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justfandomwritings · 4 years ago

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By The Norns (Part One - Soulmate!Loki)

Pairing: Loki x Reader, Soulmates AU

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Nobody was harmed in any way in the making of this story... but there was some arson.

Summary: She wasn’t a goddess. She wasn’t even an elf or a dwarf. She was a mortal, a Midgardian, a human. To Odin, she was a curse. To Loki, she was a second chance.

Notes: Don’t worry. Despite what the chapter and the description may make you think anyone whose read my stories before will know I am not a fan of soulmate aus that take away the character’s choice. This chapter is set up. Stick with me on this. I promise. Posted in honor of @muna1412 being very excited at the prospect of another soulmate au.

This is not related to Loyalty in any way... I just have an unhealthy obsession with Soulmate aus.

Fate was a funny, fickle thing. Loki knew that much. After all, he’d met her.

Them, to be more precise. The Norns.

Urdr, Skuld, and Verdandi were their names: Past, Present, and Future, as they should be known.

It was they who watered the tree, and they who grew its leaves. The task fell to the Norns to write, shape, create, and control the fate of every being under the branches of Yggdrasil.

A poor, dwarven craftsman working on the surface of Nidavellir, a beautiful, golden elf living on a hill in Alfheim, a meager, puny human scurrying around the surface of Midgard. It was they who made the dwarf rich, who killed the elf in his sleep, who let the human sow the land. They did not exchange the gold; they did not wield the dagger; they did not draw the plow. But it was by their hand, by their grace and mercy, that the worlds turned, that life waxed and waned, that the Realms drew breath.

Every birth was through their will. Every death was by their hand, and everything in between was because they decided it would be so.

All fell under the gaze of the Norns. The kitchen cook, Andhrimnir, who served the Aesir’s table at night, owed everything to the Norns. They allowed his birth into Asgard. They raised him above the station of a lowly tavern boy. They gifted him the family he cradled so dearly to his chest.

Odin, King of the Nine Realms, Protector of Asgard, owed everything to the Norns. He was born by their choice. He survived a thousand battles because they said he would do so. He married Frigga because they put her on his path. His sons…

Well, one of his sons.

Loki knew the exact moment Odin stopped looking at him as a son, the exact moment Odin chose Thor over him, the exact moment Odin turned his back on him, the exact moment his father marked him disappointment.

It was, like all things, the doing of the Fates. The Norns.

Fates were theirs to command from the highest branches of Yggdrasil down to its very roots. From king to beggar, slave to master, aristocrat to pauper, farmer to merchant, sailor to soldier. From Loki to her. She was their doing.

Love was an inevitable part of life. Not even the Norns, with all of the power of the gods and then some, could stop that. Humans, Aesir, Elves, Vanir, the sentient beings of the Nine Realms felt an overwhelming urge towards emotion, and one of the strongest, one of the most inevitable, was love.

They couldn’t stop it, but they could direct it.

It fell under the purview of Fate to decide who one loved. People, god and mortal alike, fell in and out of love all the time.

Sometimes, though, every now and then, the Norns would reach down and touch two beings. The Norns would take two souls in two bodies and braid them together, weave them together, mold them together, as if they were one.

Those who knew magic well, those like Loki, could see them, watch them, doing this.

They could see Urdr floating, invisible amongst them, deciding the pair. They could see Skuld, plucking up their souls. They could see Verdandi tying them together.

Loki watched them when they took his soul.

“Mother, Mother,” Loki tugged on his other’s silk skirts and pointed up into the rafters of the Grand Hall. “What’s that?”

Frigga followed her son’s gaze and gasped. Magic was not her proficiency, though what little she had she wielded well. She had enough to see the Norns, floating ghostlike in the air over her younger son. She had enough to see his soul in their hands, and another at their side.

In the old days, before that fateful night, it was considered an honor to be chosen by the Norns. It was a guarantee of a great, powerful destiny in the future. It was a promise of passion, understanding, and respect on the horizon. It was the mark of one who would know true love.

The Midgardians called them soulmates. The Aesir called them the destined.

“The Norns have touched Loki,” Frigga whispered to Odin at her side. “They are gifting him a match.”

“With who?” Odin asked because he could not see them for himself.

Frigga squinted in the direction of the apparitions tying together Loki’s future. “I cannot tell. She appears to be…” Frigga’s eyes whipped around to Odin, “Midgardian.”

Odin turned up his nose and sniffed.

Midgard. The word, the world, that had sentenced Loki to a lifetime of second best.

His ‘destined’, his ‘soulmate’, his curse.

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It was centuries before the soul tied to Loki’s found the body it would spend its own life in.

(Y/n), her parents named her.

They weren’t sure why they named her that. When asked, they said they saw the name once in a book. Or was it on the tv? Or in a dream?

Neither could really remember. All they knew was that, as she grew, the name suited her perfectly. Almost as if fate itself had chosen it for her.

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For centuries, millennia even, her soul had been lingering on the edges of reality, existing but not quite feeling. She floated through time and space, following the ties that bound her to existence, waiting.

By the time her soul entered her body on Earth, she had existed longer than any other Midgardian ever had or would in all of history. She had lingered for years just out of reach of one of the most powerful beings on Asgard, her soulmate. Lifetimes had passed her by in the blink of an eye, and though she didn’t remember any of them, they remembered her.

Her soul hovered above its mate, basking in the magic that dissipated into the air around him like smoke. She breathed it in, soaked it in, drew it in.

In many ways, even subconsciously, she showed her age, her mate.

Even as a baby, she never woke her mother up screaming, to the jealousy of her mom’s friends. She was the model toddler, even through her terrible twos. She almost never cried and rarely threw temper tantrums. They called her a prodigy when she started speaking in full sentences before time doctors even expected her to be learning her first words, and they called her a genius when she learned to read full children’s books while other kids were still struggling through their first alphabet flashcards. Even though she ran around playing in the mud or splashing in puddles, somehow her clothes were always pristine. She taught herself faster than the teachers could and skipped two grades in elementary school alone. She was suspiciously charismatic for such a little girl and made, literally, hundreds of dollars off her lemonade stand. She listened to a family speaking another language in the store once and ran up to them to answer a question they had; when her parents asked her how she’d learned to understand or say that in another language, she had no idea what they were talking about and seemingly hadn’t even realized she’d done it.

And yet there were other things, darker things.

When she was born, the nurses didn’t question the little shock of static that jolted through them as they held her. No one commented how, in the right light, the baby’s eyes could look terrifyingly aware. She lied as easily as she breathed and almost never got caught. A girl made fun of her friend's hair once at school, and that night ended up being rushed to the hospital by her parents with all the signs of a heart attack in a five year old child. She liked having things her way, and even when her parents refused her, they always found themselves oddly compelled to do whatever it was anyways. She had an affinity for snakes that often found her letting them in the house. The pranks she pulled on her little brother sometimes got out of hand and often resulted in loud crashes and screams, though by the time any adult arrived nothing ever seemed broken. Her father used to joke that she must be some kind of shape shifter because he swore that, from day to day, her eye would change their color. Sometimes, when he looked in them, he swore they weren’t his daughters, but when he blinked and looked back they always returned to normal.

Most of it was written off as the simple oddities of a child or exaggerations of first time parents.

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Superheroes did not exist when (Y/n) was a child.

It would be another decade before Tony Stark would stand on a stage and proclaim before the world, “I am Iron Man.” It would be even longer still before Peter Parker would put on a red and blue jumpsuit and call himself, ‘Spiderman’. Bruce Banner hadn’t even begun his research into the serum that would be his ultimate undoing. Dr. Stephen Strange was finishing up med school. Thor hadn’t made his presence known. Wanda had just been born. Hawkeye and Black Widow were still assassins working in the shadows. No one outside Wakanda had ever heard of the Black Panther. Vision hadn’t been built yet, and Captain America had been dead for decades.

Even if they did exist, it wouldn’t have helped (Y/n). Most of them weren’t born super. Most of them became so by lab experiments or radioactive insects or training or technology.

In the world (Y/n) grew up in, there were no superheroes. And if there were no superheroes... then what was she?

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She was 12.

It was her big day.

Not her birthday, she didn’t particularly care about birthdays. Something about them just felt off to her. When she turned 11, she asked her mom if she could have two of those candles that were shaped like the actual numbers, and she’d put them pressed against each other on top of the cake. She ran around all day telling everyone she was 1,111. Some people laughed, but mostly to humor her.

That was why she hadn’t had a birthday party when she turned 12. She didn’t like people fake laughing. It felt like lying. She didn’t particularly mind lying herself, but she hated thinking that people were lying to her. Especially because she could always tell when they were.

No, instead, she had this. The Science Fair.

She’d won first prize the night before. She knew she had because one of the judges had told her she’d won.

That morning, they would be handing out the awards, and she was so excited for everyone else to know the secret, to know that she was the best, even better than the older kids in her class.

The judges were walking up on stage, and any moment, once they got past the category winners they were going to call her name.

“In third place we have Jesse Martin with his project in the biology category!”

A cheer went up that, judging by the pitch, absolutely must have been from Jesse’s mom. The other parents in the room clapped while Jesse ran towards the stage, turning red in the cheeks from his family’s overzealous encouragement.

“Congratulations, son,” the Dean smiled as he bent down to shake the boy’s hand. The mike picked up a small bit of Jesse’s anxious thanks before he ran to join the line of winners.

“And in second place we have, (Y/n)! With her wonderful….”

Second place.

But Mr. Sellers, the science teacher had told her she won.

Was he lying? Did he honestly think second place was winning? Was he just saying that to shut her up? Or was he being mean? Did he want to laugh at her when his real favorite won?

The parents were cheering her, including her own. Her father was nudging her towards the stage, but she didn’t at all appreciate the gesture.

No. They told her she was going to win.

Her face screwed up in pain, and she balled her hands into fists.

At the back of the room something exploded.

A scream went out.

“Fire!” Someone shouted. “Fire!”

The poster boards up and down the hall were catching fire. It jumped easily from paper to paper. It didn’t help that there was no smoke, for some odd reason. That the sprinklers, that the fire alarm, didn’t turn on.

Someone grabbed (Y/n) by the waist. Her father no doubt.

(Y/n) barely noticed. She was still upset staring at the trophy on the stage over his shoulder.

Slowly, before her eyes, it began to melt.

She smiled. Good. If she couldn’t have it, no one could.

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“She caused the fire.” He whispered, staring down at the floor in front of him with glassy eyes.

“Wayne, that’s crazy; you know it is.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, Elle. She clenched her first and suddenly Christina Danvers poster exploded. She gets second, and the first place project explodes the moment she throws a fit?”

“Our daughter doesn’t throw fits.”

“Not normally, but she did today. She was about to, and then everything caught fire.”

“Wayne, you can’t be serious about this right now.”

“She was smiling.” He whispered. “When everything burned down, she was smiling.”

(Y/n) listened silently from the hallway as her parents talked.

She loved to eavesdrop on her parents late night. They never knew she was there. It was another one of those odd coincidences of her life that (Y/n) was the only person in the house who never made the steps creak when she walked up and down the stairs.

She was old enough to know what they were saying, what they were implying. It should’ve bothered her more than it did.

(Y/n) walked back upstairs, silent as the grave, and opened her closet.

She needed the duffle bag her father kept tucked away in the top of her closet, but she was nowhere near tall enough to reach it. As the door slid open, the bag teetered on the edge of the wire shelf and fell to the floor.

“How convenient,” (Y/n) mumbled to herself.

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“Hey Kid,” The man shouted at her out the window of his semi-truck. “What’re you doin’ out here at night? It ain’t safe!”

(Y/n) shrugged. “Not safe at home either.”

The man gave her an understanding look.

(Y/n) watched him carefully as he opened the door of his rig and offered her a hand.

Her mother had always told her not to talk to strangers, but (Y/n) had found she could always tell what people wanted. Besides, she was pretty sure she was a greater danger to them than they were to her.

“Where ya’ headed?” The man asked.

“West.”

“I can take ya’ as far as Texas.” He offered.

(Y/n) hopped off the curb and grabbed the man’s offered hand, hauling herself up into the passenger seat.

She didn’t know where she was going or why she was going there. But something inside of her told her she had somewhere to be.

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Next Time On.... Part Two

Thank you very much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed. I have just come back from a hiatus and a great deal of why I went on said hiatus was the stress of managing ‘added features’ for lack of a better expression. I like writing. I don’t like formatting or managing the blog side of things.

As such, no taglists. Please don’t ask me to be on a taglist. Keeping track of it stresses me out too much. I don’t feel like doing it. I don’t appreciate being pressured into doing it. In the olden days of tumblr, people used to follow each other, and I promise you that feature still works. If you follow me you will see part two when it’s posted.

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki soulmate au #loki soulmate #soulmate loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader soulmate #marvel imagines #loki imagines #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #loki one shot #loki oneshot #mcu fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years ago

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Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations.

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat, “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #twisted

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robinasnyder · 3 years ago

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One of the things I appreciate so much about Leverage Redemption is how it handles Timothy Hutton not returning. There were very real reasons the show cannot have him back, so being dead is the best way to handle it.

But the way they handle it? God!

It feels like after someone has a scandal, people want to pretend like the person and everything they touched was never likeable or good. I get it (believe me). But the Leverage team decided to go a different way.

Nate was integral to the original Leverage. He was the fulcrum for the arcs everyone else went on. The first series is really framed as his journey through his rage and grief. And by the end of the series, he's come to the end of his journey. In reality, any sequel to the original didn't need him to begin with.

Oh, I'm sure that they could have found a good use for the character, but he wasn't really necessary anymore.

Instead, Nate's still treated like an important character, his shadow's still there but he's dead and gone. And so the series moves from having Nate in the center to Sophie. Sophie is the new emotional core. The same way Nate's grief drove him, Sophie's grief drives her. But Nate died not because of some rich asshole, but likely due to his years of alcohol abuse. There is no one to lash out at or take revenge on.

But now is also not 2008 when the first series started. It's 2021, and I believe it hits harder to have a character to decide to get into hunting horrible people not because of a need for revenge, but for a need to have a life and a purpose outside of who they lost.

Sophie's journey so far has never undercut her loss or her grief. It's still there, even when she's happy, even when she's working, even when something's going wrong. It's there. It's raw. It can stop her short and also drive her forward. But also, her grief isn't just tying her down anymore. She has something to focus on now. The balance Leverage Redemption strikes is so perfect and necessary. It feels real.

Nate was an important character in the last series. And not bringing him up regularly, when he's only dead a year, would seem cheap and hollow. They don't over do it, so that when Nate is mentioned it can be a gut punch, but the importance of that character isn't undervalued.

In both removing Nate, but also acknowledging what he meant to the characters, the show reminds the audience of an inportant fact: it's not 2008 anymore. It's a different time, and things we treasured are gone. The road ahead is less clear. Plans are broken. Things are darker. But there's still hope.

I think if they did it any other way, it wouldn't have worked.

#leverage #leverage redemption

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roscgcld · 4 years ago

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NANAMI KENTO + GOJO SATORU || the one that got away

request: i'm literally in love with your fics- i was wondering if you could write a Nanami x reader x Gojo where Nanami and the reader were dating before he left Jujutsu Tech, but they break up when he leaves. When he comes back he realizes he's still in love with the reader but she's engaged to Gojo and there's just a bunch of angst and tension. Sorry ik that's a lot :') But ty!!

note: lowkey thought you wanted a nanami x reader x gojo and i was like ‘oh babes am so ready-’ until i rer-read your request lmao! but honestly this was a lot of fun to write. tbh, if i was reader I would choose nanami cause rn am a whole ass SIMP for the man that is nanmi kento cx but i hope i managed to capture what you wanted in this request babes!

pronouns: she/her

“Maybe we should take a break.”

Those six words were engrained into the mind of Nanami Kento for the rest of his life. Those six words were the words that tossed his world upside down - and every time those words came into mind, the imagine of your crying face comes with it.

You were so distraught, yet you put up a brave front as you gave him a shaky smile - something that he loves so much about you. That even though his explanation as to why you two should break up was childish, selfish even; you still go the extra mile to make sure that he knows you understand. That you understand why he wants to take a break so that he can focus on himself and his career.

“I understand, Nami...just know I love you, okay?”

Your simple words, coupled with your tearful eyes and watery smile made him want to take back the words as soon as possible. That he wants to just turn back time and just admit to himself that he was going to regret his decision. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to. If he did go back in time and stopped, he might end up breaking your heart again; if not with more bitterness and anger.

When he was young, he hated that he was a jujutsu sorcerer - hated how he has this responsibility over him that he never asked for. He just wanted to be free from the jujutsu world and never look back. You were different - you were so proud that you were a jujutsu sorcerer, always a beacon of light in the dark reality that is being a sorcerer. Somehow you made it bearable for him, and at one point he thought he can do it for the rest of his life. Until after the death of Haibara Yu, a classmate that the both of you call a dear friend.

It was at that moment that he snapped, and he knew he didn’t want to do this anymore.

Yet he couldn’t force himself to drag you away from something you love so dearly, something you see as your duty to protect. He knew that either way he was going to be selfish, and either way tears were going to be shed; so he chose the one that would hurt the least. However, now years down the line, he still thinks that maybe things could have worked out. There was no denying that he still loves you - even though he keeps in touch with his senior, Gojo Satoru, from time to time, he doesn’t ask about you.

From what he knows, you stayed back in Jujutsu Tech and became a teacher, but that is all he knows about you. He was too scared, too embarrassed to face you once more - because he knows better then to dream. Dream that the promise you promised to keep as teens was going to hold up now that the both of you were in your late twenties.

But there is no harm in dreaming, right?

Nanami checked his watch as he got off the train, making his way towards the bus station located right outside of the building. It was his first time back at the college after being away from it for a few years, since he had called Gojo the other day on asking about if there is an opening for him to return as a sorcerer.

Even though Gojo can be a huge pain in the ass to deal with, Nanami knew that if there was anyone who can confirm a space for him at work, it will be Gojo Satoru.

Walking out of the crowded station, he looked up just in time to see the white haired shaman waiting for him at the entrance; who grinned and waved when he saw his junior. “Nanami! I knew you were not going to be late.” Gojo called out to the man dressed in a fresh grey suit and blue shirt underneath; his spotted tie knotted around his neck. The bespectacled man just sighs tiredly and made his way towards his overly excited senior, scowling when the taller male draped an arm around his shoulders.

He opened his mouth to say something when he noticed the ring that was resting on Gojo’s left ring finger, causing him to raise a curious eyebrow as he allowed the older male to lead him along. “You got married?” He asks the taller male, who glances at his hand before he grins and shakes his head, flexing his hand a little to show off the simple band around his ring finger. “Nah, we just got engaged. We are planning for the wedding though.” He stated simple, to which Nanami glances over at his senior in surprise. “What? Thought that I was too good to be married off?”

“No, I am surprised that you somehow managed to find someone willing to chain themselves down with you.”

“How mean!” Gojo gasps before he shakes his head in amusement, playfully squeezing his junior who just scowls lightly. “For your information, we’ve been dating for the last 4 years. And we have both talked about marriage before, so I wasn’t blindly shooting into the dark when I proposed.” Gojo commented as the two of them made their way towards the taxi stand, where Ijichi greeted his two seniors with a soft bow; all three men getting into the car. “Still surprised they said yes.”

Gojo just pouts and whines at his junior, who just listened to him with his deadpan expression the entire way to the college. He was surprised that Gojo managed to come on time to pick him up, since he had expected for him to be late, and for him to have either taken the bus or hailed a taxi on his own. But he didn’t really mind; he’s used to handling Gojo’s childish personality, and he gets a free ride at the same time. So he doesn’t mind the brief ride with Gojo.

Soon they arrived at the wooded area where the college is located on, getting out of the car once Ijichi stops the car. Quietly Nanami got out of the car and squints his eyes a little at the sunlight that shone down on him, his eyes slowly focusing on the grand temple-like compound that is Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. “Feels weird to be back?”

“A bit.” Nanami admitted to Gojo when he walked from the other side of the car to Nanami’s side, the man just chuckling before he gestures for him made his way through the gates and into the campus, immediately being hit with all the nostalgia of being a student once more. It felt like a light weight was being lifted off his shoulders as he soaks everything in, like the guilt of him leaving his duties as a sorcerer behind has been lifted.

The two men made their way deeper into the college just as someone called out to Gojo from behind, causing both men to pause as they turned to look back. Immediately Nanami felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes finally settled onto you, a warm smile gracing your features as you made your way towards the both of them. Nanami was so stuffed that he didn’t catch the way Gojo grins and opens his arms for you, watching the two of you embrace one another as a sinking feeling when he saw the delighted grin on your face.

The same grin that you used to give him after not seeing you for awhile.

Somehow Nanami managed to keep up an indifferent façade as you embraced your fiancée, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek in greeting whilst Gojo just nuzzles closer to you; in an attempt to milk all of the attention he can from you. “How needy.” You giggled at him before you turned to the man beside your fiancé with the intension of greeting him; only to freeze up when you realise who it was. “K-Kento?”

“Nice to see you again, Y/N.” Nanami greeted in his usual indifferent tone, trying to hide his heartbroken eyes beneath the shadow of his sunglasses as he tilted his head ever so slightly. “I guess some congratulations are to be said.” He stated simply before he gestures to your left ring finger, where a simple yet beautiful engagement ring rested on your finger. For some reason your heart sank as you awkwardly hid your hand behind your back, causing Gojo to raise an eyebrow as he glances between the both of you.

Was there something going on between the two of you?

“O-Oh, thanks.” You mumble out awkwardly, knowing immediately that Nanami was no longer in his usual indifferent mood. You can feel the slight hurt in his voice, one that causes your heart to break a little; bringing you back to the day you two broke up. How you promised to keep loving him until he was ready to return - yet here you are now, engaged to another man. It wasn’t like you fell out of love with him, you still love Nanami with all your heart, but that love had started to shift the years you two spend apart. And somehow, you started to fall for the white haired shaman known as Gojo Satoru.

But that doesn’t mean you didn’t feel any guilt for how evil you might seem to your ex for stringing him along like that. “I wasn’t expected to see you here.”

“I decided to come back.” Nanami stated simply with a shrug, glancing over at your quiet fiancé who blinks at him owlishly back at him. “Plus, Gojo here told me about a student of his by the name Itadori Yuji that I am supposed to take under my wing.” He continued, giving Gojo the chance to jump in as he smiles down at you, squeezing your shoulders gently. “That’s right! Kento-kun here said he wanted to come back! So his first job is to supervise Yuji-kun.”

“Oh.” You replied in a small tone, unsure of how to answer at all. But luckily Nanami stepped in before the awkward silence can drag on for long, pulling the sleeve of his jacket off his watch to check the time. “I don’t want to get in the way of your free time now, Y/N-san. I am going to go and rest up in my room before dinner is served.” He stated simply before bowing at the both of you, not meeting your eyes. “Excuse me.”

With that he turned to walk away, forcing himself to not look back at you as he made his way down the familiar hallways towards the dorms; the keys to the room he is to stay at for the time being clutched in his hand after he slipped it into his pocket. What was I thinking? He thought to himself as he continued his way down the empty hallway to the dormitories. Did I really think an amazing woman like that will wait for me?

He sighed to himself as he shakes his head a little, slipping his polished dress shoes off his feet before putting them on one of the free cubbies built into the wall; grabbing a pair of the guest slippers before he puts them on. “At least she managed to get engaged to Gojo. He’s definitely worthy of her love.” He mutters to himself, reminding himself to be happy that you found happiness. He doesn’t blame you for finding love once more - when he left this life behind, he also left you.

No call, no text, no attempt to reach out. Was he expected you to just fall into his arms once more? Pretend that nothing happened, and to go back to where you two once were? That thought alone caused him to let out a soft snort as he made his way towards the locked room, unlocking it with his keys. “Don’t be foolish, Kento. Be happy that she’s happy.” He mutters to himself as he entered his new room, closing the door behind him with a tired sigh.

“Guess you really were the one that got away.”

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starlessea · 4 years ago

Text

Here Comes the Sun: XIV. Jailhouse Rock (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 5378

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury, Slight canon divergence.

You threaded the bandage carefully from hand to hand, around the man's leg where he sat. It was tight, like he'd instructed, but you still worked tentatively in case you hurt him. Hershel watched appreciatively as you bound it, covering the stump where his leg had been amputated - just below the knee. It was looking a lot better recently, having been almost a week since the incident. It no longer oozed different colours or looked like it was rotting. The antibiotics from the infirmary had really helped you out there.

Once you had finished, you threw away the previous bandages and rolled down the older man's trouser leg. Beth had cut one shorter than the other, so that the excess material wouldn't trail on the floor when her father walked. The ends were a little jagged and frayed, but the intention had been pure. Hershel let you tend to him without a single complaint. Not once did he wince or look uncomfortable - he hadn't done since the initial injury. He was a fighter, you'd all realised. There was not a thing left in this world that would stop him from spending every last second he could with his daughters.

He gave you a nod and offered you a small smile as you lent him your arm. He gripped it tightly, using his other hand to press down onto the mattress and push himself up. He wobbled a bit as he did so, but you remained steady, supporting him. Once he was upright, he held onto the metal frame of the top bunk, and you let go to retrieve the crutches resting against the wall. You threaded each one under the man's arms and watched as he began to take unsteady steps with them.

It was slow, and you stayed close to him in case he fell. Though, after a few minutes he seemed to get the hang of it, pacing back and forth the small cell. You couldn't help but smile as you watched him.

"Just like riding a bike." You teased, rubbing your palm over his shoulder.

He'd asked you to bring him the crutches that morning, finally feeling up to trying them out. He said that he wanted to surprise his daughters, since he'd felt guilty about making them worry so much.

"I'm ready." He replied with a determined look, and the two of you made your way out slowly to the courtyard.

It had been nearly a week since it happened, but you remembered it vividly. Even as he was recovering, almost every time you closed your eyes you could see the man's face contort in pain. The day after you'd all secured the yard, your plan was put into action to tackle the prison. It had been a success at first, as you set up base in the C Block - but that false peace soon shattered as you delved deeper into the heart of the prison.

Rick took the front, guiding you all with a flashlight as you trailed behind in a line. You were directly behind him, followed by Daryl, then Glenn, and finally Hershel at the rear. The place was like a maze, each corridor leading into two others - like a hydra splitting its heads. Everything was dark save for the single stream of torchlight, and you could hear the occasional drips of water seeping through the cracks of the ceiling, splashing onto your boots when you walked. Corpses littered the floor as you all navigated your way through them, and even more walkers came out from the shadows to greet you.

Rick took the brunt of the assault, sinking his blade into the skulls of any that got too close. You all stuck in a tight formation as you continued on, alert for any more undead. All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed. The tension was cut with a startled yell, accompanied by a familiar groaning sound. You immediately whipped your head back to find the source of the noise, only to see Hershel with his leg caught in the jaws of a walker slumped against a wall. You'd all thought it was dead when you stepped over it - as in actually dead. Yet, now it had its teeth sunk into Hershel's ankle, tearing away the skin there to expose the tendons beneath.

Everyone sprung into action. Glenn immediately drove his machete through the walker's skull and Rick came to pry Hershel's leg from its mouth. He and Daryl then picked up the older man by his arms, as Glenn took his legs. You all ran together in search of the nearest safe area, as you took the front of the formation to clear a path. You'd had to take down two walkers on the way, and everyone started to yell - not caring to keep quiet anymore. Rick was shouting about how Hershel was losing blood, and Daryl pointed to some double doors with the words 'cafeteria' above them.

Glenn placed Hershel's legs down when they got closer, wedging his knife between the crack of the door to pry it open. After a few seconds, you heard the bolt give in, and he kicked it harshly before it flung open. Hershel was carried inside immediately, and placed on the floor. You saw his eyes roll back into his head, as he struggled to stay conscious. Rick wasted no time removing his belt and tying tightly just below the other man's knee. The action alone made you feel sick to your stomach, as you prepared for what you knew would happen next.

Hershel's face was coated in a sheen of sweat, as he lay on the cold concrete. His eyes were cloudy as he met yours, and you couldn't conceal the tears that welled up there. In your peripheral, you saw Rick take Glenn's machete from him - as it was the biggest and sharpest blade you had among you. Daryl quickly moved over to Hershel's left side, opposite from you, and held his shoulder down where he lay. You swallowed thickly and followed his lead, taking one of the older man's hands in your own.

He looked at you, choking on air as he inhaled too quickly. You could see the panic in his eyes, even as he struggled to keep them open. You clenched his hand tightly, feeling him grip onto you with all of his strength. Meeting his vacant stare, you looked into his eyes with intent - trying to reassure him that he'd be okay.

"Hershel." You whispered, looking down at his clammy face.

You remembered how he'd been there for you when you needed him most, at the bar shootout, telling you to keep your eyes on him and focus. You needed to do the same for him now.

"Do you want to go home?" You asked, repeating his question from that time.

You saw a single tear run onto his cheek as he nodded, before his pupils rolled back. Daryl tensed, preparing to hold the man down. You did the same. Then, Rick swung the blade.

You led the way as you and Hershel made for the courtyard, where the others were all gathered. You took small deliberate steps so that he could follow at his own pace. When you stood outside, the sun was so bright that it made you squint your eyes. It was such a contrast from the dark and shady prison. You shuffled out of the doorway of C Block and opened the lattice cage leading out onto the concrete yard - holding the door open for the man behind you.

The sky was a clear blue, completely cloudless, and when you stared out at the field it almost felt like home. You guided Hershel a few more steps before the others began to notice him. Daryl was one of the first. He'd been lying with his back to the concrete, fiddling with the underside of his motorcycle. He had his bandana tied around his mouth and nose to protect him from the fumes, but what was visible of his face was covered in black grease - as were his exposed arms. Once he caught your eye, and saw the man near you, he immediately sat up and pulled the cloth down from his mouth to show his smile.

"Yer one tough ol' bastard!" He called out, causing the others to look in your direction.

Maggie and Beth quickly stopped what they were doing, dropping their shovels to run over and greet their father. You took a step away from the man, letting his daughters embrace him. You could see how proud they were, as Maggie shot you a grateful smile and Beth's eyes welled up with tears. The whole scene gave you hope. Hershel gave you hope. You wondered what you would have done in his position. You would like to think that you would have soldiered on, just as he had, but in reality you probably would have given up. Though when you looked at him, looking at his girls, you understood why he didn't.

Hershel gave you one more curt nod as you left to give them some privacy, and you offered him a small smile in return. You made your way over to Daryl, who leant against his bike waiting for you to come see him. He was wiping his hands in his bandana, like it was a rag, trying to get rid of the dirt on his palms before he dared touch you.

"Hey, stranger." You called out to him with a smile. "Is there a man underneath all that grease?" You teased, making a point of looking him up and down.

"'M not sure." He grumbled, scratching the back of his neck as he squinted from the low sun.

You walked closer to him, reaching up so that you were on your tip-toes, and your face was close to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, now seeing the grease stains that smeared his cheeks - from where he'd rubbed the backs of his hands against them. You pulled his bandana out from his back jean pocket, where he'd shoved it only a few moments ago. Then, you used it to wipe away some of the marks on his face, holding your hand under his chin as you did so.

He grumbled at that, trying to bat your hand away half-heartedly. You just held his jaw more firmly, and continued to scrub the stubborn grease off. You got one cheek relatively clean before giving him his bandana back, not bothering with the other side of his face. Then, you stepped on your tip-toes again to leave a quick kiss there.

"Much better." You smirked at him, only for the man to rub his thumb down over your own cheek in one swift motion - smearing a line of grease over it in return.

You laughed and reached over to smack his chest, causing him to step backwards to avoid it. You tried again to punch his arm, but he caught your wrist - leaving a black handprint around it. Squealing slightly, you tried to pull out of his grip, but his other hand grabbed hold of your free arm and painted it black, too.

"Get your hands off me!" You cried, laughing as you did so. "You're filthy!"

You giggled some more, running away from the man, before the two of you formed a sort of truce and settled back down. You leant against the bike together to watch Hershel make his small laps of the courtyard. Your vest was covered in handprints that looked like they'd been pressed on with oil paint, and you knew you'd have to scrub your skin with cold water later, too.

Maggie had one of her father's arms over her shoulder, as he used a crutch in the other. Beth walked alongside them and you could hear their muffled chatter in the distance. His appearance alone was enough to raise the spirits of the whole group.

"Ya did a good job lookin' after him." Daryl said, eyeing the man who seemed content just to be with his daughters.

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your grease-smudged shirt. "I didn't do much besides staying with him." You admitted. "This is all Hershel."

"He's one stubborn son of a bitch." The archer agreed, muttering below his breath.

You let out a laugh, giving him a side-eye glance and one of your best lopsided smiles.

"Says you, Dixon."

Watching the Greenes made you realise how far you'd all come in just a matter of days. That incident felt almost a world away from you now. In truth, it had been one of the most traumatic things you'd experienced in this new world. That night, after the initial panic of trying to save Hershel's life, you were granted a few brief minutes to go and sit with Daryl. You immediately felt your legs buckle beneath you as you sank down onto his mattress. You were entirely exposed on the upper catwalk of the cell block, since he'd refused to stay in one of the 'cages' - as he put it. At that point, however, you didn't care.

The images of Rick hacking away at bone replayed in your mind as you cried into Daryl's neck, feeling him stroke your hair to try and calm you. You honestly had thought that the older man was going to die, leaving his daughters behind without a father. You'd felt so much guilt, holding his hand and watching the light fade from his eyes. The thought of having to tell Maggie and Beth that you'd failed him was just too much.

You didn't stay long with Daryl, wiping your eyes and collecting yourself not even moments after you'd sat down. You took a deep breath and waved the man who'd comforted you goodbye. Then, you returned to Hershel's cell - where you stayed for days on end until he woke up.

"I'll leave you to your bike." You said, pulling yourself out of your thoughts.

Daryl nodded, wiping his palms over his jeans. You gave him a soft smile before going on.

"You still have to teach me to ride that thing one day." You noted, looking over at the intimidating hunk of metal like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him. "You promised."

The man chuckled lowly under his breath, turning to face the bike. "One day, Sunshine."

You flitted around the courtyard doing odd jobs while waiting for Hershel to finish up his walk. Carol and T-Dog were cleaning some of the guns and Rick had sent Glenn to go check if there was a breach in the back of prison - letting him use one of the vehicles to do so. You sat on one of the rusted metal benches, sharpening your knife which had become dull. You barely noticed when a man approached you, taking a seat next to you quietly.

You looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. It was one of the prisoners you'd encountered a few days ago. Him and the other man, Oscar you thought his name was, had been allowed to stay with you provisionally as you all decided whether to trust them or not. They weren't in the same cell block yet, but you sometimes saw them around the yard. Rick had been skeptical at first, but allowed this much when you'd all insisted on showing kindness to the men.

He gave you a wiry smile as you looked at him. The man was small and scrawny, with long ash hair and a handlebar moustache to match. He was still dressed in his blue prison jumpsuit, and you thought he was lucky not to get shot on that first day of clearing the prison - when those jumpsuits had been your targets.

"I hope you don't mind me sayin', but you're mighty pretty." He remarked, unprompted. He had a Southern twang to his accent, but it rang out a lot more grateingly than the ones you were used to.

You gave him a curt smile, looking back down at your hands as you continued sharpening the knife. "Thanks." You said.

"Like, really pretty." He went on, looking you up and down as though it were flattering. "The rest of the women here are fine, too. But you're just on another level, sweetheart." He smiled, much too warmly, and rested a hand over your thigh before giving it a squeeze.

Your eyes flickered to the palm pressed on your jeans and then back at your knife. He must have seen you do it, because he quickly pulled away and let out a strained laugh. You looked over at Daryl, who watched the exchange with a scowl. He was a few feet away, and you didn't know if he could make out exactly what the man was saying, but he was definitely close enough to get the gist. You shot him a warning look, as you had a feeling he might come over and cause trouble if you didn't.

"Look, Axel?" You questioned, still unsure of the man's name. He nodded, and you went on. "I appreciate you giving me compliments and all, but I know someone who wouldn't."

Axel was sitting with his back to Daryl, oblivious of the way the archer tensed when watching the two of you. You thought that it was for the best that he couldn't see him, and you met Axel's stare in a way that made you hope he would take the hint.

He squinted at you, leaning back against the bench. "You with one of these folks?" He asked.

You nodded, letting your eyes purposefully look over his shoulder.

"The one glaring daggers at the back of your head." You explained, and he immediately whipped around to see.

Axel quickly stood up, throwing his hands in the air defensively when he met Daryl's gaze. He took a few steps in his direction, before becoming intimidated and deciding to stay where he was, instead.

"Sorry, brother!" He called out, giving a quick glance back to you. "I swear I didn't know she was taken."

You scoffed, despising the way he looked at you like you were an object to be claimed. Daryl scowled right back, throwing his rag over the seat of his bike.

"I ain't yer brother." He growled, just loud enough for you to hear it. He then shot Axel a look before skulking away to the other gate.

You didn't have a chance to say anything back, as suddenly an alarm started blaring. It was so loud that you thought it was coming from inside your head. Before you could comprehend what was going on, you heard screams coming from the other part of the yard, and saw the group running for the inner gate.

The next moments were entirely chaotic, as you were reminded of the fall of the farm once again. Walkers poured in through the broken section of the fence, as you all scurried for the inner part of the prison. The alarm continued to whirr, as you stood unable to tell where it was coming from. You dashed towards Hershel and Beth, who'd become separated from the others, and urged them to safety as you locked yourselves up in one of the small lattice cages that connected to the watchtowers. Then, you waited.

With no weapon, all you could do was comfort Beth and offer a shoulder to Hershel for support. The three of you watched as some other members of the group tried to close the gap in the gate, putting down the walkers that had gotten through it. You heard Rick yelling, and everyone followed him to the prison's interior - presumably to find the source of the alarm.

It felt like hours before it was shut off. Even then, the high-pitched noise still rang in your ears for a good few minutes after that. You all remained silent where you stood, enclosed in your metal cage. You didn't know how long you'd been there, but the adrenaline hadn't settled down in your chest yet. Your mind filled with thoughts you couldn't control, as you prayed that Daryl and the others were safe. You'd barely been able to see anything through the mayhem. The group had been split, that you were certain of, but you didn't know who went where, exactly.

After a few more minutes, you saw Rick emerge from the C Block entrance, followed by Glenn and Daryl. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you met his gaze, slipping your fingers through the gaps in the metal like you were trying to reach out to him. They quickly came over to you, unlocking the door so that you could all leave the small space. You instantly flung your arms around Daryl, not caring in the least about the grease and bloodstains on his skin this time.

You barely got to exchange a few words with each other before you noticed Carl and Maggie exiting the prison from another doorway. Rick ran over to his son, pulling him into his chest when he got to him. Though, you didn't miss the look on Carl's face, as he stared straight through his father. What you did miss, however, was the newborn baby bundled up in Maggie's arms.

You instantly felt your face fall, as you stood back from Daryl's arms to look at your friend. She let out a sob, shaking her head at Rick when the man finally noticed her. The officer stood in silence for a few seconds, before he finally comprehended what she meant. He let out a yell, so deep that it sounded like it came from his core, and started to pace back and forth whilst running his hands through his hair. He shook his head, not once looking towards the newborn. Instead, he retrieved his hatchet and walked straight past Maggie, back inside the prison. And all you could do was watch.

The baby cried and cried in your arms as you huddled her close to your chest, trying to soothe her. She was hungry, you knew, but all you could do was wait for Daryl to return with some formula - if he had the luck of finding any. After Rick had left the group, the rest of you got Maggie and Carl back to C Block - where they explained everything that had happened. They both trembled as they spoke, obviously traumatised. You could remember the look on Carl's face when he'd told you about shooting his mother, and you didn't waste any time pulling him into your chest and holding him tight.

Glenn left with Maggie to go back to their cell, since she looked like she needed some comfort. Daryl went to go and search for Rick, but ended up coming back to the block with Carol in his arms instead. She'd seemed so pale when he brought her in, and Hershel had told you all that it was shock once he looked over her. Later, she'd come around enough to tell you about T-Dog, too, and how he sacrificed himself so that she could get back. In one day, you'd lost two members of the group and gained one more. Though, baby Grimes was living on borrowed time. You all knew that she wouldn't survive for long if you didn't get her some formula.

Daryl had left almost immediately after that. You pleaded for him to stay with you, trembling in his arms as you did so, but you knew that he had no other choice. He'd be able to get there and back the fastest on his bike - wherever 'there' may be. So, you sent him off with a sad expression, watching the motorcycle leave through the gates and listening to its signature low rumble. He left his poncho behind, and you'd used it to swaddle baby Grimes when she was handed to you - and you hadn't let go of her since.

You tried to hush her, rocking on the balls of your feet gently from side to side. She wailed in response, and you felt your heart breaking. You unintentionally started to pace around your cell, suddenly feeling like a single mother much too young to take care of the life bundled in your arms. The rest of the group were tending to Carol, Maggie and Carl, so you were left to look after the baby in the meantime. You thought that you could do it, initially. Though, seeing how much she looked like her mother, even as young as she was, made you crumble.

She howled and spluttered against your grubby vest, hiccuping on her own tears as you tried to lull her to sleep. You had no experience with babies, and you felt like you were torturing her by making her starve so soon after she'd come into this world.

"Come on baby girl." You whispered to her, feeling her cheek press up against the skin by your neck.

Her little mouth quivered against you, and you thought you could feel her whole body tremble even through the material you had her wrapped in. She choked out another cry and you felt completely useless. You didn't know what else to do. So, you swayed her gently and began singing.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." You smiled down at her, trying to compete with her broken wails.

"You make me happy when skies are grey." She spluttered a little, and you rubbed her back gently with your palm.

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you." You stopped swaying as she started to quieten down.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

The little girl in your arms opened her mouth slightly, but didn't let out a cry. Instead, it almost seemed like a yawn as she offered a couple more whimpers before drifting off against your chest. You looked down at her in disbelief, wondering how something so pure could be born into a world so cruel. Then, you noticed Carol standing in the doorway, watching you.

You immediately opened your mouth to explain yourself, but she just brought a finger to her lips - reminding you to keep quiet. She had a warm look on her face, as she glanced over at the baby in your arms, and approached you with the practiced silent footsteps that only a mother could have.

Wordlessly, Carol readjusted the baby in your hold, so that she was better supported. Then, she gently tugged at the corners of Daryl's poncho, wrapping the swaddle securely - in a way much more experienced than you had done. You watched in awe as she seemed to know exactly what to do. After a few seconds, you glanced down, and then back at Carol, offering for her to hold the baby. She shook her head politely and you nodded.

"The song worked." You whispered to her, and she leant her head on your shoulder to look down at the newborn in your arms.

"I know." She replied.

Not long after that, you both heard the familiar sound of the metal keychain unlocking the cell block door, and made your way out into the main area. Daryl walked through, shrugging off his backpack and letting it fall heavily to the floor. He didn't say anything, crouching down and unzipping it to pull out a bottle and a number of formula boxes. You let out a sigh of relief as the group started to praise him, going to collect the supplies. Hershel clapped a hand over his back and gave him a small nod, but Daryl just continued to make up a bottle in silence.

You walked over to him with the baby in your arms, and saw the softness of his expression when he recognised his poncho as her swaddle. You rested your head in the crook of his neck in a half-hug, as baby Grimes rested between both of your chests - starting to rouse from her nap. You thanked Daryl, and helped him take the baby from your arms.

You watched as he brought her in close and held her nearly as well as Carol had taught you. Everyone seemed surprised, too, as he started feeding her the bottle with a soft look in his eyes. You had to admit, you never would have expected him to be as natural as he was with her. The baby sucked on the bottle contentedly, as Daryl tried not to let her take too much at once. She'd been waiting for her first meal all day, and she spluttered a bit on the milk as she drank too quickly.

"There ya go. Must've been hungry, right?" Daryl questioned, looking down at her little face poking out from the thick poncho.

She gurgled a little, which made your heart melt. "You like that, lil' Ass Kicker?" He asked, and you all laughed.

You crossed your arms, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Only Daryl could nickname a baby as adorable as her Ass Kicker.

"What?" He grumbled half-heartedly, looking up at the group who watched him. "It's a good name, ain't it?"

Carol nodded beside you, and had a smile on her face as she looked over at the baby resting against Daryl's bare arms.

"Ass kicker." She said, trying out the name on her tongue. "I think it suits her."

The others mumbled in agreement, and you felt pride at how Daryl had managed to change the atmosphere in a single instance. You watched as he cradled the baby, holding her like he'd never let any harm come to her.

"What do you think, Carl?" You asked, pulling the young boy into you by his shoulder. "You think she'll grow up to be a force to be reckoned with?" You gave him a warm smile, and he nodded in return.

"She'll be just like mom." He said, and you couldn't help but agree.

Daryl walked you back to your cell that night, after you'd all eaten and taken it in turns to coo over lil' Ass Kicker some more. The two of you took quiet steps as you went, as not to wake any of the others who'd already turned in. You felt exhausted, and could tell by his face that he did, too. So much had happened in the span of a single day. So much had reminded you that this place wasn't actually safe yet. You wondered if you were fooling yourself all along - holding onto the idea that the prison could be a home.

You bit your lip as you got lost in your thoughts. You decided that you had no other option; this place needed to be your home. This baby needed a safe place to grow up, and this had to be it. Somehow, you all had to make it work - for her.

"We've got to protect her, Daryl." You whispered, feeling the words slip from your mouth before you even considered saying them. You looked over to meet his eyes as you approached your cell.

"Yeah, I know." He replied, with a thousand yard stare. He seemed equally as caught up in his own thoughts, too.

"For Lori." You clarified, and he nodded. "And until Rick gets through whatever he needs to get through."

The man stopped once you reached your cell, pulling you into his chest for a few seconds. You allowed yourself to be taken in by his warmth, and feel his heartbeat against your cheek as you stayed there. Though, he soon pulled back. You were almost glad he did, fearing that you wouldn't have been able to let go if he'd stayed any longer. He gave the top of your head a brief kiss before telling you to get some rest, and turning to leave.

You eyed his mattress at the end of the catwalk, just lying on the floor where you'd all had to occasionally step over him some nights.

"Daryl." You called out softly, before he could get far.

He glanced back to look at you, and you opened your cell door further so that he could see inside.

"Stay with me, please?" You asked, and for the first night he did.

A/N As if my 3am writing session last night wasn't enough, I thought 'fuck it, what's one more?' I LIVE for the idea of Teach and Daryl almost being like Judith's godparents at this point - taking care of her until Rick can.

Send me a message if you want to be included in the taglist for chapters!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli @julesmalek

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years ago

Text

Hmmm I should probably wait another day to post part two of Finnick being there for Everlark / being their friend but I don’t wanna sooo. Here it is 🤗

I see my mother lead in a group of mobile patients, still wearing their hospital nightgowns and robes. Finnick stands among them, looking dazed but gorgeous. In his hands he holds a piece of thin rope, less than a foot in length, too short for even him to fashion into a usable noose. His fingers move rapidly, automatically tying and unraveling various knots as he gazes about. Probably part of his therapy. I cross to him and say, “Hey, Finnick.” He doesn’t seem to notice, so I nudge him to get his attention. “Finnick! How are you doing?”

“Katniss,” he says, gripping my hand. Relieved to see a familiar face, I think.

Finnick, who’s been wandering around the set for a few hours, comes up behind me and says with a hint of his old humor, “They’ll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”

Just as the elevator arrives, Finnick appears in a state of agitation. “Katniss, they won’t let me go! I told them I’m fine, but they won’t even let me ride in the hovercraft!”

I take in Finnick — his bare legs showing between his hospital gown and slippers, his tangle of hair, the half-knotted rope twisted around his fingers, the wild look in his eyes — and know any plea on my part will be useless. Even I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring him. So I smack my hand on my forehead and say, “Oh, I forgot. It’s this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in Special Weaponry. He’s designed a new trident for you.”

At the word trident, it’s as if the old Finnick surfaces. “Really? What’s it do?”

“I don’t know. But if it’s anything like my bow and arrows, you’re going to love it,” I say. “You’ll need to train with it, though.”

“Right. Of course. I guess I better get down there,” he says.

“Finnick?” I say. “Maybe some pants?”

He looks down at his legs as if noticing his outfit for the first time. Then he whips off his hospital gown, leaving him in just his underwear. “Why? Do you find this”— he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose —“distracting?”

I can’t help laughing because it’s funny, and it’s extra funny because it makes Boggs look so uncomfortable, and I’m happy because Finnick actually sounds like the guy I met at the Quarter Quell.

“I’m only human, Odair.” I get in before the elevator doors close.

At dinner, Finnick brings his tray to my bed so we can watch the newest propo together on television. He was assigned quarters on my old floor, but he has so many mental relapses, he still basically lives in the hospital.

Finnick presses the button on the remote that kills the power. In a minute, people will be here to do damage control on Peeta’s condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I will need to repudiate them. But the truth is, I don’t trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I’m not confident that they tell me the truth. I won’t be able to conceal this. Footsteps are approaching.

Finnick grips me hard by the arms. “We didn’t see it.”

“What?” I ask.

“We didn’t see Peeta. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it?” he asks. I nod. “Finish your dinner.”

“This is what they’re doing to you with Annie, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Well, they didn’t arrest her because they thought she’d be a wealth of rebel information,” he says. “They know I’d never have risked telling her anything like that. For her own protection.”

“Oh, Finnick. I’m so sorry,” I say.

“No, I’m sorry. That I didn’t warn you somehow,” he tells me.

Suddenly, a memory surfaces. I’m strapped to my bed, mad with rage and grief after the rescue. Finnick is trying to console me about Peeta. “They’ll figure out he doesn’t know anything pretty fast. And they won’t kill him if they think they can use him against you.”

“You did warn me, though. On the hovercraft. Only when you said they’d use Peeta against me, I thought you meant like bait. To lure me into the Capitol somehow,” I say.

“I shouldn’t have said even that. It was too late for it to be of any help to you. Since I hadn’t warned you before the Quarter Quell, I should’ve shut up about how Snow operates.”

Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, “How do you bear it?”

Finnick looks at me in disbelief. “I don’t, Katniss! Obviously, I don’t. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.” Something in my expression stops him. “Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”

Well, he must know. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back into one piece.

“The more you can distract yourself, the better,” he says. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine.”

The camera pulls back to include Peeta, off to one side in front of a projected map of Panem. He's sitting in an elevated chair, his shoes supported by a metal rung. The foot of his prosthetic leg taps out a strange irregular beat. Beads of sweat have broken through the layer of powder on his upper lip and forehead. But it's the look in his eyes--angry yet unfocused--that frightens me the most.

"He's worse," I whisper. Finnick grasps my hand, to give me an anchor, and I try to hang on.

“You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establish that Thirteen’s military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and, most important, that the Mockingjay is still alive. Any questions?”

“Can we have a coffee?” asks Finnick.

Steaming cups are handed out. I stare distastefully at the shiny black liquid, never having been much of a fan of the stuff, but thinking it might help me stay on my feet.

Finnick sloshes some cream in my cup and reaches into the sugar bowl. “Want a sugar cube?” he asks in his old seductive voice. That’s how we met, with Finnick offering me sugar. Surrounded by horses and chariots, costumed and painted for the crowds, before we were allies. Before I had any idea what made him tick. The memory actually coaxes a smile out of me. “Here, it improves the taste,” he says in his real voice, plunking three cubes in my cup.

Haymitch’s footsteps are still echoing in the outer hall when I fumble my way through the slit in the dividing curtain to find Finnick sprawled out on his stomach, his hands twisted in his pillowcase. Although it’s cowardly — cruel even — to rouse him from the shadowy, muted drug land to stark reality, I go ahead and do it because I can’t stand to face this by myself.

As I explain our situation, his initial agitation mysteriously ebbs. “Don’t you see, Katniss, this will decide things. One way or the other. By the end of the day, they’ll either be dead or with us. It’s . . . it’s more than we could hope for!”

Well, that’s a sunny view of our situation. And yet there’s something calming about the idea that this torment could come to an end.

I want to run, but Finnick’s acting so strange, as if he’s lost the ability to move, so I take his hand and lead him like a small child.

"Oh, Peeta," says Finnick lightly. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." He leads Annie away after giving me a concerned glance.

I'm unaware that my feet are moving to the table until I'm inches from the holograph. My hand reaches in and cups a rapidly blinking green light.

Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick's fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen..."

His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!"

I laugh. Quickly. Before anyone has time to register what lies beneath the words I have just uttered. Before eyebrows are raised, objections are uttered, two and two are put together, and the solution is that I should be kept as far away from the Capitol as possible. Because an angry, independently thinking victor with a layer of psychological scar tissue too thick to penetrate is maybe the last person you want on your squad.

"I don't even know why you bothered to put Finnick and me through training, Plutarch," I say.

"Yeah, we're already the two best-equipped soldiers you have," Finnick adds cockily.

"Do not think that fact escapes me," he says with an impatient wave. "Now back in line, Soldiers Odair and Everdeen. I have a presentation to finish."

Boggs told Peeta to sleep out in full view where the rest of us could keep an eye on him. He isn't sleeping, though. Instead, he sits with his bag pulled up to his chest, clumsily trying to make knots in a short length of rope. I know it well. It's the one Finnick lent me that night in the bunker. Seeing it in his hands, it's like Finnick's echoing what Haymitch just said, that I've cast off Peeta.

He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. "The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up."

The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

Finnick's voice rises from a bundle in the shadows. "Then you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does.”

Masks go on. Finnick adjusts Peeta's mask over his lifeless face.

"I just murdered a member of our squad!" shouts Peeta.

"You pushed him off you. You couldn't have known he would trigger the net at that exact spot," says Finnick, trying to calm him.

"Who cares? He's dead, isn't he?" Tears begin to run down Peeta's face. "I didn't know. I've never seen myself like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. I'm the one Snow has turned into a weapon!"

“It's not your fault, Peeta," says Finnick.

I shout a warning to the others to stay with me. I plan for us to skirt around the corner and then detonate the Meat Grinder, but another unmarked pod lies in wait.

It happens silently. I would miss it entirely if Finnick didn't pull me to a stop. "Katniss!"

#thg #hunger games #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #Finnick Odair #mockingjay #bookcomb ♥️🔎

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crymeariveronceagain · 3 years ago

Note

For your Solreef headcanon-timeline, does Linh still hate Glimmer? Did she only hate her at first and then she warmed up to her? Also, thank you for your amazing writings they’re all wonderful

Ah yes LINH stop being so SELF DEPRICATING and UNDERSTAND THAT YOUR BROTHER WAS FRIENDS WITH GLIMMER TO FIND SOMEONE LIKE YOU IN A VERY DARK PLACE i mean *cough* what

Linh hated Glimmer until Tiergan noticed.

Because Tiergan notices things, and he's really good about it.

"Linh," Tiergan said, one afternoon, when the two of them were sitting in the living room and Glimmer and Tam were screwing around with light and shadow in the front yard.

Linh was unintentionally tying a tendril of water into complicated knots, her eyes wholly focused on the two outside.

"Linh," Tiergan said, again.

"What," Linh answered, her teeth half-gritted. "It's fine, I don't care. It's not like he loves her more than he ever loved--" She cut herself off, and turned to her adopted father. "What, Tiergan?"

Tiergan looked at her, sadness glinting in his eyes. "Tam doesn't love her more than he loves you."

Linh scoffed. "It's obvious. He hangs out with her all the time, she was there for him when I couldn't be, it's not a big deal. I'm just... not important. I shouldn't care about it, not really."

Tiergan looked at her, as though trying to parse through heavy teenage emotions took all his mental effort.

"Do you know why Tam likes Glimmer so much?" He asked, eventually, his fingers tapping on his mug of cinnacreme.

Linh shrugged, still glaring.

"It matters, Linh. Do you know?"

"She's better than me?" Linh said, seemingly out of it, now, the water starting to slowly spiral around her head like a snake. "I shouldn't expect anything from anyone? I'm not worth loving, who could love someone like me? It was only a matter of time until Tam saw who I was, just like everyone else? I'm a murderer? A terrorist? Everything I've ever done has hurt someone?"

Tiergan's heart sank for his daughter. There were a lot of things that needed to be tackled in the mess of reality and internal thoughts that the girl had just released. "Linh," he said, softly.

"What?" she demanded, turning on him, the water splashing into the cup with extra force.

"He loves her because she reminds him of you."

Linh froze, for a moment, looking at her adopted dad.

"He loves her because when he had nowhere else to go, no one to stick with, no one to stand besides, when he needed you, you couldn't be there."

Linh's eyes shot to the ground. "I--"

"Listen to me, Linh. That's not wrong. You were right to stay away from the Neverseen. But Tam needed you. He'll never admit it, he's too full of himself, but he needs you just like you need him."

Linh stayed quiet, thoughts going a thousand miles an hour behind her eyes.

"And he was always around this very soft, well mannered girl with long dark hair and soft blue-gray eyes."

Linh looked up at him. He smiled at her, sadly. "Your brother was so desperate to find comfort in the Neverseen that he befriended the person who was in charge of his chains, just because she reminded him of you."

Linh's eyes filled with tears. They didn't fall. Instead, Linh choked them down, held them back. It was almost like she had a skill for not crying, Tiergan had always thought. She swallowed, once, and then turned to the window. "But why did she come with? She's Neverseen, and she's a murderer, a psychopath, she kept him chained--"

"She was a kid too, Linh," Tiergan said. "I know for a fact that they weren't nice to her. She's got burn scars on her hands. She's got regular scars on her back. She doesn't usually wear clothes that let you see that she's been hurt, but when she wears tank tops, you can see lines that look like scars. I think she was as much a member of the Neverseen as your brother was. They were just able to brainwash her longer."

Linh stayed quiet. "Why does she have to be here," she asked, finally, and Tiergan could see she was running out of reasons.

"She has nowhere else to go, either." Tiergan looked out at the two kids in the front yard, being kids, rushing and messing around with their abilities like they should have been able to from a young age. "You should go bother them," Tiergan said, eventually. Linh looked at him. He kept going. "You deserve to have fun with your power, too."

She said nothing.

He nudged her. "I know Tam wants you out there, too."

"Are you sure?" Linh asked.

Tiergan nodded, and gestured to the cup of water. "Go," he said.

She pulled the water into her hand, and nodded.

Tam stopped training a shadow army, briefly, to look at his sister. Glimmer froze, her glowing hands glowing less strongly.

"Hey," Linh asked, "Your defenses any good against elemental attacks?"

Tam grinned, his eyes bright, and with a rush, started showing her all the things the two of them had been working on.

Linh turned and met Glimmer's eyes, a bit later, and for some reason, the curious, soft look in her eyes reminded her not of danger and kidnapping and murder, but of sunshine and fresh air and freedom.

Hmm, Linh thought. I can see why Tam wanted to be her friend.

It took them all of that afternoon to become nearly best friends. They had too much in common, and Tam had to flee in terror from a glowing, sparkling water monster controlled by the both of them.

Linh grinned at the girl next to her. "Come on," Glimmer said, "If we hurry, he'll give up and we can make him do the dishes tonight!"

Linh giggled.

Glimmer smiled wider.

They're an unstoppable team.

#kotlc #kotlc glimmer #kotlc solreef #kotlc tam #kotlc linh #kotlc linh song #linh song #tam song #glimmer kotlc #protect glimmer #glimmer is a sweetheart #broken and bruised sweetheart #but a sweetheart nonetheless #thanks for the ask!#siblings!#brothers #sisters #i dont think this is my best work but hey we did something ladies and gents i was productive hehheheh

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saphirered · 4 years ago

Note

Hi welcome back! Hope you’re doing well. Random question b4 my request, bc I want to give back as thanks for the great writing: are you a coffee, tea, or hot chocolate/cocoa drinker? I prefer hot chocolate and sweet tea.

How would the m9 respond to an SO/friend with a kid? Where the reader is a single parent with a child of at most 10 years old. Thanks :)

- 🐋

This took a while to write so sorry for that 😅. I'm so glad you like my writing! I love writing for you lot. I'm definitely a hot cocoa person. I hope this one turned out to your liking 😘.

----------

Caleb:

You never hid the fact you had a child from Caleb, if anything you’re proud of them. Though, you do know in certain company it’s better to keep that fact a secret for safety reasons. Caleb understands that fully he respects and admires you always put your child’s best interests first.

This is why when you began getting more involved with Caleb you kept your child out of it and took a good amount of time before introducing them to the wizard. You didn’t want to set expectations for both sides and wanted to protect and preserve them both should what you and Caleb had going not work out after all.

It’s no surprise Caleb is good with children. He takes a gentle approach when it comes to all things good in this world to the point of almost being afraid to ‘ruin it’. You assured him many times he was in the clear and how could his heart not warm at the curiosity and search for knowledge your child was already displaying.

With your permission Caleb began teaching your child some things here and there. The theoretics of magic and eventually simple spells. The smile it brought to their faces while they worked couldn’t make you happier. Caleb definitely earned your child’s approval to stick around.

Beau:

At first Beau is surprised. She knows children come from somewhere of course. She’s not stupid but actually tying a child to their parent let alone being very close to that parent is a whole new story. Especially learning you raised your child on your own and seeing you want to provide what’s best for them definitely earns you her respect, not having a parent with the same motivation herself and all.

The day of introductions came along and as expected Beau is the most awkward, trying not to be a terrible influence and be on her best behaviour, makes her very much on edge. An perceptive child picking up on this awkward behaviour calling her out leaving her cursing like a sailor, then apologising for said curses, even less of a surprise. You had to assure her many times it was fine.

Beau makes a promise that no matter what, she’ll make sure you’ll be returning to your child and make sure they get the love and support they deserve. Growing up without loving parents is one thing. Growing up an orphan another. She’d do everything in her power to keep you safe.

It may have began with joking comments such as ‘finish your homework’ to ‘do the dishes’ and ‘be nice to your parent while I’m gone’ but it didn’t take long before Beau was helping them with their homework or cleaning dishes after you cooked.

Absolutely treats your child as someone capable of making decisions of their own and speaking for themselves. No baby voices or cooing like too many adults tend to do even to a child regardless of their age. Your child has thoughts and opinions of their own and for the love of all that is sacred, can speak for themselves. You’re glad Beau treats them with a sense of maturity.

Fjord:

Fjord may have done what can only be referred to as a spit take the moment you said you had a child. Clearly didn’t expect it but giving him time to recover and process he’d ask all sorts of questions. What are they like? What do they like? And of course the dreaded question about your partner.

Supportive Fjord for the win. After finding out you’re on your own he’d always have your back, checking in with you and making sure you’re doing alright amidst the stress of the world and raising a child in the mix of it all. He’d open up to you about his past and being raised without any kind of proper parental figure. What he wouldn’t have done to have someone like you around when it counted for him.

Introducing them went rather smoothly. Fjord is surprisingly good with children. While some might find him intimidating, he nearly melted when your child embraced him as a thank you for looking out for you. Fjord was happy to answer any and all questions your child asked.

Whenever you’d be swept away for a while having to leave your child in the care of your trusted ones, Fjord would tell your child to ‘have the wheel, sailor’ which they would return with a salute before biding you both goodbye. Fjord slowly transcended into a bit of a father role and none of you minded in the least. You were happy.

Veth:

When she spoke of her boy she left behind you pitied her. A child shouldn’t be without their family. They deserved to be loved and sheltered from the darkness of the world until they are ready. When you told her you had one of your own Veth really felt safe to confide in you with her worries and troubles. You bonded over it really, drowning out all the sad stories and struggles with fond memories of both your families. Sadly for you, that would only extend to you and your child, the memories of their other parent perhaps somewhat painful to share.

You wondered what it would be like if your children ever got to meet in person. Then the day came. Nicodranas really had a way of bringing families together didn’t it? First time may have been a bit strange, your child being fully aware of Veth’s need for a disguise with her son, played their part well. Both you and Veth may have wiped away some tears when Luc claimed your child their big sibling from now on, and you his third parent.

Work and life are a difficult combination for Veth. She wants nothing more than to be with Yeza and take care of her boy but as long as the world’s in peril and her other family needs her just as much if not more, she’ll have to leave them behind. Knowing that you and your child are with her husband and son when she can’t be eases her mind a lot and she’s forever grateful.

It goes unsaid that Veth’s time away from children and in the presence of adults, specifically the Mighty Nein may have left her a bit out of the routines of raising a child as shown by giving Luc and your child fireworks, promising them to teach them how to shoot a crossbow and more. You did have to hold her back a little with the help of Yeza and keep things a bit more contained for their safety, but mostly yours.

Jester:

Of course upon learning you’re raising your child all by yourself Jester goes onto a rant about how her and her mom were always alone and how Marion used to read stories to her and do you read stories to your child and do you sing to them and draw with them and give them hugs and cuddles after nightmares and… You have no idea how that girl doesn’t run out of breath.

Jester couldn’t be anyone but herself when meeting your child asking about their interests, do they like to draw and sing and dance and… You ran out of breath just listening to her talk and your child replying in similar fashion. Everything went quite well and the two of them got along. Jester would be singing them songs and teaching them how to draw resulting in many dick drawings randomly appearing in your books, notes and other places, followed by mischievous giggles.

Having bought your child a lovely green cloak and letting them pretend they’re the Traveler here to spread mischief and fun and leave behind many phallic shaped objects drawn and carved wherever possible sent you all in laughing fits but you swore you heard a more masculine chuckle and saw a green cloak fade into the shadows. Odd.

What only can be summed up as the combination between big sibling, fun wine cupcake aunt and mom, remained a constant in your life and you couldn’t be more thankful to have that ray of sunshine be there for all of you.

Caduceus:

Caduceus is very calm and collected about learning you have a child. Less of a response than perhaps anyone else perviously unknowing. “That’s nice.” He’d nod. You’d almost start thinking he may have been able to read it off you for some reason. He confirmed he was, the tired eyes, and the recovery of exasperation at times but sense of accomplishment and reward was a look he had seen from his own mother many times.

“You’re weird.” A stare down ensued. “You’re weird too.” Eyes sharpened. “I like you.” The ice broke and smiles followed. For a moment you were afraid that maybe your child wouldn’t like the odd firbolg and thinking about how you would keep friends and family separate but a wave of relief went over you knowing that all was well between the two most valuable people in your life.

You’d be handed a fresh cup of tea by your child, a plate of snacks by Caduceus, all too innocent smiles on their faces but all it took was a raised eyebrow from you to have them come clean about the kitchen being covered in soil from the two of them potting new plants, turning your home and garden in what can only be described as a greenhouse and rather ask for forgiveness than permission. You weren’t mad of course, but did make them clean the mess they made.

You’re still unsure whether or not it was a good or bad idea introducing your child to the extended Clay family as you got some insight in the chaotic prank wars between the siblings and all together sibling rivalry among some of them. It’s all fun and games of course but some moments you were glad you weren’t the one pelted with mud pies by Calliope or pushed into the spring by Calliope herself. Instead you could just enjoy Clarabelle’s bug collection with your child while laughing at the other’s being covered in mud and soaked to the bone.

Yasha:

Poor Yasha doesn’t recall much of a family. In reality she never really felt like she had one until the circus, and after them the Nein. When she saw you and your child together, the unconditional love you had for each other, she felt like she finally realised what she had been missing, and something she perhaps would never have. She learned the value of such a relationship.

Yasha has no idea how to interact with children at any level and by default tends to treat them as either adults, or cute animals. No in between. It took her some time to get the hang of it but you couldn’t deny both you and your child rather enjoyed the unconventional relationship.

The wastes and hardships of Xhorhas may force a child to grow up quickly in the tribes but that doesn’t mean children outside of those regions have to learn how to wield a sword and what bugs you can and cannot eat or how to best skin an animal before eating it… It took some convincing why that was not a necessary skill to learn at the tender age of ten.

You compromised with Yasha on the fighting in the end, persuaded by the woman and your child to allow her to teach them some fighting basics because someone’ has to have your back when Yasha’s not there. You did manage to hold them off on purchasing a sword perhaps too large for your child despite the ‘they’ll grow into it’ reasoning and instead settled on training equipment instead.

Mollymauk:

Oh Mollymauk, nothing surprises this one. He felt rather sorry for you going through the struggles of raising a child alone. He may not remember his own family but he’s traveled far and wide enough to know the hardships. He knows poor Toya and he admires you for being able to do what so many can’t or won’t.

It goes unsaid that Molly is perhaps the worst of influences when it comes to people but you’ve seen him interact with Toya before and know well enough he’s a kind and caring soul who wants only the best for those who can’t just yet fend for themselves. It’s a good foundation that leads to a better person. He jokingly claims himself proof of that through the carnival and him ‘being an absolute asshole’.

Molly’s soft side really does come out whenever he’s around your child. He doesn’t deliberately censor himself but tries to contain certain words and avoid certain subjects that should never be discussed around your child knowing you’d appreciate it and if he does let something slip and your child ask questions he’d gently explain it as certain things should definitely not be described in gory detail to someone of their age.

This circus man is not afraid to put on a show in any circumstance and will happily do so to cheer you or your child up whenever you’re feeling a bit down or overworked. Whether he’s making a fool of himself, giving you bogus card readings, juggle his swords or tell the most ridiculous stories ever he’d do it without a second thought because it brings you and your child joy. You’re part of his family and he’d go to hell and back again for you.

#critical role #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #beauregard x reader #fjord x reader #veth x reader #nott x reader #jester x reader #caduceus x reader #yasha x reader #mollymauk x reader #critrole x reader

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sunflowersoonyoung · 3 years ago

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honeyed | jinho

w.c ↠ 2.5k

pairing↠ jinho x fem! reader

genre/s ↠ smut (light bondage, overstimulation, fem!oral), incubus! jinho, soft dom! jinho, supernatural au!, office au!

description ↠ falling asleep at work leads to an oddly realistic dream about your hot boss Jinho

warning/s ↠ suggestive themes, supernatural themes

a/n ↠ wow okay can you tell that jinho is my ptg bias. I seriously thirsted over him in this oneshot. this is one of my favourite smuts I've written here! I wrote it carefully and reread it three times so I'm proud of it :)

tags ↠ @prismwon

Anxiety washed over you from head to toe, rising with each passing second. You clasped a trembling hand to your chest to feel your heart fluttering against your ribcage.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself before pushing open the glass door to work.

The publishing office was bright with mellow, natural lighting, an open room dotted with large desks cluttered with stationary. Some of your coworkers had already arrived and had busied themselves with various tasks - bustling distractedly around the room.

“G-Good morning, everyone!”

You tried to announce your presence as boldly as you could; despite this, barely anyone bothered to even glance in your direction. You swallowed nervously and made a bee-line for your desk.

New to the workforce and fresh from University, acclimatising had been a difficult journey. No one was willing to sacrifice any precious time to help you - or even welcome you, for that matter. You felt utterly ostracised by the team. They had all apparently established their clique, and you were not invited.

The one exception had been the lead editor: Jo Jinho, your boss and the office eye candy.

“Good morning, (F/n).”

As if reading your thoughts, Jinho’s melodic voice drifted over your shoulder. You swallowed, feeling sweat prickle your armpits in response to his presence.

“You look bright today. I hope you’re making good progress on that manuscript.”

You pivoted in your chair to face him, in turn becoming stricken by his gaze. There was something unusual about Jinho, something that had successfully hypnotised many of your coworkers, including yourself.

He was impossible to resist. From his handsome exterior to his pleasant interior, he was genuinely mesmerising - like the sunrise in the morning after a cold night.

“Y-Yes, thank you,” you stammered, forcing a polite smile. Jinho’s smile in response was a thousand watts bright, his creased eyes just as radiant.

He was gone just as quickly as he had appeared, interacting with everyone else on the path to his desk. Your nerves melted from your taut muscles, and you breathed a sigh of relief, secretly thankful that Jinho had moved on. Being beneath his attention was too challenging to handle. You withdrew your laptop from your bag and made a start on work for the day.

Unfortunately, your concentration was coming through like a sputtering hose. You were not yet accustomed to working in a room with ten other people and limited silence.

Your attention drifted around the office. You observed conversations, watching as a young girl was scolded; a middle-aged man answered the phone with a frustrated visage.

You could not help but become drawn to Jinho.

He was hovering over someone’s shoulder - Seunghee, you vaguely remembered her name to be. Girls in the editing team tended to ask him for help suspiciously frequently. It was apparent they all simply longed after Jinho’s presence.

Admittedly, it was tempting. In that position, you could feel his breath against your ear.

You quickly became absorbed in observing him. It was not just his pretty features. His expressions were genuine, his explanations clear and concise. Fully believing you were free to admire him, you forgot your surroundings and lost yourself.

Abruptly, Jinho’s gaze shifted from Seunghee’s work to you. It was such a subtle shift that you almost failed to notice it. Electricity shot across your skin upon realisation, heat blossoming from your ears to your cheeks.

Though it was too late, you looked back to your computer screen. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see him grinning. That cruel image worsened your embarrassment.

As your mind buzzed with thoughts of Jinho’s grin, you struggled to return your focus to the manuscript as much as you tried. You huffed frustratedly.

“Everything okay, (F/n)?”

You wondered with horror if he intended to make things more difficult. Your humiliation should have been apparent, and yet here he was, standing directly behind you with a hand resting on the back of your chair.

“Y-Yes,” you responded, refusing to tear your eyes from your laptop. You could hear your voice quaking.

His palm settled on your desk, confining you. It was no longer possible to pretend he wasn’t there. His face was far too close for you to deal with.

“Really? Hmm,” He hummed, “There must be some other reason you were staring at me then.”

You could not even begin to imagine how crimson your face was. Was Jinho teasing you? It certainly felt like it.

He snorted faintly, withdrawing. On the edge of your vision, you could see him smiling broadly.

After getting very little work done for the rest of the afternoon, you opted to stay behind and work overtime. The manuscript was due tomorrow evening, after all.

The office buzz began to fade, gradually declining till the room was entirely quiet. The only thing disconnecting the silence was the sound of fingers against keyboards.

You decided to take a short break as your fatigue began to increase. Shadows from the night sky crept across the floor. Usually, you liked to be fed and warm at home by this time. Your eyelids were heavy, your thoughts sluggish and tired.

It was only you and Jinho remaining at this stage. You had managed to keep your thoughts away from him until now. He was wrapped up in his work; his face blank with concentration. Sighing, you ignored him and returned to your own business.

The words on your laptop screen began to blend with each passing second. You squinted, blinking rapidly to counter the weariness that was dousing you like warm water. You had never been so tired at work - it was as if you were being dragged down by an invisible force, and nothing you did could stop it. It was a similar sensation to having too much alcohol.

Before you knew it, your head had lulled onto the cold desk, crumpling the papers in front of you.

Alarm overwhelmed your thoughts as you lifted your head from your desk.

You could not believe you had fallen asleep at work. Rubbing your eyes, you looked towards Jinho’s desk in panic, hoping to apologise and then flee. Relief washed over you - his chair was empty. Perhaps he had gone home.

Strangely enough, the room was hazy. Instead of its usual white light, it was rose-tinted and clouded. It did not look familiar to you.

“You fell asleep? How cute.”

You blinked, and Jinho seemed to appear directly beside you, seated on the table with one leg crossed over the other. He was admiring you, cupping his cheek whilst wearing an affectionate smile.

It took a moment for you to react; your head was abnormally thick, so your thoughts were slow, but once you realised what was happening, you became flustered.

“Your face tells me everything - your expressions are so honest. It’s adorable.”

Jinho leapt smoothly to his feet, circling you to place his hands on the back of your swivel chair and then rotating you till you were facing him. You could do nothing, frozen with anticipation and unsure what to expect next.

He leant in closely, leaning on the armrests, and you held your breath. His nose was close enough to brush against yours, yet his expression was unchanged - still as sweet as usual.

“Why don’t you let me make you feel good?” He hummed. His gaze was direct, and you swooned inwardly when you finally met it. In contrast to his soft nature, his eyes were hard. You tried to swallow but your throat had gone dry.

“Wh-what if someone sees?” You stammered shyly.

Jinho chuckled, his eyes crinkling in amusement, “no one will see. I promise.”

He placed his hands on your knees, maintaining eye contact as he rubbed reassuringly. He pushed his hands up your thighs, catching the fabric of your skirt and baring your thighs to the air. You could not look away, dizzyingly mesmerised by him. Your head was getting light and hot.

Finally, Jinho kissed you. It was a shallow, chaste kiss that tasted of vanilla and made you feel as if you were melting into the chair.

You could not split your concentration between the kiss and the way his warm palms rubbed against your thighs. The combination was causing a spike of burning excitement to prickle between your legs.

He parted from you with a soft pop and offered you a hand. You were too flustered and weak-kneed to stand steadily, but it hardly mattered - Jinho did not make you stand for long.

“Let me taste you, gorgeous.”

Jinho was simultaneously gentle and firm as he guided you to his desk, carelessly sweeping it clear. You gasped when he spun you around, essentially folding you over the surface. The varnished wood was cold through the thin fabric of your shirt, momentarily sobering you to reality.

With your ass in the air, he hitched up your skirt to reveal your underpants. You were uneasy about the fact that you could not see what he was doing.

“Hands behind your back, please.”

This was Jinho’s first true order.

The way his voice dropped a few notes sent chills down your spine, goosebumps travelling across your skin. You were trembling as you obeyed, swallowing a nervous squeak when he loosely wrapped fabric around your wrists, tying them together.

“I’m not punishing you, sweet. It’s just some extra fun for you,” Jinho reassured. Admittedly you were both anxious and aroused by his decision to tie you up. It made your heart pound fast against your ribcage.

With you properly restrained, Jinho determined that it was time to begin his ministrations.

His fingers ran up and down your slit through your underwear before hooking the fabric and drawing it aside. You strained against your bonds and arched your back when he made direct contact with your pussy. It was only a subtle touch, and yet pleasure was already rippling across your body.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

Jinho’s voice was dripping with honey, and yet his fingers were cruel. He grazed your clit with his fingertip and then dragged his finger back down between your lips and teased your entrance with slight pressure, and then repeated this process.

He was not entirely giving in to you, and you were becoming so sensitive that tears of desperation were beginning to sting your eyes.

“J-Jinho .... please,” you pleaded, feeling helpless - frantic for more.

“Please, what?” He hummed in response, “Tell me what to do, sweet, and I’ll do it. Use your words.”

Despite being dazed and overwhelmed, you still managed to respond, albeit in a small voice, “I-I want your lips and your fingers.”

“Of course, sweet.”

He pressed his thumb directly to your clitoris, and you gasped, toes curling. He languidly rolled his thumb, observing you whilst cleverly allowing your pleasure to build. Your focus honed in on his touches, no longer paying attention to the noises passing through your lips.

“The more I touch you, the prettier noises you make,” Jinho commented.

Abruptly, he filled you up with his forefinger. Your breath hitched in your throat, hardly expecting him to make that leap.

You cried out when his lips sucked in your clitoris, gradually fucking you with his finger. He eased you into a swift orgasm, pressing fluttering kisses to the backs of your thighs while you trembled.

“Good girl~. One more time?”

Before you could respond, Jinho had added a second finger and was pistoning them inside of you much quicker than earlier. You were incredibly wet thanks to your orgasm, and he seemed to be using that to his advantage.

His tongue teased your swollen clit, and you sobbed, “I-I’m too sensitive!” Seemingly uncaring, Jinho dragged you into a second, far more intense orgasm that had your legs thrashing and drool spilling out onto the desk.

Your ears were ringing, but you could hear Jinho chuckling as he removed himself.

“Was that too much?” He mused, cleaning his fingers with his mouth, “Can you take any more?”

You were still an empty shell, electricity and heat clinging to your skin mingled with a sheen of sweat. His hands smoothed over your ass cheeks, a comforting action that made your heart soften. You twisted around to look at him dazedly.

Jinho was just as gorgeous as ever, though he had lost some of his neatness. The restraint around your wrist was apparently his necktie, which was missing, and he had undone his button-up shirt to reveal a sliver of his flawless chest. He combed his fingers through his hair, gleaming at you proudly.

“The look on your face tells me you want more,” he purred, rolling his hips against your backside. You mewled and rocked backwards, feeling his hard cock straining through his pants. You had never been so delirious, hungry to feel every inch of him.

“Ho~ such an insatiable girl,” Jinho unzipped his pants, sliding the tip of his cock over your slick folds. Even that simple action felt incredible.

“Oh, my God.”

Jinho filled you up, stuffing you in one lazy stroke. You were so full, your pussy throbbing delightfully around him.

“Please,” you begged, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you, “Jinho-ah, please.” He scoffed in response before giving in to your desires.

The way he fucked you was utterly sadistic in contrast to his sweet nature. He was relentless in the way his hips slammed against yours, no longer offering you any mercy. You were defenceless to him, only able to dig your nails into your palm whilst bracing yourself.

“So tight,” he groaned, hanging his head back in bliss.

He angled his hips upwards, the head of his cock meeting a sweet spot. You started contracting around him, the pleasure in the pit of your belly peaking.

“I’m gonna-,” you managed to slur out before you came hard, so hard that stars speckled behind your clenched eyes. You practically ascended into the ceiling, losing all sense of Jinho’s thrusts and anything else around you.

Ink drowned your vision as you passed out.

“(F/n)?”

Your head was weighty as you lifted it, heat throbbing between your legs in response to the vivid dream you had just woken from.

Jinho was peering down at you, his hand warm on your shoulder.

“You should go home if you’re so tired,” he sighed, wearing a concerned expression. You were in shock, simply unable to process that what had just occurred had been entirely in your head. You could still feel his thickness inside you, still feel the intense climax he had given you.

“Are you okay? You look flushed,” Jinho cocked his head, the worry growing on his face. You waved your hand dismissively.

“I-I’m fine. I should go home.”

He hovered nearby as you packed away your laptop, silently observing you. You were ready to leave when he finally broke the silence.

“Let’s do that again,” Jinho suggested innocently, his smile no different from his usual one, “you’re so cute when you beg.”

#pentagon #pentagon x reader #pentagon smut #pentagon fanfic #jo jinho #jo jinho x reader #jo jinho smut #jo jinho fanfic #jinho x reader #jinho smut #jinho fanfic #Kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #pentagon imagines #jinho imagines

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - “Rapunzel Knows Best!” ( A first half of S3 Recap)

So I decided to place the recap after Be Very Afraid for several reasons. For starters it’s where the season three hiatus took place. It’s also framed like a cliffhanger episode the same as The Great Tree and Queen for a Day; so while Cassandra’s Revenge is technically the midseason finale, Be Very Afraid functionally servers this narrative purpose better. Finally I want to keep the Cassandra heavy stuff contained in it’s own recap later same as I did for Varian’s arc in season one.

Also keep in mind, everything I discussed in previous recaps still apply here. Nothings changed and you could argue that the issues I bring up now could have also apply to past seasons; they just happen to be at their worst here.

Here are the past recaps

To Filler or Not to Filler

Hey, What Ever Happened to That Varitas, Guy?

What Is the Point?

‘Whatta Twist’

And here are the episodes that’s covered in this recap

Rapunzel’s Return Part 1

Rapunzel’s Return Part 2

Return of the King

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne

No Time Like the Past

Beginnings

The King and Queen of Hearts

Day of the Animals

Be Very Afraid

Poorly Defined Conflicts

I’m not just talking about Cassandra’s lack of goals here either, though that is a part of it. I mean in several episodes the central conflict isn’t laid out clearly enough before being resolved. We flip from one set up to the next without ever resolving the first; like in Rapunzel’s Return when Cass and Varian fight for screen time or whenever Rapunzel is suppose to learn one lesson only for someone else to learn a completely different lesson in every other episode. And to this day I don’t know what Rapunzel and Feldspar’s subplot in Lost Treasure was suppose to be about.

There’s also of course the ill-defined overall conflict; which at this point has become convoluted and nonsensical to the extreme, and will only grow more aggravatingly stupid as the season progresses. The main villains lack clear goals, their motivations don’t align with previously stated facts, and the actual interesting conflict involving the threat of the rocks and their destruction of people’s lives and homes is just shoved under the rug and forgotten about.

There is no story without conflict. Having the conflict be all over the place is not only confusing but makes it harder for the audience to invest in what’s going on.

Failed Narrative Promises

Tying in with the above statement regarding conflicts, we have failed narrative promises. Rapunzel is repeatedly told to that she needs to learn something in several episodes only for her not to learn it at all. She either learns some unrelated ‘lesson’ that wasn’t established, (like in Rapunzel’s Return with her pervious goal about ‘opening up to others’ being switched out for a generic ‘responsibility’ lesson that at the last minute, where she doesn’t even do anything responsible,) or she winds up ‘teaching’ the opposite lesson to a different character thereby rewarding her for her bad behavior.

And that’s just within the induvial episodes themselves; there’s also broken narrative promises through out the overall story arc; like...

no justice/redemption for Lady Caine,

no acknowledgment that the Saporians are the victims of colonization

no conclusion regarding Corona’s murky past

no satisfying ending to Varian’s plot that sees everyone in involve grow

a poor copout of an explanation for Cassandra’s face/heel turn

The Dark Prince reveal going nowhere

The Brotherhood being put on a bus

King Frederic, or any royal, not being held accountable for their past actions

Lance’s new found responsibilities just being thrown away for the tenth time

The Disciples plot being being dropped

next to nothing in season two winds up being relevant

And Rapunzel, the protagonist of a coming of age story, fails to learn anything at all

I could probably go on but you get the gist. Tangled is incredibly frustrating show to watch because doesn’t deliver what it promises. You’re not being clever by ‘subverting audiences expectations’ unless you can justify your narrative decisions with previous set up. Tangled is too lazy to build proper set ups so it’s ‘twists’ leave you wanting to punch things rather then impressing you.

Character Assassinations

Every single character in Tangled the Series gets thrown under a bus, driven off a cliff, and then allowed to drown in the ocean of their completely unaware self-congratulatory smugness.

Rapunzel is turned into a bully

Cassandra is given the idiot ball to hold permanently

The King and Queen are lobotomized

Quinin gets replaced by a robot

The rest of the Brotherhood are pale shadows of what they could have been

Edmund is transformed from tragic complex figure into a dumb jerkoff who abuses his kid for a laugh

Zhan Tiri, once an ancient demon warlock, is reduced to a floating impotent ghost girl

The Saporians become poor hipster parodies

Cap is put on a bus

Any villain who isn’t Cass is gets ignored

Lance is infantilized to the point of absurdity

Eugene becomes a doormat

and poor Varian is forced to become a complacent victim to his abusers as oppose to being allowed to keeping his dignity

I think the only person who escapes this mass murder of characterization is freaking Calliope, and she’s hasn’t even appeared yet! (Well okay her and Trevor, maybe)

This all ties back into the poorly defined conflict and failed narrative promises. Rather than let the characters drive the story, they’ve become puppets to the plot, and plot is really stupid and forced, and circles back in on itself and is full of contradictions.

Manipulating the Audience’s Empathy to Do the Work for the Writers

The reason why the creators believe they can get away with such poor characterization and lazy writing is because they expect the audience to do all the heavy lifting for them.

Cass isn’t given an on screen reason for what she does because they’re hoping her fans will just automatically excuse her because they like her/relate to her and not, you know, get mad at the writers for dumbing her down. And after all who doesn’t love the creator’s pet? Meanies! That’s who!

No one calls out Rapunzel’s bullshit on screen, because if everyone likes her, then you, viewing audience, should too. Because if you have any sort of independent critical thinking abilities and a sense of right and wrong then clearly you’re ‘just a hater’.

Everyone should just shut up and be satisfied that Varian is even on screen now and be grateful for the scraps that they get cause he’s not the real point of the show and according to Chris ‘Varian fans aren’t real fans’. Even though they make up most of his viewing audience.

I could go on, but it’s just variations of the above. The writing in this series is very fond of gaslighting the audience and trying to trick them into justifying the absolute worst behaviors while desperately hoping they doesn’t noticed the continued downgrading and dismissal of characters they do like or once liked.

And the sad thing is, it’s worked. There are people to this day that still try to justify this show’s shitty morals and bend over backwards to excuse the likes of Rapunzel, Frederic, Cassandra, and Edmund. Worst, there are loud sections of the fandom, (usually on twitter) who think bullying is okay and follow in Chris and his characters footsteps. Most of them young impressionable girls who are now ripe for TREFS to indoctrinate because they use the same bullying tactics and excuses for authoritarianism.

Media does effect reality, but not in the way purists and antis would have you believe. No one is going to become a violent manic from playing a video game nor a sex offender because they read a smut fic. But they very much will conform to toxic beliefs if it’s repeated enough at them by authorities they ‘trust’; like say the world wide leading company known for family entertainment and children’s media, and the ‘friends’ they find within the fandom for said company...

I’m not saying you can’t enjoy Tangled the series or that you’re some how wrong for liking it’s characters, nor do you have to engage with every or any criticism thrown it’s way. But yes you need to think about the media you consume on some level and valid criticism is very much important to the fandom experience for precisely the above reasons.

Conclusion

This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg of what’s wrong with this show, but it is most of its biggest problems laid bare. Anything that haven’t covered here or in the past recaps will be explored in the final recap. Cause this is it folks; the last leg of the journey for this retrospective. When come back, hopefully next week, we’ll tackle Pascal’s Dragon.

#tangled #anti-tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #rta

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danny-chase · 3 years ago

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Delirium - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Titans (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Lian Harper, Lian Harper & Dick Grayson, Lian Harper & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Tim Drake & Roy Harper Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Hopsitals, delirious, Anxiety, Panic, POV Tim Drake, Canon Divergence, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Tim Drake is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Batman, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Lian never died, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson gets a forehead kiss, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Caring Batfamily (DCU), fluff at the end, Teen Titans as Family, Tim Drake emotional whump, Damian Wayne emotional whump, Lian Harper is a ray of stubborn sunshine on a cloudy day, gunshot wound, Head Wound, Coloring Books Series: Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Tim has to be the oldest for like five minutes and decides he doesn't like it (but does a good job anyways).

Full story under cut

“Alvin? Alvin… Draper?” A nurse called from across the room. Tim pulled his head out of his hands, careful not to jostle his fake moustache. “This way please.” She intoned, waving a hand towards a bustling hallway.

Damian nearly leapt out of the stiff plastic chair, and he slowly followed suit, trying to act causal. He doubted he was fooling anyone; his legs shook as he walked forward, and he was pretty sure he left a ring of butt sweat on his seat. Taking deep breaths to calm his fraying nerves, he concentrated on taking steady steps forward – he didn’t care much for Damian, but there was no way he’d let a child go through this sort of thing alone. Especially one who probably had never visited someone in the hospital (let alone been in one) before.

He’d gotten a panicked call from Barbara a few days ago. Gotham in ruins, streets in chaos… the usual. Bruce was gone. He couldn’t miraculously pull them out of these things anymore. The first Batman was dead, and this time… they could lose the second.

“Report.” Damian demanded, his harsh tone penetrating Tim’s thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the chaos of the hallway, of people jostling them as they rushed by, a cacophony of machines squealing and loud voices, and bright lights illuminating tacky flooring. He’d fallen a pace behind and quickened his step to stand firmly next to his… little brother.

As much he’d tried to deny it, at the end of the day, that’s what bound them. Fealty to a dead man, he’d once hoped they could be something more – but this family was ripping apart at the seams and Tim had to wonder what even kept them all here anymore.

Though – that wasn’t hard to figure out.

Dick was in trouble, and he came running. He’d been in trouble and Dick had come running. They were brothers in every sense of the word, without Bruce tying them together. His stomach clenched at the thought that it might all be lost to him forever, and he swallowed the bile burning at the top of his throat.

Dick had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world – when you talked to him, he listened, gave advice, and would drop anything to help. He quickly crawled his way into your life, cementing you as family. Things were never perfect, and they’d had their fights, but Dick always bent first, forgiveness freely given rather than earned. Tim had needed that. And from what little time they’d spent together, he knew Damian did too.

Panic. That was the only way to describe how he felt. He couldn’t be that for Damian – he couldn’t be Dick. He let out a shaky breath – Dick had to be fine – he couldn’t – not after Bruce – he couldn’t do this again – he was on the verge of shattering after finally picking up all the broken pieces of himself and –

“I said, report.” Damian squeaked. He jolted back into reality, steading his breath, and replaying the last few minutes, his mind trying to catch up.

The nurse seemed unamused, her nostrils flaring and brow tight as she glanced back. “Sorry, my brother’s a little uhh… stressed…?” He stammered, not wanting to offend Damian – or worse, start an argument in a crowded hallway. But he didn’t flinch at the comment, a testament to the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in.

Dick was shot in the back of the head, and Tim honestly had no idea if they’d gotten him medical attention in time. He could be comatose for the rest of his life, would never breathe on his own, never talk to them again, never walk, never think, never… god… he’d never talk to Dick again, and it was all his fault for being too late, too unprepared, too much of a failure to-

“The operation went well, we need to keep him for observation, but we’re hopeful he’ll make a full recovery in a month or two.” Tim blinked back tears as a weight lift off his shoulders, bringing a hand up, covering his eyes for just a second. He looked up to find Damian frozen; too stunned to move. He gently placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging him along so he wouldn’t be swept up in the tide. Surprisingly, that much was allowed today, the child’s thoughts were elsewhere, so Tim focused his thoughts on him.

Damian was only ten. And he’d almost lost Dick to a fate worse than death, after seeing him shot before his eyes, helpless to stop it. They didn’t have hospitals in the League, it was kill or be killed, and then there were the pits. Had he ever watched someone recover naturally?

“He’ll be okay.” Tim hissed, in a tone that only Damian could hear. Damian startled back into the present, glaring at him briefly, shaking off Tim’s hand, and storming after the nurse. He kept his expression carefully out of view.

They turned into a private hospital room, pulling the door shut behind her, and winked. “Timothy Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne, I presume.”

He could feel the kid freeze beside him, his own heart threatening to escape his throat.

“Oh, sorry - don’t panic, I’m with STAR Labs, we’ve worked with Richard and his team for years.” Damian huffed in annoyance. “Your identities aren’t compromised; Oracle made the arrangements for our team to take over when he arrived.” She passed her clipboard to Tim. “The walls are soundproof, you can stay as long as you want, I trust you can get out on your own, and it’s not like I’m going to stop you if you decide to stay longer than I recommend.” She sighed. “Just, don’t distress the patient, he’ll be confused when he wakes up, it’s normal. Call if you need, our monitoring systems are top notch, we’ll be watching – but not listening of course.”

And with that, the nurse turned on her heel, exiting as fast as she’d arrived, leaving Tim opened mouthed next to a wide-eyed Damian.

He watched as the door slowly turned on its hinges, picking up speed until it slammed shut. Almost immediately it popped back open. “If he tries to get up, don’t let him escape.” She rolled her eyes. “You human patients are always the worst.” And with that, she was gone. A few awkward, silent moments passed.

“Are you coming, Drake?” Damian’s voice had lost its normal edge, as he determinedly stared at the windows. He couldn’t see Dick from where they stood, but he could make out the edge of the bed, a pure white sheet neatly tucked under the edge.

He shifted, hesitantly - he always hated this part. But regardless, he took the lead, striding forward, and allowing Damian the comfort of walking in someone’s shadow. Because even if he wouldn’t say it, there was no way the kid wanted to do this alone. He couldn’t replace Dick – was thankful he didn’t have to, but this – this was the least he could do.

Hospital beds have this way of making the people inside them seem smaller. Tim braced himself as he stepped into view, and well, it could be worse. Dick was out cold, drooling on his pillow still hooked up to a few monitors, which steadily droned and beeped in the background. A lump of gauze and bandages swathed the base of his skull.

Damian flitted past his side to sit in the chair next to the bed, and Tim sprang into action, taking the chair next to the window. He flipped through the charts without really reading anything, and the two sat in stony silence. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts before shoving it back in his pocket.

He spared a glance at Damian - he was curled up in the chair, grimacing and staring at the wall. He didn’t dare try saying anything more, lest they start fighting in Dick’s hospital room. He contented himself with staring out the window, watching the dawn break, violets and purples dancing across the sky. The sun rose with pinks and oranges blossoming soon after.

Things would be okay. They had to be okay. He slowed his breathing, focusing on the sky rather than the scent of disinfectant. The steady beep of machines slowly fading into the distance. Closing his eyes, he could pretend for a moment, that this was normal. He was in a hotel, maybe on a vacation, in some city that wasn’t destroyed every few months. There had to be a place like that still out there.

A little chickadee hopped around on the windowsill, fluttering back and forth, before flying off again. “Bye.” Tim snapped to attention, whirling around to find Dick squinting out the window. Damian sprung out of his chair. “Bruce?” He asked confusedly, frowning at Damian.

Panic flickered across the kid’s face, and he recoiled, stepping back. “No. I’m Damian, don’t be foolish.” His voice wobbled at the end, and Tim’s heart throbbed painfully at the way Damian stiffened, meticulously shutting off any signs of vulnerability.

“Remember what the nurse said, he’s going to be confused for a bit.” Tim reminded, striding over to sit at the edge of the bed. Dick went back to looking at the now closed window. “Dick, you with us?” He leaned into Dick’s line of sight, trying for a smile, and waited for a minute before leaning back. “I’m going to take that as a no.”

“-tt-” Damian stepped forwards again. “Don’t bother him, Drake.” He spat.

Tim didn’t really know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. Damian climbed back into his chair, tucking his legs up to sit crisscrossed, his back stiff and upright. Tim grabbed his chair, pulling it closer to the edge of the bed. He placed a hand over Dick’s, rubbing a finger over his knuckles, taking comfort in the fingers twitching slightly under his own.

Dick was alive. He would live. Would recover. He hadn’t lost his older brother.

“His name’s Tim.” Dick mumbled after a few minutes. Damian rolled his eyes. “Tim.” Dick repeated, his eyes glassy as they gazed through Damian’s forehead.

“Yeah?” Tim lightly tapped Dick’s hand. He didn’t move from his focus.

“Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim.” He continued repeating Tim’s name, staring up at the ceiling.

“Why is he doing that?” Damian demanded, jumping out of his chair. Dick obliviously repeated the word, seemingly unaffected. “Drake, she said the operation went <em>well</em>.”

“I dunno.” He sighed, Dick probably had no idea what was going on, nor would he remember this. “Look, he’s delirious, he’s going to be messed up for a bit. He got shot in the head.”

“I know that. I was there. But if the operation was successful, then why-”

The door opened, and they fell silent, footsteps approaching. Roy Harper poked around the corner; a phone pressed to his ear. “Okay, he doesn’t look too bad, all things considered. Hey, you, kid, you should actually answer your fu-fudging phone.”

“That’s a dollar for the swear jar.” A little girl, Lian, he presumed, materialized at his side. She carried a bag with her and zoomed over to Damian. “Daddy says you like to color, so I brought crayons.” She grabbed a pack from her bag and shoved them at him. Damian looked mildly disgusted but took them anyway. “Say thank you.” Lian demanded.

Damian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Tim glanced at Roy, he winked, doing his best not to laugh as he finished talking with whoever was on the phone.

“Thank you.” Dick replied, patting Lian’s head. His eyes seemed to find hers before darting away to stare at the ceiling.

“Not you.” She groaned. “Him.” She pointed at Damian.

“Thank you.” He repeated. Lian cracked a smile, giggling.

“Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny – he’s delirious.” Damian replied harshly, eyes narrowing. Lian shrugged, turning, almost sizing him up. She was only maybe an inch shorter than him, if he had to venture a guess.

“Uncle Dick is always happier when you laugh.” She pointed out. “It’s contagious.” Sure enough, a wide looping grin had materialized on Dick’s face.

“But we’re in a hospital.” Damian looked outraged; his hands balled in little fists.

“Daddy says laughter is the best medicine.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Roy tossed his phone (it landed perfectly in the center of the little dresser next to the bed), and scooped up his daughter in a big hug, sweeping her off the ground.

“Look, kid.” He looked down at Damian. “I know this is scary and it sucks, but my kid’s got a point.” He kissed the top of her head, prompting more giggles. “She’s a smart cookie, and this isn’t exactly her first rodeo.” Damian’s ears flushed, his face unchanged, but his ears beet red.

“This is not my first rodeo, and if you were more competent, than-”

“If Dick was a dumb-, I mean, if he was more competent, we wouldn’t be here.” Roy pointed out, speaking over Damian. Lian smacked his face lightly.

“Daddy, that’s rude.” Roy rolled his eyes. Dick started speaking in a language Tim vaguely recognized, looking displeased at the argument.

“Sweetie, I’m trying to make a point.” He set her down, ruffling her hair. “Why don’t you get out the coloring book and let Damian pick out a page.” Damian opened his mouth to comment, but Roy cut him off. “Look, you should see how happy Dick is when Lian gives him coloring pages. I think he’s earned one from you.” Damian closed his mouth. His brain seemingly compiling the information. “What she said isn’t wrong, he’ll recover faster if he’s happier, Timbo, you’re a bat-nerd, back me up here.”

“Well according to a study done in-” Roy held up a hand.

“Point made, don’t put me to sleep.” Tim rolled his eyes, remembering why he used to avoid hanging out with (some of) Dick’s friends. For now, he joined Roy in staring down Damian, Lian gazing at him too, an unlikely team up in a battle of wills.

“Only if Drake makes one too.” Damian miraculously relented after a few minutes. Tim nodded, peace from Damian was worth doing some coloring. Dick would be incredibly happy – these pages would likely be framed; it would be worth it to see the smile on his face. It was worth it now to see Lian’s face light up, as she rushed to unpack her things.

“Oh, and I brought Uncle Dick a stuffy.” She pulled out a stuffed elephant and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Say thank you.” Dick replied – still not speaking anything he could place, and Lian smiled, Dick smiled back.

“What’s he been saying?” Tim asked, looking to Roy, as Damian slid to the floor, selecting coloring pages with Lian. Roy sat on the side of the bed, carefully leaning Dick forward, to get a better look at the back of his head. He whistled, ignoring Tim for a moment.

“You really did it to yourself this time, jeez Dickie.” He muttered to himself before turning back. “He’s speaking Navajo, he was counting to ten earlier, and he told Lian thanks.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you believe his pronunciation is always better when he’s like this?”

“No, that seems on brand.” Tim mused. “Apparently my French gets exponentially better the less I’ve slept.” Roy shrugged, and turned back on Dick.

“Quit rubbing off on the kids, you don’t want them to turn into you, yah? Bunch a’ weirdo bat-nerds.” Dick was apparently, not listening, and was more into petting the plushy.

“Zitka.” He replied, showing it to Roy. Roy patted his shoulder.

“Yeah buddy, I know. Isn’t she cute?” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Dick’s forehead. Something seemed to click in Tim’s brain, as Dick garbled on, fascinated by the toy.

“How many times have you done this?” He asked, watching as Roy leaned back, taking the seat next to the bed. He shrugged.

“I stopped counting after Blood fried his brains, back when he ran around in a V-neck.” Tim cringed, that was before he even became Robin. “Don’t look like that, he didn’t die.” Not that time, or this time – but things had been too close for comfort more times than Tim wanted to think about. Roy’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “I don’t know, Garth tried out the elephant thing a while back. It keeps him happy.” He pulled a book out of Lian’s bag, starting to flip through the pages. “Take nap kid – you look deader than him. Lian and I got this covered.”

Tim leaned back in his chair, tucking his legs up with him. He watched as Dick happily turned the toy over and over in his hands, blearily blinking at the world. Damian was quiet where he sat on the floor, inspecting each of the colors. By the time he put his first stroke to paper, Tim was already fast asleep.

#bad things happen bingo #batfam #titans #dc comics #batfamily #batman #batman and robin #dick grayson #tim drake #my writing #roy harper #lian harper #damian wayne #red robin #canon divergence #tw hospitals #tw anxiety #tw gsw #wrote this one just for me lol self indulgent

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mellowdreamer · 4 years ago

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HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO VERSE.

this is a modern bending vigilante/hero au featuring zukka, mailee, yueki and a lot of hijinks!

the gaang are all 16-19 here, because while bruce wayne apparently has no problem with it, i’m not comfortable with having vigilantes who haven’t yet gone through puberty.

the avatar world is just one big city, and each of the nations/cities are different suburbs of the city.

kyoshi island, ember island, and boiling rock are small islands off of the city, similar to singapore’s sentosa island.

the city (republic city? i dunno, get back to me on this one) is full of heroes, vigilantes and villains alike. the fire nation is a criminal empire intent on taking over the city. the avatar is a hero who works to keep the balance of heroes and villains in the city, and stop the entire city from becoming a war zone.

however, the avatar disappeared 100 years ago, and no one was chosen to take up the mantle since. in the avatar’s absence, the fire nation was able to begin its quest to take over the city.

the heroes of the southern water tribe that were left after the various raids have left the southern water suburb on a mission to defeat the fire nation or die.

hakoda, alias chief, left his two young children in charge of their territory, despite them being a) children and b) relatively untrained.

katara, alias painted lady, is the only waterbender left in the southern water tribe. sokka, alias captain boomerang, is the only trained combat hero left in the southern water tribe. all those remaining are either children or incapable of fighting.

side tangent: when sokka does well, he calls himself “grand marshal boomerang” and when he does badly, he calls himself “private boomerang”. thank you to the crimily for coming up with this one!!

one night, when katara and sokka are out on patrol, they get chased by fire nation goons into the ice off of the southern harbour. there, they get into a fight over sokka’s sexist remarks and katara’s yelling having attracted the fire nation goons, and katara’s waterbending gets out of control. she breaks open an iceberg, only to find someone in there.

the two siblings approach the iceberg and break the person out. they are shocked to find a young boy in the unmistakable uniform of the avatar, resting next to a creature they’ve never seen before.

they wake the boy up, to find that his name is aang and he’s the next avatar. and that he has no idea of the fire nation’s quest to conquer the entire city, or the fact that the air nomads – heroes that didn’t resign to just one area of the city – hadn’t been seen for the same hundred years that he must’ve spent in the iceberg.

katara and a reluctant sokka take aang back to the apartment building where the remaining southern water suburb residents have been living and introduce him to everyone.

later that night, the three go out on patrol together. it’s a quiet night, and sokka thinks they might actually get through it without any incidents, until they find a woman being mugged.

sokka and katara are about to intervene, but aang takes down both thugs in a matter of seconds. aang, ignoring the slack jawed shock of his friends, asks if they could go penguin sledding. katara goes to agree, but is cut off by the shout of “MY HONOUR” from a nearby rooftop.

zuko, alias dragon prince, runs from the rooftop before they could find him. his father ozai, alias firelord, had sent him and his uncle iroh – formerly dragon of the west, now retired – to find the avatar. zuko had been banished from the fire nation territory years ago, after speaking up about a plan that would’ve cost them a whole division of goons and refusing to fight his father in an agni kai.

the kyoshi warriors are similar to the birds of prey or the amazons; they’re an all-female crime-fighting unit not directly associated with any of the kingdoms or nations. suki is their leader, and they don’t have secret identities like the other heroes.

iroh, bumi, piandao, jeong-jeong and p*kku are all retired heroes and a part of the order of the white lotus.

toph is the blind bandit and a hero, albeit a less morally structured and ‘good’ hero than the avatar, the painted lady, and captain boomerang. she was a part of the underground fighting ring ‘earth rumble’ when the gaang infiltrated the ring looking for intel and convinced her that her powers could be used for something better than beating bitches blue and making bank while doing it.

azula is firebolt, and she is as brilliant as she is terrifying. she’s arguably more feared than the firelord, mainly because she’s the one who frequents other areas and actually goes on missions. ozai just sits on his stupid throne and yells at people and manipulates his children like the little bitch he is.

mai and ty lee are azula’s sidekicks, and are known as blade and tightrope respectively. also: they’re lesbians, harold.

yue is a part of the northern water tribe’s group of heroes, alongside her family. they tried to marry her off to hahn and have her trained in healing instead of fighting, but she rebelled and threatened to go out on her own, so they relented. yue’s hero alias is tui, but she will be called sailor moon at least three times.

jet and his freedom fighters are a group of anti-heroes who aren’t afraid to hurt innocent people in their pursue of ‘justice’.

zhao is a villain who works for the firelord, under the alias admiral, and he’s an asshole. using the yuyan archers, he manages to capture aang and takes him to a fire nation stronghold. zuko finds out about this, and not wanting admiral asshole to get the upper hand, dresses as the blue spirit for the first time to rescue aang.

during the siege of the north, zhao “kills” yue. she fakes her own death and disappears into hiding until the final battle, in which she kills zhao because it’s what she deserves.

the gaang know that yue is alive, because she’s nice enough to not do them like that, but they have to keep up appearances. because of this, sokka amps up the heartbreak and clings to suki a lot. that’s why a lot of outsiders begin to think that sokka dated yue and is dating suki, though in reality yue and suki are dating each other.

zuko and iroh, after the siege of the north and a trap set by azula, disappear into hiding and decide to take refuge in ba sing se, knowing that the fire nation wouldn’t think to look for them there.

ba sing se is a section of the city that has been fenced off in order to prevent an influx of heroes and villains. the dai li, who keep a tight grip on the suburb and ensure that the residents don’t know of the war raging outside the walls, are a group of “heroes”.

of course, the fence does nothing to prevent zuko and iroh, the gaang, and later azula, mai and ty lee from entering ba sing se and turning it into their own warzone.

iroh fulfils his dream of finally owning a tea shop and zuko, when not working in the tea shop, spends his nights lingering in the shadows of ba sing se as the blue spirit.

sokka, desperate for a warm drink and something to do while the others do their bending training, wanders into the jasmine dragon one afternoon and is served by “lee”.

neither know the other’s civilian identity, so there’s no shady business, just pining over the cute customer/server. sokka strikes a conversion and the two begin flirting chatting. it’s going really well, and you can almost see the romance blooming.

and then in walks azula, flanked by mai and ty lee, all in costume.

sokka and zuko both leap up from their seats and into fighting stances. both are confused as to why the other jumped up, and then azula calls zuko brother and it clicks in sokka’s mind.

he starts yelling at zuko for a lot of things, including yue’s “death” which is how zuko realises who he is. zuko starts yelling back because he’s only once met a fight he didn’t like. in the background of this argument, iroh is trying to fight azula, mai and ty lee to varying degrees of success.

it’s funny that i say degrees, because this is when azula sets fire to the jasmine dragon. iroh grabs the two dumbass arguing teens and shoves them outside as he too runs, telling zuko to meet at their rendezvous point at sunrise.

azula, mai and ty lee chase after zuko and sokka (who are still arguing as they run from the three girls). mai and ty lee don’t want to chase them, because zuko has always been better to them than azula, but defying azula would be a death sentence.

sokka pulls zuko into a building for coverage, and because azula is azula, she summons the dai li and has them surround the building. there would be no leaving without confronting the dai li, and thus zuko and sokka are trapped.

sokka confronts zuko and basically asks how he could justify the fire nation’s villainy, how he could support a monster who’s killing hundreds of people. zuko defends his father blindly because he’s been raised to believe that his father is right, that his father has to be right, and this southern water scum is wrong. but zuko’s losing his grip on the argument and is becoming more and more hysterical but sokka is so calm, so sure of himself, and the dam finally breaks.

zuko crumples to the ground in tears, and now sokka’s gotta deal with this because ozai is a shitface and has been brainwashing his son for years and wow fuck the fire nation.

mai and ty lee, having taken down the dai li, burst in to find zuko crying his eyes out in sokka’s arms. they teasingly ask if they’re interrupting something and laugh as zuko next to sprints out of the building, sokka hot on his heels.

this is the last straw for zuko, who defects from the fire nation, hangs up his dragon prince uniform and fully becomes the blue spirit, a hero who works with the gaang to eventually take down the fire nation.

also, at some stage zuko rescues a turtleduck that got stuck up a tree. don’t ask me how this happens.

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