance of getting away or hiding.

“Someone’s feisty. I think we both know how this is going to go. Why don’t you walk with me back to the booth and I won’t kill everyone in this filthy place?” That brought your eyes back to his and you found them smoldering with intent. He clearly thought he had the upper hand here and while that was likely true, you never gave up that easily. Stepping closer to him so there was almost no space between your bodies, you watched the way his eyes dilated. Smirking, you walked a hand up his chest to the back of his neck. He let you pull him in so you could whisper in his ear, still thinking he had the upper hand.

“Sorry, love, but I’m not that easy.” Your fingers sunk into his hair and yanked. He hissed in shock and before he could recover, you were slamming your fist into his stomach then bringing his head down to meet your knee. The whole bar scattered away from the two of you as you whipped out your blaster and fired off at the other officers. You downed two of them with lucky shots and the third ducked behind the booth to hide. Using the momentary chaos of the bar patrons fleeing, you took off out the door and began running through back alleys. Knowing your cloak would only assist them in finding you, you dropped it, leaving you in your shorts, thigh holster, utility belt, and tank. Weaving in and out of the streets, you were almost back to the hangar your ship was parked at when you realized there were now stormtroopers storming the village. Ducking back into an alley and behind some crates, you leaned against the wall to catch your breath.

You had to think fast. You were under direct orders not to be caught but with the troopers searching the village, it would only be a matter of time. Looking around the corner, you noticed three stormtroopers making their way down the road. You took a deep breath to ready yourself, waiting until the troopers were parallel to you before lashing out. You whipped one of them across the skull with your blaster before shooting at the other two. One of their blasts grazed your upper arm and you couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that left you in response. A few more shots and the other troopers were downed. You could hear more converging on your location, so you took off running again. Cutting through alleys, you led the troopers on a chase throughout the village. If you could keep them on your tail, you could lead them away from the hangar and then double back.

Coming up on the bazaar that set in the center of the village, you quickly realized that your plan wouldn’t work. The other officer from the cantina was standing in the bazaar with a company of troopers.

“When I see that fucking informant again, he’s dead.” You grumbled under your breath. This was not how today was supposed to fucking go. You could hear footsteps behind you and turned to see a couple of troopers coming into the alley. Deciding that taking on the ones in the alley was your better choice, you took off back the alley. You weren’t counting on more troopers joining them and before long, they had overpowered you. One of the troopers ripped your blaster away from you while another punched you viciously in the face.

“You punch like a bitch.” This earned another punch to the face before you were roughly pulled to your feet and brought into the bazaar. The two troopers holding your arms dragged you in front of the officer before kicking your knees out, so you were forced to kneel. A pair of cuffs were slapped on your wrists and a hand gripped your hair to make you look up at the officer. The man in front of you had a smug grin on his face as he looked you over.

“Let Captain Dameron know we’ve got the woman.”  The trooper he addressed did as told and the officer stepped closer to you. He grabbed your chin, looking you over with poorly concealed interest. Narrowing your eyes, you spit the blood in your mouth out at him. It hit him directly in the face and he stumbled away from you with a shout. Someone close by laughed and you were able to turn just enough to see Captain Dameron approaching. His lip was busted and there was blood caked around his nose and you almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. He stopped in front of you and looked you over, being smart enough to keep his hands to himself. He let out a low whistle at the state of your face.

“You certainly look worse for wear, little rebel.” You looked at him in confusion for a moment before understanding crossed you and you began laughing. Dameron and the other officer shared a confused look before looking back at you.

“Oh, that’s just precious. You think I’m with the Resistance? Oh, honey, is Armie still not telling his officers everything when he sends them out?” Now, you were just absolutely amused. Would you be in trouble when they brought you in? Probably. But you just couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces. Straightening as much as you could, you looked Dameron directly in the eye. “Take me in. I need to speak to Kylo Ren.”

“Oh no, bitch. You’re our prisoner and we’ll be taking you to General Hux.” The other officer suddenly tried looking important while Dameron eyed you in interest. A slow smile crossed your face at this news.

“Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

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

You were brought aboard the Finalizer and taken to an interrogation room. Strapped into a chair, you barely moved when General Hux stepped into the room, followed by Captain Dameron and Officer Douchebag. Officer DB had been unnecessarily handsy with you and you had told him more than once that as soon as you were free, you would be kicking his ass. He had only found that amusing. When General Hux saw you strapped to the chair, his already pale face lightened even more. That slow smirk crept back up on your face at the slight panic that flickered into his eyes.

“Hi, Armie.”

“This is who you captured today.” Hux asked, his voice a little high. Officer Douchebag didn’t read the room and seemed to swell with pride.

“Yes. We caught this rebel scum in the village, exactly where the informant said she would be.” Dameron was looking between you and Hux with interest but kept silent. You could see the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out just who the hell you were.

“You absolute fool. Get her out of the chair before-“ The door sliding open behind them cut Hux off. Standing in the doorway was Kylo Ren and you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

“General Hux. Would you like to explain to me why you have my intelligence officer in a prison cell?”

You could have heard a pin drop with how silent the room got. Officer Douchebag was looking between you and Kylo with confusion, understanding was crossing over Captain Dameron’s face, and Hux looked about ready to pass out.

“Your intelligence officer? This is a rebel, she’s not-“ Kylo cut Officer Douchebag off, force choking the man who clearly had no brains.

“Release her. Now.” Dameron was the closest to you, so he reached over and quickly undid the restraints holding you in place. Rubbing your wrists, you shot him a wink before walking over to the officer. You gave him a sweet smile before punching him in the face. His nose broke with a sickening crack and blood gushed down his face. Kylo released him and he dropped, holding his nose and crying.

“Oh, do shut up. I warned you.” You rolled your eyes and turned to Kylo. “My apologies, sir. He doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.” Kylo nodded, before turning to leave the room and indicating for you to follow him. With a sigh, you brushed yourself off and turned to Hux.

“Armie, you should really consider vetting your officers better. Today was an absolute waste of time.” You turned and walked to the door to follow Kylo out but paused as you came up beside Captain Dameron. You let your gaze drag slowly up his form before stopping at his eyes. They were dark and full of curiosity and a spark of heat. You brought a hand up to cup his face, running your thumb along his busted lower lip. “Well…maybe not a complete waste. Do get that looked at, love.” With a final stroke of his lip, you turned and left the room leaving behind a sniveling officer, an exasperated General, and a very interested Captain.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [20]

vii. long into an abyss

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Reaper things, drug withdrawal (kind of?? the 100 style), violence, near death things, language, mentions of blood, choking.

Summary: Everything hinges on Lincoln’s recovery and survival, which seems less likely as time passes. 

a/n: in case you didn’t see my post yesterday, I finished writing s3 and it is a looong one! but I’m really happy with it and so excited to eventually share it with you guys! until then, here is part TWENTY! and yes, the taglist for this series is open!! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You’re halfway between the Delinquent Camp and Camp Jaha when Bellamy glances over at you, looking around Lincoln’s head. “You need to go get Clarke. We’re gonna need her if we’re going to figure out how to save Lincoln. Octavia and I will get him to the dropship.”

“Okay.” You shrug out from underneath Lincoln and Octavia takes your place, ready to carry him home. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

You turn from the siblings and break into a run, heading straight for Camp Jaha. It isn’t long before you hear the sounds of the camp in the distance, and you slow to a walk, moving to walk parallel with the perimeter so you can sneak in the back way. You walk until you find the small break in the trees and then you duck through it and jog up the short path to the fence. You look around for a stick and toss it at the fence, relieved to find that it isn’t electrified, before ducking inside and creeping from behind the buildings. 

When you step into the camp, everyone is gathered in the center of it, looking towards the doors of Alpha Station. There your mother stands, with Jaha at her side, both of them looking tense. Your brows furrow as you watch the former chancellor, sure that the last time you heard his name it was because they were telling you that he was dead. “I have faith. And right now, given the alternative, that's good enough for me.”

“Not for us.” You turn when you hear her voice, eyes quickly scanning the crowd to find your twin. You catch her when she steps forward, closer to Jaha and your mother, Finn right beside her. Her voice rises angrily, “If we leave here, what happens to our people in Mount Weather?”

Leave here? Jaha’s gaze locks on Clarke. “As your mother said, that is a very difficult decision to make. But the time has come for each and every one of us to ask, ‘Is this how the story of our people ends? Did we come all this way just to die tomorrow?’ Because if we're not gone by the time that sun rises, that is exactly what will happen.”

You shake your head in confusion, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. The crowd murmurs, in fear or anticipation you’re not sure, and you start to sneak towards your sister as your mom wraps up the meeting. “No decision has been made. In the meantime, please report to your station supervisor and gather emergency supplies.”

Everyone starts to turn away, and you use the chaos and movement to make the final steps towards Clarke, reaching out and grabbing her arm. She spins quickly, shock and relief crossing her features. “Where have you been?”

“You need to come with me right now.”

“Why? What's happened?”

You shake your head, “I'll explain on the way. Grab your med kit and meet me at Raven's gate.”

She nods once and you turn away, ducking from the crowd and dropping your head to avoid eye contact with anyone who may be watching. You stop by the supply room on your way to Raven’s gate, and slip inside unnoticed. You jog past the shelves of clothes and head straight for the rations, grabbing a few extra and stuffing them in your pack. You make a u-turn and head towards the locked up weapons, reaching out to grab the lock and inspect it. You smirk when you see it, easily breakable, and turn back to the shelves of supplies to find something to put pressure on the mechanism with. As you’re searching, you hear the door slide open behind you, and you duck down, peering between the shelves to see who it is. 

Your stomach flips when your eyes land on Shumway, who is heading over to the locked up weapons, keys jingling in his hand. You take a step back and duck down further, dropping from his view, but as your foot moves, you lightly bump the shelf beside you, rattling a can above your head. Shumway spins around, eyes landing right above you, and you hold your breath, praying he doesn’t spot you. His brows pull together and he pulls out his pistol as he starts to walk towards you, searching. You pull out your knife, your gun tucked away inside your backpack and push yourself backwards, into the shadows, until your back touches the wall. Shumway draws closer and closer, and you know it’s only a matter of seconds before he walks around the last shelf and comes face to face with you, clutching a knife and backed into a corner. Just as his boot crosses the line of the shelf, the door to the room slides open, and another guard steps inside.

Shumway spins towards him, gun raised, and the guard lifts his arms in surrender. When Shumway recognizes him, he lowers his gun. “What are you doing man? Help me get these guns ready for evac.”

“I thought I heard something. Someone.” Shumway tosses one last look in your direction before heading over to the guard and unlocking the cabinet, emptying all the weapons and ammo and loading them into bags. They each grab a few bags and Shumway starts to step towards the door when he stops and drops them. “I’m gonna find one more guy to help us carry these. Stay right here.”

The guard nods and drops his bags too, turning to lean against the wall and wait for the man’s return. Your eyes start scanning the room frantically, looking for a way out, before they land on a small window at the back of the room, blown out from the crash landing and open to the outside world. You creep towards it, your gaze jumping from the guard to the window as you maneuver your way closer to freedom. When you reach the back wall, you pull off your pack and toss it through, dropping to the floor as it hits the ground on the other side. The guard spins at the sound and looks around for a second, before turning back and leaning against the wall again. 

You stand and jump up quickly, and hoist yourself through the window before dropping to the ground on the other side. You hear yelling from somewhere behind you as you reach down and snag up your bag before breaking into a run and heading towards Raven’s Gate. You come around the corner and find your sister already there and waiting for you. “Where have you-”

You cut her off and grab her hand, tugging her behind you until you reach the fence, quickly ducking through. Clarke is barely through it when you hear the fence start to hum with electricity again, and you turn to her in surprise. She grabs you and starts to lead you into the treeline, out of sight. “They’re probably checking over everything because of the threat.”

“Threat? What threat?” 

She drops your hand when you reach the treeline and steps back to let you take the lead as she explains. “The Commander sent Jaha back to camp with a message: leave or be killed.”

“I thought Jaha was dead?”

“So did we.”

You turn to look at her, face serious. “Clarke, we can’t leave. The 47-”

“I know. I already told them that. For now, mom is on our side and doesn’t want to go, but I’m sure it won’t be long until she takes Jaha’s side.” Her eyes scan the area around you, lighting up with recognition. “Are we going back to the dropship?”

“Yes.” You step over a fallen log, and turn to make sure she makes it over too. “We found Lincoln. But he’s...not himself.”

“What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath and watch her from the corner of your eye. “He’s a Reaper.”

“A Reaper?” You nod. “How?”

“We don’t know.”

The trees open up to a clearing, revealing the fallen perimeter of your former home. Clarke doesn’t ask anything else, and allows you to lead her to the dropship. You ascend the ladder first, Clarke hot on your heels, and as soon as Lincoln spots you he lunges towards you, screaming with rage. You and Clarke jump in surprise, and Bellamy steps towards you both, offering some comfort. “It's okay, it's okay. He's been restrained.”

You both watch as he strains and pulls against his restraints, reminding you of when Bellamy tortured him. Octavia is on the ground near your feet, hunched over and exhausted. She lifts her head to meet Clarke’s eyes. “Can you help him?”

“I don't know.” She steps towards him, slow and tentative, eyes never leaving the struggling man. “I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers. I had no idea they were creating them.”

Bellamy shifts closer to you, voice low. “If they can do that to Lincoln, what're they doing to our friends?”

Your stomach drops, thinking of the 47 being beaten, tortured, and drained for blood. You work to swallow a wave of nausea, as Clarke mutters, “I need more light.”

You, Bellamy, and Octavia all grab your flashlights and shine them towards Lincoln, hoping that it’s enough. Your flashlight passes over his leg, his wound still bleeding, and Clarke turns to face you. “What happened to his leg?”

You watch Ocatvia’s face fall, then harden, as she avoids everyone’s eyes. “I shot him.”

“Clarke, he's lost a lot of blood.” Bellamy���s voice pulls her gaze away from his younger sister, and back to Lincoln. Her gaze rakes over him quickly, but you see her squint as she tries to get a closer look at something. “Can you shine the light on his neck?”

Clarke steps closer as Octavia lifts the light to Lincoln’s neck, and he turns away from the bright beam. “Needle marks.”

You step closer to her, confused. “You think he's being drugged?”

“Maybe.”

As soon as the word leaves her mouth, Lincoln pulls one of the chains keeping his arm restrained free. It hits Clarke as he grabs her and pulls her closer, trying to rip out her throat with his teeth. You jump into action and run towards them, only to be flung to the side and into the wall. Octavia suffers a similar fate before Bellamy runs forward, hitting Lincoln’s arm until he drops your twin on the ground. Lincoln rears his head back and collides it with Bellamy’s, sending him backwards while he shrugs himself free of the other arm restraint. You all scramble backwards as Lincoln lunges towards you, managing to stay just out of reach. Bellamy rolls and grabs the shock baton, jumping to his feet and running towards the possessed Reaper. Lincoln pulls one of his legs free just as Bellamy reaches him, deflecting the shock baton and tossing Bellamy to the ground. You watch as Lincoln delivers blow after blow to Bellamy’s face, blood blooming and spreading beneath his fists. 

You jump up and run to them, screaming out in rage as you reach Lincoln and kick him in the side. He turns towards you and smacks you across the face so hard your neck cracks, and you hit the floor. You taste blood rolling over your tongue as Clarke runs over in your defense, only to catch a fist to the stomach that sends her flying. You roll closer and kick out at Lincoln, trying to keep him away from Bellamy, who you hear calling out your name in protest. Lincoln grabs your legs and pulls you closer, hitting you in the face a few times before his hands close around your throat and cut off your airway. 

You hear Bellamy yelling in fear and anger as he lunges towards Lincoln, but he is knocked to the side easily by the Grounder. You feel your fingers reach into your pocket and pull out your knife, fingers closing tight around the handle as black spots dance in your vision. You plunge the knife into his side, but he doesn’t even flinch. Your lungs scream for oxygen as darkness starts to edge out your vision. And just before you think it’s over, Lincoln’s head snaps up and to the side as Octavia hits him twice with a large metal bar. 

You take in a large gasp of air, nearly dizzy from the sudden influx of oxygen, as Bellamy staggers to his feet and stumbles over to you. He drops to his knees at your side, taking your face in his hands as he whispers, “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you think about your closeness to death (again), and he leans down and kisses you, thankful that you cheated death once more. He pulls away and looks at you for a long second, affection and worry written all over his face. You smile at him, trying to reassure him, as you hear Clarke drop down beside you. Bellamy leans back as she reaches forward, her fingers gently tugging your collar down to look at your neck. She presses the skin around the already darkening bruises, and you wince. Her hands lift and skim over the cuts on your face, checking their depth before she meets your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay. Just some bruises and shallow cuts.”

They help you up and you turn to Octavia and reach for her, pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy for you.” She sniffles and nods into your hair, and you pull away and give her a serious look. “We’re gonna get him back. I promise.”

She nods again, and you both turn to look at Clarke and Bellamy. “We should get him tied up before he wakes up again.”

Everyone agrees and you all tear apart the dropship looking for things to restrain him with. Minutes later he is held back once again, this time with a series of ropes, cables, ties, and a net, all securely held into place at multiple anchor points. You all gather around him and Clarke begins to look him over again. “We have to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out, and patch up the knife wound. Hold his leg down.”

You and Bellamy move to his leg and pin it down. At the same time, Octavia tries to help Lincoln drink water, but he screams and spits it out, wasting what little water she had left. She closes the lid on the canteen and stands with a determined look. “That’s okay, I’ll get some more.”

She leaves the dropship and you all watch her go before Clarke turns her sights back on Lincoln’s gunshot wound. She digs around in her kit until she finds a surgical clamp, which she uses to dig the bullet out of his leg. Lincoln screams out in rage and pain and attempts to fight you off, but you and Bellamy bear down on him, keeping him in place. He only fights for a second longer before passing out from the pain, making the removal process easier for all of you. Once she has the bullet removed she cleans and stitches the wound before turning her sights on the next one. 

She looks at the knife in his side before pulling it out and passing it to you. You wipe the blade off on your pants before tucking it back into your pocket. Clarke uses Lincoln’s unconscious state in her favor and cleans and stitches him quickly before he wakes up again. You whisper to her, “Mom would be proud.”

As she finishes she looks over at you, voice quiet. “Mom would know how to save him.”

She turns towards her kit and starts to drop her supplies inside, and you and Bellamy lean back from Lincoln and watch her. To the right of you, the hatch swings open and Octavia steps into view, followed by another person. The Grounder from the village, Nyko. You scramble to your feet in shock and Bellamy makes a mad dash for his gun, while reaching out to pull you behind him as he lifts the rifle to his shoulder. 

Octavia steps in front of Nyko, face etched in panic. “Bellamy, don't! He's Lincoln's friend and their healer.”

Below you, Lincoln starts to grunt and shake, and Clarke leans over him, voice high with panic. “He's seizing again!”

The room is held frozen by a moment of tense silence, until Bellamy lowers his gun slightly and nods towards Lincoln, giving the healer permission to help him. Nyko pulls out a satchel and unrolls it, revealing a collection of vials, all full of different colored liquids. He scans them before picking up one with clear liquid inside and uncorking it. 

“What is that?”

He ignores Clarke’s question and leans over Lincoln, whispering, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

You glance over at Bellamy, who is still tensed up, and then at Clarke, whose gaze is bouncing between the vial, Nyko, and Lincoln. As he tips the vial and a drop starts to fall out, realization hits her and she sticks out her hand, catching the droplet. “Wait!”

Nyko pulls out a knife and Bellamy lifts his rifle again and aims it at the man. “Back off! Right now!”

You see Clarke’s mind spinning as she repeats the Grounder phrase. “Yu gonplei ste odon. It's what they say before death.” She turns to look at Octavia. “He's not trying to heal him, he's trying to kill him.”

Octavia turns and glares at Nyko. “Is it true?”

“Yes. Death is the only way.”

“Hold on. There could be a way to bring him back.”

He looks at her, and drops the knife. “None that I've ever seen.”

No one has a chance to answer before the dropship is thrust into chaos again. Finn’s head pops into the room, and you hear him say something about needing to leave before Nyko jumps up, full of rage. “You!”

He runs at Finn and grabs him, yelling at him in his native tongue. He slams Finn into the wall as Bellamy turns his gun on the Grounder once more. “Get off him!”

Nyko ignores him, hands shaking with anger as he pins Finn to the wall. “You slaughtered my people. Elders. Children. Innocents.”

His hands close around Finn’s neck, squeezing tightly, and you see the color drain from Finn’s face. “Nyko, you're killing him!”

“Blood must have blood!”

Clarke is frozen, eyes locked on Finn as the life drains from his body, and the Blake siblings scream back and forth about whether to shoot Nyko. You watch everything in a frozen panic before remembering the baton. You run to the other side of the room and grab it, lighting it up on your way over and pressing it to Nyko’s back. He screams out in pain and instantly drops Finn, and you see Clarke run towards him to check on him. You turn off the baton and your gaze locks with Bellamy’s. Octavia’s voice breaks the silence of the room when she yells, “Lincoln! He's not breathing!”

Clarke runs from Finn to Lincoln, checking for a pulse. “His heart's stopped. Move!”

She starts performing CPR, and Octavia watches on in horror. You and Bellamy stand over Nyko, his gun still lifted and your baton still in hand as you watch Clarke bring Lincoln back from the dead. He takes in a deep breath of air, gasping, and Nyko shifts beside you. You turn, ready to stop him again, but he stares at Clarke in fascination. “He was dead. How did you do that?”

Clarke turns towards him. “You've tried bringing Reapers back before?”

He nods and she asks, “And they died like this?”

You see her brain working again, and you meet her gaze. “What is it?”

“I know how to stop the attack.” She stands and turns to you. “I need you to come with me. We’ll need a united front to convince mom.”

You nod, agreeing, as she turns to the others. “Keep an eye on Lincoln and Nyko. We’ll be back soon.”

“What about Finn?”

She turns to look at Nyko, and then over at Bellamy. “I’ll take him with us, just in case.”

She steps away and heads down the ladder, and you move to the other side of the room and grab your pack. Bellamy steps up behind you and you pull the extra rations out, passing them to him. “You should eat. All of you. And you should get some rest. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

He takes the rations and sets them aside, before turning back to you and giving you a serious look. “Be careful.”

“I will.” He pulls your collar aside and takes a peek at your bruises, before his eyes meet yours again. “I mean it.”

You stand on your tippy toes and give him a quick kiss. “We’ll be right back, I promise.”

You smile and then turn away, lowering yourself down the ladder and onto the floor. Clarke and Finn turn and step away from each other, and you can tell from the tension in the air that they were having a serious conversation. You look between the two, and start to head towards the door. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

They follow you out into the cool night air, the moon beaming down and cutting through the trees. Finn jogs ahead and leads your trio, leaving you and Clarke to walk side by side. You glance at her, searching her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Things are just...off between us right now.”

You reach out and grab her hand, squeezing in comfort, letting her know that you understand. She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, before turning on you and twisting her mouth into a smirk. 

“So you and Bellamy?” You blush and turn away. “I had my suspicions, but I thought he wasn’t your type.”

You bump her shoulder with yours, “Shut up.”

You both laugh, but she squeezes your hand. “I’m happy for you. You guys are good for each other.”

You give her a soft smile, thinking of what Octavia said to you a few days ago. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

She’s about to ask something when Finn turns back to you both and whispers, “Shh.”

He stops and listens for a minute, and you and Clarke follow suit, but you don’t hear anything other than the owls in the trees and the scurrying of animals through the bushes. A look of fear passes over Finn’s face before he grabs you and Clarke and mutters, “Run!”

You all break into a sprint, tearing through the trees, following Finn as he guides you through the darkness and towards safety. You don’t stop running until you reach the gate, and the guards open it and let you all inside. Your mom and Jaha are standing nearby talking, and Clarke calls out to them. “Mom!”

She runs towards you, looking angry until her eyes land on your face, adorned with fresh cuts, and her expression softens a little. “Where have you been? We're leaving.”

“I know how to stop the attack.”

Jaha spins towards Clarke, “What're you talking about?”

“We haven't been able to negotiate with the Grounders because we haven't had anything to offer them. The biggest threat they face is from the Reapers.”

You piggyback off your twin’s statement, “The Reapers are being drugged by the Mountain Men. Created by them. We think we may be able to eliminate that threat for them once and for all.”

Your mom is silent, considering both of your words before she asks, “How?”

“Abby.” Jaha’s voice is stern, a glare plastered on his face, directed between the three of you. “You can't seriously-”

He cuts himself off when the camp falls silent, his gaze locking on something out beyond the walls, you turn to follow his gaze, watching as four torches of fire glow in the distance. And then the four turn into eight, and then 16, 32, multiplying until there is a wall of fire right outside your walls. Your mom turns and looks at all of you. “Inside. Now.”

You follow her into the council room, grabbing Byrne and Sergeant Miller on the way, and you all stand around the table, staring at each other, considering the options. You’re the first to break the silence, “They're not attacking yet, which means we still have time.”

Your mother turns towards you, shaking her head. “We have two hours until dawn.”

“Let me talk to the Commander.” Clarke steps up from beside you, locking eyes with your mom. “She was Anya's Second. Maybe she'll listen.”

Jaha throws up his hands in frustration. “We don't even know if the Commander is here.”

“Yes, we do. Nyko told us.” All eyes turn to Finn as he comes in defense of Clarke. “You have to at least let her try.”

“Abby, we're wasting time. Give me the authority now.”

You turn a disgusted look towards the former chancellor, instantly put off by his tone. Your mom seems to feel the same way, because she cuts in, “Hold on. You said that Lincoln is going through withdrawal.” She hesitates, considering every angle. “We don't even know what he's withdrawing from. The detox alone could kill him.”

“That's where you come in.”

She looks at you, expression neutral. “And if I can't save him?”

“That's not an option.”

Her gaze locks with yours, reading your expression, running through the possibilities. She does the same with Clarke, noting your conviction, your desire to fix this now and save everyone. Jaha seems to get tired of this and grows incredulous. “We are risking everything on a bluff? Abby, we have an out. We have a way to save the lives of our people.”

You spin towards him, voice hard. “Not all of them.”

He jumps to his feet and slams his hand on the table. “We will come back to save the kids inside Mount Weather!”

“We all know that's not going to happen!” You feel Finn and Clarke step towards you, agreeing, joining in your defense. Jaha steps towards your mother and stops right beside her. “Abby. This has gone on long enough. If you do not give the order to begin the exodus, you are killing us all.”

“I'm sorry.” She pauses, leaving a moment for you to all wonder who the apology is for, until she turns to Jaha. “I can't give that order.”

He closes the space between them, dropping his head to speak directly into her ear. “Abby. Give the order.”

“No.”

His eyes grow wide and his energy grows more erratic as he glares at your mom. “I...am the elected Chancellor of the Ark. And I am not going to let you risk the lives of more people; do you understand? I'm going to ask you once again: give the order to begin the exodus.”

“No. Are you through yet?”

You watch as he starts to shake slightly with anger, and you reach your hand into your pocket, closing it around your knife, genuinely convinced he’s about to attack your mother and everyone else in this room. But then he seems to remember the audience, because his gaze shifts over to the rest of you. You can see him visibly trying to calm himself down as he steps away and walks over to Byrne.

“Sergeant Miller. Major Byrne. I am relieving Doctor Griffin of her command. Place these four into custody, but make sure they are ready to leave with the rest of us within the hour.”

Byrne and Miller stand completely still, unmoving. And Jaha’s voice rises in anger. “Right now, Major! Or the blood of everyone in this camp will be on your hands, too.”

Still, she doesn’t move. And despite your annoyance at her continuous spying, you commend her loyalty, because she doesn’t move until your mom opens her mouth. “Major Byrne, Sergeant Miller. Put Chancellor Jaha in the stockade.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

They reach for him, but he shakes out of their grasp and spins around in anger, looking at the woman who dares to defy him. “Everything we did to survive…” He trails off, looking over at you, Clarke, and Finn. “You're just throwing it all away. Why?”

“Because I have faith, too.” Her gaze shifts over to you and Clarke, standing side by side, her shining star and her little la lune. “In my daughters.”

You feel a rush of affection for her, unfamiliar, a foreign idea clouded by the strain in your relationship. Clarke is the first to step forward and address her. “Thank you.”

“I'll send the guard detail with you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “They'll see it as a threat. I have to do this on my own.”

You step towards your mother, “I’ll take you to Lincoln.”

She nods, and you squeeze Clarke’s hand as you pass. “See you soon.”

Your mom and twin share a hug before she turns towards you again, now ready to follow your lead. 

-

The run back to the dropship is taken in complete silence, too much stress, fear, and anxiety on your minds to hold a conversation with each other. You make it back to the camp as the sun is rising into the sky, signaling the end of the timeline given to your people by the commander. You can do nothing but hope that Clarke is granted an audience and buys you enough time.

You step up into the dropship first, and Octavia sighs with relief as soon as she sees you. “Oh, thank god. Where's Clarke?”

“Trying to stop a war.”

Your mom immediately steps around you and heads for Lincoln, slipping into doctor mode as soon as she sees the state he’s in. “Pupils are unresponsive.” You catch Bellamy and Octavia sharing a concerned look before your mom hands rubber tubing to the younger Blake. “Tie off his arm. Tight as you can.”

She does as she’s told while your mom digs through her bag and tries to offer her some comfort. “Thanks to the supplies your brother found, he might have a chance.”

“What's that?”

“This will bring down his fever.” As soon as she starts to enter the needle into his arm, Lincoln gains consciousness and pushes her away. Your mom turns to you and Bellamy. “Hold him down!”

You both run over and restrain him, just as convulsions start to rock his body. They only last for a second before he grows still again. Your mom checks his pulse, and her voice is full of alarm when she says, “His heart's stopped.”

She directs Nyko on how to assist her during CPR, as she pushes down on his chest and attempts to restart his heart. There is nothing the rest of you can do other than watch on in terror as your last hope for a peace treaty with the Grounders dies with Lincoln. 

You don’t know how long has passed before your mother stops, leaning back and looking down at Lincoln in pure defeat. Octavia glares at her, “You're stopping. What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Mom…” You trail off, unsure what to say, keep going, you can save him, they’ll kill us all for this, but she just gives you a sad look. “He's gone.”

Octavia pushes her aside, taking over. “No, it's not possible. You're wrong!”

You and Bellamy kneel beside her as she sobs and pushes on his chest, desperate to get him breathing again. You hear the hatch open as Octavia stops, a broken sob pushing past her lips. You make eye contact with Clarke as she steps inside, and you see her gaze drop down to Lincoln’s still body before meeting your eyes again. You can see the silent question there and you shake your head. A second person steps into the dropship, a girl with long dark hair and war paint smeared over her eyes. She exudes power and authority, and you’re almost positive that you’re looking at the Commander. 

Her eyes are on the unmoving Lincoln, and you can see her rage grow as others step into the dropship to join you. You turn towards Bellamy, touching his hand, and his eyes shift towards you. You glance at his rifle and he reaches for it, and you turn to look around you for a weapon, stomach dropping when you find none. One of the Grounders looks at your group, and then at the commander. On her signal, she snarls, “Kill them all!”

Everyone in the room jumps into action. The Grounders all pull out their swords, Bellamy lifts his rifle, and your mother grabs the baton from the floor near your feet. You grab your knife from your pocket and wrap your other arm around Octavia, as she remains unmoving, still mourning the loss of Lincoln. Clarke looks at the commander, voice shaking in fear. “Please. You don't have to do this.”

“You lied, and you're out of time.”

Before anything else can happen, your mother drops to the ground beside Licnoln and activates the shock baton, pressing it to his chest. His body jumps and lifts from the power, before dropping back to the ground, still unmoving. Your eyes never leave his body as you mutter, “Hit him again.”

She complies, and this time the electricity jump starts his heart. Lincoln pulls in a deep gasp of air, and Octavia tugs herself out of your arms and into his line of sight. “Lincoln.”

He looks at her for a second, and then whispers, “Octavia.”

She sighs in relief and you turn to Bellamy, both of you looking at each other in shock as the tension from the last few minutes starts to melt away. You can hear the Grounders sheathing their swords, taking you out of danger for the time being. Bellamy smiles and you let out a quiet laugh of relief, before reaching for Octavia and squeezing her hand, celebrating the return of Lincoln and your hope for peace.

For now. 

-

next chapter

[primergon]

i’m searching low in the night , starscream/fem!reader

Summary : What could he possibly want from an organic? A filthy, weak, and incompetent organic? An organic whose tears he could not stop imagining, an organic whose eyes follow him everywhere he goes, an organic whose laughter crowded every space of his silence.An organic, who is out there, unknowingly waiting for him.

( Starscream meets shattered glass! Starscream and discovers somethings better left unknown)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime

Relationships: Starscream / reader, Starscream (Transformers)/You

THE locks hissed, latching themselves in place. Shockwave remained unperturbed by the whole scenario, mulling about as if it was nothing short of a usual day in the lab. If this couldn’t shake the stoic Mech, then Starscream doesn’t want to know what will. Knockout seemed much more hesitant, shooting glances at him every now and then – Starscream would have found it comical if it wasn’t for the look everyone’s giving him.

Starscream marched to his counterpart, peeling himself off the wall. “ You’re an Autobot.”

His doppelganger shot him a no slag look. The Autobot insignia gleamed above his armor, a stark difference to the walls that held him prisoner. Starscream took the chance to observe him – or himself, up close. Aside from the minor scratches he got upon entering the portal, he seemed unharmed. The color scheme of his plating was enough to make Starscream nauseous. It was white down to his claws – no, fingers. It was white down to his fingers.

Starscream scowled.

“ Pathetic,” He scoffed, “ I expected better from myself.”

“ Makes the two of us.”

The vehicons left once their work was done, ushered out by Knockout. There was comfort in knowing that Megatron won’t be around to witness this himself, even if a field report was inevitably going to inform him of it, considering that Shockwave was with them – yet his temporary absence gave Starscream the closure he needed to let his curiosity wander.

Mirror-Starscream – as Knockout has dubbed, looked uncharacteristically calm, which only serves to agitate him even more. Deep down he was rooting for him to resist, to fight back – to even beg. Where was his cunningness? Where were his shrewd quips and witty reasoning? Why isn’t he trying to talk his way out? Was he that much of a coward? Yet the look in his eyes stated otherwise. It was one of determination. One of courage and loyalty and – bah! It makes him sick.

Pathetic.

Shockwave can toss his words to the Pit – there was no way he was staring at his alternate self. Whatever failed science experiment the one-eyed slagger had conjured, it couldn’t have possibly brought back anything that resembled him. This must be some sort of trick, a curse, a bad omen.

“ Mind sharing to us how this all came to be?” Knockout hummed, attaching the very last wires into the system. The computer whirred to life, the noise enough to set him on edge – again Mirror-Starscream was almost unresponsive, merely glancing around as if he’s laying on a human beach rather than the torture chamber of a Decepticon warship.

“ You’re going to pry it from my head anyways.” He tugged on the restraints. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter – you won’t get any information that you can use against my friends, because I don’t know how the slag this happened either.”

Starscream scoffed. “ We’ll see about that.”

Starscream slid onto the opposite berth, letting the doctor ease a cable around the back of his helm. His double regarded him silently, confusion in his eyes – as if he couldn’t picture what they’ve become. “Why ?”

“ Why not?”

Knockout gave him the signal and at the count of three, Shockwave activated the cortical psychic patch. His double gave him a horrified look, before falling into his memories, pulling Starscream with him.

He shouldn’t be surprised – no. He’d seen many things throughout this war. He’d seen Vos crumble at his feet, he’d seen flyers getting their wings ripped out by blasters mid-air, he’d seen Megatron on his worst days. He’d seen it all, nothing could catch him off-guard.

Except maybe this.

“ W-what is this?”

His double raised a brow at him. “ This is the part that surprises you?”

Starscream recoiled. “ Why am I touching that organic?”

His double searched his gaze. “ That organic is our – my Conjunx.”

Starscream swore he could hear Knockout’s gasp, or perhaps it was his own. The seeker retreated, looking back and forth. “ I would rather go to the Pit than admit that-that creature is my – “

“You don’t recognize her?”

His double moved forward, walking past Megatron – a parallel Megatron, where he wasn’t a bloodthirsty warlord, but instead, a scientist whose driving force is to protect humanity and take down Orion Pax. Orion Pax, Optimus, for short - who is supposedly a gladiator of Kaon. Starscream could barely picture the red and blue Mech even taking down a vehicon before the primacy, what more Megatron? Then again, the silver Mech didn’t even look threatening – with no claws and blue optics. Primus, what happened to his optics?

Starscream pretended to be nauseated, insulted, infuriated – yet he couldn’t bring himself to pry his eyes away from the sight. The scene had melted into another one, the once vibrant colors peeling into a dark room. He could hear the sound of rain, and the roof above his head suggested that he was inside a human home. He flinched when the wood creaked below his feet, only to realize that it came from the memory.

He could walk only to where his double stood, not daring to reach out any further. In his double’s memory, he was hugging – hugging? Yes, hugging the organic. They were laying down on a human berth, limbs tangled. He was nearly lost in the intimacy, watching as she dragged her fingers across his wings. This would imply that – Primus, they really are Conjux Endurae. Watching himself being courted is weird enough, watching him being courted by a fleshling is even worse. Then again, she was being extremely careful, reaching out to cover the expanse of his wing with her faint caress.

“ Are you falling asleep?” She asked, whispering into the dark. Their bodies were illuminated by the half-light pouring through the window, shielded from the ongoing storm. It was quiet, so quiet, that he could hear her breathing.

“ I am.” He murmured, burying his head deeper against her clothed stomach. Starscream wanted to flinch at that, to rage at the idea that he would give himself to something so –

She laughed. The noise faint and brief, yet enough to send something through his spark. He retreated, watching as she pulled him closer. “ That’s good to hear. You’ve been working so hard, and I’ve been worried. I can’t imagine anything happening to you.”

Outside he could hear the roll of thunder. His double raised a finger, tracing it across her cheek. “ I should be the one that’s worried.” He pulled himself up, sitting upright. “ What did the doctor say?”

There was a moment. He should’ve taken this as a chance to break the vision – they should be looking for information. One related to winning this war, yet he felt anchored to the ground, unable to move. The fact that they haven’t shifted to another memory meant that Shockwave no longer has control over the psychic patch, leaving them with no room to argue.

The human woman hesitated. He waited, combing her hair. “ Tell me, please.”

There it was, begging. Starscream stole a glance at his counterpart, who was leaning by the wall, looking away. She rose to sit, placing both her hands across his cheeks. She leaned in, brushing her lips against his own. He felt appalled, but the feeling ebbed away when she started crying. Liquid leaked from her optics – eyes, humans called them.

“ Starscream.” There was something in the way she uttered his name. He’d heard people shout his name, scream his name, belittle and butcher his name. He was used to the anger dripping from their voices when his name was called, he had grown to the cruel and sneering way everyone would refer him to.

That’s why hearing his name uttered so gently was enough to shock him into flinching.

He couldn't remember the last time someone did that.

“ We both know I…my life is finite compared to yours. We both know I will leave you much sooner than you want me to. I wished we had more time, but if this is all that the universe is going to allow me, then I want to spend it with you.” The tears continued to spill, even if she’d buried her face on his shoulder. “ I’m sorry…I’m sorry that we’re so unlucky in this lifetime. I’m sorry, I had to get sick, I’m sorry I’ll – “

His double shushed her. She was hiccupping, spilling her tears all over his armor – yet he didn’t seem to care. All he did was hold her, rocking her sideways. Warmly, tenderly, intimately. “ Don’t apologize for something you cannot control.”

He laid her back down on the bed, the two of them facing one another. It was at this point that Starscream felt as if he had interrupted something private, something he shouldn’t see – but the rain outside was growing stronger. The wind howling and shaking the trees.

Once she’d calm down, she raised a hand above the pillow. “ I didn’t know I was sick. But, if you had known earlier – will you still stay?”

“ I would.” He answered.

She narrowed her eyes.“ Even if it would hurt you?”

“ I would.”

His mirrored-self embraced her in a way that seemed so foreign – could he do that? Was he capable of really giving her that kind of security? That kind of comfort? Here, within these four walls, the war couldn't reach them. Here, in this far, distant memory coming from a life he could have had, she laid next to him as if she trusted him more than anyone.

She could have never done the same with him – yet this was him, wasn't it?

“ I wish we are luckier in another life.”

She murmured, eyes struggling to keep themselves open. He – his double, continued to rub comforting circles around her back. Under his metal fingers, her skin looked so pliant, so inviting. He nuzzled the column of her neck, arching into her touch.

He could crush her, hurt her – yet he didn’t.

Why? Starscream didn’t understand. Why, why, why, why –

“ Why?”

Once again, the scenery before them started to blur, fading into the next one. His mirrored-self ex-vented.

“ Why not ?”

Even after they’ve severed the psychic link, Starscream still finds himself going back to the memory. He could never forget the look Knockout had offered him. He could have handled the gloating or the disgust in his face. Yet everything about the medic screamed pity, and Starscream had to walk out of the room to stop himself from getting angry.

At what, he didn’t know.

His double had managed to escape. After three days of captivity, Mirror-Starscream was rescued by his team – Starscream scoffed bitterly, all that hassle, all that trouble, just to rescue one Mech? In this world, Megatron would have left him for scrap.

He let his hands fall to his sides.

He would have left him for scrap.

The warlord was indifferent to the incident, if not a little agitated with how they’ve managed to still return empty-handed. The Vehicons had initially gossiped about it, whispering to one another whenever he would pass down the halls. After a week, however, it died down – any talk about his second life vaporizing into thin air. Disappearing without a trace.

Starscream wished it was the same for his memories.

Yet, here he lay – awake at night in his berth, staring at the ceiling. If he closes his optics, he could hear the pitter-patter of the rain above the roof. He could hear her breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. He could imagine her hands against his skin – warm. They would be very warm. Initially, whenever the thought would arise, he would push them away. He’d spent weeks running from it, only to find that he’s been going in circles – haunted by a memory that wasn’t even his to begin with.

What made it so appealing?

What could he possibly want from an organic? A filthy, weak, and incompetent organic? An organic whose tears he could not stop imagining, an organic whose eyes follow him everywhere he goes, an organic whose laughter crowded every space of his silence.

An organic, who is out there, unknowingly waiting for him.

“ I wish we are luckier in another life.”

He clenched his fists.

He stared at the datapad. At that time, he had caught a glance of her name written above what seemed to be a medical report. He had entered the syllables into a humans search engine, scrolling through the world wide web for her identity. He stared at her picture on a social platform – social media, they call it.

He groaned. What am I doing?

She was smiling. He noted. She looked healthy here.

But will it stay that way?

“ Even if it would hurt you?”

He stood by the roof of the Nemesis, feeling the clouds cluster oppressively around him. The onslaught of rain did nothing to deter his stance. He watched the storm below, observing the flash of lighting. Thunder followed not long after. The wind strong enough to faintly rock the ship.

 Just one look to quench your curiosity, he reasoned, just one look so you will stop thinking about her.

He turned off his comm-link, severing all communication with Soundwave. This should buy him some time, how long ? He doesn't know. Hopefully, it will be enough.

All he needed to do was jump, and somewhere below – inside a human home, you were waiting for him.

Pathetic. He thought - leaping off the platform.

A/N :  I hope this isn't too OOC, you can set the timeline anywhere you want - but I'd like to think it's somewhere around season 2. Don't hesitate to tell me what you guys think and correct my mistakes <3

AO3 Link : I’m searching low in the night 

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Five (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, murder plot ig

wc; 8.7k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The second that you walk into the apartment, you’re surprised to see that the place is entirely clear, except for the avoxes that stand off to the side. There’s not even a note left behind. You find yourself grateful that you aren’t being bombarded with questions right as you walk in.

Finnick is, of course, nowhere to be seen. Assuming that he’s in his room like he normally is after long days, you head straight to your room, dreaming of a cold shower and a moment alone to your thoughts. After what happened this morning, you think you’re in need of a good moment alone to your thoughts.

The second you step in, you see that Finnick is sitting in front of your window. You know Finnick said that you have a good view and all, but that doesn’t mean that he has to come in uninvited, especially when you’re not here. You don’t say anything, and he barely acknowledges your presence.

He watches you disappear into the closet, and you don’t peek your head out once to get a look at him. Instead, you gather your clothes for after the shower. When you step out of the closet, Finnick is now turned to you, legs straight in front of him. 

“Are you still going with the careers?” he asks.

The entire wording of the sentence makes you bite the inside of your cheek, staring right at him. He can’t be serious, right? But the longer that he stares, without saying a single word and not laughing once, makes you boil.

“That was the original plan, wasn’t it?” you ask sourly, throwing your clothes onto the freshly-made bed. Your right hand forms into a fist, and you place it on your hip, “That was our original plan.”

“It was, you’re right. But I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“I know, and I knew days ago. I’m not stupid, Finnick. In fact, I’m a whole lot smarter than you think.” when his eyes drift to the window, clearly not wanting a lecture, “Your alliance is going to get you killed.” you snap, watching his eyes find you again, “But you don’t know that, because you’re too caught up in making best friends with people that are going to die.”

“You don’t know that.” he says back.

“You’re accepting defeat.” you gather your clothes in your arms again. You don’t need him around you, not with that mindset. If he accepts the fact that he’s okay with dying and letting his friends win, then that’s his problem, “You’re a sinking ship.”

“No, you are.” he says, and you turn your back to him, “What would your brothers say?”

“They’d say to do whatever it takes to come back alive. If that means teaming up with the people that’ll carry me for most of the games, then so-fucking-be it.” when you look at him again, he’s halfway to the door.

“No, they wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Finnick!” you shout, slamming your hand into the wall on your way out of the bathroom, “You’ve talked to me for years and it’s like you’ve learned nothing. They told me I can win. And I can, and the process will be a whole lot fucking easier without you in the picture.”

His eyebrows push in, mouth opening, but you finish, “So yeah, I’m with the careers, and I fit in just fine. Get the hell out of my room and stay on your side of the hallway.”

You watch to make sure he leaves, and then for good measure, you lock the doors shut. Your shower is cold, and it feels even colder after what had just happened. You sit on the floor, forehead on your knees as you close your eyes. Your body begins to cool down, no longer feeling so warm. 

You’d really wanted to come in here to think about this morning, worried about the nightmare resurfacing only days before the games. It’s recurring, and typically happens when you’re about to enter a part of your life that you’ll never be able to go back and change.

The first time that really happened was when your mom died giving birth to Alyssum. You went from having her around in the house after school, to her being gone completely. She was replaced by a baby that you loathed for months, until you realized that she wouldn’t be so bad once she got older.

There was a tension between you and your brothers even before your dad died. When he did, it broke it entirely. All of you were broken, and you buried a casket without a body. It was a fishing accident, a handful of fishermen had died. No bodies recovered, the boat was never found. One day you had a parent, and the next you didn’t.

The recurring nightmare is normally drowning out at sea. The boat malfunctions and sinks, and you swim for as long as possible, sometimes trying to get back to land. But it’s always too far away and you never seem to find it. In fact, you’re turned around most of the time. So, you could be swimming away or parallel to the land and you’d never know.

You’re a fantastic swimmer, it’s the worry of getting tired and giving up, slowly sinking into the deep blue depths. You run out of air and will to swim, limbs becoming heavy. By the time you take in your first breath of water, you always seem to realize that you don’t want to die. But it’s impossible to swim back up to the top. You drown every single time.

It’s exhausting. There’s some point where you always recognize that it’s a nightmare but can’t wake yourself from it. You have to go through with drowning, and wake up with puddles of sweat on your sheets. Normally after them back home, you won’t bother with a shower or bath. Instead, you’ll go out and do some mind-numbing task that you’d never do willingly. Like fold the laundry or do the dishes.

You scrub your skin free of all the grime of today, and when you’re dressed you go ahead and lay onto the bed, back turned towards the window because of the sunlight. It takes a long moment before fatigue finally drags you under, and when it does you’re so incredibly grateful. 

Anchor is the one to come and wake you up this time. He tells you that dinner is ready, and that Laurel and Pleurisy are here so don’t be shocked. You thank him, and when he leaves the room, you go straight to the bathroom to fix your messy hair. After trying to brush through it, you give up halfway through and pull it up.

At the table sits everyone but Mags and Finnick. You pick the seat furthest from the two open spots, and slowly but surely, the others settle in, leaving two open spaces. You pick at the lamb stew and rice, not too hungry because you just woke up. Mostly, you listen to the conversation between Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy, until they all turn they all turn their attention to you.

“How was the session?” Anchor asks, he’s playing around with red wine, you think, “We couldn’t ask earlier.”

Your eyes move to the hallway, you see no shadows, “I don’t want to give it away if he’s listening.”

“He’s not, I promise.” Elysia says.

You take a deep breath, stirring the soup, “Well, I had their full attention the entire time. They kinda laughed at me when I stopped in front of the knife throwing because of how bad I was yesterday.”

Elysia gasps your name, and Anchor seems disappointed too. This is exactly the same reaction that the gamemakers had earlier. Until they saw you throwing the knives, the room went entirely quiet and all you could hear was your heart pounding in your ears and your quick breaths. It was entirely satisfying to leave them speechless like that.

“But out of the nine knives I threw at the dummy, I only missed two, above the shoulder and between the legs.” you twirl the spoon handle between your fingers, “I got a few vital places, that’s all that matters. I was mostly focused on the legs towards the end because that’ll hinder running away.”

Laurel’s got a smile on her face, “Is that it?”

“No, I used the tenth knife on the spear throw and I still nailed the middle. It had to be at least fifty feet or more.”

“That was smart.” Anchor says, “To keep that as your skill.”

“Really, it was my first time throwing. I’m surprised I didn’t miss more.”

Before they can ask anymore questions, a door is opening and Mags appears in the hallway first with a quiet Finnick trailing behind. Automatically, the mood seems to sour. When they try to drill Finnick next, he shuts them down immediately, making it all the more worse. You think it’s clear to them now that you and him aren’t getting along. It was a matter of time.

After dinner, you’re brought to the living room where you sit next to the arm on the right side. Anchor sits to your left, yawning and eventually leaning on his elbows on his knees. Mags and Finnick sit together on the other side, talking about something. And Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy share their own couch, talking excitedly.

Then, Caesar Flickerman comes across the screen with a wide smile, saying that it’s time to get started. Naturally, it starts with District One, boys first. They’ll pull up a picture of the tribute, and have the numbers flash beneath. You watch as Lennox and Trink both get ten’s.

With Allio, he gets a nine, and Eytelle manages an eight. It’s typical for the careers to get anywhere from between eight to ten. So, Eytelle isn’t that far off but she’s teetering on the edge. You’d say it’s a way to make people underestimate her, so that they think she’s useless and therefore won’t be as worried about her, but the careers don’t work like that.

They want people to be worried, they want the sponsors to have their eyes on them. She just did something wrong inside of the session, and you can imagine that she’s not exactly happy right now. The next time you see her, she’ll probably talk about it.

Blaire scores an eight, Verda a six. The only reason why Blaire’s number is so high is probably because of the hand to hand he did on the second day. That was the only time you really saw him do anything physical, and he likely did that again inside of the private session. Verda isn’t much of a surprise, she’s small and pretty weak.

Then up comes Finnick, scoring an nine. There’s cheers for him, shaking his shoulder and congratulating him. The only reason why it’s impressive with him, is because of his age. It’s expected of the both of you, though. You’re District Four, not District Eight or whatever.

Your face appears on the screen, and you hold your breath. Heart pounding in your chest, you beg for anything above an eight. Something that’ll impress the sponsors, your career friends and everyone back home. Show them that you’ve learned something while you were here. Prove to your brother’s that you’ve got a fighting chance.

Below your picture flashes a ten.

You let out all the air you were holding in. The whole room seems to explode with excitement, feeling your shoulders shake, praise falling upon you. You guess it was for a number of things, the spear, the climbing, the hand to hand and the knives. All of those things combined did something to them.

You’re allowed to leave the living room. You give Laurel a hug and she assures you that tomorrow you’ll be beautiful and looking like you deserve a ten. Before you can actually leave, your arm is grabbed by Anchor, holding you back until Finnick has left entirely, and then turns you to him and Mags.

“You and him aren’t allies anymore, what happened?” Anchor asks.

It’s just the three of you here, and hopefully Finnick isn’t eavesdropping.

“I thought we had a plan with the careers, and I guess I was wrong. He changed his mind and never told me. I saw the people he was trying to be allies with, saw what he was trying to do, and decided that I’d rather go on my own. And I told him that earlier, after the session.”

Anchor nods, letting you go and looking over to Mags, “This is going to sway the citizens.”

“They still think they’re allies.” Mags agrees.

“Let it be a surprise, then.” you say, pulling on your fingers, “They all like a good plot twist, right?”

They don’t have a chance to say anything else, because you’re heading back to your room. You change into pajamas, steal a bowl of ice cream from the food station in the corner, and curl up by the window. You’re not all that tired because of the nap you took earlier. So, you’ll sit here and fantasize about being back home instead.

Your brothers and sister were probably gathered in a house with Naida’s family. Calandra probably brought sweets from the sweet shop in preparation of a high score. Even if you did score low, they’d eat it anyway. But you can imagine that they’re all thrilled right now, with some guilt mixed in too.

You’re only fifteen. So young to be scoring so high. And you’re about to be losing that precious innocence that you’ve been preserving for so long. Actually, you thought you’d get longer. That either you wouldn’t get chosen at all, or you would have been older and more knowledgeable about things.

They all must be conflicted. Celebrating the dangerousness of a fifteen year old child. Caspian is probably cracking jokes about it, much to Naida’s chagrin but Reed’s finding it funny anyway. It’s lightening the mood, and they all nibble on the sugar and try to ease the anxiousness in their bellies.

If they’re nervous, you can’t imagine how you’re feeling. You have tomorrow, the interview night, and then the morning of the games. Two and a half days before you’re inside of the arena.

After you finish the first bowl of ice cream, you go ahead and get a second one. There’s no point in worrying about a sugar rush. The higher you are, the better the crash will be and hopefully it’ll happen soon. You don’t want to stay up too late, but going to bed now will just mean you’ll be laying there for a while.

You hope that the score will ease their worries for one night and they’ll sleep soundly. One full night of sleep with no nightmares. Something that you’d like too.

When you’re done, you set the bowls together in a neat pile and then brush your teeth. You curl up on the bed, facing towards the window this time. You stare out of it, blinking occasionally until your eyes grow tired. Only then do you close them, and find yourself falling asleep quickly.

You wake by yourself in the morning. A look at the clock tells you that it’s nowhere near early, it’s fairly late. It’ll be reaching the afternoon in an hour or two. You should probably get up and take a shower.

With a groan, you stretch your muscles and stiffly make your way to the closet. You pick out an outfit that will be comfortable, and then move your way back towards the bathroom. The shower is quick and warm. Not wanting to deal with your hair in your face all day, you pull it out of your face once it’s semi-dry.

At the table, there’s one empty spot, far away from Finnick. You sit down, watch as a sandwich is given to you, and listen to what Mags and Anchor have to say, now that you’ve appeared at the table.

“You two will be working with Elysia today.” Mags says, “(Y/n) will start.”

You look over to Elysia to see she’s got a polite smile on her face, but when the corners of her mouth twitch, you feel hesitant all of a sudden, “For how long?”

“A couple of hours.” Elysia says, “Then I’ll work with Finnick.”

After eating, you’re brought right back into your room. Elysia disappears into your closet, and when she emerges, she’s got a floor-length dress and a pair of heels in hand. As you change, you watch as she moves some chairs out, and when you’re done, she immediately gets you to work.

You both quickly found out that you’re not half bad with the heels. You’re a little wobbly on some things, but the second after she corrects you and shows you a better way, you’re not wobbling anymore. She tells you that you shouldn’t ever pull the bottom of the dress up farther than your ankles if you need to. After walking, is literally everything else. 

She makes you sit up straight, has you smile on almost anything you say. If you were to make hand gestures, they have to be gentle and lady-like. And then she has you doing a series of sentences that are so drilled into your head that you’re sure it’ll be hard not to use them during the actual interview.

“How did I do?” you ask the end of the session.

“Better than the girl tribute last year.” she rubs your back on the way out of the room, “If you remember all of that tomorrow, you’ll win over sponsors just with your smile.”

You’re traded for Finnick, leaving you with your mentors. You have a small snack before sitting down in the living room with the two of them. You cross your legs, feeling the ache in your feet after walking in the shoes so much earlier. By tomorrow, the feeling will be gone. But for now it hurts.

They stare at you for a long moment, until Anchor snaps his fingers, “Sweet.”

“Sweet?” you ask.

Mags has a smile on her face, nodding in agreement, “Yes, that’ll work.”

“Sweet.” Anchor confirms.

You feel stupid, “Like, kind and nice?”

“Exactly that.” Anchor says, “You’ve already had that air since the tribute parade, it’ll be easy to play on.”

“What about my score?”

Mags has the answer this time around, taking a seat in a long armchair, “Mysterious.”

You hum, it can work. You can make it work.

With the interviews, tributes tend to play up a certain act. Cunning, mysterious, stern, dangerous, sweet, sexy, stupid, decieving, the possibilites are endless. It’s not a surprise that this is what they’re doing, finding an adjective that will fit you, and then demanding you to play that role.

Sweet is easy. As long as you don’t over-sell it, no one will suspect a thing. And Caesar can’t ask you why you got the score you earned, he can allude to it, though. That’s where the mysteriousness can come in. You can change the subject and make sure you leave everyone on the edge of their seat.

“Easy peasy.” you tell them, they look pleased with your compliance. It makes you wonder if Finnick was a nuisance, “So, what now?”

“Mags will ask you questions, and I’ll pretend to be the audience.”

The questions that Mags ends up asking, reminds you of all the years before. All those other interviews of hundreds of now-dead tributes. She’s definitely reusing some, and making some up by herself. You make sure to cross your legs, do the gentle hand motions and smile when you get the opportunity.

You give up information about back home, you know that’ll capture some of the audience’s heart. It always seems to scoop them up, you have family back home and they’re waiting for you. They’ll be at the train station with open arms and tears in their eyes. When you say this, Anchor’s got a wide smile on his face and encourages you to keep going.

You don’t push your luck. Mags then asks the golden question about how you, a fifteen year old, could have scored so highly. And you smoothly and slyly answer the question without really answering it, “Yes, it was a surprise to me too. I’m sure my family back home is excited.”

After the first round of questions is an intermission. “Very good,” they tell you, “now try complimenting the Capitol.” and so you do your best to try and make the Capitol admirable. But it’s hard, and it’s definitely a weakness. The entire time your mind keeps going back to that magazine on the train, and you struggle to not use the titles of the sections directly.

They see that this is hard for you, and instead suggest to keep it all vague. Mags starts again, and you’re doing much better this time around. By the time you’re done, you’ve got a headache, and your thighs hurt from all the chaffing of switching back and forth on your crossed legs.

At dinner, you eat a lot, enjoy the chocolate lava cake that’s served, and even get seconds while requesting ice cream. An idea pops in your head then. Since you’ve grown so comfortable, what would the harm be in trying to align yourself with the Capitol? When you ask your mentors this, they tell you that it’s a good approach, but will be hard with what you’re supposed to be doing.

Nonetheless, you note this and call it a night. You fall asleep easily, feeling exhausted after the day’s work.

When you wake, it’s because Cleo is ringing some annoying bell in her hand. Once she realizes that your eyes are open, she gives you an innocent smile and orders you out of bed. Today is the interview, and you need to get to it.

They shower you, pressing buttons that you’ve never considered before. Once your hair is like silk and your body is sore again, they pull you out. They lather you with the lotion, dry your hair and get to work. Laurel is nowhere to be seen, and Cleo tells you that she won’t be showing up until last minute, when you’re supposed to be wearing the dress.

You watch as they work together. Beth is sitting on the floor, holding onto your hand, applying baby blue nail polish to them. After one finger, she’ll spray something onto the nail, order you not to move it much, and then move onto the next finger. By the time she’s done with the first five and has moved onto the next, your nails are dry. She goes from your hands, to your toes.

Cleo blows bubbles of pink gum. She’ll pop it without flinching, ignoring the loud sounds that it makes. When she had first started the body spray paint, you were confused on what she was doing. Now you realize that she’s spraying on shimmery purple-blue scales here and there. A sort of mermaid effect, you guess.

Leo sits back at first, watching it all come together. Every now and then he’ll point out a spot that Cleo had missed, and she’ll go back and fix it. Soon, your nails are done and dried, no more scales are needed and they’re all heading to work on the most important part. Beth straightens your hair, and then curls the ends of it. When she sprays the hairspray it smells vaguely of vanilla and cinnamon, a smell you remember from when you first came onto the train. She pins half your hair back with a silver, wave-shaped comb. She lets a few hair strands occupy your face, but not enough to overwhelm you.

You don’t know what Leo does. For most of it, he makes you close your eyes. What he does comes in layers, until he’s eventually working at your eyes. All you know is that it has something to do with blue with the way Cleo is swooning over the color. Leo mutters something about glueing silver sparkles to the corner of your eyes to symbolize tears.

They put on fake eyelashes, and that’s the first time you’re allowed to open your eyes in thirty minutes. Before they actually let you get a look in the mirror, they cover your body in a soft glitter. Every time you move, you catch light and sparkle. One look into the mirror, and you’re instantly denying that it’s you.

They’ve accentuated a lot of aspects to your face. A sharper jawline, a slimmer nose and high cheeks. The blush makes you look childlike, but the blue makeup around your eyes with small pieces of glitter and big eyelashes completely ruins the idea. When you move your face from side to side, you can see a blue shimmer. They tell you its highlight. You’re not allowed anymore time in the mirror when Laurel arrives.

You’re not allowed to face anything reflective, so you end up in the corner of the room, facing the wall as you slip the dress on. There’s a clear difference in weight, considering you’ve been walking around in underwear for the past couple of hours. Cleo puts the shoes on for you, and when they’re done, they get to gawk at you before you get to see yourself a second time.

“Oh Laurel, she’s gorgeous.” Beth’s voice is soft, and she leans into Cleo.

“She’s going to completely sell it tonight.” Leo says, “There’s no way she won’t.”

“You’ll have them lined up around the block, (Y/n).” Cleo assures you.

“Give her the last of the accessories.” is all Laurel says.

More wave-themed jewelry. A silver necklace, a pair of earrings that look like water droplets, bracelets that are simply round or continuing the theme. And Laurel pulls out your mother’s engagement ring, slipping it onto your right ring finger.

“It’s been approved.”

In the mirror, you think you look like a princess from one of those books you read as a child. The dress is unreal, the whole experience feels unreal. 

The dress is off the shoulder, a beautiful baby blue, around the same color as your nails. It relies mostly on your upper arms to stay in place, and no matter how you move, it never slips. There will be no readjusting tonight. Your collarbones are clearly out for show, but there is no cleavage. That’ll be a win for your brothers, but a loss for the sponsors. 

Around the top of the dress are gems shaped like water droplets. They’re irregular in both shape and where they’re placed, making it look unpredictable. It makes you think of the days in Four where you’ll watch water droplets race down the window, always unpredictable on where and how fast they’ll go.

It’s long-sleeved but the material is mesh. It’s extremely breezy, and you know that you won’t be feeling hot on stage. It’s poofy, nowhere near skin-tight. The fabric on the top half of the dress creates wrinkles that end at the middle of the dress. More gems appear at the waist, before the bottom of it flares out. There’s a leg slit on your right leg, showing off the fake scales that don’t seem to smudge no matter how often it rubs against the material.

The inside of the dress is made up of silk, while the outside is mesh to give it volume. All together, the dress reaches just above the floor, so there won’t be any holding onto it when you move around. The heels that they had you step into are while, around the same height that Elysia had you walk around in. There’s thin, criss-crossing straps around your ankles, and they’re open toed too. 

Cleo makes Leo apply highlights to your collarbones, and then all four of them circle you like a pack of vultures to try and find anything out of place. They don’t find anything, Laurel is satisfied, and you’re allowed to leave the room now. You resist the urge to play with your curled hair, and instead go for your ring.

Your team is the last to arrive at the elevator, because everyone else is standing there already. Elysia gasps and immediately launches into compliments that you accept humbly. Deciding that it’s a nice time to practice what you had learned yesterday. Even Mags and Anchor are dressed up for the occasion.

You all squeeze into the elevator, with you and Finnick promptly up front. Finnick wears a snowy white suit, with an undershirt that’s the same color as your dress. You guess that Mags and Anchor have taken the plot twist idea into consideration.

At the base floor, you’re greeted with some of the tributes already lined up against the wall, ready to get on stage. The way it works, is that you’ll all be sitting behind center stage, but still in sight of all the citizens. When it’s your turn, or your name is called, you’ll get up and join Caesar in the center. When you’re done, you go right back to where you sit.

You’re going to be on stage for a long time. You’re just glad you won’t be standing the entire time.

You line up right behind Blaire, still playing with your ring. Him and Verda turn slightly at your approach. Verda is wearing a deep green color, and Blaire is in an all-black suit. They utter out a few quiet compliments to you and Finnick, the two of you returning the gesture.

Once everyone has arrived, you’re walking towards the stage in a single-file line. Even though you were sure you wouldn’t have to bring the dress up when you walk, you were thinking about solid ground. Not actual steps. You bring the bottom of the dress up just high enough to get up, and then quickly drop it back down again.

The seats are comfortable, and the gamemakers, and Capitol citizens point and whisper among themselves, excited about how you all look. You tuck the dress beneath yourself when you sit down on the soft, comfortable bubble chair. 

Staring out to the people is enough to make your heart jump in your chest. The entire place is packed, it’s like the entire population is here. For the ones who couldn’t make it, there’s cameras ready to catch every angle. People in the Capitol and districts have their tv’s on. Betters are eager to see their competitors, families anticipating the moment their member gets on stage.

Reed is probably huddled up right next to Mox and Caspian at Naida’s house. Just like the day with the training scores, they’re all together. Waiting for the moment they finally get to see you again, this time bedazzled and grown up. You look nothing like you did during the tribute parade. Then, you looked young. Now you look old.

Then, Caesar Flickerman is coming onto the stage, a white smile and a friendly wave to the crowd. This year, he’s got green all over his body. A light green suit, emerald green hair. The makeup on his face is some sort of medium between the two colors.

He warms up the audience first, and right after he’s calling up Trink. Her blonde hair is in waves over her shoulders, she wears a maroon dress that’s complemented with black and sparkles in the light. For an entire minute, she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, until the fun questions are done and Caesar’s taking a dip for a more serious air. Now, you can see the viciousness.

“I am going to win Caesar. There’s no question about it.” and then she smiles, and lets out a laugh, and the tension is automatically diminished. She made it seem fun, but it’s like a threat. She’ll kill anyone in her way.

Lennox, Eytelle and Allio are all the same way too. You start to get nervous when Verda is called up, because it’s Blaire and then it’s you. She blushes her way through her interview, but leaves a lasting impression on the audience even after she sits. Blaire makes a performance, even you’re on the edge of your seat. He’s so easygoing that it makes him look like the interviewer and Caesar the tribute.

Blaire takes a seat, and you take a deep breath. Eyes are on you now. You sit up a little higher, letting the smile naturally come to your face. 

“Now onto District Four, with (Y/n) Gallows!” Caesar introduces, you carefully uncross your legs and stand from where you sit. His arm is outstretched in your direction. Every move you make towards center stage makes you feel nervous.

Three minutes starts the moment you stop in front of Caesar, shaking his hand. Your hands are surprisingly dry, even if they were wet, you wouldn’t be able to dry them off anywhere. 

You take a look out to the audience. So many people to impress--no. Actually no, not a lot of people to impress. You’ve already done that with your abnormally high score. Now you just have to sell it to everyone. Sweet and mysterious. Two things that can mix if you do it just right.

Your eyes glaze over the camera. Your brothers are watching. 

You can do this.

When you look at Caesar, he’s already giving you a daring look, “(Y/n), you are absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Me?” you ask, eyes widening, “Caesar, I am nothing compared to you.”

“I have to disagree. Don’t you, folks?” loud cheering follows.

You’re a little surprised that he isn’t taking the compliment. Normally with others, he takes it gratefully and ends up spinning it back to you. He’ll share the spotlight somehow. There’s a difference here. Something is different.

“I love that outfit. The running water effect is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yes, I think so too. My stylist is very smart with her themes. She was even kind enough to incorporate my token.”

“Where?” Caesar asks, the audience seems to rile up at the thought. You hold your hand out for him to see, and he takes your hand in his delicately, turning to see the ring. Then, he shows the cameras and the audience, which projects onto a bigger screen for those who are too far away to see, “Does it hold any sort of significance?”

“Of course.”

He laughs, “Besides the fact that it represents District Four.”

“It was my mother’s engagement ring.” you begin to explain, “She wore it all the time before she died. My brother’s gave it to me as a surprise when they said goodbye. I think they were anticipating the day I’d get reaped, which is why they were holding onto it.”

Caesar looks sullen, as does the audience, “Do you think they’re watching back home?”

“I would hope so.” you laugh, he does too.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to them?”

This is perfect. A perfect lead up to steal the hearts of everyone, and show them that you can be more than just sweet and slightly mysterious. You can be mean too, just like the other careers.

You find the nearest camera, smiling lightly at first, batting your eyelashes. You lift your chin, staring right into the lens. They better realize that this is personal, “I will come home to you. I will win for you. I miss you. I love you. And I will see you soon.”

Caesar doesn’t have a chance to say anything else, the buzzer is going off. The audience is loud, cheering and screaming. They jump to their feet, clapping and some even demanding for a little more time. Caesar pulls you in for a side-hug.

“Ladies and gentlemen, (Y/n) Gallows from District Four. Best of luck to you, (Y/n).”

“Thank you.” you smile, waving one last time to the crowd and turning right around to head back to your seat.

You’ve got the eyes of a lot of tributes. All either captivated or suddenly intimidated. Maybe they’re suddenly realizing what they’re up against. Everyone wants to get home, but you just told your family outright that you will win, after scoring a ten. You know something that the rest of them don’t.

Hopefully that’ll keep them on the edge of their seat.

Next up is Finnick, and you spend most of the time fidgeting with the ring, unfortunately not being able to tune him out. You try to get your thoughts to stir, imagining what your brother’s look like back home. But your mind is blank, and you’re forced to watch your former ally dazzle the audience.

It’s only a minute in and they’re already swooning over him. When Caesar asks if he should expect any surprises inside of the arena, you think Finnick alludes to the fact that you and him are no longer allies by saying; “Not everything is what it seems.” and then moves on before Caesar can ask.

Caesar doesn’t even skip over the fact that he’s handsome, “How many girls do you have falling over you at home?”

“More than you’d believe.” Finnick says, “Would you like me to name them?”

You realize then that his motive is casanova. There’s no other way to describe it.

Him and Caesar shake hands at the end of his interview, and Finnick sits down next to you with a smirk. Under his breath he mutters, “That’s how it’s done.” and you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to embarrass him right now by leaving him a nice, red handmark on his cheek.

At the end of the interviews, you stand for the anthem, chin directed upward because it’s required. At the end of it, you’re all filing off the stage, starting with the first district and others following behind it. By the time you reach the lobby, it’s crowded.

Before you can even make your way over to an elevator, Trink is slithering up next to you, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Here’s our formal invitation to have you be in our alliance.”

“I accept.” you smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the cornucopia?”

Allio lets out a laugh, “Are we going to race?”

“I’ll easily beat all four of you, don’t even dare.” Eytelle, and suddenly a small argument breaks out between you all. Lennox tells her that just because she’s tall, doesn’t mean she runs faster. 

She tries to back up her claim, but it’s too late and she’s rolling her eyes. You all have to split anyway, so you bid them goodbye and good luck, to which they do the same. The lobby has mostly cleared then, so you get onto an elevator with a couple of tributes you don’t know the names of, and get off at the first stop.

Inside of the apartment, you’re welcomed with the sight of everyone already at the table. Your mentors, the stylists, the prep teams, your fellow tribute and Elysia.

You skip up the steps, a smile on your face. You gracefully take a seat at the table, and it’s hard to make the smile go away. Not with how you were confirmed in an alliance with the deadliest tributes there is. You are golden. All your ducks have been lined up since the beginning, and now all you have to do is execute it.

When Anchor finally cracks and asks why you’re so happy, you tell them, “I have an alliance.” and let their thoughts take it from there. Dinner is loud, and animated. You listen as the prep team and the stylists talk about what they did and didn’t like on the other tributes. 

You decide it’s a good time as any to bring up the fact that Caesar didn’t accept the compliment, and Elysia agrees that it was a little odd. Then, they’re moving on to how well you sold the part, and how you didn’t even need to worry about the training scores. Cleo says, “Just because he didn’t mention it, doesn’t mean that people aren’t thinking about it.” which eases worries you didn’t even know you had.

After dinner, you’re allowed to watch the interviews over again. You have to admit that everyone sells their part very well. But the second you’re bringing up your dead mom and brother’s back home, you can hear Beth hold onto her breath and Leo is eating every moment up. You did good.

You part with your mother’s engagement ring for the final time, Laurel assures you that you’ll get it back when she sees you tomorrow. Her, Pleurisy and the prep teams all leave after that. The only people left are Mags, Anchor, Elysia, you and Finnick.

Elysia won’t be seeing you in the morning, neither will your mentors. She hugs you and Finnick tightly, and you want to apologize for the glitter on her now, but she doesn’t give you a chance to. She disappears off somewhere.

“Find water.” Anchor says, “Remember the three rule.”

The three rule, yes. Something one of the experts at a survival station had taught you the first day of training. Back when you and Finnick were still sticking next to each other. You can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

You already know that water will be at the top of the priority list. You hope that it won’t be a struggle to find any. A while ago, the gamemakers seemed to have learned their lesson about not providing water for the tributes. They’ll all slowly die off like flies from dehydration. It doesn’t make much for a show.

“Right.” you agree, yawning.

They don’t offer much else besides luck. You carefully hang up the blue dress in the closet, and then you scrub your body in the shower. You watch as the glitter runs down the drain, as the body spray nearly stains your skin.

Your hair goes from stiff to silky smooth again. You try to take care of your hair the best you can when you step out, but you’re so tired that you give up halfway through and collapse onto the bed. With your back to the window, you can hear the distant celebration of the citizens.

You’re done with living easy. Tomorrow you fight for your life.

And your win.

--

In the early morning, it’s only Laurel that wakes you. She has you brush your hair and teeth, but tells you that there will be no breakfast in the apartment. You’re to be transported to the hovercraft immediately, and she’ll meet you at the arena. She hands off a yellow shirt and black pants that are similar to the outfit you wore on the first day of training.

It’s only a temporary outfit. What you’ll be wearing inside of the arena will be given to you in the catacombs below the arena. Either way, the outfit is comfortable and you have no complaints. She brings you to the roof of the Tribute Center, giving you a slight feeling of vertigo and wobbly legs.

A ladder falls from a hovercraft above. You think you’re expected to climb the entire way up, but the moment you’ve got up the first rung, you’re shocked in place. No matter how hard you try to move, you can’t. It’s a good thing. The ladder is pulled up, and no matter how hard it’s jerked, you don’t fall off.

Inside of the hovercraft, you’re fully prepared to be released, but it’s not the case. A man in a white lab coat with a syringe in his hand gives you a polite smile, “This is your tracker. It’ll only hurt for a second.”

You grit your teeth, still very frozen as he inserts the needle deep into your forearm. You can feel the metal tracking device being pushed in. If you weren’t kept in place, this would have made your toes curl and teeth break. When it’s in, you’re released and helped to your feet.

The ladder is dropped once more, and this time Laurel is helped up. Once she’s on her feet, she directs you to a backroom where breakfast is laid out. You go ahead and load up on as much as possible. This is the last real meal that they’re going to provide you with. After this, you don’t know when your next meal will be. 

Once you’re sure you’re full, you go ahead and drink a lot of water, too. Laurel lets you know that the ride is going to be long. For a while, you just watch as the city flies beneath the hovercraft, and then it eventually turns to a forest. You cross your fingers under the table, hoping that they’ve got an arena in favor of District Four.

Really, it could be anything. A frozen wasteland, a dry desert, a tropical island. Forest, city ruins, an old village. Every year, it’s a new place. This arena will only be used once, and after that it’ll be a playground for the Capitol citizens. To take vacations, go on tours, reenact fights.

Their deaths are always turned into some sort of joke. They don’t honor the dead, and you hope that one day that comes and bites them in the ass. It’s disrespectful. Back home, if you even did half the shit they do in the Capitol, you’d be yelled at until Reed’s face turned blue, and then be grounded for however long he feels like it.

Eventually, the windows black out, indicating that you’re almost there. You drink more water, and try to breathe evenly. The games start at ten, and you’d take a good bet right now that it’s an hour away. An hour before you’re inside of the arena. Now, the nerves begin to sprout.

The hovercraft lands, Laurel directs you back towards the ladder. She’s lowered into the catacombs first. You take this time to thank whoever is around you, just trying to be polite. When it’s your turn, you get frozen and you watch as you’re brought through a tube, down to the cement catacombs. From there, Laurel leads you to where your Launch Room will be.

The second you step inside, you begin to feel sick. You take deep breaths, reassuring Laurel that you’re fine and you just need to get a hold of your stomach. You pace, and press your hand against your forehead. She comes around with a cold water after that, and you mostly press it to your forehead, afraid that drinking it will trigger something in your throat.

When you feel better, Laurel makes you take a shower and offers last minute food. You take a small roll that’s the shape of a fish and tastes like salt. It reminds you of the time your mom bought you pretzels from the bakery one afternoon as a treat. You didn’t really like the salt, and had to brush most of it out. But you ate it anyway, and later you discovered just how much you liked it.

You brush your teeth, Laurel pulls your hair out of your face into a ponytail that you requested. You can’t have your hair in your face. You’ve seen all the years before where some tributes during the bloodbath will get their hair in their face while running. If you’re focused on getting your hair out of your face, then you’re not paying attention to your surroundings.

Finally, your outfit comes through in a box. Everything inside is brand new, and not even Laurel knows what’s inside. She didn’t get to choose this outfit, she tells you that you’ll be wearing the exact same thing as the other tributes. There’s complete fairness between all of you.

First is a sports bra and high-waisted underwear. She hands over a pair of black stirrup pants. It takes you a moment to get used to the feeling of the pants being directly attached to your feet. You’re worried about them being pulled down when you’re running, but out comes a thin, black belt to keep the pants from moving too much.

She gives you a thin, faded, blue-grey shirt, “Must be hot.” is all she says. Next is a jacket, which is also thin, but it’s white and has a hoodie attached. You pull on a pair of skin-tight socks. You do a series of motions, being sure that they won’t slide down. They don’t, but you pull them all the way up anyway.

The shoes are black boots, which you tie the laces tight. Once you’re sure that it’s not cutting off circulation, you make sure it all fits. You zip up the jacket halfway, not wanting it to get in the way of running. You have to go to the cornucopia, whether you like it or not. It’ll just be a whole lot easier if you get there first.

“Feels comfortable?” Laurel asks, you nod. Finally, she pulls out your mother’s ring and slips it onto your finger. 

She offers food again, and you ask for water. The two of you sit on the couch together in complete silence. You fidget with the ring, rub your hands against the jeans to get the sweat off of your hands. You’ll be fine, all you have to do is breathe.

This must be how all the tributes before you felt. How everyone after you will feel, too. Absolute terror of the unknown. The second you’re raised and the gong sounds, it’s fair game. Anything can happen. It’s like what you told Reed; the arena is unpredictable. One second you could be fine, the next you could be covered in injuries and fighting for your life.

“I want to go home.” you suddenly breathe out, tears gathering in your eyes, “I just want to go home.”

“And you will.” Laurel says, she’s extending an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into her side and rubbing your arm. This brings a whole new wave of sadness. It’s the exact move your dad did after announcing your mom was dead, “You’re a fighter, (Y/n). You’ve beaten the odds so far, what’s a little more?”

It’s not little, though. You want to tell her that, but all you do is nod. It’s not a little. You have weeks in front of you. Events around every single corner if the arena is boring for longer than a die.

Then, a female voice is saying it’s time to prepare for launch. You take a deep breath, clearing your eyes of the tears. You and Laurel head over to the metal plate. Before you step inside, she’s readjusting your clothes, fixing your hair. It’s such a motherly thing to do. To fuss over things she won’t be able to control in a moment.

“I know you’re not with Finnick.” She says, “So be careful with the careers. You don’t know them as well as you think you do. They can act on whims, and bad thoughts will lead to bad moves.”

You nod, “I know.”

“Good.” she hugs you a final time, you can feel the butterflies start to swarm your stomach and begin to suffocate for you, “I can’t bet on you, (Y/n). But the prep team and I will be cheering you on, okay?”

You step onto the metal plate, “Thank you, for everything.”

The glass cylinder comes down from the top, slowly beginning to encase you. It’s like shutting the lid on the coffin. You wonder if your dead parents are watching you, right alongside your brothers, sister, and family friends. You wonder if they have the same feeling of impending doom dawning on them.

You hold back the tears, wave goodbye to Laurel, and then you straighten up, chin high. You have to look bold for Reed. No matter how awful you’re feeling, you have to pretend right now. You can’t screw up the chance you got, because it’s all you have.

Soon, you’re encased in pure darkness.

[korgidorgi]

TLOU&Supergirl Crossover x Reader - Part 6

Word Count: 2303

Warnings: Nightmare, violence, not real death, swearing

Part 1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5

You find yourself falling. It's a short drop, but it hurts once you land on your back, squishing the Clicker between you and a polished table. You let out a groan of pain before you slip off the edge and onto the polished floor. Some items fall off with you, some of them breaking. You yelp in pain as a few glass shards embed themselves into your skin. The bright lights of the object that dropped you from the ceiling and the room hinder your sense briefly, but your eyes soon adjust. The Clicker rolls over and quickly gets on top of you, screeching at you as you desperately try to fight it off.

“Fuck, get off me!” You yell at it, trying to keep it's face away from you. “Abby! Lev!”

The Bloater across the room screams at you, locating you before charging. You quickly shiv the Clicker, pushing its body off of you and you quickly duck out of the way, quickly grabbing your new molotov and yeeting it at the creature, setting it alight. It flails about as the flames lick at it's fungal skin. The fire finally dies on it and you’ve already found a new position. The doors on the opposite side of the room slide open just as the Bloater starts charging you.

“Look out!” The person screams.

You roll out of the Bloaters path just in time, but the Bloater gives you no time to recover and charges again, knocking you down.

…

“Alright, this should work.” Lena says, plugging things into a tablet to operate her and Brainy’s device. “We might have to go through a few different portals so we don't give you the wrong one.”

“But, if we match the energy reading up to the one you came through, we’ll have a better chance of locating the exact portal you came through.” Brainy adds, looking at his own tablet to monitor the device's energy levels.

The two start the device up, trying to find the right wormholes to open up to connect you back to your world. You can finally see Abby and Lev again! You bounce on your feet in anticipation as you watch a familiar light blue glow begin from the portal. It finally opens wide enough and Lena and Brainy double and triple check everything on their monitors and tablets.

“Alright, just step through and check if it's your world.” Lena says. “We’ll hold it open for you. Just step back through to tell us whether it's right or not.”

You take a breath before stepping through. You’re back in the lab where it all happened. The dark lab is illuminated by your flashlight and the light of the portal. You take a few cautious steps forward, looking around the room. It’s empty.

“Abby? Lev?” You call out, stepping over broken glass and other wreckage.

There’s no response, so you push into the building, gun now in hand. You quickly make your way to the ground floor to look for the two.

“Abby?” You call, coming up the stairs. “Lev?”

You reach the top of the stairs to the ground floor and spot them. They’re both laying on the ground. Your heart rate picks up at the sight. You rush over to them to make sure they’re okay and as you get closer, you notice that there's blood everywhere.

“Shit. No no no no no…” You mutter, kneeling by their bodies.

They’ve got scratches and tears all over their bodies. It looks like Infected did this.

“Lev… Abby...” Tears start rolling down your face as you cry over them. “Please, move, speak, anything.” You beg, holding onto Abby’s limp hand. “Please…”

…

Your eyes shoot open and are met with the familiar sight of the dark ceiling. You sit up, shoving the blankets back a bit. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up to make your way to the living room. You glance at the clock: 3:07 am. You sigh, running your fingers through your hair, pacing silently about the room trying to forget your dream. It was just so real. After a while of pacing around and standing at the window, you take a seat at Kara’s kitchen island on the stool. You reach into your pocket and pull out the tag and look over it before closing your hand over it. You place your elbows on the table and fold your other hand over your fist and rest your chin on top of your hands.

Not too long after, Kara emerges, softly padding down the short hallway and leaning on the wall. 

“Still not sleeping well?” She sleepily asks, yawning.

“No.” You admit, turning the tag on your hands.

“Whatcha got there?” She asks referring to the tag.

“It belongs to a friend.” You answer, thinking back to the day you met your friends. “She gave it to me after I found her when she and this kid brought their boat ashore Catalina Island.”

“What’re their names?” She asks, making her way over to sit next to you.

“Abby and Lev.” You answer.

“What are they like?” She presses on.

“Well, when I first met them, they were very defensive. They were weak, so they were kind of forced to let me take care of them.” You begin to think about the events from back then. “They’ve grown to like me, since they both invited me to join them. Abby is very strong and protective, though she can be stand-offish at times. Lev is quite wise for his age. He came from this weird cult in Seattle. He’s still learning some things about ‘Old World’ things.”

“What do you mean by ‘Old World’?” Kara wonders.

“The people he came from, Seraphites, didn’t believe in technology like electricity or powered items. They had some exceptions for their soldiers, who used guns as well as bows and arrows. They used wood to make their houses and watch towers and other structures on their island.” You explain.

“How long have you known them?”

“I’ve lost track.” You answer. “I’d say a long time, maybe a year and a half, two years.”

“Were you guys looking for something before this all happened?”

“Actually, yeah. Abby wants to find a group she used to be a part of called the Fireflies.” You look over your pendant. “That’s what this is from.” You set it down for her to look at. “The two got a lead for Catalina Island, but by the time they arrived and recovered, the base was no more. We still don’t know where they are. We’ve heard some rumors saying somewhere around National City. Some sort of Desert Facility.” You explain. “We have no clue where it is, just that it’s close to National City.”

“I think I know what you’re talking about.” Kara announces, placing the pendant back on the table.

“You do?” You perk up at her answer.

“Yeah, Alex used to work there.” She says, turning to fully face you. “I can take you there sometime!” 

“You can?” You’re in shock at the news.

“Yeah, so as long as our two worlds are parallel and everything is just… abandoned in your world, it would still be there in your world.” She says, getting excited. “And depending on what else has changed about your world's environment, it would pretty much be the same route in both worlds. Of course I would have to ask Alex about taking you there, but I doubt she’ll say no to me.”

“That sounds great!” You exclaim, heart rate picking up a bit in your excitement.

Kara glances at the clock. “It's only 6:35. We gotta be at the DEO by 8. I doubt you feel like going back to sleep for 40 minutes.”

“Yeah, not really.”

“How do you want to kill some time?” She asks and you shrug in response. “Why don’t you tell me more about Abby and Lev?”

The two of you go back and forth, her asking questions about them, and you answering them. You share a few major stories about your encounters with Infected, and some small lighthearted memories; ones without danger. You then start asking questions about Kara’s friends, and she returns the favor by answering and telling stories about them. You continue to talk through breakfast before finally calling it and heading out to drive to the DEO. Upon arrival, Alex is waiting by the circular table as usual. 

“Alex, so in her world, her and her friends are trying to find a group called the Fireflies. I think their base is the Desert Facility.” Kara explains. “So, I was going to make sure it was okay with you to show her where the facility is so when she goes back, she can help her friends get there.”

“They won't let you in.” Alex warns.

“Yeah, I know, I just want to show her where it is so she can find it when she goes back.” Kara acknowledges.

“Alright, I don’t see a problem with it.” Alex says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Thank you, Alex!” She excitedly bounces on her feet. “Can I take her later today?”

“Sure, as long as she’s back before you have to take her home for the night.” Alex approves.

“Alright! I’ll go tell her!” Kara briskly makes her way into the Lab you’re hanging out in under the supervision of Lena and Brainy.

She opens the door and enters, shooting the two scientists a smile and greeting. “Y/N! Great news!” She walks over to your puzzled form. “Alex is going to let me take you to the Desert Facility!”

“Really?” You ask, surprised.

She nods her head ecstatically.

“Wow, I- Thank you, Kara.” You say.

“I’ll take you later today, I’ve got to check into work first, but I’ll swing by around noon, yeah?” Kara asks.

“Yeah, that's- that works.” You beam at her.

“Great, I’ll see you then!” She confirms.

She then makes her way out of the building, leaving you alone with the two geniuses. To kill time, you start to write a little bit in your journal, sketching a few things to go along with it.

…

Around 12, Kara pokes her head in, just as she had said earlier. You jump to your feet, grabbing your stuff and shoving it in your bag.

“You ready?” She asks, giggling at your antics.

She leads you to her car, waving goodbye to Alex, before making your way down and out of the building. You both get in her car and strap in before taking off. During the ride, Kara tries her best to point out all the street names that she takes, which direction, and whatnot. You dig out your journal and begin to write down the directions as she talks. She points out different notable features of the environment to maybe help as a marker to let you know if you were on the right trail. The cityscape soon becomes residences, small roads, and finally a desert. She continues down the roads, continuing to give you information about the directions. She turns off of the main road and onto a dirt road. She continues for a few minutes before signs start popping up about trespassing. She stops the vehicle and the two of you get out to look around the area.

The dust covered tundra stretches for miles. It's almost impossible to see the skyscrapers of National city. The ridges of the small mountains you two passed through on the way there stand proudly in the distance as the sun beats down on the two of you.

“Okay, so the Facility is just a couple miles ahead.” Kara explains. “This is just the border to the property. If you just continue this way, you should start to see it soon.”

She stands with you for a few more minutes, letting you take in the scenery before she heads back to get in the car. You join her moments after and she hands you a folded piece of paper.

“This is a map of the city, I almost forgot to give it to you.” She turns to help you unfold the map and she takes a pen to it, circling a few buildings in the city. “This is the DEO.” She notes on the map and aloud, moving to circle another building. “This is L-Corp, and this is the exit we took out of the city.” She circles and labels them on the map. “Hope this is helpful for when you go back to your world.” She smiles.

“Thank you, you’re such a big help.” You respond.

She gives you another smile before starting the car to take you back to the DEO.

… 

“How was it?” Alex greets the two of you.

“I think it went well.” Kara responds.

“Yeah, thanks for letting us go.” You thank her for her gesture.

“Well, I think Lena and Brainy have some news for you.” Alex informs you, gesturing to the Lab they’re working in.

You push the door open and enter, catching the two scientists' attention.

“Hello, how was your outing?” Lena greets.

“It was fine.” You respond. “Uh, Alex said you have some news for me.”

“Ah, yes. Well, so we found a model that worked with the computers” She states. “We have the stuff to make it, it will just take some time.”

“Do you know approximately how long?” You ask.

“Maybe a week, if everything goes smoothly.” She informs.

“Which I calculated to be an 86.626% chance of success.” Brainy interrupts, spilling a bunch of numbers.

“We’ll need your participation to find your world, of course, when we have tested it.” Lena adds.

“Alright, that’s great. Thank you.”

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Director’s Commentary- Lovesick Side Effects, Lance recites his poem in public

My commentary is in bold italics!

With each poet who went up, Lance felt his limbs get weaker and weaker. Part of him wondered if he was going to pass out if he even tried to stand. Lol, honestly me projecting what it feels like to me every time I sign up to perform something. 

“Love, are you okay?” Keith whispered in his ear. “Do you want to leave?” 

“No, no I’m okay. I’m just… taking it all in.” 

Keith nodded and wrapped his arm around Lance’s torso to pull him in and rest his head on his shoulder. I just like gentle touches… also it was a struggle to keep Keith oblivious without making him look like a total dumbass for not catching on so I banked heavily on him thinking the poetry readings were just making Lance upset. 

After a few more performers, the host for the night went up to the microphone. “Alright, how’s everybody feeling?” The crowd responded with a cheer. “That’s what I like to hear! Okay, our next poet is new to the Spider House, so I want everyone to please give a big warm welcome to Lance McClain!” so spider house is real!!! It's in austin and I actually went there. Not for a poetry reading but they do those too. But yeah, this wasn't a huge reveal, I mean all the readers know what's happening. Originally I really wanted it to be as much of a surprise for readers as it was for Keith but so many of you guessed what would happen that I just embraced it. I do think it's better that you all got to join Lance on that experience. 

“What?” 

Lance gulped and stood up before he could think about it too much. He walked toward the stage as the host guided him to the stairs with a smile. “All yours,” she said, gesturing to the mic stand. 

“Thanks,” he said nervously. He walked up to the microphone, taking in all the people looking at him. Keith was frozen in the booth, staring at the stage in shock while Hunk and Pidge were both biting their nails. So, yeah, Hunk and Pidge knew. But they're still super nervous FOR Lance! It's a big deal and well Keith is still catching up. He isnt familiar with the version of Lance who goes on stage to read his poetry, especially since he was being so secretive about the poems. Of course. This is Lance, and Lance loves big gestures. “Hi everyone,” he said into the mic. “Uh… It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a stage and… recited anything, so I’m so nervous I think my legs are visibly shaking.” my legs did this once it was awful, so oof He cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair. The movement made his cologne waft toward him and he took another deep breath to root himself. The cologne wafting was supposed to be a callback to Allura. To the idea of having her there still, and having that security of knowing he can let them both exist and be loved in his heart without taking it from the other if that makes sense. I really tried adding as many "signs" as I could without making it cheesy or unrealistic aha. “This is new shit-” 

A chorus of people yelling back, “New shit!” interrupted him. This shit happens and it's glorious. It shows how interactive slam poetry or just recited poetry can be. It was familiar and encouraging and it made him smile. 

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a copy of the poem he’d revised time and time again. “I think I’ve got it memorized, but… like I said, it’s been a while, so….” plus anxiety can get the best of you. A cheer from the back made him smile again as he shut his eyes. Poetry crowds are SUPER supportive even when it's a complete stranger. Like the whole room understands and respects what it is to put poetry, this personal thing created by someone, out in the open to everyone and so everyone is super respectful and reactive and that was a big thing here for Lance especially when his poem gets harder to push through. 

“There was a time when, my mouth gave way to words as easily as, my lungs breathed. I imagine this with a certain beat or rhythm. People reciting poetry tend to move and speak a certain way that makes it kind of like a rap, it's hard to explain. I wrote about my aunt’s curly hair callback to the poem veronica mentioned way back! and my first crush, I wrote about the confusing cracks in my voice and the strange way my sister got angry at everything. Puberty. Just to show how the biggest and smallest things gave him a reason to write. Then I wrote about a girl, so beautiful she redefined existing.” okay so this line hit me as I was writing. Because I didnt want to make a typical comparison of beauty. While experiences can be universal, some things require uniqueness and I really needed his affection for Allura to show that. The phrase "redefined existing" just hit me as I was typing and it felt right. It felt perfect. It's not just living that gets affected, shes not beautiful like a rose shes just… so beautiful it made Lance have to redefine what it was to exist. To exist with her as a friend, as a lover. To exist without her. The idea of someone being so beautiful as to redefine existing, i think, lets the beauty remain ambiguous while at the same time pinpointing it to this one person in an emotional sense. Lance paused and took a shaky breath, preparing himself for the next line, for bringing the memory out for everyone else to feel. vulnerability. we know this concept well by now, huh? “The day I lost her I lost, my words- I tried to fit my grief my sorrow into pages, too thin to hold them. Also came up with that line on a whim and I was really proud of it. I liked the imagery of pain and sorrow so heavy that it weighs pages down. The concept of tears soaking through pages and making them fragile. The idea that all of his feeling just couldnt fit into a poem or a page. My words tasted….” Lance gulped and clenched his fist pressing it to his chest. The fist is because when I imagined him talking, I imagine him using his hands. Up to his mouth, spread out as if touching pages, bringing them down to demonstrate the weight I mentioned before. And before he can bring up his fist to pantomime the dirt in the next line, hes overwhelmed and well, he uses his heartbeat as well as the cologne scent on his wrist as a tether by touching his fist to his chest.

A few scattered claps encouraged him. He heard Hunk call out, “You got this, Lance!” at this point everyone knows how vulnerable and sensitive this is. And they know he needs support. Seriously, watch slam poetry videos the way crowds react is beautiful. 

He took a breath again and swallowed. “My words tasted like the dirt that slipped, from my fingers and into her grave.” His words began to shake, and he knew he couldn’t stop it, so he just tried to keep going. “They tasted like the last kiss, I shared with her, they tasted like, the goodbye I-" He broke off and cursed under his breath. He grabbed the microphone with the hand holding the poem and bowed his head. A stronger round of claps filled the break until he was able to pick his head back up and speak into the mic. “Like, the goodbye I never got to give her. They tw-twisted inside of me, clogged my throat until, I suffocated, they turned loss into, my own death. Here I imagined him twisting his hands, pantomiming a claw at his throat, pressing his hands against his chest harshly. I became an unrecognizable, shadow of myself, with a dimmed soul and a muted heart.” callback to his conversation with his mom when he told her about Keith! He opened his eyes, ignoring the tears that managed to slide down his cheeks, a small smile on his face. And here comes the transition. I really wanted to be careful with how much of the poem I gave Allura because she deserved more than a couplet, but I also didnt want the poem to be split in half. In the end this is a love poem to Keith. And they both know, hey Allura is gonna be part of this, and yes her presence may fluctuate, but I know what I feel for you and I'm not guilty and it's not a shadow or an echo. But this is who she was for me and while she taught me what it is to love, you taught me to love again. Kind of parallel to when he tells Keith that Allura made poetry easy but Keith brought it back into his life. I also wanted the transition to be tasteful not just BUT ANYWAY THEN WE FUCKED. Like. It's not that he just got over her it's that he genuinely felt the change and let it happen let that light back. “Then you walked into my life. It wasn’t a fairytale start- with longing gazes, across a cafe, or shoulders brushing, as we rushed to class, love at first sight…. It wasn't conventional, you could say haha. It was the bass beating under my feet,(music) at a stranger’s house, and barley breath (beer) note the repeated "b" sounds heh, literary devices yall.  forming a question that turned, my universe inside out- it was you. Our beginning wasn’t easy, I can’t really tell you when it began- was it that night your lips first touched mine or, was it the night you shared a piece, of the pain that built the walls around your heart?(roland, aka when Keith's attitude changed too) It was you, this new discovery, note the line break here. "This new discovery" while the full phrase is "this new discovery of me" the beauty of written poetry is finding the hidden lines and double meanings in line breaks that might say more or something different than the full phrase. In this case, the new discovery of feeling that way about a boy, the desire he felt, while at the same new discovery of a part of his identity and then it continues to: of me and what my heart could, hold. It was you, brushing the dust from, my heart and breathing life, back into it with every nose-scrunched smile, holding it in leather-clad hands until, it began to beat again, again, the line break here serves to emphasize the important part "it (my heart) began to beat again" When written that would be isolated and a focal point until I became the opposite of a shadow- you made me light both in terms of weight and luminescence the heavy feeling of loss became less, but hes also "not dim anymore"…. You made me warm…. Your kisses brought poetry back, to my tongue, made the words bloom in my chest until, they burst from my mouth, they taste like hot chocolate, dandelions and firsts and prayers. You taught me that, my heart could love two people, and you loved me for it. You showed me the, magic in small moments. You taught me… that, a boy could give a boy flowers, without the world exploding. You showed me a new side of resilience. Keiths resilience is something Lance really fell for and I think he mentions that in the chapter where they stay at Keith's and run in the rain and share a bath and all that fluff  You taught me, not to live in the past not to live for the future, but to exist, now with you… in a universe we’ve created and let that, be enough I hope I can be, again, line break! "Be enough I hope I can be" is kind of Lance's internal dialogue despite the line being half part of the previous phrase and half part of the following. Hes telling himself to be enough and that he hopes he can be but it's also of course part of the whole. enough for you.” He let his eyes fall to the booth where Keith was standing by the table with a hand at his mouth. Keith was absolutely standing for several reasons. He had half a mind to run up to the stage and kiss him. He had a lot of energy from the shock. When lance started to cry, he got up because he wanted to him. Hes anxious to touch him. Hes completely enraptured by Lance. He gets wrapped up in him when he recites poems, now hes performing it and it's meant for him and…. Yeah. Keith is aching to hold Lance. “Our beginning, wasn’t easy- wasn’t a fairytale. But I promise, there won't be an end I promise, you forever after I promise, again. Line breaks. There wont be an end I promise. (It's) You forever after I promise. Small pieces that are whole while also being parts of a whole. Poetryyyyy. Half the work is in the line breaks and it affe ts how one might read it aloud too! poems that will find new ways, to remind you, I love you.” how could I not end with I love you? 

Lance smiled and sniffed, keeping his eyes on Keith. “Surprise, mi vida.” okay. So I had no idea how I was supposed to bring him back from ALL OF THAT and… I mean yeah. Surprise, Keith. That was all for you. Lance did say he needed to find a new way to make it a surprise for you. 

[vanillacaramelhoney]

Look for Me (9/12)

Pairing(s): Robin Buckley x Reader

Summary: Princess Robin Buckley, since the age of eight, was always seen with another girl- (Y/n) (L/n). They always chose to be together, but when (Y/n) is chosen as one of Robin's personal guards, they're practically tied together. It seems innocent to everyone, but so much more can happen behind closed doors.

Warning(s): None really??

A/N: What are y’all gonna be for Halloween? I plan to go as our lord and saviour, Luigi.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Previous | Next

Out

Going to talk to Billy was probably one of the worst, yet best decisions Robin has ever made.

After Robin took a moment to pack her things (and check several times to see that she got everything), she searched (Y/n) out. They were about to head to Billy's room when Garret decided to tag along at the last second.

Robin wasn't too thrilled by the idea of him tagging along; the last thing she needed was for someone to find out that she was searching for a way out of the marriage.

Still, he came along, and in the end, Robin was glad he did.

Robin's conversation with Billy was short; hell, it didn't even happen.

The three had arrived at his door, stood there for several minutes, then left in shock.

They had branched off, Garret going back to his and (Y/n)'s shared room, while Robin and (Y/n) went to the princess' room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, they let their eyes go wide.

"Damn," (Y/n) squeaked, biting her lip to prevent a smile or laughter through. She let her body rest against the door.

Robin, on the other hand, didn't find the situation quite as funny. She stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in shock.

"Was... I learned that he is quite a flirt, but I did not think...," (Y/n) tried to form a sentence but keeping her laughter back was too difficult.

Robin rubbed the temples of her head, sighing as the shocked expression dropped to a tired one. "Is he not aware that that is improper?" she asked, looking at (Y/n) with desperation in her eyes.

"I think he knows, he just doesn't care," (Y/n) let out with a snort.

"(Y/n)!" Robin whined. "This isn't funny!"

"I mean," (Y/n) laughed. "Are we even allowed to talk about what's improper? I'm a female guard dating the princess- a female."

"God," Robin groaned. "I have to marry him."

And then a lightbulb went off in (Y/n)'s head.

~

Robin never found herself getting up so early. Her mind was behind, and her eyes kept drooping if she stood still for too long.

(Y/n), however, was used to this. She stood tall and to attention, patiently waiting for Garret to show.

With a playful smirk, (Y/n) watched over her shoulder as Robin failed miserably to stay awake and alert.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to do this so early?" (Y/n) teased. "You can barely stay awake, and yet you want to discuss matters with the king."

"I will be fine," Robin waved her off. "This needs to be done."

"Yes, it does," (Y/n) agreed. "But why so early?"

"I have my reasons."

Footsteps echoed in the halls, grabbing their attention. A glance down the hall revealed Garret heading toward them.

Robin joined (Y/n)'s side.

"You're up awfully early, Robin," Garret greeted as soon as he joined them.

"Well, things need to be done," she repeated to him.

"I am assuming this is about last night," Garret said. Robin nodded. "Very well. I have an idea of what's going to happen, then. Is the king waiting for us?"

(Y/n) nodded. "We should not keep him waiting."

"Of course."

The three started the walk to the end of the hall.

When Robin requested that they talk about a private matter, she got directed to a room at the very end of one of the many halls.

The door was open and inside was Neil, waiting for them with only a couple of guards behind him.

(Y/n) made sure to close the door behind them.

Neil sat on the edge of a small table that sat near the back of the room. His guards stood close behind.

"Morning," he greeted. Robin didn't respond. "What did you need to talk about?"

"The marriage arrangement," Robin answered. Neil raised a brow, urging her to continue. "I refuse to go through with it."

"This is something your father and I have agreed on," Neil said. "You have no choice."

"I'm not marrying your son," Robin insisted.

"Why are you so persist on that?" he asked, standing.

"Your son is sleeping around, and I can only assume that it has been happening for some time now," Robin explained. "If you think I will marry someone that sleeps around, you are wrong."

Neil went red in the face. "How dare you assume these things about my son!" he shouted. "You cannot simply cast around these foolish accusations in hopes to get out of this arrangement!"

"If I went to your son's room and looked inside, can you guarantee that I will not find a girl in there with him?" Robin tested him.

"You will find no girl! My son is not a filthy animal!"

"Then we shall go see." With that, Robin headed out the door, pausing only to tell the shocked group to follow along.

They quickly did as she told them to.

Robin strode through the halls with determination fueling her every step.

(Y/n) had to near sprint to reach Robin's side. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Billy is spoiled in the fact that he gets to wake up when he wants, and it's clear that he takes advantage of that. The short time we have been here, he has never been awake before eleven," Robin explained. "There's a reason I made sure to do this extra early."

The door to Billy's room came into view, and with several more wide steps, Robin was the first to reach it.

With no hesitation, she swung the door open, letting it hit the wall with an astounding bang.

In the bed parallel to the door, two figures shot up. Their wide eyes landed on the group standing at the doorway.

"What the hell is this?!" Neil screamed. He gave no time for an answer, storming off in the direction they came.

Robin quickly followed behind him.

Unsure of what to do, the guards hesitated before following the two.

"Hopefully you understand now," Robin said.

Neil stopped in his place, turning to face her. "This changes nothing! This wedding is still happening!"

"I do not know what you are thinking right now, but it is most certainly the dumbest thing if you cannot understand that I am not marrying someone that sleeps around as he pleases!" Robin finally raised her voice.

Only a few feet to her left, (Y/n) and Garret anxiously stood as they watched the scene unravel. (Y/n) watched them carefully.

There shouting was sure to attract the attention of anyone passing through the nearby halls. The thought of someone looking down and seeing this made (Y/n) oddly nervous.

Her close eye on the two proved helpful when she saw Neil's hand, about to strike.

(Y/n)'s hand reached out to grab Niel's wrist before he could hit Robin. She held him with a harsh grip.

His guards behind him stepped forward out of instinct.

Robin stared at the two, a look of horror on her face. Garret walked to her side and pulled her back a few steps before standing in front of her.

Niel tried to wank his hand away, but (Y/n) was stubborn. "Unhand me, woman!" he shouted. Behind him, the guards readied their swords. "You have no right to stop me!"

(Y/n)'s gaze hardened. "When you are about to hit the princess- the woman I am supposed to be protecting- you are a fool to think that I would not intervene." Her voice was calm, but there was a warning hidden there.

"Keep in mind, any harm that comes to her in your kingdom will not come across well with our king," (Y/n) told him. "He especially would not enjoy hearing that the king we were staying with harmed her." With that, (Y/n) finally allowed him to pull his arm away.

Niel stepped away, glaring, but he waved the guards off.

They put their swords away.

(Y/n) walked to Robin. "Are you okay?" Robin nodded, much more composed.

Robin looked past (Y/n) at Niel. "I think you have made yourself clear," Robin remarked. "We are leaving." She turned and left, the two guards hot on her heels.

The three could feel Neil's gaze burning into them.

"After that, there certainly should be no affiliation with him from your father's side," Garret muttered.

"I just cannot believe he tried that," (Y/n) shook her head.

"You don't think he is like that to anyone else, do you?" Robin asked.

"He better not," (Y/n) said.

"If he does, I hope he pays for his actions," Garret said. "My god. I have heard stories that he could be rude, but that was so much more than being rude."

"(Y/n), can you wake the others up?" Robin asked, receiving a nod. "I want to see if we can get the carriage ready earlier."

~

"Any idea where she went?" George stepped away from the carriage and placed his hands on his hips.

He shook his head. "No," he responded to Robin, who stood off to the side. "Damn girl woke us up early and was dragged off by a maid. Said she'd be right back."

Robin glanced over everyone.

Garret was fine, but the other guards were grumpy about how early they had been woken up.

They would have been on their way home over an hour ago if it weren't for (Y/n)'s unexplained absence.

"Does anyone know where she is?" Robin asked all of them.

Tyler opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of rushing footsteps and a voice calling, "Right here!"

They all looked behind them to see (Y/n) jogging over to them.

"Kid, where the hell have you been?" George asked.

(Y/n) smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she apologized. She turned to Robin and waved a rolled parchment back and forth. "Neil gave me this- said it was for your father."

"That's all?" Robin asked. "Why did you take so long, then?"

(Y/n) laughed. "That's my fault. I got lost."

George rolled his eyes but laughed. "Way to go." The girl playfully glared at him.

"I'm guessing everyone is ready to leave then?" (Y/n) asked as George walked back to the carriage.

Robin nodded. "Any idea what that is about?" she pointed to the slip.

"Well, legally speaking," (Y/n) said, "I have no idea, but..." Robin raised a brow.

"It may or may not be a letter to your father calling off the marriage due to 'issues with my son that shall remain unnamed,'" (Y/n) quoted.

"Oh, now that is gold," Robin snickered, earning a chuckle from (Y/n).

"Come on, let's get home."

[lyendith]

Ciconia no Naku Koro ni Phase 1 : To You, The Replaceable Ones

I had planned to write this… review? analysis? of Ciconia Phase 1 right after finishing the game about two weeks after its release, but since then I've had trouble organizing my thoughts. The reason is that this first installment alone tackles a lot of themes: war, nationalism, technoscientism, media consumption and manipulation, the blurring limits between physical and virtual reality, education systems, generational gaps induced by technology, artificial procreation, old people robbing the youth of their dreams, the meaning of family and interpersonal bonds, and even transidentity (albeit briefly). And it is quite remarkable that almost all of those themes are represented by one object: the Gauntlet and the idea of “parallel processing” associated with it.

It's gonna be a long and messy review, I'll probably forget to mention some aspects of the story or overlook others, and I won't talk about every single character, but I'll try to cover the essential parts. Not easy considering how densely-packed the story is, but let's go!

So to start, I should probably focus on this VN's protagonist, Mitake Miyao. On a surface level, he's a bit of what you'd call a “tsundere”: harsh, a little irritable and sarcastic with his pals, but always well-meaning and easy to befriend in the end. One of the running threads of the story so far is that he's too well-meaning in fact, idealistic to a fault, which contributes to his odd charisma but also makes the increasing realization of his powerlessness all the more depressing. You don't want to see this guy fail, but because of the way the story is framed, you know he inevitably will.

For a while, the narration and dialogue like to repeat that “youngsters are each generation's main characters”, but that's a sentiment I couldn't quite share − in our real world, youngsters may be the ones will all the dreams, but they sure as hell aren't the ones making the decisions. The climate change crisis, for example, wouldn't be left unaddressed if that was the case. And sure enough, Ciconia isn't so naïve as to ignore that reality. Every single step of the way, Miyao thinks he can use his power to overturn the situation. Every single step of the way, he's reminded that in the end he's just a pawn moving however his higher-ups or other nebulous forces wish him to. That's a really powerful and relatable theme in this day and age, which raises the question of how far you can oppose a system you're an essential part of.

One thing that makes Miyao special, at least compared to his pals from the AOU, is that he's “ciconia-born” − born from natural procreation. Which means that unlike Jayden or Gunhild, he has bilogical family bonds but also hasn't been subjected to a genetic selection that would predetermine his path in life. At least supposedly, but we gradually learn that that may not quite be the case. In fact, that biological link to Toujirou ends up acting as a tether that robs Miyao of even more control on his own life than he thought, leading to the final tragedy of this first Phase.

There also lies this story's commentary on technology and man's increasing dependence on it − technology makes the kids' life easier, but it's also their undoing. One technology prevented an apocalypse that another caused, and the loss of the former brings about a new apocalypse. Humans created the 8MS but only a handful of scientists have a full understanding of how it works, just like today's technology are only fully understood by a small elite of technicians. We are increasingly dependent on tools whose principles are increasingly out of our grasp. Again, the Gauntlet is another reflection of that.

But back to Miyao and the Gauntlet Knights. In retrospect, it is clear that the way both the characters and readers learn about most dramatic developments through disincarnated news reports (with a goofy “news flash” alert by the frog AI Keropoyo to make it worse) is meant to build up that feeling of powerlessness, and also of disconnect. We should be alarmed that war is approaching, that terrible things are happening… but it all feels distant. After all, do you cry or tremble in fear when you learn that an eathquake killed a thousand people on the other side of the globe? No, you'll think “it's terrible” for a minute and then move on, because what can you do about it? Reading the second half of Ciconia felt a lot like that. And while that's part of the message, it is also to the detriment of the reading experience a lot of the time.

For a while (around the 60-to-80% portion of the game, roughly) we get a lot of redundant dialogue about commenting the news and Miyao rambling on about how they're all COMRADES MAINTAINING THE WALLS OF PEACE, again and again and again, to the point it becomes annoying. That's my only real gripe with the game − the feeling that, at times, Ryukishi forgot he was writing a story and went into political or philosophical essays about its themes instead. Maybe a manga or anime adaptation could help make these parts more… show-don't-telly. But as it is, it could have used some serious trimming down. That's hardly something entirely new − who can forget Krauss' tangent about 1986 Japan's economic situation or Beatrice's explanation of Hempel's crow? But in Ciconia the narration doesn't seem to come from any specific point of view except that of the author (and even on that front, the opening disclaimer warns us that the views expressed don't necessarily reflect the author's opinions), so those parts become all the more conspicuous. Unless this all turns out to be part of a Witch's game, which wouldn't be surprising.

Where Ciconia shines however, is at weaving a web of connections between the characters, one by one, to make you care about some and suspicious of others, sometimes both, and deliberately confuse you about who really controls whom. First we have the kids, with Warcat and Grave Mole which instantly grew on me (the slice-of-life TIPS focused on them had some of my favorite scenes actually), then the other kette with their own quirky charms… then the “villains”, with Toujirou and Seshat, then the Three Kings and Jestress who has a delightful dynamic with Toujirou, and then Toujirou is revealed to be Miyao's father, etc... It's a testament to how well all of those characters are established that I could remember almost all of them very quickly despite their massive number. Save for the Cairo Squad maybe. They're just kinda there. The (mostly) gorgeous character designs certainly help, even if Ryukishi still has a somewhat loose grasp of body proportions and of the… number of fingers on human hands. There's some improvement even in that department though.

While Miyao is for the most part the center of the cast, at least on the kids' side, that doesn't mean the others aren't interesting in their own right. Jayden is your classic “best buddy dudebro” whose easygoingness lets him bounce off Miyao's more strait-laced personality in a fun way, but his relationship with Meow, Miyao's “little sister” who shares the same body, allows him to show more sensitivity and shyness he would otherwise have. Speaking of Meow, she brings about another interesting element of worldbuilding − the existence of “Congenital Parallel Processors”, or CPPs, i.e. people born with multiple personalities, who are not considered mentally ill but a full-fledged minority with its own issues and “coming outs”. Although that aspect isn't developped much (Meow herself kind of disappears from the radar in the second half), we do get other examples of how it can manifest, notably with the character of Naima, whose unnamed alter-ego is violently protective of her, or Rukshana who's prone to abrupt personality changes when she laughs. The way Jayden kinda walks on eggs but genuinely tris to to treat Meow as her as her own person while respecting her and Miyao's privacy is frankly adorable, and I almost wish we got more of that at least in the TIPs!

The kette I found the most interesting, though, was Grave Mole, composed of Chloe, Lilja and Koshka. While a lot of characters have issues, all three of these girls are complete mental wrecks to some degree. Koshka spends her time between grumpily taking part in Kizuna chat rooms and horrific body experiments (usually simultaneously) when she's not training, Lilja has to take drugs to pretend like she's a happy, cute and mischievous cat-girl for the sake of making Koshka a more-or-less functional human being, and Chloe has to constantly deal with unfair punishments and a constantly battered self-esteem. As comedic as Okonogi's angry rants and karate-chops are played (and as much as I like this version of Okonogi, strangely enough), that scene where she gleefully lets Lilja be killed in battle makes it clear that her mental state is just as unstable as the other two's.

On the antagonists' side, things are a lot more blurry: a lot of them utter the arc phrase “All is in the name of guiding humanity down the right path.” However, what the right path is seems to vary depending on who says it. That's where a lot of the mystery lies − be it with Jestress, Seshat or Toushirou, their goals seem contradictory, and Tak… I mean Vier Dreissig doesn't even seem to have a goal beyond SCIENCE. But a big part of Phase 1's hook is that constant uncertainty as to who is playing whom and for what purpose. Even the Three Kings, who seem like your bog standard Illuminati knock-offs, might not be as much in control as they seem − hell, one of the big catastrophes (the fatal damage to the atmospheric 8MS) happens completely outside of their control, in an almost comically sudden way.

Speaking of comical… let's get to what I found personally fascinating but what other readers might have gripes with: the brutal tonal shifts and dissonances throughout the story. A cheery scene to announce the big success of a plan for the Order of the Public Bath? Keropoyo pops up to gleefully announce… an avalanche of terrible news that make the success from a minute ago meaningless. A big conference for peace where World War IV will most certainly be stopped? All of its participant die in an “accidental” explosion. Not to mention characters that are walking balls of tone dissonance like Chloe (who has many comical scenes but is clearly broken beyond repair) or the Yeladot Shavit girls (who by the end are forced to spew out fanatical bullshit with the same sparkly smile they sport when gushing about yuri ships).

This is of course embodied by the incredible climax where all the Gauntlet Knights celebrate their comraderie together in a virtual room… while their real selves are busy killing each other lest they're court-martialed for treason. The moment where all of Miyao's ideals are brutally trashed and scattered in a battle we don't even know the purpose of. The moment where the kids' taent for “parallel processing” becomes their sole mean of escaping the horror of their situation. The moment where all the absurdity, all the unfairness explodes in a depressing flourish. The moment also where the thematic resonance with Umineko becomes fully apparent − how can we not be reminded of Sayo and Maria escaping their shitty lives through their magic? Though of course Rose Guns Days also constantly came to mind, with the focus on war and nationalism, Japan being divided between a union led by the US and one led by China, and two of Miyao's closest friends being the American Jayden and the Chinese Lingji; as well as Miyao being an idealistic and charismatic leader-by-circumstance whose dreams crash into a wall much like Rose's in RGD.

So…

All in all, Ciconia might not entirely be what I expected from a When They Cry game, but it is certainly what I expect from a 07th Expansion game: a thought-provoking experience. Again, I finished my reading shocked and confused. Although it might seem like it shows its cards more explicitly than the openers of Higurashi and Umineko, deception still plays a big part in the story, even if the interaction with the reader is less direct.

Now there might be no murder mystery for the reader to solve, but that won't stop me from speculating! The invisible turning point to me is the “Proof of a Program” chapter, where Blue Miyao tells Miyao that he'll show him someone's face, and that that will activate Miyao's murder program instantly. Miyao first laughs it off, but then the scene brutally cuts to something that might be a flashback, a flash-forward or a nightmare, maybe all of that at once… The most graphically horrifying scene of the entire game, to the point it's almost at odds with the rest. And then… it's never mentioned again. Not even when Miyao meets again with Blue Miyao. Like it never happened. My theory is that everything Miyao experiences from that point onward is some kind of simulation, and that's where the obligatory When They Cry time loop will come from this time. See you in May for the answer?

That is all for today, folks!

[butcanijustnot]

I’ll Dance and I’ll Dream (Okoye X Fem!Reader)

Author: Crystalline / @butcanijustnot

Fandom: Marvel x reader, Black Panther x reader.

Tagging: @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 Have some garbage I briefly showed you on Snapchat.

Summary: Okoye needs to learn how to dance, and trust someone again. You’re willing to teach both.

Word Count: 1660, roughly.

Warnings: Gay AF.

Also again I don’t speak Xhosa so I used a translator for the Xhosa parts. If you read it and it’s wrong, please let me know so I can change it.

“Y/N!” Okoye yelled, storming into the training area. “Where are you?” She sounded slightly agitated, a far cry from her usually collected dementor. Instantly, you stopped your training and racked your brain to think of what you could have done to upset her. Nothing came to mind. You were innocent until she proved you guilty.

“Over here.” You yelled, emerging from behind a punching bag as you spun the wraps off of your hands and threw them in the vague direction of your bag. You noticed her expression wasn’t angry, but instead registering an emotion you’d never seen her wear before. Part of you felt reassured, but the rest of you was concerned. “Are you alright?” You asked, moving towards her.

Okoye was good at putting up walls and guarding her thoughts and emotions. She had to be in her line of work, and it only got harder after her marriage to W’Kabi met an unfortunate end. She was left feeling like her entire life was made up of walls too high for anyone to see over, much less scale. Eventually she stopped trying to connect with anyone at all.

Then you came along, with your sweet smile and nimble feet. You took her walls, tall and fearsome as mountains and hopped them like they were nothing, and emerged on the other side unscathed. Every tactic Okoye had to scare people off rolled right past you, and almost against her will, Okoye began to feel for you.

You were by every count Okoye’s opposite, not at all the woman she would usually fall for. You could be reckless and brash. Your self-preservation skills rivalled Shuri herself, which is to say, severely lacking. Your fighting style was crazy and over the top compared to her refined techniques, compensating for your height by seemingly confusing your enemies and then beating them into the dirt. Okoye found it strange but couldn’t deny its effectiveness. You were kind but crazy, interesting to talk to but tended to be off in your own world most of the time. You were a ball of crazy contradictory material.

So why couldn’t Okoye get you out of her head?

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just…” Her eyes flickered away from you as you got closer, before resettling. “I’m heading out on a mission tomorrow and I need to ask you a favour.” She explained, and you realised that this emotion was indignity. She needed your help. You placed your hand on her arm to reassure her, and Okoye almost felt herself lean into the touch.

You nodded. “Of course, Okoye, anything you need.”

Okoye was quiet for a minute. “I need to learn how to dance.” She finally spat out.

Your brain took a second to process the request, and then you were certain you had misheard her. “Dance?” You repeated. Okoye was so beautiful and gloriously refined that you just assumed she would know how to do all that fancy stuff. Was that why she was so worried about asking?

“Specifically Waltzing, I never learned. I know they teach War-dogs those sorts of things, so I thought perhaps you could show me how.” She explained.

“I mean of course I can, but why are you asking me? That sounds like the kind of thing Nakia would be really good at.” You asked her, thinking back to your time at the War Dog training program. Nakia had topped every single class and somehow made it look effortless, something you definitely weren’t still bitter about years later.

“I asked, but she’s busy with royal duties.” Okoye lied. She didn’t even think about asking Nakia. She wanted to learn from you.

“What about Princess Shuri?” You prompted further.

“She tried to teach me how to breakdance. Not what I am looking for.”

You snorted, the mental image of Okoye breakdancing forever imprinted in your brain now. No doubt she’d be fantastic at it. “Well in that case, I’d be honoured to dance with you. We can do it over here on the mats.” You said with a smile, gesturing to the wrestling area as you walked.

“Thank you.” She whispered, following you over onto the padded floors.

You were quiet for a second as you thought of the best was to show Okoye. You’d never taught anyone to dance before, but the most effective way to teach someone in a night would be a dance with them, a thought that wasn’t unwelcome to you. You’d take any chance to be close with the general.

“Okay, the first step is put down the spear.” You said, giggling to yourself as Okoye looked at it in her hand apprehensively. “You can put it over there with my things, so it’s still close enough for comfort.” You paused, walking to the centre of the mats. “Why do you need to learn to dance? I know it’s for a mission, but what sort of mission would require that?”

“You are the Wardog in the room. Surely you’ve had missions of your own that required you to dance.” Okoye said, subtly avoiding the question as she laid her weapon down and made her way back towards you.

“Pole dancing, yes. Waltzing, not so much.” You lamented, missing the slight blush that crept up onto Okoye’s cheeks and the way she swallowed awkwardly when you said that. “It’s a ye olde skill and not many people use it, which brings me back to my original question.”

Okoye sighed as you took her hands and moved her so that you two were parallel, facing towards each other. “T’Challa and I have to go to a fancy gala run by a vibranium dealer. I need to snare a dance with him so that I can attach a tracking device to the back of his collar, but if I can’t dance a full song with him, it’ll tip him off that I don’t belong there, so best that I learn how.”

“I see.” You hummed, thinking. “So, I should lead, then.” She nodded, and you continued. “Take your right hand in my left, and put your left arm around my shoulders. The leader, that’s me, puts their arm around your back, on your lower waist. It’s a very close dance.” In position, your bodies were pressed together and you could practically feel her pulse, much faster than you would have expected it to be. “Are you alright with this?” You asked.

“Yes, this is fine.”

“Good. Let me know if that changes, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Now, you put your feet here and here.” You explained, showing her with your own feet.

She narrowed her eyes at the ground as she got into the correct position. “What if I stand on your foot?” She whispered softly.

“Oh, I’ll have a personal vendetta against you for the rest of our lives.” You said, your voice thick with sarcasm as you rolled your eyes. “You wouldn’t be the first, Okoye, or the last. It’s okay.”

“I’m an awful dancer.” She admitted, grimacing at her own legs.

“Maybe you’ve just never had the right partner.” You rationalised, hating the way that she was putting herself down. You couldn’t help but think of her as perfect, and you were disappointed she didn’t see things the same way.

Her eyes glassed over, and she stared blankly into the distance over your shoulder. “I thought that I had,” She hummed, thinking back to her old relationship. “but I was wrong.”

You almost broke the position to envelope her in a hug, but you settled for rubbed her back with you free hand. “I’m sorry, Okoye. None of that was your fault. He’s an idiot for leaving you.”

“Technically, I left him.” She corrected with a sad smile.

You nodded. “I would have done the same. He didn’t deserve you.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

The look the two of you shared was just a second too long to be platonic, before you shook your head and cleared your throat.  

“Anyway, I’ve got to teach you. Okay you take a step diagonally right, as I take a step back.” You explained, helping her as she attempted the movement. “That’s it, beautiful. Now, I’m going to move forward and turn, and you move to the left and turn too.” You continued to run through the steps, again and again and again, until the steps were flowing naturally. You were counting out the time under your breath as the two of you moved in sync. Okoye did well, moving fluidly with the expected grace of a fighter.

“There we go. Look at you. What are you talking about? You’re a natural.”

“Well maybe I finally found the right partner.” She said with a smirk.

You opened your mouth to respond but no sound came out. She noticed this and she paused for a minutes. You worried perhaps you had insulted her by not saying anything back. Meanwhile, Okoye was trying to sike herself.

Take the leap, Okoye. For Basts sake, just go for it!

“Would you go out with me?”

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. You swallowed, trying to convinced yourself that this was real life and one of the most beautiful women on earth was asking you out. “Go out with you? Like, on a date?” You asked, your voice quivering.

She nodded, looking refined and confident and so freaking beautiful. “Yes. I’ll take you dancing. Proper Wakandan dancing.”

“I’d love too.” You said quickly, the biggest smile breaking out on you face. “That sounds wonderful.”

She smiled, and your heart nearly melted in your chest. Slowly and tentatively, you leant forward and brushed your lips together in a simple soft kiss. You sigh happily and rest your forehead against hers, shutting your eyes and enjoying the feeling of her being close. Its all you’ve wanted since you met her.

“General Okoye?” Someone behind you called out. You turned and saw a Dora standing behind to the side of the mats, eyes set on the two of you and the slight hint of a smirk ghosting her lips. You realised how compromising your position was, pressed close to her leader, and you tried to pull away, but Okoye’s grip on your hand and shoulder turned to iron, keeping you close. Her eyes narrowed slightly at the offending Dora but forced a smile.

“Yes, Ayo, what is it?” Okoye asked.

“T’Challa wants to meet with you to go over the mission plans. He requests your presence in the throne room at your earliest convenience.”

Okoye sighed. “Alright. Let him know I’ll be there in a minute. Dismissed.” She said authoritatively. Ayo saluted Okoye before turning and marching from the room. She turned her attention back to you, closing her eyes, taking a deep sigh and resting her head on your shoulder. She just wanted to stay in this moment a minute, even a second longer, but alas, duty calls.

“But I suppose we’ll have to postpone that date until you come back.” You lightly chuckled. She murmured in agreement and finally, slowly, pulled away from you, grabbing her spear from the pile of your things. “Be safe, entle.” You bid her as she reached the doorway.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” She promised.

“And I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

[davetheshady]

may I politely request ⭐dealer's choice director's commentary⭐for pretty much any part of Love is All You Need to Destroy Your Enemies?

Did you mean: infodump about Chapter 5?

We start off in medias res during Pteranodon Attack-Gate from Episode 4: PTA Meeting. Since most of the fic runs parallel to WTNV’s storyline for the first ~two years, the way I narrowed down which events to feature was to read through the transcripts and take note of which ones had Carlos, which ones featured science/magic/time travel-related elements, which ones had weird discrepancies or unsolved details that could be explained by Carlos/science/magic/time travel/all of the above, and which ones I just liked a lot. 

Incidentally, Cecil issues a correction that the winged reptiles in question were actually pterodactyls, not pteranodons, which was then promptly forgotten by the showrunners lol.

"—And then Kelly pulled her hamstring while they were doing the Fixing of a Nail position. I'm trying to convince her that she and Joe should do yoga together, I think it would really cut back on minor injuries and also they both look great in yoga pants. Anything new with you, Carlos?"

"Nothing that compares to... hamstring injuries," says Carlos, from his position on top of the Sciencemobile.

"All right," says Kate, adjusting an enormous pair of mirrored aviator shades. "Then describe the Barstow formation."

Since literal character doubling was such an important part of the plot, I had a lot of fun with thematic character doubling, too. Carlos and Kate (and the other grad students) are actually pretty close in age, and here we see her willing to put herself into danger to get the job done while casually chatting with her colleagues. Also, there’s a nice dose of karma for the books in Carlos having to deal with someone else oversharing details about their relationships, compounded by the fact that unlike his all of Kate’s are actually true. (In nicer doubling news: Kate is the one who gets her degree in science, has functional romantic relationships, AND continues to work in Night Vale, which are all eventually Carlos’ hashtag life goals.) 

"Maybe it was future you," asks Julie, who does not sound appropriately concerned for the potentially diverted course of the Currents of Time. Or for the potentially diverted course of the already unlinear life of Carlos.

This is the first conversation where she’s ‘Julie’ in his mental narration. I enjoyed having her be hilariously unsympathetic to his concerns here, because her priorities are still very different, but it also sets up a baseline. She doesn’t bother worrying about hypotheticals from the weird shit, but actual hard data (like, Carlos not sleeping and having minor breakdowns in her lab) is what prompts her to share reactions besides SCIENCE! and snark.

His stomach roils at the thought of more time travel. "Some kind of illusion is more likely," he says: some person or creature temporarily assuming his form, probably for sinister purposes. He reluctantly adds those weird doubles from the sandstorm to his list of possible suspects, though his dissolved right in front of him in the middle of next March and there haven't been any sandstorms recently.

oh hey haha what’s that

One of my biggest pet peeves in fiction is when allegedly intelligent characters ignore obvious plot points so the writer can railroad the story in their chosen direction. On the other hand, it is genuinely difficult to avoid spoiling your plot twists if your main character is actively trying to figure them out. I leaned heavily on “the character has all the basic details… along with so much other information they can’t realistically narrow it down”, combined with some red herrings: an obvious one (illusion magic) and hopefully a more convincing one (time travel as the only relevant plot: it's DEFINITELY involved, but its presence is obscuring another facet of the plot altogether).

There's always a risk that astute readers will figure it out, but, like… so? That just means instead of shocking plot twist reveal, they get an “I KNEW IT!” reveal, which is equally satisfying in a different way. As long as the characters have convincing reasons for not figuring it out, it's hopefully still enjoyable to follow along with them as they wander around in the dark. 

(And just for clarification: that was Doppel-Carlos crashing the town hall meeting when he and Dr. Raith were testing out time vortices.) 

Andre hands him a copy of the Night Vale Daily Journal. “’Look your best to face the void. Smooth-chinned souls are most enjoyed’,” reads Carlos. “‘Burma-Shave.’”

"No, below the ads," says Andre.

1) ‘character reads wrong piece of information in paper’ is a classic goof (“There’s a sale at Penney’s!”) and I found it very amusing to repeatedly attribute it to Carlos, since he’s genuinely trying to locate the important information. Unfortunately for him, he lives in Night Vale and no longer has a filter for “useless nonsense”, because even the nonsense has proven relevant and/or kinda murdery before.

2) Burma-Shave! This was passed down to me as part of our Great American Roadtrip Family Lore (I come from a long line of roadtrippers) and it’s definitely the kind of kitschy 50s detail that fits so well in Night Vale.

"Oh!" says Cecil. "What were you studying?"

"Bioremediation for contaminated pit lakes via sulfur-reducing bacteria," says Carlos truthfully.

Why? Because I edited one of my friends’ papers on it, that’s why. (Birds kept landing on it and dying, which is also a very Night Vale detail.)

When he returns, he finds Cecil standing by the record player with his back against the wall, staring fixedly at Carlos’ vinyl copy of Ixnay on the Hombre.

One of the DF books (I think White Night) had a hilariously high number of characters showing up wearing band t-shirts, and Carlos’ was for The Offspring. (The original file name for this fic was Original Prankster, back when I thought it would be three chapters long.)

“It’s about a wizard stranded in a strange, uncharted desert territory,” [Cactus Judy] says serenely.

Cactus Jane! I decided to make her a recurring character because 1) she’s in a time travel episode (Episode 18: The Traveler), 2) both she and TMITJ had the detail where no one can remember their real name, which seemed significant, and 3) WTNV itself did not have very many recurring female characters at that point. She’s into Shakespeare because I personally knew a lot of relevant Shakespeare quotes, but also as a hint that’s she’s a lot older (and thus a lot more supernatural) than she seems: Shakespeare was a HUGE part of pop culture in the 19th century, particularly in the southwest. Theater companies used to make more money going on tour through states with precious metal mines than they did during their whole season in the big coastal cities, probably because jaded city folks never threw gold nuggets on stage to show their appreciation.

If life is a contest between good and evil, Cecil would be one of the people handing out stickers just for participating.

This is one of my favorite lines.

My plan is fool-proof! It's sheer elegance in its simplicity!

Look, if you enjoyed this fic, WTNV, and/or The Dresden Files, you should probably go watch The Middleman. Yes, I know it’s not streaming, do it anyway. Load up on antivenom and go rent it from your local library.

“Could you [create a time vortex]?""Oh, for sure," says Carlos. "All I'd need would be a couple years to do nothing but work on a highly illegal spell and figure out a way to steal an entire ley-line's worth of power and excise my sense of morality and self-preservation.”

And WHAT are the odds of THAT

It's not that Carlos doesn't like him. It just wouldn't be fair to lead him on when Carlos wouldn't actually—

Well, Carlos wouldn’t mind asking but he doesn’t normally go for—

Okay, Carlos could definitely make an exception for Cecil and—

And—

oh NO he accidentally used logic to make himself admit he has FEELINGS

One of the reasons I love this pairing is that you have Cecil, who is incredibly emotionally open (all the time, on public radio) as a distinct contrast to Carlos, who is so used to putting up a very specific facade that he even does it to himself and then struggles when he doesn't have it to rely on. It creates conflict, but it also means they have very different perspective they can share with each other. 

"Did the earth move for you, too?" says Cecil.

"Bwuh?" replies Carlos.

"At the monitoring station," says Cecil, because right, they're talking about science and not about how Carlos may or may not have accidentally developed a tiny, tiny crush on Cecil, who is standing right in front of him and looking extremely interested in what he's saying and will commit his words to memory and lovingly repeat them for all the world, or at least all of Night Vale and anyone else who received the same odd death curse as Carlos, to hear.

"Oh. Hmm – unh," replies Carlos, then shakes his head. Not talking, that's the way to go. That way he won't accidentally say something he doesn't mean, or worse, something he does mean but probably shouldn't say. Cecil can ask him science questions and he can shake his head yes or no, and maybe refer him wordlessly to supplementary materials, and it will all be very professional and—

"Where did you get your shirt?" asks Cecil. "It fits you so well."

"I'll look at my notes and computer models and see if I can figure out what's going on," Carlos blurts out, and practically runs from the room.

One of the reasons I started writing this fic (SEPTEMBER 2013, BABY god I feel old) was because we all knew Carlos was immensely important to Cecil, but had relatively little information about him, and ALL of it was filtered through our unreliable narrator. So… I just kind of ran with that. 

But on top of the obvious unreliability of “didn't notice Carlos was a wizard from a different series”, I wanted to do it on the smaller scale, too, and put a different spin on the touchstones of their growing relationship that everyone was already familiar with. So this interaction is now a crisis for both of them, and for dramatically/hilariously different reasons. 

“If you’re worried about going native, I’ve got bad news for you, buddy, because you do more chanting than anyone I’ve met.”

Another one of my favorite lines.

“I’ve had to hunt down people I know before, and trust me, it’s not a fun date night!”

Between Molly and fanon interpretations of Cecil, Carlos’ type is apparently 1) weird tattoos, 2) unusually-colored hair, and 3) can kill him

There's a brief hiss from the TV's speakers, and then Cecil says, in a small, forlorn voice, “I don't know if he listens to me, sometimes.”

Carlos puts his head down and laughs bitterly.

I LOVE IRONY 

But even though I wanted to subvert the surface meaning, Cecil DOES still have a point. He got a good look at Carlos’ soul when they first met and still fell in love instantly, but Carlos has a difficult time hearing that because at this point he fundamentally does not believe he’s worthy of that kind of love. In order to truly believe Cecil, he also has to start learning to love and accept himself. (It’s very much a work in progress, but nobody’s perfect.) The title isn’t just meant to refer to romantic love – self-love, friendship, familial love, and unconditional love for the humanity of his trash fire town are equally important, because they all support each other.

hmu for more dvd commentary!