#red sprites. nothing too out of the ordinary

[pyroclastic727]

All other TLEs in case sprites aren't enough for you

If you'd like to see them in action, I recommend this video by storm chaser Pecos Hank.

all i wanna do is eat nectarines and think about aurora borealis st. elmo’s fire gigantic jets ball lightning green flash earthquake lights and will-o-the-wisps

[shiggitysstuff]

So this happened to me a month ago and I'm still mad and pretty much terrified of this incident.I'm posting this just to calm down for a few days for remembering about the game is pissing me off.

It was August of this year,i was scrolling down through steam and gamejolt to find some Sonic games to play,I'm a Sonic fan ever since I was 8, alright that's out of topic, but I did find something… interesting to say the least

… I found a port of Sonic 1 on steam for 5$, I did unfortunately bought the fucking game which was pretty much an awful idea, opening the game it was a PNG of the Sonic 1 title with the Green Hill Stage from Super Smash Bros Ultimate,yep i was scammed because of my excited dumbass but I decided to play the game to see how shit this game is.

The first zone was of course Green Hill Zone and I literally see the Sonic sprite from Sonic 1 on a Sky PNG background with low quality green hill ground,there was no animation either and Sonic didn't built up more speed while running,the game looked like it was made in Scratch which made me giggle a little bit but also disappointed,i later on found some platforms and some rings,the rings were just a PNG of the rings from Sonic Color and went on to jump over some spikes and other shit till I found a motobug PNG that's from Sonic Colors too,when I took damage 3 ring PNG’s just appeared for a 1 second and then disappeared getting my ring count to 0,after all of that nonsense I found the big ring for special stages,but after I jumped in I got to the next zone which was Chemical Plant Zone

Chemical Plant Zone was literally just Green Hill Zone with a Gray Sky PNG as the background this time with harder platforming and worse badnik placements,after doing all of that stupid ass platforming I found the big ring and jumped on it but after I did the game fucking crashed, I opened up the game and it has reset my progress making me play the 2 zones I just played again,pretty much wasted 15ish minutes over nothing,but half way through the level the game started freezing for some odd reason,I barely beat the Zone and went to Chemical Plant Zone.

EVERYTHING WAS GOING WRONG,my game was glitching out,the hole zone layout was going crazy and sprites of the game were just losing textures and we're just going around the screen,I was starting to panic and I closed the game,BUT THE GAME OPENED ITSELF,I was pretty much fuckin scared because I didn't know what to do in this situation because nothing like this ever happened to me,I tried to close the game again and again but the game would open again and again,I sadly had to continue playing the game.

After somehow beating Chemical Plant Zone,I was sent back to Green Hill Zone again with a new layout and platforms,I was confused and just continued and there were no enemies or rings this time.. but then the same thing happened again with the hole game going crazy and sprites just shaking everywhere but this time the screen was just shaking and shaking,I was getting more terrified but since I couldn't do anything other to play the game,I just continued playing the game,after a little bit of time I did find the big ring and jumped into it,but then the screen went dark for a little bit..

After some time the dark screen turned into a small square.. then a Sonic with no eyes,with less quills,white arms and red legs popped out from the black square,I jumped from that jumpscare and I was confused and scared for 2 minutes and then.. MY FILES AND MY PROGRAM AND ICONS WERE SLOWLY GETTING DELETED,after seeing that I realized that this was no ordinary scam game but a scam game with a FUCKING BOOT SECTOR VIRUS CODED INTO IT,I couldn't do anything as my PC slowly broke down and crashed,I turned it on and I saw the Blue Screen,which meant my PC was broken and needed repairing and such.

2 days after that hole incident,I tried to get my PC fixed but my PC was long gone,I had to buy a Laptop cuz I was wasted half of my money on the PC that broke down,I'm still pissed about that day,whenever you see an Official Sonic on steam or gamejolt that needs to be purchased with real life money DON’T BUY IT,ITS A SCAM GAME WITH A VIRUS! This will be the last time I talk about this incident or even post about it.I wish I wasn't that excited and I would have kept my PC and wouldn't have spent a lot of my money again. Please do not make the same mistake I did.

("Hedgehog Virus" is written by Trenk379)

[tiramisiyu]

Light and Night:  Sariel 【永恒花园】 Eternal Garden Date Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

I lied about not doing any translations for Light & Night 🤡 Can’t believe this guy grew on me so much that I did this

--

My relaxed, leisurely weekend morning was cut short by Sariel’s message.

Sariel’s Message: Come to the greenhouse behind the studio right now.

After sighing miserably as I clutched onto my blankets, I got up and rushed out towards my destination.

--

That glass greenhouse was surrounded by lush forest, and only its simple contours were visible from far away. A mass of verdant green occupied three rows of plant shelves, with magenta flowers peeking out from them, looking full of life. A woven hammock hung beside the floor-to-ceiling window on the north side, and two cushions had been casually thrown on them. Languor and elegance were evident in every single design detail in the room. Sunlight shone in through the window, making the entire space look bright and open, like a secret garden that could be used to relax under the sun.

I slowed my breathing, following the small sounds of branches being cut as I walked carefully to the front of a shelf row.

Sariel was in the middle of handling a pair of flower arrangement scissors with familiarity. It seemed like a few white roses that he had cut off were blooming in his hands. Light and shadow shifted, shining on his hair and shoulders, becoming colourful with refinement and vigor. The whole picture was so beautiful that it was somewhat dazzling, looking a little unreal.

Did he have me come to clean the greenhouse?

Crunch – in my moment of distraction, I stepped on the dead branches that had fallen on the floor. Sariel lifted his eyes from the blooming flowers, carelessly glancing at me.

Sariel: What are you standing there dumbly for?

MC: I saw that you were busy and didn’t want to disturb you.

Sariel looked at me again.

Sariel: As if you could disturb me.

MC: Oh.

He smirked, tapping his finger on the wooden table in front.

Sariel: These flowers have to be arranged and maintained today.

Sariel: Watch carefully. I’ll only show you once.

MC: Huh?

As I hesitated, he took a few green plants and white roses from the side, trimmed them one by one, then placed them in the vase. Soon, the originally ordinary plants took on a completely new look in his hands. I stared those arranged white roses.

MC: It looks really easy, yet it also doesn’t seem to be that easy.

Sariel scoffed, motioning towards the pile of unarranged plants and fresh flowers on the table.

Sariel: Arrange it yourself.

MC: I’ll try!

I grabbed another empty vase, recalling Sariel’s steps from just now as I carefully held onto the plants. However, no matter how I trimmed or arranged then, they all ended up as a vaseful of failures… Where am I going wrong? I had sunk into thought, looking at the plants in front of me.

Click. A clear sound resonated beside my ear, and I abruptly came back to my senses.

Sariel: You’re supposed to be arranging the flowers. What are you all dazed for?

MC: Huh? I was just conceptualizing!

Sariel: Conceptualizing? Then tell me what you’ve conceptualized.

MC: Uh…

My mind moved at light speed as I looked at the plants and flowers in front of me.

MC: I was thinking, is it possible to put white roses, lavenders, and peonies together without making them clash?

Sariel: …

MC: Why aren’t you talking?

Sariel: Because I was wondering how strange a person’s brain circuits have to be, to think of putting those ones together.

Sariel: Forget it, you can go clean up.

As Sariel spoke, he pointed at the leaves and branches scattered on the floor.

MC: Alright.

I put down the plants in my hands, nimbly collected the discarded branches and leaves into the garbage back, and took them to the greenhouse door.

I had just turned around to return when a strange, long sound suddenly came faintly from the forest.

Woo—

MC: …?!

I turned my gaze towards the depths of the forest instantly.

Woo—woo—

The sound gave no indication of stopping, gloomily burrowing into my heart on the melancholic wind.

In shock, my scalp was tingling as I staggeringly pushed the door open and ran to Sariel’s side, pointing towards the outside.

MC: Sariel, there’s a weird cry coming from outside the greenhouse!

He looked me in my panic, his expression still calm.

Sariel: I only heard you making a big deal out of nothing.

MC: Seriously! It came from the forest! It sounded like the wind, but it also sounded like a child crying…

He paused, rubbing between his eyebrows.

MC: Is there something strange in the forest?

He didn’t respond as he walked straight to a shelf on the side, taking a bamboo basket and tossing it to me. I caught it hurriedly with a face full of question marks – what does he mean by this?

Sariel: Hold onto that and take a large hedge clipper.

MC: Huh? Okay!

As I took the hedge clipper, Sariel grabbed a little shovel on the side.

Sariel: That’s all we need. Come with me.

Clutching on the pile of tools, I followed him quickly.

MC: Sariel, what are we doing with this? The thing in the forest… you’re not going to concern yourself with it?

MC: Could it be dangerous? It sounded a little scary.

MC: Sariel, wait for me!

Sariel, who was walking in front of me, suddenly stopped. I hadn’t come to a stop myself and ran straight into his back.

Sariel: Stop talking for now. You’ll have plenty of chances to expend energy in a moment.

I rubbed my nose and suddenly thought of something.

MC: Are we looking for that sound in the forest?

Sariel: Where else would we be going?

MC: So we’re taking these tools to catch it?

MC: This one is probably more convenient to use… do you want to hold onto it?

I handed the hedge clippers, the most threatening out of the bunch. He looked at me without a word.  

Sariel: Still remember what the second-last thing I said was?

MC: Hmm? I’d have chances to expend energy?

Sariel: One more before that.

MC: Uh… I think it was to stop talking for now.

Sariel: So, drop those pointless thoughts in your head, got it?

I covered my mouth obediently and nodded.

--

I followed Sariel into this forest that I had never stepped in. The straight, tall trees covered the sky, as dappled, sparse patches of light shone in through between the leaves. The dead branches I stepped on made crunching sounds.

Though I was surrounded by an unfamiliar and dark forest, and the strange sobbing sound kept getting closer, seeing Sariel’s straight, wide back made my heart calm down inexplicably.

Sariel: We’re here.

Sariel halted, and the sobbing sounds also stopped suddenly. I scanned the area in curiosity, but I didn’t see any crying children or any unexpected dangers. The only strange thing was a little pit, filled with dead branches and vines.

I looked down past the layers of branches, and was surprised to see peeks of a soft-looking, fiery red bundle between the branches.

It was a poor little fox!

Looked like it was because it had fallen into a trap that it made those pitiful cries for help.

My heart fell, and I decided –

⊳ [Get close] – catch his attention ⊳ [Listen] – undo the trap ⊳ [Heart racing] – ask Sariel what to do

The little fox huddled in the corner, looking like it was afraid of how close we were.

Sariel probably must know nearly everything there is to know about foxes – maybe he had an idea to have to fox relax. As he was examining the trap seriously, I could only tap him to catch his attention.

[insert bit here you tap on Sariel’s sprite and he complains]

Sariel: What are you trying to do?

MC: I just wanted to ask if there were any ways to make the fox not be this afraid.

Sariel: It’s very normal for foxes to fear strangers. It won’t affect you saving it.

Aside from that, Sariel didn’t say anything else. He only focused on starting to dismantle the trap.

Did he feel offended by my actions just now? I waited on the side uneasily, rather than stepping up to help.

It seemed like the fox had also sensed the coldness emanating from Sariel and became even more agitated. The moment a gap appeared in the trap, the fox burrowed out and ran off far from us.

 ⊳ [Get close] – catch his attention ⊳ [Listen] – undo the trap ⊳ [Heart racing] – ask Sariel what to do

 After dealing with the trap, we successfully returned the little fox to the forest.

So the strange cries earlier was just a little fox waiting for help… thinking of this encounter today, I couldn’t help thinking of a fairy-tale.

MC: Sariel, don’t you feel like what we went through was like in The Secret Garden?

MC: Though there are a lot of differences in the plot, it was the fox’s whines that drew us into this forest…

MC: Doesn’t that count as the key to opening this forest area?

MC: Since we’ve saved the fox, maybe it’ll also bring new changes to this forest!

~ASMR Portion ftg. Sariel~

You thought of the story of The Secret Garden from saving the fox?

To link these two things that are as different as heaven and earth together – you really do like to indulge in fantasy.

Although, you are quite like Mary from the story.

Don’t think too much about it. I’m not praising you.

I just feel like you have the same ignorant, fearless curiosity that she has.

What are you muttering about?

I’m like that hunchbacked old man? … And the locked-up boy?

Don’t think that I didn’t hear. You really are daring.

You forgot the rest of the story? … Your ability to come up with excuses is also getting better.

Although I do have a lot of time today, so I can retell the whole story for you.

I remember that the start of the story, the master of a manor buried the key to the secret garden after the death of his wife.

He refused to let anyone come and go from the garden.

As young Mary had no guardians, she was sent to this master, her uncle.

Under the encouragement of her maid, Mary started to try searching for her own happiness in the manor and acquainted herself with a robin.

Under the guidance of the robin, she found the key that had long been covered in dust and opened that secret garden once again.

The secret garden was desolate since no one had taken care of it. Mary thus had found her good friend.

Seeding the garden rejuvenated it once again, bringing it back to life.

If I remember correctly, that’s how the story goes.

Before, I always felt that the secret garden could only be miraculously rejuvenated in fairy tales.

However, I now look forward to what comes next in reality.

After all, someone broke into the secret garden without authorization like Mary. After that, didn’t she also bring new life to that garden?

  ⊳ [Get close] – catch his attention ⊳ [Listen] – undo the trap ⊳ [Heart racing] – ask Sariel what to do

MC: What do we do now? How do we save it?

Sariel leaned on a tree on the side, lazily nodding at the tool basket in my hands.

Sariel: Wear your gloves. First, take out the dead branches and leaves from the pit.

MC Huh? Okay.

I picked out those dried branches and leaves and placed them aside, leaving tangled vines and roots.

MC: Done.

Sariel: Now, untangle the bundled vines.

MC: You sure are gentle with these plants.

Sariel: Are you insinuating that I’m not gentle enough with you?

MC: I wouldn’t dare…

I turned around to hide my sneaky grin, crouched beside the pit, and started to deal with them patiently and slowly.

As these plants had flourished a little too well in the forest, they were still a tangled bundle after a long time spent untangling.

Sariel: You can just cut off the parts that have already withered.

MC: Okay…

MC: How are you this familiar with these? Do you often undo traps like this?

Sariel: Of course this isn’t the first time. After all, there are always idiots running around.

MC: … I feel like there’s something up with what you just said.

Finally, under Sariel’s guidance, we cleared an escape route in the trap. Once the gap appeared, the little fox nimbly burrowed out.

MC: Done!

It didn’t look too injured. It shook its fur, shaking off the leaves on its body, then stretched its body out leisurely. It hadn’t even finished stretching when a pair of hands heartlessly caught it. Sariel held up that fox, looking it over sternly, then stared coldly at that pair of round little eyes.

Sariel: You again.

The fox’s paws struggled for a bit. Seeing that it was no use, it dangled down again, disheartened.

MC: Did you scare it?

Sariel: If scaring it worked, we would not be here right now.

Having confirmed that the fox was alright, Sariel let it go. The fox immediately jumped onto the ground lithely, spinning around happily.

MC: It really doesn’t fear you at all. Haha, it’s so cute.

Maybe it had understood my words, as it suddenly waved its tail at me. After circling the trap a few times, it stuck its paw into the layers of branches. It forcefully dug out a few plants that I couldn’t identify, then pushed it in front of Sariel and me.

MC: Is this for us?

Sariel: Yes. Thank-you gifts.

MC: It’s thanking us for saving it? How cute! Then should we accept?

Sariel: You were the one to save it. Accept it if you want.

MC: Since these are its kind intentions, I’ll accept them.

Smiling, I emptied out one hand and patted the fox’s head.

MC: We’ll accept your gift, then. Thank you!

Seeming like it had understood, the fox held its head high as it shook its tail, then bounded off.

--

When its fiery red body had disappeared into the depths of the forest, Sariel and I returned to the greenhouse.

I organized the plants that the fox had given me and placed them on the table, then realized that the, then realized that most of the plants in front of me weren’t common ones. Among them, there was one that looked a bit like reeds, but its cilia were shorter, it was so white that it was almost transparent, and it dispersed a strange fragrance.

MC: It’s really pretty… I’ll add it in, then.

I quickly combined this plant, the white roses, lavenders, and peonies into a flourishing bouquet. Satisfied, I set up the vase, cleaned up the unneeded stems and leaves, then took them to the greenhouse door.

When I returned to the greenhouse, I saw Sariel holding that vase and looking it over carefully, his expression somewhat serious.

MC: Why are you looking at them now? I was planning to refine it a bit before showing you.

MC: … What do you think?

Sariel turned around and suddenly set down that vase. His indifferent eyes had a sliver of a strange blurredness in it.

Sariel: Take it away.

MC: ?

Sariel: Take it away.

MC: Alright, alright. I’ll take it away now.

I placed the vase aside, feeling half depressed and half dubious. Did these flowers look so ugly that Sariel wasn’t even willing to look at them?

I turned around, saw that Sariel was still staring at that vase. He then immediately pushed that vase even farther, his face still serious.

MC: ???? Sariel?

He pretended to not hear as he continued his work, his expression indifferent – as if nothing had happened just now. Something seemed to be up with him… but I couldn’t place my finger on where.

MC: What’s the matter? You look somewhat off.

He glanced at me, his eyes calm.

Sariel: I’m fine. There’s nothing off about me.

MC: What do you mean? You’re even using repeating terms!

Note: What MC says here refers to how Sariel said 怪怪 (which I translated to “off”), when just one 怪 would suffice. MC also used the doubled version though… so I guess she means that Sariel isn’t the type to double it up like that?

I worriedly felt his forehead, but I didn’t notice anything abnormal.

MC: I just went out for a bit, how did you end up like this?

His eyebrows wrinkled, seeming to be thinking over something. After several seconds, he finally responded, his words short.

Sariel: Foxtail grass.

MC: Foxtail grass?

Was it that white, reed-like plant in the bouquet?

Sariel: Yes. After a fox touches or eats it, it will…

MC: It’ll do what? Will it hurt you?

Sariel: It won’t.

MC: Really?

Sariel: Yes.

He once again turned around indifferently, cutting loudly at the rhizomes in his hand.

MC: Stop bothering with those flowers for now!

Sariel: Okay.

He obediently placed the things in his hands down, turned around, and looked at me earnestly.

MC: Huh, you’re going to be this obedient?

He docilely nodded at me.

MC: If I were to say anything right now, would you obey it all?

Sariel: Yes.

I pondered for a bit, then tentatively showed him a V sign.

MC: Then tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?

Sariel: 2.

I looked at him in shock.

Can foxtail make Sariel become obedient? Then right now, isn’t he…

I emboldened myself, taking advantage of this as I got close and raised an eyebrow.

MC: Do you know who I am?

Sariel: I do. You’re a foolish idiot.

MC: …………

Sariel: You…

MC: You aren’t allowed to call me an idiot! Praise me!

Sariel: ……

MC: ? Looking like you’re at an utter loss is going overboard!

MC: Whatever, you…

I looked at the pile of plants and flowers in front of me and was suddenly inspired.

MC: How about you help me arrange the flowers?

Sariel: Okay.

He stood beside me and started to clean up those plants that had given me such headaches. Only ten minutes later, a vivacious-looking bouquet appeared in the originally empty vase. However, this bouquet was no longer just one type of plant surrounding the white roses; he’d also added lavenders and peonies.

MC: Whoa, so beautiful.

MC: Although, didn’t you just say that only people with strange brain circuits would do this? Why did you…

Sariel looked earnestly at me.

Sariel: You wanted it.

I startled, caught off guard by a wave of emotion.

MC: Thank you! You’re really the skilled one when it comes to flower arrangements. How about arranging a few more for me to take to the office?

MC: One for An An, one for big sis Zheng Lin, and… right! I could also put one at Mao Ge’s place. He’ll like it for sure!

Sariel: Don’t give him one.

MC: … Huh?

I came back to my senses, noticing that Sariel was looking at me somewhat angrily.

Sariel: Don’t give him one.

MC: Eh, why?

Sariel: Don’t give him one!

MC: Alright, alright, I won’t give him one. Then… can I give one to An An and the rest?

Sariel: No.

MC: Then what about Mya? You’ll be able to see it when you go to her office if I give one to her.

Sariel: No!

Sariel: I don’t go to her office.

He stuffed the vase forcefully into my hand, stooping down at me, his expression making it hard to refuse.

Sariel: Don’t give it to anyone.

Sunlight shone in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, falling on his body, surround him in a gentle and enchanting halo. He looked straight at me, as if in wait for my answer. Those slender eyelashes flickered with light. I looked at him, freezing for half a second, my face somewhat hot. Suddenly, an idea popped up in my chaotic mind.

MC: Sariel, are you…

I agitatedly licked my dry lips.

MC: Are you jealous right now?

Sariel: …

MC: With this sort of expression… did I hit the mark?

He froze, dumped the things in his hands, and walked away, stopping in front of the hammock by the window.

Sariel: I’m going to sleep.

MC: Huh? So suddenly? Should I take you back to your bedroom?

Sariel: I’m sleeping here.

MC: …

Without any explanation, he laid down. He did look somewhat tired.

I pulled out the pillows that he had squashed under him, cushioned them beneath his neck, and helped him adjust his centre of gravity.

MC: Then sleep. I’ll wake you when the sun sets.

He did not speak; instead, he just stared at me. I felt something inexplicable from his stare and could only straight-up ask about it.

MC: Why have you been staring at me?

He still didn’t respond, though he finally looked away, no longer looking straight at me.

I released a breath, intending to leave. Suddenly, his long arm circled from behind around my waist, suddenly dragging me into his warm arms!

MC: !!!

The world flipped around, and I fell into Sariel’s arms as he held onto me tightly. In an instant, a cool breeze wafted over me, overbearingly covering my body.

Sariel: You’re not allowed to go.

MC: You…

I held my breath, wanting to turn around and look at him, yet I didn’t dare do so. My mind was blank, unable to think at all.

MC: Sariel…

MC: L-let me go first.

The only reply I received was a tightening of the arms around my waist.

MC: Sar…

Sariel humphed impatiently, enfolding me in his arms completely. For a moment, the whole world had quieted. There was only the feeling of his warm breath on my neck.

MC: You really are…

When I came back to my senses, I realized I was secretly smiling.

Oh well. After being a “worker” for so long, being a “hug pillow” every now and then wasn’t a big deal.

I was also somewhat tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep at all in his arms at all. Maybe it was because it was too warm in the greenhouse, or because of Sariel’s heartbeat and breath.

--

After a long, peaceful period, by the time the sunset had dyed the sky outside the greenhouse red, Sariel finally started to show signs of waking. His silvery white hair drooped down, a slight flush on his face, showing a sliver of rare docility. The gorgeous sunset fell on his slightly disheveled collar, adding the slightest touch of tenderness.

He gradually opened his drowsy-looking eyes, but the moment he saw me, a flicker of a complicated emotion appeared in his irises.

MC: How do you feel? Are you alright?

Hearing my questions, Sariel froze up, a rare action for him. A few seconds later, he lifted his hand and rubbed at his forehead – maybe he was thinking about what had happened earlier.

Sariel: I’m fine. Just now…

MC: I promise, I’ve completely forgotten what just happened.

Sariel frowned.

MC: Pfft! Although, you really were cute just now. Not only were you docile, but you even got jealous and cottequish!

Sariel’s face instantly darkened.

Sariel: What did you say?!

MC: … I-I didn’t say anything at all.

I immediately covered my mouth, then remembered that I now had his “blackmail material” in my hands. I straightened up and looked at him, putting on a fierce air.

MC: You aren’t allowed to be mean to me in the future!

Sariel: ?

MC: Otherwise, I might just accidentally scatter your yard full of foxtail seeds.

MC: That way, you’ll end up with a whole field of foxtails next spring.

Sariel shut his eyes, his mouth curving up slightly as he stepped near me.

Sariel: Say it again. What are you going to do in the field?

I blinked, staring frozen at the face that had suddenly magnified itself in front of me as my heart missed a beat.

MC: Plant… foxtails?

His mouth curved more, his warm breath scattering over my face. He’s a lot more dangerous right now than he is when creating illusions!

I wanted to escape, but as if he had cast magic, I could only stand in place without moving.

His mouth opened and closed, as his eyes shone with a colour more beautiful than the subset.

Sariel: There’s no need to wait for next year. I do not mind repeating everything that was done just now.

Sariel: Want to try?

 ~COMMON END~

Time passed slowly and quietly, until the setting sun had nearly disappeared from view. Sariel leisurely threw a glance at the vase I was holding, the disgust on his face becoming more and more evident.

Sariel: I really have troubled you by having you do this.

MC: I think it’s alright.

Sariel: You really don’t set any standards for yourself.

I pouted as I thought, quietly taking out the flower arrangement hidden on the side and excitedly placing it in front of him.

MC: Then look at this!

Sariel gave me an indifferent glance.

Sariel: What’s this?

MC: A flower arrangement, of course. I mulled over this for a long time – doesn’t it look pretty decent?

Sariel looked over the flower arrangement skeptically.

Sariel: The greenery is a little too dominant.

Sariel: The withered petals on the white roses haven’t been cleared out.

Sariel: The rhizomes are also trimmed into an utter mess.

MC: …

Sariel: But if I were to lower my expectations, I could say it’s alright.

MC: Huh? I worked really hard on this for you.

Sariel: … For me?

I nodded.

MC: Don’t you feel like this white rose is a lot like you?

MC: Completely indifferent to the plants around it, and only focusing on what’s right in front of it.

He paused, staring at me.

Sariel: … Smart aleck.

MC: I’m not! Either way, this bouquet’s for you. You have to take care of them.

Sariel: Using my flowers to make a bouquet for me? You sure know how to use things to your full advantage.

MC: The flowers are yours, but I’ve added my creativity and design to them too~

MC: So… please accept them, hehe.

Sariel scoffed, took a pink peony from the table, then trimmed it and placed it in that vase.

Though the pink petals did not look like much on their own, the contrast of it against the rose’s white added an elegance and liveliness to it. The two flowers pressed together, the petals layering together like thin wings, glowing with the sunset’s light.

Sariel: You forgot an idiot earlier. Now it looks like me.

MC: Huh?

I stared dazedly at the bouquet, my brain slightly muddled.

Did “idiot” refer to the peony… or… me?

Sariel: That’s not important. Right, flower arrangement is just the first step.

MC: What do you mean?

Sariel: Are you expecting these flowers to change their water themselves?

Sariel: So, you have to come to the greenhouse three times each week from now on.

MC: But I sent this to you.

Sariel: Sending this to me means that you don’t have to pay it any mind anymore? Do I have to teach you what it means to see something to the end?

MC: It’s not that serious…

Sariel: So, do you understand?

MC: Yep, I have! I’ll be here on time, three times a week! I’ll definitely take good care of them!

I looked at the bouquet, giving Sariel a slight smile.

MC: I’ll definitely be here.

Since this was the first bouquet that belonged to Sariel and me, I would take good care of them. I’d do my best to have them become a more beautiful existence in this world.

[alleycat-arcade]

Game Start! Tip the Scales, Justice Prevails!: Of Fireballs and Motor Oil

*The arcade seems to have been decorated partially while you were away. A mixture of Christmas decorations and other holiday decorations are set up in spontaneous placements. You are surprised to not see Temperance slouched over the counter or working on an arcade cabinet like usual. Peering over the glass countertop, you spy the person in question curled up in a beanbag chair. They're a little too tall for it, so their legs hang over the edge. Something is clutched in their arms, some sort of plush hanging onto a candy cane?*

♪~♪ ♪♬ ♪~♪

*The sound of music draws your attention to a small handheld game on the counter. A save confirmation is displayed on the screen, and you can vaguely see parts of 8-bit sprites that resemble a series of cabinets you've played before. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to look? Just as long as you make sure not to save over their progress.*

A Surprise for the Unsurpriseable (Vyn Richter x Gn!Reader)

Content Warning: Just some cute fluff, some spoilers for Vyn's previous birthday event(which I didnt finish earlier so i had to look up vids lmaooo)

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Vyn Richter was not one to be easily surprised. Either that or you were really bad at planning surprises.

You had learned this when you had been planning his surprise birthday party a while back. Your Psychiatrist friend had quickly caught on to your plans after seeing the notification on your phone for the venue you had booked. Not to mention his somewhat stoic demeanor, despite how warm and kind of a person he was.

Sure, you could potentially startle him if you were to just jump out at him with enough spontaneity. Yet, you would much rather surprise him with something the two of you could enjoy.

The idea for this surprise in particular had come up when you had been out buying a replacement stator after your old one had started only giving off a weak spark. The flyer on the corkboard stuck out amongst the other automotive flyers, its flowery design catching your eye. Apparently, there was going to be a star shower soon. When you had gone out for a ride a while back, you had happened across a small cliff site on the outskirts of the city. One that would be perfect for a picnic! Plus, the two of you really deserved a nice break. You and Vyn had been working on a rather rough case a few days before, and it felt like a vacation was in order.

There just happened to be one issue though. You already knew he'd be off the day of the star shower, since it was one of his lecture days and the school was currently closed for an unrelated holiday. The problem was that, for a certain part of your surprise, you needed to measure the circumference of his head. While you could very well guesstimate it, the prodding thought of it being too small or too big sat uncomfortably in your brain.

So, there were two ways this could go. You could literally measure his head and try to make up a reason, or you could "borrow" one of his hats to get a proper measurement. Making up your mind to go for the later, you carried out your plan when Vyn had happened to invite you over for some Afternoon Tea. You had nearly been caught red-handed, but you managed to slip the hat into your workbag at just the right moment, and quickly pulled out a case you had mentioned showing him over the phone.

When the sun had begun to set, you returned home and eagerly measured the hat. In a flash you were hopping on the web, excited to pick out the perfect thing you had in mind.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Vyn knew you had been acting out of the ordinary recently. These sort of things were quite hard to slip under his nose after all. You had been putting up a rather guarded demeanor around him, even though you would still grin and act as if nothing was different.

As he had gone to call you over once more for tea, to have an excuse to ask you about it, his phone screen lit up with your contact. "Ah, I was just about to call you." Vyn answered. "Haha, you think about me that much Dr. Richter? I'm flattered." "Well, you are someone who is very dear to me after all. It would only make sense." He chuckled, resting his phone in the crook of his shoulder as he inspected a nearby houseplant. "... N-nevermind. Are you in the mood to go out tonight?" "Sure, I'd love to. What did you have in mind?" "Great! You'll see when we get there. I'm actually almost there, hold on a moment!" Vyn couldn't help but smile at the excitement in your voice, giving you a quick goodbye before hanging up.

When the rather loud purring of an engine had begun to draw closer, Vyn had been dressing himself up for your outing. The outfit was in his typical style, a sort of business casual look, but one that ensured that the cold weather wouldn't get through. The low rumble had only grown louder throughout this process, but suddenly stopped almost on cue once he had fully gotten dressed.

Upon opening the door, a familiar figure stood in his driveway. Well, they weren't excatly standing but more so leaning against the vehicle they had drove up on. You slipped your phone back into your pocket as you spotted him, waving him over with a bright smile. After a brief moment of shock, he regained his composure and headed to stand beside you. "A motorcyclist, huh? One wouldn't expect it too easily based on your typical demeanor." You gave Vyn a light, playful punch to the shoulder. "I may be a lawyer, but its nice to be a bit wild every now and then. But let's save the small talk for later, yeah?" His eyes watched as you reached into the rather bulky saddlebag, a glimmering look in your own when you pulled out it's cargo. "Here!" You presented him with the black and teal helmet, the recognizable trident-like symbol emblazed on the side. For a moment, he looked pensive, but you seemed to read his mind when you cheerily assured him it would fit.

Hopping back onto your motorcycle, you pressed a few buttons on the holographic screen and the engine once more sputtered to life. "Alrighty Dr. Richter, hop on!" You looked back at him, patting the spot behind you where there was clearly enough room for him to fit. At his momentary pause, you began to regret not bringing along the sidecar attachment until the motorcycle shifted when he swung his leg over. A warmth spread over your body as you felt him press up against your back, his hands hovering over your sides in a questioning manner. You hurriedly put on your helmet to hide your growing blush, before leading his arms to wrap around your stomach in a firm hold. "Hold on tight, okay?" You called out to him, his response being a simple nod. With his confirmation, you kicked up the kickstand and gave the engine a good rev.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The ride to the cliff was rather silent, despite the built in communicators in both your helmets. You guessed you had brought it on yourself, since you did tell him to keep the small talk for later, but even so the silence was oddly comfortable. Vyn's grip on your waist was gentle, yet firm, and brought a warm feeling that spread throughout your body in spite of the chilly evening air. Whenever he squeezed you tighter to keep himself steady, your heartbeat would race. You had already prepared to tell him that it was just the exhilaration of a tight corner if he had asked about it, but he only ever let out a teasing chuckle when the terrain straightened out. You finally slowed as the cliff side came into view.

After setting up the cycle on a nearby tree, you reached into the tree trunk to remove the contents that you had stashed away earlier. Vyn helped you lay out the blanket in a spot that had the best view of the sky, but you forced him to sit down and relax as you set out the remainder of the items. It was only after you had finished putting up the telescope that you sat next to him, making sure to turn on the hot plate so that the kettle would boil.

"So, what's the occasion?" Vyn hummed, accepting the cup and saucer you had handed to him once the tea was done. "Well, we've both been working really hard lately, and I happened upon this flyer when I was getting some parts to repair my cycle." You pulled out the copy of the flyer that the owner had given to you after you had asked him about it. "Plus, do we really need an excuse to hang out, Dr. Richter?" "I suppose not." He smiled softly at you. "And you are fully welcome to call me Vyn whenever we're spending time together outside of work. There's no need for such formalities right now." "Hehe, alright Vyn."

As you waited for the star shower to begin, you and Vyn chatted idly about various topics. Even if you two were just talking about the weather lately, any onlooker would easily see just how entranced the two of you were by each other. When the shooting stars finally filled the sky, you huddled together and took turns looking through the telescope. But even with all of the falling stars that littered the sky, Vyn couldn't deny he'd much rather gaze into your glimmering eyes instead.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Enjoying yourself there?

Hey, hey easy! I didn't mean to startle ya.

Hm? Oh, no need to apologize for messin with my stuff. I don't mind. Did you like that? Really?

That gives me an idea. Give me a sec let me see if I can find that other cartridge...

(Ayyy here we go. Fic 1 of 3 done babey! I had to go back and re-read Vyn's b-day event for this because I forgot to finish it last time like a dummy lol. Doing my best not to betray Luke rn and get distracted this time! Anyway, as always, if there's any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise, make sure to let me know! Catch ya later!)

[imagine-darksiders]

Hey there, I’m not sure if you still take requests or anything but agh, I’ve been going through a really rough depressive episode since Christmas and your blog brings me such joy. I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to write something about War saving reader from demons or something along those lines? Or even just something fluffy? No pressure of course, if you’re not up to it that’s fine :)

Sorry this took so long, hope you’re doing a bit better now, though if not, maybe this will at least cheer you up for a few minutes <3 <3

War X Reader. 

---

When you ran into the formidable Red Rider in the ruined streets of your old home city, you knew without a doubt that you were gaping up at a veritable force of nature, rather than a man.

War turned out to be everything the name suggests.

Physically, he's enormous - taller than you by at least a few heads and broad as an ox, cloaked in red and covered from head to toe in weathered battle armour the colour of gun smoke. His pale face – half hidden by a crimson hood – seems to be etched with a permanent scowl that only ever shifts if he's snarling or unleashing a blood-curdling battle cry. Not once in all the time you've been travelling with him have you seen him crack a smile.

Although, you suppose, a Horseman of the Apocalypse might not have a reason to smile, nor an inclination to.

'Oh well,' you muse as you follow the gruff and stoic behemoth through the inner-city graveyard one foggy night, 'He's better company than the demons, at least.'

War certainly wouldn't have been your first choice of travelling companion, just as you're sure you aren't his. Yet, as circumstance dictates, if you want to stay alive, you'll just have to put up with his imposing presence and general lack of social graces.

All of a sudden, you're halted in your tracks when an enormous, metal gauntlet catches you roughly in the stomach, the fingers splayed wide against your shirt.

Slightly winded, you open your mouth and a wheeze shoots out. “What?” you choke, throwing War a nervous glance. He merely stands there in utter silence with his head turning on a slow and constant swivel whilst a pair of icy, blue eyes scan the graveyard, searching. After a few seconds, you swallow down a lump and hesitantly ask, “You see something, big guy?”

The Horseman's broad chest puffs out at the nickname, though you can't tell whether it swells from indignation or pride. However, instead of offering clarity, he reaches up with his free hand and tugs his sword – Chaoseater – from its place strapped to his back, and at the same time, he begins to push firmly at your belly, forcing you backwards. “H-hey!” you yelp, “What're you doing?!”

Before you can protest further, your spine hits something cold and solid and you whip your head over a shoulder to see that you've been unceremoniously herded up against a large, mould-caked headstone. Sending a quick, mental apology to the owner laying buried just below your feet, you crane your neck around War's bulk in an attempt to see the cemetery beyond him, only to have your vision promptly obscured by the appearance of familiar, billowing smoke. In another second, the mass of darkness has taken on a much more tangible form and you suddenly find that the minimal space where you're sandwiched between a Horseman and a headstone has been invaded by the Watcher.

“What's the hold up?” his wispy voice hisses in your ear and forces you to fight back a shudder at the chill his trailing, vaporous tail leaves when it brushes against your legs.

“Dunno,” you reply in a whisper, “I think War sees something.”

The Horseman in question lets out a low grunt. “Not see.. Smell,” he clarifies, which is as descriptive an explanation as he's inclined to give, apparently.

Scoffing, the Watcher mutters, “All I can smell is this rancid human standing next to me...”

“If you don't want to smell me, then why are you hovering so close,” you shoot back, swatting at the wisps of smoke that escape from the top of his head until he draws back to a less suffocating distance. Still, with your curiosity peaked at War's strange admission, you tilt your head back and sniff idly at the air. “It just smells... earthy? Uh, and kind of sweet, I guess, like-”

“- death...” the Nephilim finishes.

You fall silent for a couple of seconds, using the time to share a bemused glance with the Watcher. “A graveyard that smells like death, huh?” you smirk, noticing that all six of the sprite's eyes are now glimmering with amusement,“Wonders will never cease.”

While he may be far from a fan, the Watcher still takes great delight in seeing you poke fun at War, and of course, he can hardly resist jumping in with a jab of his own. “Next, he'll complain that a forest smells of wood,” he sneers.

You're not quite fast enough to bite back a laugh as it bursts out of your throat.

“Quiet.” War's growl causes your mouth to snap shut and the Watcher bristles irritably, preparing to remind the Horseman of his place when the blood red hood twists to one side and you briefly catch a glimpse of War's striking, blue eye. He doesn't look angry at you though, or at least, no angrier than usual. Instead, if you didn't know any better, you'd swear you can detect the barest sliver of confusion as the Horseman peers down at you and asks, “Do you hear that?”

Furrowing your brows, you cock your head and listen intently to the eerie ambiance of the graveyard.

To begin with, there's nothing especially out of the ordinary, only the creaking of rusty hinges as the wrought-iron gates swing to and fro in a gentle breeze and the skittering of leaves against the cobblestone path somewhere nearby, or the soft 'ssshk,' 'ssshk,' 'ssshk,' that breaks up the monotony of near-silence -....

 “Wait a second,” you murmur, holding a finger up and going completely still, straining your ears to hear the shifting, shucking sound coming from somewhere very close by. So close, you can feel the vibrations through your.... feet? 

The Horseman locks eyes with you and all at once, your heart plummets into your shoes when, at the exact same time as War and the Watcher, you realise exactly where the bizarre sound is coming from and all three of you drop your gazes to the heaped dirt you've been standing on.

There isn't even a split second to react before a cold, clammy hand suddenly shoots out of the loose soil below you and latches itself around your ankle, gripping with a supernatural strength that causes your bones to grind painfully together. Although you know that screaming is the absolute last thing you ought to do in the middle of a demon-infested city, the unexpectedness of being grabbed it sends a bloodcurdling shriek jumping up your neck and out of your mouth, drowning the graveyard in a noise like an especially shrill dinner bell.

Sensing the impending battle, the Watcher swiftly disappears back into War's gauntlet as the Nephilim lunges towards you and curls his fist into the front of your shirt, wrenching you towards his chest without thinking too hard on the consequences of doing so. The motion does rip you free of the sinewy hand that flails in the air afterwards in search of its lost victim, but in doing so, long strips of your skin are left behind, embedded underneath the vicious claws of whatever had a hold of your ankle.

Gritting your teeth against the sting, you spin about, feeling your back hit the Horseman's sturdy chest and he keeps you tucked under him for a moment, his lips curling into a snarl as the two of you stare down at the emerging arm that braces itself against the soil. Then, in a fashion hideously similar to that of those old zombie movies you used to watch, the earth begins to rise as the monstrosity buried beneath it heaves itself up and out of its premature grave.

The sweet stench of rot hits your nose full force now, but you hardly even register it, too busy gaping at a grinning skull that emerges from the tumbling dirt, its empty eye sockets and parting jaw filled with soil and worms, all of which are flung in every direction when the living skeleton wrenches the rest of its body onto solid land.

Your startled yelp is swallowed as War promptly tries to swing you behind him, letting go of your arm in the process and inadvertently sending you crashing to the ground at his heels. Not that you can complain about the rough treatment however, for not a second later, the skeleton throws itself at him and lets out a shriek of outrage that cuts through you as sharp as any knife.

The Horseman, apparently having recovered from the unexpected attack, simply lifts his gauntlet and engulfs the monstrosity's skull when it leaps within range. In a rather anticlimactic turn of events, the skeleton's assault is cut short and now it resorts to scrabbling furiously at War's metallic fingers. You forget that for a man as large as he is, the Nephilim can move extraordinarily fast.

However, before you can marvel for much longer at War's impressive catch, you stiffen, splaying your fingers over the ground underneath you and twisting your head around to watch a few, nearby pebbles skitter up and down in place.

“U-um, War?” you gulp, now painfully aware of a continuous and thunderous rumble coming from deep under the earth, as though an enormous train is careening along on its tracks somewhere far below you.

At the sound of your timid voice, the Horseman spares a glance over his shoulder and sees you sprawled out on the ground, your attention turned to the graves lining an iron fence several metres behind him. Casting the skeleton dangling from his fist a last, fearsome grunt, War flexes his gauntlet. There's a sickening 'crack!' and the creature's flailing limbs fall perturbingly still. He tosses it dismissively to one side and you hear the clatter of broken bones hit the stone nearby as the Horseman turns fully and blinks down at you, his eyes going immediately to the bloody welts left in your ankle. 

Sensing his gaze, you whip your head about and almost gasp at the wrathful expression he's subjecting your injury to. One side of the Nephilim's mouth and nose scrunches up until he's giving you a very uninterrupted view of his gleaming teeth and you find yourself swallowing loudly, your heart throwing itself against your ribcage so violently, you'll hardly be surprised if it manages to break out of its bony prison. Your eyes fly nervously to War's hand as he forces it out of the tight fist it had curled into, regarding him closely when he raises it, draws back in hesitation for a moment before at last reaching down towards you.

He doesn't manage to get far though, because just then, the rumbling you'd been feeling reaches a crescendo and there's a sudden cacophony of howls and bellows all around you, filling every corner of the dark graveyard like a terrible orchestra playing its funeral march.

War tears his eyes off you and raises his head, leering hard at another skeleton that bursts out of its tomb, though it’s soon followed by a second, then a third, and after that, you stop counting because the knowledge of how many undead are suddenly surrounding you makes you feel queasy and light-headed.

A veritable plethora of skeletal monsters, each varying in shape and size, turn their skulls in your direction, their hateful, burning glares washing over you with the force of a tidal wave and you wonder if you're the object of their ire because they're envious of your life, or hungry for your flesh.

Regardless, neither leads to a favourable outcome for you.

You're almost embarrassed at the sob that manages to push out from between your tightly closed lips, but staring into the faces of creatures you know had once been human is a little more than you're equipped to handle.

Behind you, War's immense shoulders bristle when he realises that the majority of skeletons have their sights set undeniably on the vulnerable human sitting near his boots. In response to the clear threat, something angry rushes to curl itself around the Horseman's heart. At the very epicentre of his swirling rage, he becomes aware of only one thing. Those skeletons are standing between his charge and safety – and that, War will not permit.

Like a murderous river eddying around a fern, the Nephilim steps out in front of you and plants his feet firmly on the ground, an immovable barrier of flesh and metal standing protectively between you and the salivating undead.

Once again, you find yourself with a grave at your back and the Horseman to your front. 

Then, all of a sudden, something changes. 

Still subjecting the skeletons to his loathing glare, War falls back a few steps, moving himself around and to your rear where he proceeds to crouch over you, his chest pressing uncomfortably against the top of your head until you get the message and bend forwards as well, twisting your neck about to shoot him a wary glance but finding his eyes are still trained on the circle of creatures surrounding you. He plants one hand into the soil, digging in with the clawed tips of his gauntlet whilst with the other, he raises Chaoseater high above your heads where it lingers, poised and waiting - for what however, you have no idea.

As the bloodthirsty blade begins to hum in anticipation, you try to twist your neck around to peer up at War, hoping that your horrified expression accurately conveys the question you want to ask. 'What the Hell are you doing!?'

He doesn't look back at you.

With the skeletons prowling towards you like a pack of circling, salivating dogs, he can’t afford to lose focus.

You're not ashamed to say you let out a hoarse cry when, without warning, they all charge as one.

The skeletons are just a few feet from being right on top of you but as they close in, one of your hands flies up to cover your face and in the same moment, War suddenly brings Chaoseater down hard, plunging the blade's tip into the ground mere inches from your toes.

No sooner has it breached surface soil than a dozen more blades burst up from within the earth, each resembling the Horseman's treasured sword. 

The skeletons don't stand a chance. 

Like a shockwave, the ethereal blades that have been conjured from seemingly nowhere continue to erupt out of the ground and take the charging undead by surprise.

Femurs, rib cages and tibias are obliterated in less than a second, skulls are thrust from the ends of spines as Chaoseater's earth-bound friends impale the skeletons from below, a place where they never would have guessed an attack could come from.

You can feel the heat of the blades closest to you, hot enough to singe some of the hairs off your legs, no doubt. 

Then, just as soon as they appeared, they begin to retract back inside the earth, and when the dust settles and you lower your arm to look, all that's left is a scattering of bones, strewn about the vicinity. Blank, featureless skulls stare back up at you through unseeing eyes, dead – for what you really hope is the last time.

“Ho-lee crap,” you breathe shakily, flopping back onto your elbows and knocking your head against the underside of War's chest, adding, “Ow,” at the latter.

“You're hurt...” The rumble of the Horseman's voice rolls gently over you, prompting you to glance up, only to find a pair of bright, blue eyes blinking back down at you.

Lifting a hand, you rub absently at the spot where you'd bumped your skull into his armour. “I'm all right, that didn't actually hurt.”

“No,” he insists in a growl and roves his gaze down to the scratches on your ankle. You follow his glare, blanching at the sight of the gouges left behind in your skin and grimace, bracing your hands on the ground in an attempt to pick yourself up. You hardly manage to get one foot underneath you before a large, metal hand promptly grabs the back of your shirt and lifts you effortlessly into the air. “Hey!” you squirm, trying to stretch your toes to find purchase on the ground, “Put me down, War. I can stand up by myself!.”

The Horseman makes a skeptical sound at the back of his throat, but he does lower you – albeit hesitantly – until your shoes meet the dirt once more.

Any confidence in the strength of your legs is short-lived however the moment his hand withdraws.

You take a step, only to find yourself immediately punished for the action when a white-hot bolt of pain lances up from your ankle and you cry out, teetering sideways and trying to hop desperately for a few seconds on your good leg. 

Just then, there's a deep sigh of exasperation and War's gauntlet is at your side in the next second, sliding around your waist and nudging you upright again.

“Here, sit down. Let me see it,” he murmurs, and you hesitate to say he's gentle when he turns you around and attempts to guide you to the ground once more.

“Are you sure it's a good idea to stop?” you ask, leaning out of his grasp to glance around the shadowy cemetery, “I mean, that wasn't exactly a quiet fight...”

The implication hangs in the air between you and after a moment, War draws his head up and blinks, the strategist in him concurring with you. “That is... a fair point,” he mumbles and if you weren't so grateful to him for keeping you alive, you'd be insulted that he sounds surprised by your common sense.

In keeping with the typical, straight-forward bluntness you've come to expect from him, War wastes no time in bending down and extending his arms, aiming to scoop you off your feet. “Come,” he declares, “I shall carry you to Ulthane. He will know best how to treat a human's wound.”

The Horseman’s permanent frowns deepens though, when you hop away from him on your good leg, splaying your hands out to stop him from proceeding. Undeterred however, he gives you a warning glower and huffs, “Keep still.”

“W-woah, hold on now,” you protest, stumbling back as he once again tries to reach for you,  “Seriously, War, thank you. But I can walk, I'm not a baby who needs to be carried!”

“You are injured.”

His tone implies that he's angry, but the way he's now staring at your leg makes you consider whether he's angry at you, or something else entirely. “Wait, what if... what if you need to use your sword?” you point out, “You won't be able to if your arms are full of me.”

You can tell that he's far from happy, but he tilts his head, pondering you for a moment longer before huffing brusquely and averting his fiery gaze. “Very well,” he grumbles, adding, “But if you fall again, don't expect me to catch you.”

The Horseman's acquiescence, if nothing else, at least reassures you that you won't be a total liability. Satisfied for the time being, you nod and turn about, starting to hobble off towards the cemetery gates, confident that the enormous Nephilim will overtake you in a few, steady strides. You make it all of five steps before your ankle turns to jelly and seems to lose all of its bone structure, collapsing out from under you and as you topple sideways once again, arms flailing, you idly wonder whether the damage is only skin-deep.

Luckily, whatever jarring impact you might have made with the stone path is prevented by a strong set of arms that emerge like a pair of safety nets and sweep underneath your knees and shoulders, letting you fall harmlessly into a secure hold. Gasping, you tip your head back and sheepishly risk a glance at the Horseman, meeting his disapproving frown. At the sight of it, you try and push against his broad chest to put some distance between yourself and his ire, but he soon silences you with a throaty growl that reverberates through your head.

Pursing your lips, you reluctantly give up on your meagre effort of trying to escape the warrior and instead let yourself flop gracelessly in his hold. “Hmph.. I thought you said not to expect you to ca-” War whips his head down to glare at you so fast, you instantly allow your mouth to click shut and decide – perhaps wisely - not to finish that sentence.

[staarshines]

It’s Not All Roses Chapter 1: astra (HighSchool!AU) || P.D.

| It’s Not All Roses Masterlist |

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side. What the hell were the odds?

[A/N]: i haven’t been on here for months but we don’t talk about that❤️ also, the pandemic doesn’t exist here. bonne lecture.

Your Sour Patch Kids and Sprite, Finn’s Milky Way and Gatorade… You look over the items in your hands once more, hurrying through the crowds of kids masked in orange and white, proudly showing off Amidala-Skywalker High School’s colors; a stark contrast to the crowd bathed in red and black on the other side of the podium.

You mentally curse yourself for even wanting to come to the Homecoming game between Amidala-Skywalker and Geonosis High—dragging Finn along with you on top of that.

If Homecoming was this overhyped, you were going to be pissed.

Lost in thought, you unavoidably manage to run into someone, wincing when you hear the crack of your Sprite can hit the ground and open.

“My bad.”

You look back up to see a cute guy looking back at you with apologetic eyes, grinning, while his wild chocolate-colored curls frame his face.

“No, you’re good. It was my fault for running into you.”

“Nah, that was me. Got a little too focused on the game.” Both of you erupt into awkward laughter, bending down to pick up the snacks now lying on the ground. “I’m Poe, by the way.”

You look up once more, breath hitching in your throat because of how close you are to him—had you moved five inches closer, your lips would be pressed flush up against his. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you forget how to speak for a few moments, watching him hold back a smirk.

This fucker knew exactly—

“I’m Y/N,” you quickly blurt out, flashing him a quick smile and grabbing the candy and sports drink, noticing another Sprite can that Poe hadn’t picked up. “I think that’s yours.”

“No, that one’s yours.”

“Even if it is mine, I ran into you, so you should have it.”

“Honestly? I was hoping you’d say that. Rey would kill me if I didn’t come back with her Sprite.” You chuckle and nod, standing up and smiling when he motions for you to go up the steps first.

You’re thinking about where you’ve seen him on the way up to your row, realizing that he was the one who pranked a girl—you’re guessing Rey?—in your english class by removing her headphones from her laptop’s jack while she was in the bathroom. Mr. Kenobi nearly fell out of his seat when he heard “WAP” blaring at full volume.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

You slide into the row Finn is sitting in, throwing him his candy and the Gatorade bottle—the latter of which he nearly doesn’t catch, which would’ve resulted in it hitting the brunette next to him.

“Y/N! Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side.

What the hell were the odds?

You then remember that Finn and Rey are watching you look around like a madman, snapping you back to the situation of introductions and small-talk at hand.

“Right! The girl who—”

“Whose music blared in a dead-silent classroom in the middle of our english class? Yeah, that’s me.” You chuckle slightly, nodding to her and sitting down. Poe’s gaze catches your eye and he quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head.

What are you doing here?

A quick tilt of your head in Finn’s direction, then the game’s direction. Watching the game, apparently.

Raised eyebrows and the hint of a smirk. You following me?

An eyeroll and a bit-back smile. Oh yeah, definitely.

He shrugs with a smile on his face and sits down next to Rey, and you stifle a chuckle when you see her snatch the Sprite and Airheads from him, cracking the can open.

“What, do you two know each other?” It takes you a second to realize Finn’s question is directed at you and Poe.

“I mean kinda, we just ran into each other a while ago. Oh, that’s Poe. Poe, Finn, Finn, Poe.” They exchange warm smiles but nothing more.

“Well, I promise I’m not aiding him in anything,” Rey reads your mind, winking and eliciting a giggle from you. You look over to find him scrolling through his phone, earning a slight frown from you as you resume your normal position and pop a Sour Patch Kid into your mouth, mindlessly watching the game go on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you lazily pull it out, checking the notification.

      Instagram Poe Dam(n)eron (@damndameron) has requested to follow you.

        You look over at him once again, finding him now watching the game. Hm, so we’re playing this game? All right. Opening the app, you accept his request and click on his profile, a bit surprised when you see that he’s private—he pegged you as the type of guy to have a public account. Nevertheless, you hit “Follow”, waiting a few moments before refreshing and seeing that he’s accepted, giving you full access to his profile.

You see about four posts and a few story highlights, but nothing out of the ordinary. You click on his most recent post, scrolling past the beach, a hot tub at a cabin, a picture of him and Rey at Pike’s Peak—was she his girlfriend?—and lastly, a picture of someone who you guessed was his mother and him as a baby. He’s standing on her feet in what looks like their living room and you can tell that they’re dancing, a grin frozen on his mom’s face while Poe flashes a toothy smile—his dad must’ve taken the picture. It was dated November 21, posted almost one year ago. Curious, you click on the comments and start reading through them.

kare_kun_ Thinking about all of you.

r.skywalker you'll always be her flyboy, poe.

snapwexley01 she’d be so proud of you, man.

j_pava  Wish she was still here with us. Stay strong, Poe.

The last comment makes it all click into place, and you feel a pang in your heart. He’d lost his mom. How long ago? He was maybe four years old in that picture. You suddenly feel so empathetic that all you want to do is give him a hug—he was a momma’s boy; you could read it right off his face. You keep the date in mind: November 21st.

“Well, we won.” You look up in a daze to see that the clock was 6 seconds away from halftime, the score being 31-9 in Amidala-Skywalker’s favor.

“How do you kick someone’s ass that badly?” you ask with a sort of wince even though you were on the triumphant side, clicking your phone shut.

“Like that, apparently,” Poe remarks, just before the halftime buzzer rings. “You guys wanna get out of here and go to the baseball fields or something? It’s a lot less noisy but you can still hear the game’s commentary.” You’re a bit surprised at his proposal, seeing as you four just met, but you’re definitely not opposed.

“Why not?” Finn responds, shrugging his shoulders. You four get up and leave the row, nearly getting trampled in the number of kids leaving their seats to either go get food or leave the game entirely.

“C’mon, flyboy, you’re gonna get lost!” Rey yells from behind you. Flyboy. Wonder where he got that nickname.

“Oh my God, please— He did not!” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth while giving Poe a disbelieving look.

It’s pitch black outside now and you four are bathed in the floodlights of the baseball stadium, sitting on the grass just by home base.

“There’s fight, there’s flight, then there’s complete idiocy. Guess which one Poe has programmed into his DNA.” Poe narrows his eyes at Rey, throwing Finn’s empty Gatorade bottle at her which she catches with ease.

“It’s not my fault I wasn’t thinking—”

“Thank you for admitting that.”

“—I was panicked! There was a s’more in my hand and I just threw it in the other direction!”

“While not thinking that the bear would come after you for more,” you add, watching him huff, seeing a hint of a pout on his face. “Remind me never to go anywhere near the woods with you.”

“I like her already,” Rey remarks, to which you crack a smile.

“How long have you two been dating?” you try to crack the question as casually as possible, but let’s face it: the anticipation is eating away at you. To your surprise, they both burst out in laughter—so they’re not together?

“Oh my God, I wouldn’t date Poe in a million years. I couldn’t handle being that much impulse control for him—He’s already a liability as my best friend,” Rey laughs, shaking her head.

“I— Rude. But honestly, I wouldn’t date you either. You don’t know how to have fun,” he exaggerates the statement with his hands. You smile at their banter, a bit surprised at their relationship’s similarity to yours and Finn’s. “How long have you two been dating?”

“We’re most definitely not dating,” Finn chuckles, earning a slap to the shoulder from you.

“No need to act like you’d never date me! Remember the kiss on the playground in third grade?” you ask sarcastically, the memory bringing back a bout of nostalgia.

“That was third grade! And I was dared to do it!” You laugh, throwing an arm around him.

“I mean Finn, you seem pretty passionate about making sure she knows you don’t like her,” Poe winks, earning a fake gag from Finn.

“Oh, please. She’s like my sister.”

“Literally,” you add. “I’m pretty sure I saw you more than I saw my own parents during my childhood.”

“You, Ben, Han, and Leia, yeah,” he nods.

“Ben, Han, and Leia..?”

“Ben’s our best friend. The three of us practically grew up together with Han and Leia—his parents.”

“Han and Leia like—Dr. Solo and Dr. Organa? The ones who teach at the school?” You nod, answering Poe’s question. “I don’t think they’re married—are they divorced?”

“Never got married,” Finn explains. “Just two best friends who had a one-night stand and actually stayed civil with each other after learning about the pregnancy. They raised Ben together—and us, too, basically.”

“I miss him,” you murmur. “Why’d his stupid ass have to want to go to that college prep school way over in New York, anyway?”

“Probably just to make Han and Leia proud after all they’ve done. Mark my words, he’ll be back here in a year or two. You don’t get the high school experience at a prep school.”

“Are you talking about First Order Preparatory, the big one in New York?” Rey interjects. “That’s not a boarding school last I checked.”

“Nah, he’s living over there with his Uncle Luke. I mean, we FaceTime and all, but it’s just not the sa—”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Poe, she’s coming over here.” Both Poe and Rey scramble to get up, leaving you and Finn to do the same while you steal a glance behind yourself, trying to see who Rey is talking about.

“Run,” Poe whispers in a panicked tone; Rey grabs his arm before he can take off.

“We’re not running, genius!” she hisses, looking behind you once more. You turn around, finally spotting a blonde wearing an orange shirt and white shorts, stripes of white paint just under her eyes. “We’re walking away. Quickly. Very quickly.” You turn around, finding them nodding to you and Finn; the four of you begin in the opposite direction from whoever the blondie was.

“Who are we r—walking very quickly away from?” you ask, keeping up at a brisk pace.

“Zorii Bliss. She’s been after Poe ever since fifth grade,” Rey explains, picking up her pace.

“Just tell her you’re not interested. Simple,” you mutter, arching an eyebrow.

“You think I haven’t tried? What was this summer, the seventh time I’ve turned her down?” Poe groans, and you suddenly feel terrible. They were actually running from this girl who’d been after them for five years. Couldn’t you get a restraining order or something? “She’s been with five guys—”

“Six,” Rey corrects.

“—six guys in the past four months. All she does is play them then blame them, all while still somehow looking like the victim. The Smoky Mountains trip we were just talking about—the bear and the s’mores? You don’t know how hard she tried to get in on that trip.”

“Sheesh,” Finn starts, “someone needs to—”

“Poe!” you hear someone, presumably Zorii, call out from behind you four.

“—get the hint,” Finn mutters, and the four of you turn around to find her just maybe fifty feet away. What the fuck, did she run to catch up or something?

“Hide me,” you hear Poe whisper, and before you can ask how, he’s already crouched behind you, arms around your waist.

“Long time no see,” she calls out, sauntering now. Aw c’mon, how about you run like you were doing before? Look all desperate for the cameras?

“What—She knows you’re here!”

“But I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“Nope.” You start to argue with him but then stop, realizing he really didn’t want to see her.

“Aw, that’s cute.” Christ, even her voice was insufferable. She looked like a bitch, too.

You really just wanted to punch her in the face.

“What do you want, exactly?”

“Who are you, his girlfriend? Funny, Poe hasn’t really ever dated anyone.” She shuffles a bit to the side and you copy her footwork to guard Poe, watching her raise her eyebrows and laugh in disbelief. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn’t answer mine,” you quip smoothly, hearing Finn quickly stifle a laugh from beside you. She gives Finn a dirty look, and you swear you’re about to drag her from her hair right now. “What do you want?”

“I just came over to say hi to Poe since we didn’t get to meet too much over the summer,” she shrugs. “Zorii Bliss.” You don’t respond, waiting for her to make her exit. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Couldn’t be more bothered to.” Rey sucks in a sharp breath and you’re worried that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but your stance doesn’t waver. She rolls her eyes and blows a kiss to Poe before turning on her heel and walking away—you’re sure she’s swaying her hips on purpose.

“Damn,” Poe murmurs, getting up from behind you. “You really said ‘no, bitch’ to her.” You laugh a little bit at his statement, shaking your head.

“She just really pissed me off. Hopefully that taught her a lesson and she’ll leave you alone now.”

“We can hope. I nearly fought her in the middle school parking lot once.” Finn raises his eyebrows at Rey but you just nod impressedly.

“Y’know, we should take a picture so we have something to post on Instagram,” Poe suggests. “I haven’t posted for a while.” He’s actually one of the boys who cares about his Instagram? Respect.

“Yeah, neither have I.” You shush Finn before he can start to whine about taking pictures, but Rey seems to have the same reaction as him. “Aw, c’mon you guys, it’s just one picture.”

“Fine,” Finn drawls. “Just one.”

“Maybe two,” you add with a giggle, watching him shake his head as you pull out your phone, opening the camera. “Okay, any ideas on where we should set it? Because the four of us sure as hell aren’t fitting in a square if I take a selfie.”

“If you have a popsocket, you can try to hook it inside the diamonds of the fence.”

“Good idea, flyboy,” you test the nickname out, watching his reaction closely to determine whether you’re crossing a line. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, so you breathe a sigh of relief.

After having set your phone up on the fence—“You’re taking too long. Let me do it.” “Finn, you’re not going to have any more luck than I am.” (He, in fact, didn’t)—you press the shutter button and quickly run back to the four, throwing an arm around Finn and watching Rey neck Poe, earning a laugh from you. It’s a bit too late when you realize the picture’s already been taken, and it takes about three minutes for you both to coax Finn and Rey into taking another one. The second one turns out almost perfect, though, seeming like one of those cliché VSCO pictures that everyone posts around this time.

“Numbers,” you state simply, handing your phone to Rey. She starts adding her contact information, taking a quick selfie for her contact picture and then handing the phone off to Poe. “And give me your Instagram handles, too. I’ll tag you guys when I post.”

“You already have mine,” Poe remarks while not looking up from the phone, and you’re sure that you’re the only one who can hear the slight smugness in his voice. He hands your phone back to you and you see that he’s set the picture of his annoyed face after Rey necking him as his contact photo, which makes you giggle a bit.

After you’d sent them the pictures—Poe had named the groupchat “the avengers”, which sparked a conversation about Marvel (Finn and Poe were arguing over the best Avenger right now)—you edited the pictures slightly to make them better, uploading them to Instagram with the caption, “no friendship is an accident.”.

You four were now walking out of school boundaries towards your neighborhood—yet another thing you four discovered you had in common—but you were lost in the stars, hearing traces of the current conversation on hand (something about Asgard and the Tesseract).

“Hey. Snap out of it.” Poe snaps his fingers in front of your face and you blink, shaking your head and looking back at him.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Staring at the stars?” he asks, looking up at the sky himself.

“Yeah. Found Ursa Major and Cassiopeia,” you point out, watching him genuinely look for the constellations, humming when he sees them too. “You like stargazing?”

“I do, actually. Have a telescope in my room and everything.”

“Oh?” You’re stepping in stride with him, completely forgetting about the other two who are also with you.

“Yeah. Y’know… you need a nickname.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I dunno, I just think…” he looks up at the sky then back at you, grinning as if he’s figured something out. “Astra.”

“Astra?” you ask, recognizing the word to be Greek for “star”.

“Astra,” he confirms, nodding. You raise an eyebrow, but you can’t deny that you like it.

“Well, it’s not terrible.” You were understating. You kind of loved it.

“I’ll take that as a win.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron, @marvelinsanity​, @softly-sad, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades​, @arkofblake​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @propertyofdindjarin​, @coldbreadbouquetworld​, @melvls​, @waatermelon-sugaar​, @thedevilwearsbeskar​

Poe Dameron: @yougottakeeponkeepinon​, @poe-damnnn-eron​, @lapilark​, @peterhollandkait​, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​, @twomoonstwosuns​, @writefightandflightclub​, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust​, @legamelo​, @xremember-me-notx​, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby​, @yourbucky084​, @agents-assemble​, @asianravenpuff​, @daydreamerinadazedworld​

“It’s Not All Roses” Taglist: @marvelous-capsicle​, @fishswimbetterunderwater​, @r2fucku, @missmadwoman​

[mysterioh]

ᕼEᒪTEᖇ ᔕKEᒪTEᖇ - [2/8]

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Cop!Reader

Summary: The year is 1989 and what better to prepare for the next decade than with a killing spree? A string of gruesome deaths has thrust the city of New York into absolute mayhem and terror causing intoxicating fear to settle within the niches of the city’s underbelly. Having used up every trick in the book and earning nothing, Police Commissioner Stark seeks the aid of the NYPD’s most elite task force.

A force of two.

A reticent genius and a cheeky casanova.

WARNINGS: Death, Murder, Graphic Depictions of Violence and Gore, Language, Usage of Drugs, All the makings of a Crime Show.

Written for @captainscanadian 1k Writing Challenge!

Masterlist

A Recording

11:22 AM

New York City Police Department - 88th Precinct

Brooklyn, NY 

Saturday, October 14, 1989

“You can’t do this!” 

Tony slams his fist on the desk in frustration. 

“I don’t see why I can’t,” Fury responds calmly through the phone.  

“This is my jurisdiction, I run things around here,” Tony retorts with a sharp edge to his words.  “I don’t need help, especially from two kids.” 

Fury sighs deeply. “Really now?” he asks with a mocking chuckle. “And how far have you come in your own investigation?” 

The line goes silent. Tony knows the answer, but he’s unwilling to reply. Despite his inadequacy, he remains obstinate in his opinion as he sits perched on his office desk. Teeth clenched. Lips tugged down into a scowl. Finger twisting around the telephone cord violently. 

“Have you found the killer?” Fury asks another question. “I’ve checked the files, you have nothing,” he snaps at him. “I want answers, Stark. I need results. I need whoever the hell it is that’s running around killing people behind bars. And what have you given me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a slow exhale. “If you give me more time I know my team will be able to do it,” he assures. “I don’t need those two to do it.” 

Fury chuckles haughtily. “You’re new around here, Captain,” he states. “This isn’t sunny Malibu, this is New York.” 

“I grew up in Manhattan,” Tony replies boldly. “I know exactly what it is.” 

“Then I suggest you quickly learn to accept help when help is given,” his stalwart says firmly. 

“Those two are more than qualified for this job. They’re not kids, they’re fully trained and capable agents. Both the top of their class with mastery in the sciences and combat. They’re goddamn geniuses,”

Tony rolls his eyes and scoffs silently. 

“If anyone is going to crack this case, it’s them, and if you do anything to get in their way. I can assure you it will not end well for you,” Fury threatens with emphasis on each word. 

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Tony sighs exasperated and turns his head to look through the blinds of the window. His eyes narrow, shooting daggers at the two detectives. 

“Crystal.” 

------

“So the last shall be first, and the first last.” Peter reads off the photograph. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a bible verse,” Bucky tells him. “Written in the gospel of Matthew. It means that those who have prospered through wickedness will fail in the end and those who do good works will earn salvation.”

Peter and a few other officers stare at him, silent but judging in their expression. 

“What?” Bucky asks. “My grandma used to take me to church with her every Sunday when I was a kid.” 

You shake your head with a sigh and examine the photographs pinned onto the bulletin board. 

“Harold Tucker. Age forty-seven. Died October 6th.” you read off.

“Rebecca Reid. Age fifty-five. Died five days later.” 

“Louis Clark. Age forty-two. Died October 13th.” 

Bucky gasps. “And on Friday the 13th. What an unlucky day for her,” he shakes his head in pity.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you actually believe in that bullshit,” Tony growls as he approaches them. 

“I don’t,” he shrugs. “But it seems to be more than just a coincidence.” 

“Coincidence or not. They’re dead,” you deadpan. “Repeatedly stabbed in the chest and left to die.” 

“But the writing on the wall?” Peter asks again. “What does it have to do with them? They’re just ordinary people. Law-abiding citizens.”

“Did you run a background check?” Bucky asks, turning through papers in Louisa’s file. 

Peter nods. “Yeah, all clean. I think old Harry had a DUI somewhere but that’s about it.” 

“Maybe it’s something not written on paper,” Tony suggests, coming to stand next to you. “Something more personal?” 

“We all sin. Some more heavily than others,” he notes. “Maybe, the killer has his own sense of justice. He’s taking the law into his own hands.” 

“That’s highly unlikely,” you shut him down quickly. He glares at you. “In a city of over a million, how would you even know who to pick?” you question. “They aren’t mindlessly killing people. These are targeted victims.” 

“Y/N’s right, they must be connected in one way or another,” Bucky adds, “the writing on the wall speaks about justice but to the killer, it must mean more than that. It’s revenge. They are people who have done something to him and now it's his turn to get back at ‘em.” 

Rhodey shrugs. “Makes sense to me.” Tony elbows him in the arm. He looks at him confused. “What?” 

The captain sighs, returning to the board. “Moving on. Our lovely perpetrator decided to name themselves.” 

“The children of Oedipus,” Bucky finishes. 

“Oedipus was—” you started

“The man that killed his father and married his mother,” Tony interrupted quickly. “We know the story.” 

You huff, returning his earlier glare. 

“He had four children,” Bucky chimes in, trying to ease the tension between the two. “Eteocles, Polynices, Antigone, and Ismene." 

“Does that mean there are four killers?" Peter asks. 

You open your mouth to speak only to be stopped by the receptionist. 

“Captain, we found this box outside the station,” she walks to the group with it. “It’s addressed to you.” 

“Me?” he asks. 

She nods and hands him a plain cardboard box with a white name label plastered on the top. He takes it with a raised brow, looking at his comrades before ripping the tape off. He lifts the flap of the cardboard box to reveal a single Panasonic Cassette Recorder wrapped in a newspaper. 

He takes it out. “It’s a tape recorder.” 

Rhodey scans the newspaper. “This is today’s paper,” he states. 

“There’s a cassette inside,” Tony notes.

“Play it,” you tell him. 

He places it on the table and presses the play button. 

The black tape begins to roll and they all listen quietly to static, waiting anxiously for something to happen. 

“Heyo! It's me, Polynices!” a spritely boyish voice greets. 

“Don't forget me, Antigone!” a girl speaks from behind. 

"We are the children of Oedipus!" he informs with pride."Cursed from birth and doomed for destruction!" 

"Lemme guess your first question is who are we really?" Antigone asks. "Too bad, we can't tell you or it'll spoil all the fun.”

Tony scoffs with a turn of the head. 

“Now that we finally have your undivided attention and some new faces to help,” Your head whips towards Bucky to find him just as confused as you. “How about we play a game, huh?” 

"Let's play Cops and Robbers!” Polynices exclaims like a child. "Where you're the cops and we're the robbers. All you have to do is catch us. Sounds pretty easy right?” 

“Super easy!” Antigone chirps. “Since this is our first time playing, we’ll give you an easy riddle to catch us in the act.” 

"Let's see if you can get to 'em before we do, huh, Captain Stark?" she asks, her tone shifts dramatically from childish to taunting and dangerous. 

“Here's the clue for today,” she states. "What walks on two legs in the morning, then four at noon, and three in the evening and never stops?”  

“The hell does that mean?” Rhodey murmurs. 

“You have till midnight tonight to solve our riddle,” she states. You can hear the wicked smile in her voice as she speaks along with the devil snickering in the background. 

"Happy hunting!"

8:15 PM

Montague Apartments

Brooklyn, NY

Saturday, October 14, 1989

-

It's early morning, the sun comes out

Last night was shaking and pretty loud

My cat is purring, it scratches my skin

So what is wrong with another sin?

-

Music blasts from an old stereo that sat on the kitchen counter and bounces off the old stained walls of the apartment. High-pitched guitar riffs threaten the glass in the cupboards into cracking as the deep bass of the drums makes tabletops vibrate, rattling the objects around the house. 

Charlie, the orange tabby, digs his face deeper into the blanket left in a pile on the couch as the raspy voice of the lead singer screams in his ears. You sit next to him, slouched into the squeaky sofa, feet resting on the rickety coffee table, completely unphased by the music. Your eyes were glued to the wall that was stickered with photographs and red lines of thread twisted around thumbtacks running in every direction.

Three hours left and you still couldn’t figure it out. 

"What walks on two legs in the morning, then four at noon, and three in the evening and never stops?” 

Her voice echoes in your head. They both sound young. Filled with energy and a lust for blood. You were beginning to question yourself. Was there a motive behind it all or was it just a game like the Captain had stated? 

-

The bitch is hungry, she needs to tell

So give her inches and feed her well

More days to come, new places to go

I've got to leave, it's time for a show

-

Bucky walks down the hallway and catches the loud knock on the door. He opens it to find the landlady. A short, stout woman who swore she was still in her thirties, even when the wrinkles embedded in her face stated otherwise. 

The brunette leans against the doorframe and gives her a wolfish grin. His blue eyes gleam under the stale white light of the hallway, charming the old lady. Her heart beats rapidly like a teenage girl under his alluring gaze. 

-

Here I am, rock you like a hurricane. 

Are you ready, baby? 

-

“Mrs. P, how’s it going?” he asks smoothly. 

She straightens herself and clears her throat. “I’m fine,” she replies curtly. “I’ve been trying to catch you all day. I’m here to talk about the rent.” 

“The what?” he brings a hand to his ear, I can’t hear you! The music’s too loud!” 

He can hear her perfectly fine. 

“The rent! You have to pay me rent! It’s been a month!” she shouts over the music, “Please turn down your music! The neighbors are complaining!” 

“I can’t talk right now.  I’m in the middle of a very important case,” he replies, slowly closing the door. “It was nice talking to you though!” 

“No! No, wait!” she shouts before he shuts it in her face. 

He snickers as he crosses the living room and into the kitchen. He turns the music down, earning a snap of the head towards him. “Hey!” you protest with a shout.  

“Do you want the neighbors to murder us?” he replies, opening the fridge to find it like usual. 

Empty. 

He slams the door of the fridge in disappointment. There’s no real reason to be disappointed. Both of them were experts in neglecting their household chores.

“Y’know, we should go do some shopping soon,” Bucky says as he walks back to you. 

You grimace. “Someone is going to get murdered in less than three hours and you’re worried about food?”  

“Are you kidding me?” he retorts. “Look at me!” he exclaims, lifting his shirt to reveal a lean torso. “I’m all skin and bones! You’re starving me to death here!” 

You roll your eyes then get up. “I’m not your mother. Feed yourself.” 

“But it’s your job to do the grocery!” he protests with an accusatory finger. 

“Since when?” you ask incredulously. 

“Since we started living here,” he reminds. “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

You click your tongue, walking over to the pantry and take out a bag of potato chips. You throw them at his face and walk back to the suspect board. “Now shut up and let me think.” 

“Thank you,” he smiles warmly and you have a sudden urge to feed him a punch. 

He opens the bag and begins chomping. He comes to stand next to you in front of the wall. “So got anything yet?” 

“No,” you sigh. “You?” 

“You’re smarter than me, Sis,” he remarks. “If you don’t have anything, how do you expect me to?” 

“That’s not true.” 

Bucky snorts. “Whatever you say, Valedictorian.” 

“Shut the hell up, Salutatorian,” you smirked, side eying him. 

He bumps your hip with his, earning a chuckle from you. 

He enjoys the rare moments he can make you laugh. It makes him feel like a million bucks because if he can make the grumpy goth grandma laugh he can make every chick in the city laugh. 

"What walks on two legs in the morning, four at noon, then three in the evening and never stops?” You repeat for the umpteenth time. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the question that the Sphinx asked Oedipus outside of Thebes.” 

“I know that,” you replied. “But what does it have to do with us?” 

“The answer was man,” he takes another chip into his mouth. “And it ended up curing the city and made Oedipus king.” 

You hum bringing a hand to your mouth in contemplation. “Wait a second,” your hand falls. 

“What?” 

“The riddle. It’s different,” you dash over to the bookshelf, scanning through them to find the collection of Greek Tragedies by Sophocles given to you by an old professor friend. Bucky comes over and looks over your shoulder. Flipping through the pages and skimming through the words with a finger, you stop when you find the scene of Oedipus and the Sphinx. 

“See,” you show him the passage in the book, “here it’s a four-two-three progression. The stages of a man’s life. An infant in the morning, an adult in the afternoon, and an old man in the night.” 

“They changed it,” Bucky says. "That means the answer isn't man anymore.”  

"The "never stops" in Antigone's riddle was clearly added," you pointed out. "So they are alluding to a place that’s open twenty-four hours." 

"This is New York!" Bucky throws his arms in the air in exclamation. "The whole damn city is open all the time!" 

"Runs at two in the morning, four at noon, then three at night and never stops,” you repeat softly. 

Silence settles in the room as the two of you dig deep into the crevices of your mind. Unfurling through files and tidbits of information that could give even a minor lead. 

tick - tock - tick - tock

The clock echoes the beat of your heart. Eerily calm. Heavy and systematic. Achingly slow. Reminding you that every passing minute wasted here was the countdown to someone’s last. 

Bucky’s head whips towards the map of New York hung on the wall by the suspect board. The bag of chips in his hand drops to the floor as he makes his way to it. Your eyes follow him in confusion. 

"2-4-3,” he murmurs, scanning the map.

"What?" 

"2-4-3!" he exclaims, turning back to you with a dopey smile. 

"Speak words dumbass!" you hiss. 

"Don't you get it?” he asks, a chuckle coloring his word. “The 2-4-3!" 

Your eyes grow wide in epiphany. "The 2-4-3!" 

Bucky runs towards the door, yanking his coat off the hook on the wall. "C'mon, let's go!" he shouts. "We don't have much time!"

A/N: No, I have not been listening to 80s music for the past three days. 

TAGLIST (OPEN): @murdermornings @chuckennuggets1213 @miraclesoflove @marshyrebelcloud​ @fckdeusername @undiadeestos @spiderrpcrker @welovecaptainamericaass​ @flyingowls​

[pechoraflow]

Promptober Masterlist

So that I don’t spam everyone 😅 I will be updating this as I post the other stories, so check back in from time to time! For now, there’s just a few clues and teasers as to what you can expect... 👀

PROMPT ONE: Dragged - MCU Speaking Isn’t Easy 1933. Tony Stark is one of New York’s crime bosses, but when he develops a soft spot for local newsie, Peter Parker, the teenager suddenly finds himself the center of unwanted attention. Tony takes Peter in for his own safety, but when their casual friendship turns into something more familial, is Peter actually safer than he was before? (Mafia AU) Related works: With A Vengeance (see prompt 8)

PROMPT TWO: Injured - Overwatch The Sacrifice of Trust When Reinhardt and Brigitte find themselves pinned down and outnumbered in Numbani, Reinhardt is forced to confront everything he has to lose, and Brigitte gets a taste of what life is like for a hero of Overwatch. Honor, glory, sacrifice. Related works: none.

PROMPT THREE: Cruel - MCU & Venom A Simple “Thank You” Eddie and Peter escape from weeks of torture, only to find that something is wrong with Peter. It’s up to Eddie to take care of the teenage superhero while they wait for Stark to show up. Related works: none.

PROMPT FOUR: Water/Fire - Avatar: The Last Airbender Pilot Zumo has lived his whole life in secret, training with Azula for the day they would be required to join the war effort with their father. He expected an eventual coronation and a lifetime spent on the battlefield; he didn’t expect to stumble upon an untrained Avatar. Now, it’s up to him and Azula to get Aang to a water bending teacher. But are there any good waterbenders left in the world? (Reverse AU) Related works: (see prompt 27)

PROMPT FIVE: Dark - Original Work Dungeons Audeen has finally found Theo, but the real culprit behind his kidnapping takes her by surprise... Related works: Loss of Wings (see prompt 17), (see prompt 26), and The Lionheart: Honor

PROMPT SIX: Formal - Detroit: Become Human Medal of Honor Hank is awarded the Medal of Honor, and Connor couldn’t be prouder. The night goes as smoothly as can be expected. That is, until the lights go out. When Connor wakes, a few questions instantly come to mind: How could he have been kidnapped from a hall full of officers? What did these apparent low-level criminals want with a state-of-the-art prototype like him? How long was he unconscious for? Why hadn’t he been rescued yet? Related works: Scars of Valor (see prompt 13)

PROMPT SEVEN: Hands - Detroit: Become Human & Alita: Battle Angel Bleed and Break RK800 is the racer for illegal fights, RK900 is the racer for the legal ones. That’s just how it is - it’s how it’s always been. However, when RK800 is bester by the new racer, North, he discovers that might not be the case. Who is “Hank”? Who is “Markus”? Does he even know who he really is? Related works: Breaking Free (see prompt 11)

PROMPT EIGHT: Frail - MCU With A Vengeance Tony is on a manhunt, searching for whoever took Peter. Thinking Steve Rogers and his gang in Brooklyn are to blame, he set out on a warpath only to find that Rogers doesn’t have anything to do with it. Tony is left with nothing. No leads, no theories, no clues...nothing, and Peter is running out of time. (Mafia AU) Related works: Speaking Isn’t Easy (see prompt 1)

PROMPT NINE: Garden - Detroit: Become Human Overheating When Connor wakes with a fever, Hank takes it upon himself to try and take care of a sick android.  Of course, he has no idea how to do that, and Connor is no ordinary android. Is there something more serious going on? Related works: none.

PROMPT TEN: Fall - My Hero Academia Natural Opposites ??????? (Murphy’s Law) Related works: none.

PROMPT ELEVEN: Family - Detroit: Become Human Breaking Free Connor sets out to rescue Nines from Zlatko and finally reunite their whole family, but Zlatko is more sinister than they gave him credit for. Connor could still lose everything, more easily than he realizes. Related works: Bleed and Break (see prompt 7)

PROMPT TWELVE: Treasure - Detroit: Become Human Fallen in a Forest Hank was sad to see Connor move out of his home and into an apartment with his girlfriend, but they had four years together. And besides, Connor insists that he’ll visit all the time. He never does, and when he starts acting strangely, Hank takes it upon himself to try and figure out what’s going on. But maybe he’s imagining things - after all, Connor says that he’s fine, and Wendy seems nice enough... Something in his gut tells him to not let it go, and he didn’t become the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit history by ignoring his gut instinct. Related works: none.

PROMPT THIRTEEN: Loss/Reunion - Detroit: Become Human Scars of Valor Connor’s been missing for five days, but finally, the DPD manage to locate him. Hank demands to be allowed on the rescue mission, but he can’t shake the feeling Connor might be broken beyond repair. He just hopes he isn’t too late. Related works: Medal of Honor (see prompt 6)

PROMPT FOURTEEN: Red - Detroit: Become Human New Son Gavin Reed used to like Hank. Used to understand him. But then, Hank went and adopted a plastic. He’s not the same guy that recruited Reed way back when. But when Gavin is kidnapped while on a stakeout with the plastic, he finds himself wondering if Hank’s change of heart wasn’t so crazy after all... Related works: New Brother (see prompt 18) and (see prompt 29)

PROMPT FIFTEEN: Feral - MCU Keep Me Safe; I Dare You ??????? (Monster AU) Related works: none.

PROMPT SIXTEEN: Sweet - Detroit: Become Human Disconnect Hank is sick, and it’s up to Connor to take care of him. The only problem? Hank is very irritable when he’s feverish, and their relationship is still delicate. Connor finds himself navigating an emotional minefield, but what else is new? Related works: (see prompt 20)

PROMPT SEVENTEEN: Wings - Original Work Loss of Wings Clover is captured by bandits. Unfortunately, sprite wings make popular accessories for the nobles... Related works: Dungeons (see prompt 5), (see prompt 26), and The Lionheart: Honor

PROMPT EIGHTEEN: Bruises - Detroit: Become Human New Brother When Gavin and Connor are kidnapped by a new drug ting and taken to the middle of nowhere in Michigan winter, Gavin finds himself having to rely on Connor. Gavin isn’t happy about it, but they’re in it together. They’ll get out of this together. Connor has different priorities. Related works: New Son (see prompt 14) and (see prompt 29)

PROMPT NINETEEN: Horns - Detroit: Become Human Lies and Illusions ??????? (DnD AU) Related works: (see prompt 22) and (see prompt 28)

PROMPT TWENTY: Tears/Fracture - Detroit: Become Human Recalculating ??????? Related works: (see prompt 16)

PROMPT TWENTY-ONE: Forgotten/Stars - MCU A Hundred Times Before ??????? Related works: none.

PROMPT TWENTY-TWO: “You deserve this...” - Detroit: Become Human Oaths and Truths ??????? (DnD AU) Related works: (see prompt 19) and (see prompt 28)

PROMPT TWENTY-THREE: Protect - MCU Red and Blue Blood ??????? (DBH AU) Related works: none.

PROMPT TWENTY-FOUR: Sweater - Detroit: Become Human Blue Christmas ??????? Related works: I Trust Myself to be Deadly

PROMPT TWENTY-FIVE: Sunflower - Detroit: Become Human Runway Run Away ??????? Related works: none.

PROMPT TWENTY-SIX: Leaving - Original Work The Logical Conclusion ??????? Related works: Dungeons (see prompt 5), Loss of Wings (see prompt 17), and The Lionheart: Honor

PROMPT TWENTY-SEVEN: Scars - Avatar: The Last Airbender The Storm ??????? (Reverse AU) Related works: Pilot (see prompt 4)

PROMPT TWENTY-EIGHT: Run - Detroit: Become Human Past and Present ??????? (DnD AU) Related works: (see prompt 19) and (see prompt 22)

PROMPT TWENTY-NINE: ???? - Detroit: Become Human New Father ??????? Related works: New Son (see prompt 14) and New Brother (see prompt 18)

[foreverevanescent]

Nightmare from the Past (Chapter 4)

Nightmare from the Past (Chapter 4)

           “So wait, you and Danielle spent two hours after school in the library talking about some comic book?” Clover asked, with Sam nodding with her face covered in a deep blush and a love-struck smile. Clover was driving Sam to her date with James at his apartment with Alex sitting next to her in the front.

           “Yeah, since we were both there, Danielle decided to move our study date to after school, and it was amazing. We spent two hours together, and I was even able to talk to her…sort of,” Sam explained, holding the Demon Slayer manga with her arms close to her chest as if it was the most valuable item she ever owned.

           “That’s great Sammy, you’re making progress. It’s only a matter of time before you’re talking about your day in a nice little apartment while you two are waiting until after college to get married,” Alex responded, leaving Sam and Clover in a state of surprise.

           “How…did you know that’s what I’ve been wanting for a relationship with Danielle?” Sam asked, hoping that what she was thinking wasn’t the answer.

           “You talk really loudly in your sleep, and cover your pillow in a lot of drool,” Alex admitted, scratching the back of her neck while chuckling. Clover actually managed to hold in her laughter and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

           “Anyway, it’s really cool that you’re actually able to say something to her as opposed to hiding behind your purse. Now…you have to go with James,” Clover said with a grimace that matched Sam’s.

           “I know. God, this is one of the worse things Jerry ever had me do,” Sam grumbled to herself in the back seat of the car, lightly banging her head on the headrest of the chair. A few minutes later, they arrived at the apartment complex where James lived. It was a very lowkey apartment complex, which was painted beige with white patio fences, and each building was only three stories high each.

           “This is where he lives?” Alex asked, looking around to see whether or not there was more to the complex.

           “You’d figure that a villain like him would want to live in a mansion or something like that,” Clover thought to herself before Sam shook her head.

           “He’s such a cheap ass. He took me to cheap restaurants, and most of our dates were stuff we could do for free, like running, going to the park, stuff like that. I’m not surprised that he would get a place like this,” Sam answered with venom in her voice, bringing back memories that were worse than she originally thought.

           “OK Sammy, breathe. You need to last at least long enough to find something suspicious,” Alex said, rubbing Sam’s back. Sam took a few deep breaths before nodding and looking at the apartment complex with a determined look on her face.

           “You know Sam, imagining that James is Danielle would work too,” Clover teased in a sing-song tone, causing Sam to blush and turn to her with a glare.

           “I would never insult Danielle or her beauty by connecting her in any way to that douchebag,” Sam said, in a tone that was soft but venomous, glaring at Clover. Clover chuckled uncomfortably before giving her a couple of pats on the shoulder.

           “I was just kidding, Sam. But seriously, we’re here for you if things go to shit. We’re going to be at a department store across the street, so call us on your Compowder if you need us,” Clover said before she and Alex gave Sam a good luck hug, which Sam returned with vigor.

           “Thank guys. Well, I guess I might as well go inside,” Sam said before she took a couple of deep breaths and opened the door to the apartment complex in front of her, giving Alex and Clover one last wave before they walked to the department store. Sam went up a couple of flights of stairs to the third floor, and she walked to the middle of the hallway and stopped at a door on the right. Sam took a few deep breaths to stop herself from punching James in the face the minute she saw him and knocked on the door. A few seconds later, James opened the door and brightened up when he saw her.

           “Samantha! I’m so happy that you made it. I thought you had changed your mind,” James greeted, giving Sam a hug. Sam’s face twisted into a grimace, but she managed to twist that grimace into a smile.

           “Thanks…,” Sam said, trying to sound as sincere as she possibly could. James let her go and invited her into his apartment. When Sam went in, she was surprised by how…ordinary the room was. There was nothing really special about his apartment. The walls were still white, there weren’t many plants or pictures around, and the furniture was just simple black leather couches and wooden chairs and tables for the kitchen. “Did you just move into this place?”

           “Yes. It was a cheap place nearby, and I liked how it was away from the noise of the city, so I decided to move in here since it was only me,” James responded before walking up to Sam and putting an arm around her neck while holding a drink in his hand. “Unless you change your mind and decide to move in,” James flirted, which Sam responded to by rolling her eyes. She opened her mouth to tell him to back off, but took what seemed like her hundredth deep breath of the night, and relaxed.

           “We’ll see how the night goes,” Sam mumbled before she ducked down and moved out of the way of James’ arm. James simply smiled back and went back to the kitchen.

           “Would you like something to drink?” James asked.

           “Yes please, but I don’t want any alcohol. Do you have any Sprite?” Sam asked, looking around the house for anything suspicious, but there wasn’t anything that popped out to her. But maybe if she went to his room…

           “Of course,” James smiled back, before grabbing a Sprite bottle from inside the refrigerator and pouring its contents into a small glass with a couple of ice cubes. James gave her the drink, which Sam grabbed and looked at it.

           “Thanks,” Sam said, looking at the inside of the cup. It looked like just an ordinary amount of Sprite. There was no discoloration, no odd odors, nothing that would indicate a poison. While James was still in the kitchen, Sam pulled out her Compowder and scanned her drink for any poisons. However, the scan came back negative, so she put her Compowder away, and took a sip out of the cup. James came to the living room with a flatbread pizza on a plate and put it in the middle of the coffee table in his living room.

           “Samantha, why don’t you come here so we can eat?” James asked as Sam was standing by a support beam near the kitchen.

           “Well…uh…I actually have…to go to the bathroom,” Sam said, sweating a bit from nervousness, before drinking the rest of the Sprite in her cup, including the ice. James nodded and got up to point her in the right direction.

           “Of course, it’s the 2nd door to the right, right next to my room,” James said, pointing to the door to the bathroom. Sam nodded and walked to the bathroom, turning around when she arrived at the bathroom door, seeing that James had returned to the sofa in the living room. Sam moved away from the bathroom and went inside James’ room. When Sam did, she was surprised to see that the only things in there were normal; a bed with a green blanket, a couple of pillows with red pillowcases, a nightstand, a lamp, etc.

           “Hmmm…” Sam hummed, before looking at a closet. Sam knew that there was always more than meets the eye, so she opened the closet, expecting to find some plans to steal something valuable. However, what she saw in there sent a chill up her spine and made her feel sick to her stomach.

           What she found in James’ closet could best be described as a shrine to her. There were pictures completely covering a bulletin board, and all those pictures were of her. Most of the pictures were from their time dating, such as when they went to an amusement park, or when they went out running. However, as Sam looked through the bulletin board, she noticed other suspicious-looking pictures. Some of these pictures were of Sam not looking at the camera or barely in the range of the camera. However, what made her heart stop was a few pictures of her in the shower and underdressed. A couple of those pictures appeared to be taken last night, given she recognized the clothing she was wearing the night before.

           “Wh…wh…what the hell?” Sam asked herself, putting a hand over her mouth to prevent the vomit from shooting out of her mouth. Sam backed away from the shrine, still shaking as if she were in Antarctica completely naked. She pulled out her Compowder to try and call Jerry, but she felt a hand grab her Compowder.

           “Hello Samantha,” James said, looking straight at Sam with a lustful look in his eyes and a sick Cheshire smile on his face.

[heavensauras]

MIMI GRANT AURA | SKY SPRITE | SHE/HER | EIGHTY-SEVEN | BISEXUAL

defining traits

( + ) charming, personable, flirtatious, optimistic, confident, creative

( - ) cowardly, flighty, sensitive, dependent, haughty, begrudging, fake

biography

She was born Marie Grant, but she was always their little Mimi — a fitting name, for it was most of what she’d she’d grow to care about; me, me, me.

Her father was a widower; her mother bore the shame of a divorce behind her. Together they began a new chapter, but their love was one that found them later in life. By the doctors’ words, conception at her age was nothing short of a miracle. Mimi was their miracle, and they raised her to know it. She was destined for things beyond the ordinary, they affirmed. Lackluster crayon drawings of stick figures were framed like masterpieces, hung with pride in the hallways. Songs chirped off-pitch received thunderous applause. With mediocrity exalted, there was no need to try, so she never chose to, and they’d never dare force her.

Shielded by a set of parents whose love was strong enough to cripple, her heart was kept safe for a long, long time. The world was such a hard, cruel place.. They only wished to soften parts of it for her, to offer her comfort in the form of pretty white lies — that the family dog left to live on the dog farm, or that she really could go to princess school when she grew up. Any tear she shed was quickly wiped away, and soon forgotten as her attention was redirected somewhere shiny and new. She’d never solved a problem, never faced a consequence. When trouble found her, she had but one maneuver — to pull out her perfected pout, let the tears fall, and pray someone who knew better would save her. They always did, and she never learned a thing.

The Grants had been at the cross section of hard work and good luck after emancipation, among the few Black families in Georgia fortunate enough to acquire property. Her father inherited a small farm outside of Atlanta, and it was on that farm she was raised, gazing out her bedroom window at crops of peanuts, pecans, and blueberries. Of course it had been assumed that any child of theirs would lend their hands to the farm — but an hour of her work, hasty and careless, often required an extra hour of her father’s, as he doubled back and corrected her mistakes. Soon enough, she was no longer asked to chop wood for the stove, or weed the fields. It was better for all of them that way, and the indoors had always suited her better. She found joy in sneaking sprays of her mother’s perfume bottle, slipping into her coat, trying on her ring, and dreaming of a life that was soft and warm and easy and beautiful, dreams her heart had latched onto long before her mind could find the way there.

She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been out to the barn; the scent alone was enough to keep her far from that edge of the property. The day the flames brought it to the ground, she’d been safe in her room, trapped only in the daydreams of a sixteen-year-old girl while her parents, trapped inside. 

In hearing of their deaths, she learned what it meant to be shattered. She’d never cried a tear that one of them hadn’t wiped away, and for weeks, she cried an ocean. Taken in by an aunt, her mother’s sister, in that house she was no longer a miracle, but a burden — another child to feed in a family of six already.. and one who couldn’t make a bed, or scrub a pot, or fry an egg. Gone were the days where her burnt toast received glowing reviews; what she faced instead was a barrage of sharp critiques her sensitive heart didn’t know how to process through any means but tears.

Most days, something would leave her crying — a memory of mom and dad, a snide comment from her aunt, a suspicious whisper exchanged between cousins as she passed in the hallway. She grew accustomed to fixing her mascara in bathroom mirrors, wiping black smudges from under her eyes each time she lost control. That new waterproof formula surely made more sense. She bought her first tube, and it lasted through the tears — but no one had warned her it would sting as she slicked it over her lashes, or how putrid the smell was, or how she’d have to scrub her eyes until they burned red to take it off. All that work, for what? Just in case she’d cry? And if she didn’t, then for nothing? If given the choice, she’d always defer discomfort, and so every day she’d make a bet with herself she knew she’d lose as she reached past the cry-proof tube for the easier choice — and every day she found herself wiping away those telltale black smudges.

The Grant estate fell to her as she came of age, and she made quick work of selling the farm. She’d never be able to sustain it, and her parents surely wouldn’t want the land wasted. It was the right thing to do, she reasoned, to put it in the hands of a family who’d cherish it. How convenient, then, that the sale of the property would also pad her pockets comfortably. Had she been a practical woman, she’d have had the funds to live a modest life without worry. Of all the names she’d been called, practical was never among them. Her heart bore a hole in the shape of a family, incomplete without the support she’d always known. Perhaps money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could fund a distraction. The city called to her, and under Atlanta’s lights she found an overpriced apartment and drowned her sorrows in silks, champagnes, and unadulterated excesses, spoiling herself too silly to even remember to be sad.

She never lost the blind confidence that she’d succeed at whatever she chose to try; her parents could be thanked for the cliche. As she saw the way men and women alike fawned over those beautiful girls in the photos they pinned up, with their ruby lips and coquettish grins, she decided that was what she wanted to be, too — a model. She was beautiful. She knew it as simple fact, even took it for granted, and like a fool, she assumed beauty was all it took. No one had told her, before she stepped on set for her first booked shoot, that it really was work — that it hurts to hold those poses in high heels, that the lights are scalding and the hours are long, or that the photographer’s job is to tell you everything you’re doing wrong until you run for the back door in tears.

She darted for the alley out back, desperate for fresh air and a moment to dry her eyes. It was there that she met him, an executive for the cosmetics brand she was surely busy disappointing, with his tie in a perfect Windsor knot, a cigarette on his lips, and his eyes mesmerized. By her. “They don’t know what they’re talking about in there. Just look at you — you have this aura about you..” She didn’t know what it meant, exactly, but as his thumb brushed away a tear from her cheek and his, she knew that all she’d wanted was to be looked at like that, to have someone wipe her eyes and call her something spectacular. It brought a smile back to her lips, brought color back to a world that had faded to monochrome black-and-grey. He wanted to help her, and if she was good at anything, it was being helped.

They abandoned the shoot hand in hand, down the alley and to a neighboring bar for a drink. One mai tai turned into another, her flirtatious giggle bouncing off the lounge’s walls as she slipped easily back into the familiarity of being fawned over. In the coming weeks, a relationship would bloom between the two of them — one that could’ve been plucked right from those sixteen-year-old daydreams she’d lived so comfortably in. She abandoned her overpriced apartment, making a home in his instead. By day she lived a life of leisure and ease, gossiping at the beauty salon and shopping at exclusive boutiques while he holed away at his office. Each night was a new society event they’d light up together, and in the beginning, the role of arm candy had been the cushy lift her ego had needed. She took naturally to being shown off, and he’d introduce her to society folk with glowing compliments, telling charming anecdotes as they sipped from champagne flutes. 

It would take years for her to realize the way he recycled all of those compliments with every woman he met, that she’d heard his dull, predictable anecdotes so many times they might as well have been her own. She’d set out to be loved. Instead, she’d become another pretty thing on his shelf, mistaking possession for adoration while the void she sought to fill remained hollow and empty. She wanted out, but what would happen when she cut the cord? She’d be back to fending for herself, back to a world of mascara-stained handkerchiefs and an empty apartment? What little courage she had was far from enough to have the difficult break-up conversation. Instead, she and her cowardice sought to push him away, to force him to leave her. She was sour where she’d once been sweet, bitter in the places she’d once let him savor her, a brat with demands the size of the world — and he paid her so little mind as a person that, so long as she shone like the diamond he’d polished her into, he didn’t care what frivolous nonsense she spouted. She got away with it all, and it only further infuriated her. 

She’d find the guts to break it off soon, she’d keep telling herself, moving the goalpost with a nervous gulp every time she failed to muster the nerve to follow through. She’d do it after their dinner date with the Thompsons.. No, after the gala the following week.. No, after their weekend in Palm Beach. She was sure of it.

She said little to him the day they boarded the yacht party, making a point of icing him out in favor of the starlets and models whose light she hoped to absorb. As the storm carried them away, dizzied and terrified, she thought only of her own survival, and as she pulled herself from the wreck on a deserted island, he was nowhere to be found. Perhaps she should’ve felt anxious, should’ve ran the island’s shores in search of him, but all she could feel was relief that she’d never have to have that difficult talk with him at all. He was gone, and the only guilt she felt was about her lack thereof. When her fellow survivors asked about the man she’d boarded with, about her shocking indifference to his disappearance, she’d tell them, “we barely even knew each other,” and she knew there was enough truth in that lie for her to believe it herself, too. 

It took but one look upwards at the sky kingdom for the blurry memories of him to fade to black.

The sky sprites were everything she’d ever aspired to be, had everything her fantasies were built from. They were the answer. She’d been a fool to think that human pleasures could ever make her feel whole again, that there was a solution to her problems out in the cold world that had created them. No, she’d always been meant to live somewhere softer, amongst the clouds, where there were no sharp edges on which to prick herself. She found her family in the skies of Caelum — a group that knew their worth, who saw that she did, too, and loved her for it. Amongst them, she ascended, and Aura was born.

She took naturally to Caelum, her ego as large, fluffy, and delicate as the clouds she lived amongst. She wanted nothing more than to fully embrace the powers of the heavens, but none of the sprites had told her just how difficult it would be — that it required diligence, perseverance, training. It was work, and each gust of wind she tried to summon left her more flustered and frustrated than before she’d begun. It was easier to simply not — to sit back and let the other sprites show off, basking in the fruits of their labors rather than embarrassing and exhausting herself with her young, fledging magics. 

It was a cruel trick of the universe, she’d lament, that the barrier had sealed her away before the world could see the way she now sparkled. From the little cloud she liked to rest atop of, she’d sing of the injustice of it all, how she dreamed of the day the island’s walls would fall for long enough for her to fly back to the real world — and as they finally do, she remains frozen on that very cloud. She simply has so much to teach these new humans, she’ll reason with a laugh; to leave now would be a disservice to them. But what does a sprite whose powers can be outmatched by an angry wind have to teach? Not a thing, but she’d never dare let the humans know she’s done little more than twiddle her thumbs for sixty-five years, while her equals can move mountains. Instead, she purses her lips and bolsters herself the way she always has, convinced by pure will alone that, before her first audience as a sprite, she will dazzle.

headcanons

A majority of her powers are very, very weak. She’s generally unwilling to exert the energy it takes to strengthen or use them. Her strongest are all relatively superficial — manipulating the sky and wind’s colors, summoning glittering stars, and floating, either on her own or while lounging on a cloud. During the times all of the sky sprites are doing things together, like lifting a plane over to the Wrecks, she’s usually faking it — like when you’re moving furniture, and there’s that one person who’s just pretending to hold the corner of the couch, without actually carrying any weight. That’s Aura.

Because she usually gets around by floating, she’s grown relatively clumsy on her feet over the last sixty-five years. Her leg muscles are weak, and will often buckle under her. Naturally, she finds it quite embarrassing, and will almost always choose to float, unless she has no choice.

She’s more likely to forget before she’ll forgive. She’s often flitting from one thing to the next, and will more often than not simply forget about a disagreement she’s having because her emotions are so caught up in another one. She’s a very resentful person, and her old grudges will often manifest in pouty comments whenever she happens to remember how someone wronged her.

potential connections

found family: Her Caelum family!! Aura has never felt more at home than she does in the sky kingdom, so I’d love to explore where her relationships with her fellow sky sprites have gone.

fellow passengers: I’m also super interested in seeing how she’s gotten along with the others from the 50s yacht! Maybe she met them that day, or maybe she already knew some of them from previous society events, etc. Would love to explore how that group bonded together after the accident, and how those bonds have changed as everyone went their separate ways and joined their kingdoms.

enablers: She’s notorious for doing The Least while simultaneously being The Most, so I’d love to explore the connections with sprites who inadvertently enable this kind of behavior by helping her out with things when she asks/charms/flirts/pouts/wears them down.

frenemies: She’s incredibly social, and generally friendly to most.. but she also looks down on most, and absolutely talks shit behind every one of her friend’s backs. Gimme some on-again-off-again friendships that Aura absolutely fucks up on the regular!!

migraines with aura: Ok this is just an excuse for some dumb wordplay and I’ll OWN IT!! You know the “aura” that comes just before a migraine? Like a warning sign that you’re about to be in a world of pain? Gimme someone that thinks of her like that lmao, that she’s an absolute headache.

human interests: The responsibility of turning a human is probably something that’s too much for her right now, as she barely knows how to take care of herself, but I’m sure she’s very curious about what she’s missed in the outside world and is eager to befriend and gossip with the new arrivals. And, of course, she wants them all to think she’s ethereal and otherworldly and all that.

flings: She’s a fickle-hearted flirt at her core, and she craves attention like Tinkerbell. I’m sure she’s had various flames throughout her time on the island.

[lady-divine-writes]

The Prince of the Sea and his Child of Fire - Chapter 4/15 (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is a water sprite, prince of the undersea kingdom and sole heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen and his big coronation, he decides to take a journey to the surface, to seek out a legendary flame said to be tended by an evil witch. Instead of a witch, he finds something else entirely ...

Kurt is a fire fairy, prince of a race of fire fairies and heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen (on the night of a full solar eclipse when he will transform and become king), he sees for the first time in his life a water sprite - a member of a race that he's been raised to hate.

What will happen when these two mortal enemies fall in love? Is there any way for them to escape destiny and be together?

Read on AO3

Chapter 4

Kurt wants nothing else in the world but to fall straight to sleep. Every inch of his body, every crumb of his thoughts cries out for it. But it’s elusive, evades him at every turn. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the water sprite fly backward, flame scorching his eyes, tongues of it curling at his skin. He hears the sprite’s friend yell out, sees him plunge into the water after him, trying to rescue him. But Kurt fears it was all for naught. He knows fire. On numerous occasions, he’s seen what it can do, how destructive it can be.

Kurt knows it was more than likely too late.

The stunning creature with the luminescent golden eyes is gone from this world, never to return.

And it’s all Kurt’s fault.

He falls to sleep once he comes to terms with that and cries himself out, but wakes a few short, far-from-peaceful hours later, his pillow soaked in tears.

Night has only begun to touch the crest of the hills when Kurt departs the palace and heads for the cove. Even though in his head he’s convinced the sprite is dead, his heart holds out hope a bit longer. Either way, he needs to know once and for all.

He can’t wait any longer.

All he can do is tend the flame and hope the sprite returns. Or maybe his friend. Someone who can tell Kurt what happened after they disappeared into the sea.

Kurt circles the cove once, letting the blanket of night fall further before he approaches the flame.

“You are back early, my son,” Elizabeth says when she sees Kurt return. “It is not yet completely dark. The gold of sunset still lights the horizon. You need your rest, especially now.”

“I know, Mother,” Kurt says, trying hard to hide his red-rimmed eyes and his puffy, tear-stained cheeks. “But I could not sleep, what with the eclipse coming soon.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth smiles proudly at the young prince. “You’ll finally come of age and you will be king, as you were always meant to be.” Elizabeth bends over and looks deep into her son’s blue eyes. “Oh, my darling. Have you been crying?”

“M-maybe a little,” Kurt stammers, biting his lip, praying his mother doesn’t ask what he’s been crying about. There are no words to explain why he’s weeping over the fate of a water sprite - one of their mortal enemies.

“Oh, dearest!” She takes him under her arm. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’ll do a wonderful job as king! I have complete faith in you!”

“You … you do?” Kurt asks, surprised.

“Of course! I always have!” she says, squeezing him tightly. Kurt gazes at his mother’s face, at her rosy cheeks and her pale skin that absorbs the very essence of the fire and lights her from within. His mother’s assumptions at his capabilities are definitely a relief … but how capable is he really when he’s failed what could be seen as his first unofficial test as a ruler? “Now, have a good evening, my love, and think no more about it. The eclipse will come soon enough. Enjoy your last few nights of freedom while you can.”

Kurt smiles at his mother when she kisses him on the forehead, the fire from her lips leaving a mark on his skin like a star. But in his chest, his heart cracks.

If this is freedom, then becoming king will be a prison, and he doesn’t want it.

His mother lets him go and takes off into the sky, noticing nothing out of the ordinary about her eldest son. He watches her leave with tears in his eyes, trails of golden light following her as she heads home to the palace. When she is gone from sight and he is utterly alone, he slumps into a heap and begins to cry, tears streaming down his face and falling into the water as the bright orange sun sets.

 ***

Blaine sits on the finger of a sea fan, far above the highest tower of the castle, within inches of where the rays of sunlight reach. He stays in that spot for the remainder of the day, watching the light retreat, leaving him alone as nighttime falls. It seemed like only a few hours ago he was above the surface, hunting down the answer to the greatest mystery in their kingdom - his final adventure before he becomes king.

And now, he’s giving himself a second chance.

He doesn’t take Trent along with him this time. His poor friend needs his rest. Blaine owes Trent his life, and this is how he’s chosen to repay him, by not dragging him along on anymore foolish and possibly deadly escapades. Besides, Blaine wants the chance to be alone with the fairy – to watch him from a distance, perhaps even to talk to him if he plucks up the courage.

Blaine leaves as soon as the sea loses light. He takes a different path to the surface but breaks through the water in roughly the same spot. The cove looks the same, as if time had stopped when he left it - the same dark, foreboding trees; the same pool of still water; the flame flickering in its place on the branch. But instead of singing this time, Blaine is beckoned by the sound of crying.

Blaine follows the sound back to the log that blocks access to the small pool and there he is – the same fairy, lying across the low-hanging branch, weeping into the water. Blaine hears the sadness in his voice, feels it seeps into his chest, and his heart tightens.

He doesn’t want the fairy crying. He’s far too divine a being to cry.

Blaine considers calling out to him, but he doesn’t want to frighten the fairy. His first instinct is to swim carefully up to him, but there are too many obstacles barring his way. He starts climbing up onto the log, but he catches his foot on a knot and falls face first into the water. The sound of splashing captures Kurt’s attention and his head pops up. He rises to his feet and runs to hide behind the flame.

Blaine immediately drops down into the water for protection.

“Please!” he calls out. “Please, don’t burn me again!”

Kurt gasps at the water sprite’s plea.

Burned him! Kurt thinks. I did burn him! But … Kurt peeks through the flame to get a better look … from what I can see, he looks fine. What if it’s a trick?

Kurt wants to know more, find out this sprite’s intentions, but he needs to stay on his guard. He creeps out from behind the fire, only showing himself halfway. “Did I … did I really burn you?”

“Only a little,” Blaine says, swimming closer. “But I’m better now.”

Kurt watches the sprite tread water, drifting into the reach of the light. From this distance, Kurt can see the burn across Blaine’s forehead, the slight singe on the skin of his eyelids.

“Oh!” Kurt throws a hand to his face. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s all right,” Blaine says, waving a hand. “I heal pretty quickly, don’t you worry.”

Kurt nods, but the look of sadness on his face remains, and Blaine wants so much to be the one to remove it.

“What’s your name?” Blaine asks.

Kurt opens his mouth to answer, but quickly shuts it again. “I don’t know that I should tell you,” he says, standing close to the fire for comfort.

Why not?” Blaine asks, keeping his distance even though he wishes he could move closer.

“Because names have power,” Kurt explains, “and if I tell it to you, you might use it to control my mind, drag me into the water and drown me.”

Blaine stares at Kurt for a moment, then bursts out laughing. Kurt frowns, taking great offense at the insolent sprite’s rude reaction.

“Who in the world told you that?” Blaine asks once he catches his breath.

“It’s a legend,” Kurt says defiantly. “Something that fairies just know.”

“Something fairies just know, huh?” Blaine ducks down beneath the water to soothe his drying skin.

“Yes. Aren’t there any legends below the water where you come from? Stories that give you knowledge to guide your steps and keep you out of danger?”

“Actually, yes,” Blaine admits.

“Like what?” Kurt crouches down (against his better judgement) to hear the water sprite better.

“Well, water sprites just know,” Blaine starts, swimming to a point on the branch farther away from the fire than Kurt stands, “that this fire here is tended by a scary, ugly witch!”

“What!?” Kurt barks. “But … but I …!”

Blaine laughs again, shaking his head as the fairy glares at him. “You see? Some things that we just know aren’t necessarily true.”

“Maybe,” Kurt agrees, “but if you’re not here to lure me down below and kill me, then why are you here?”

Blaine goes quiet. Frankly, he didn’t know himself. He had a good reason for coming up the first time. He’d been curious. But why did he feel the need to come back? He hadn’t really been able to answer that for himself other than he needed to see the fairy again.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t.

“I … I wanted to talk to you,” Blaine says. “I saw you last night, and I didn’t get to say hi.”

Kurt’s lips quirk in confusion. “You came all this way to say hi?”

“A-ha.” Blaine raises an arm out of the water and extends it Kurt’s way. “My name is Blaine.” He hopes that offering the fairy his name first would be construed as an act of trust. Kurt looks at the sprite’s arm, at the droplets sliding down his skin, falling into the water. Each one hitting the surface sends a shiver down Kurt’s spine. Blaine raises his eyebrows, waiting for the fairy to take his hand and shake it. “And you are …?”

Kurt looks Blaine over, not sure about taking his hand. It seemed like asking for trouble. One hard tug and Kurt would be plummeting into the water, never to be seen or heard from again. But his eyes fall on the burns on Blaine’s face, and he knows he can’t deprive the sprite of his name at least for the pain he has caused.

“Kurt,” he says, withdrawing back behind the fire with only his head poking out. “My name is Kurt.”

“Kurt,” Blaine repeats, smiling when he does. Such a simple name, but it seemed to fit. Blaine liked it. He liked it a lot. “Well, Kurt …” Blaine reaches the branch and attempts to pull himself onto it “… I …”

“Kurt!”

“No!” Kurt groans in disbelief. “Not now!”

Blaine lets go of the branch. “Who is it?”

“It’s my sister!”

“Oh,” Blaine says with a twinge of disappointment. “Should I come back another time?”

“No! Don’t go! Just … just hide!”

“Okay.” Blaine sinks beneath the water, finds an area of thick weeds to hunker down in.

“Kurt!” Rachel calls, landing on the branch right as Blaine disappears.

“What?” Kurt returns to the flame, drawing Rachel’s eyes with his movements so she doesn’t spot the disturbance in the water.

“I noticed that the flame looked dimmer than usual,” she comments, picking up a handful of leaves and tossing them into the fire. They curl and crackle, devoured by the flame, but the fire doesn’t change or grow, not at all amused by Rachel’s amateurish efforts.

“Did you?” Kurt mutters, picking up a few petals and tossing them in, smirking when the flame rises high, outdoing his sister by a mile.

“Yes. So I came down here to make sure it was okay, and that you weren’t letting it go out. You know what will happen if you do.”

Kurt takes a step, twirling on his toes and tossing more petals into the fire. “No,” Kurt says sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“The water will rise up!” Rachel raises her arms over her head, trying to coax the fire into climbing for her but with no success. “It’ll wash over the land, sweeping every last one of us into the sea!”

“Oh, how awful! If only we could do something to escape the rising water … like fly away …” Kurt flaps his wings for emphasis, sending up silver sparkles much brighter than any Rachel has managed to conjure. The fire flickers as if laughing. Rachel’s mouth twists unpleasantly as she watches Kurt dance, all the while Kurt wishing she would just go away.

“By the way, who were you talking to?” Rachel asks, hands on hips, accusation in her eyes.

Kurt stops dancing. “Nobody,” he says sternly.

“Oh but I heard you talking to someone,” Rachel insists.

“As you can clearly see, there’s nobody here.” Kurt opens his eyes wide and gestures around. “So maybe you’re hearing things.”

Rachel quirks her lips and attempts to stare her brother down, but Kurt stares right back, challenging her to blink first.

“Fine. Then teach me a few more steps.”

Kurt sighs, rolling his head on his neck and staring up at the stars. “Not tonight, Rachel.”

Rachel stomps her foot. “Why not!?”

Kurt glances at the water behind Rachel and spots Blaine’s face peeking up at him from below the surface.

“Because I need some time alone,” he says. “To think.”

Rachel follows Kurt’s gaze, turning towards the water, but Kurt races around her to block Blaine’s face.

“To think about what?” she asks suspiciously, leaning to see around her brother’s body.

“Too much to tell. I’m going to be king soon and I have a lot on my mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t believe you!” she whines, stomping her foot again and sticking her nose in the air. “You’re hiding something from me and I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is!”

Not a chance, he thinks. As much as Kurt loves Rachel, he can’t risk her finding out about Blaine. Rachel is the closest thing Kurt has to a best friend, but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.

It doesn’t matter anyway since Blaine isn’t a secret that he wants to share.

“I don’t care what you believe,” Kurt says, gathering a ball of flame from the fire. “I want you to leave, and now you’re going to go.”

Rachel’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates when she sees the fire in Kurt’s hands – a trick she can neither do nor deflect. “You wouldn’t!”

Kurt raises his arm and Rachel shoots into the sky like a rocket, that obnoxious trail of pink following her as she leaves. He watches her zip away, making sure she makes it out of the cove safely, then tosses the ball of flame back into the fire and dusts off his soot-covered palms.

“That was … that was incredible,” a quiet voice says from behind him.

“Hmm?” Kurt turns to see Blaine emerge from the water. He pulls himself onto the end of the branch, farthest from the fire, and stares at Kurt with awe. “What was?”

“The way you made that ball of fire. Could you always do that?”

“Yes and no,” Kurt says, re-claiming his seat beside the flame. “I could always hold fire. Turning it into a ball took me a little while to learn.”

“Can other fairies do that?” Blaine asks, scooting a bit closer to Kurt.

“No.” Kurt tries his best not to sound conceited, though his ability to handle fire is one of the things he’s most proud of. “It’s a talent that only members of the royal family have, and right now, one only my mother and I possess.”

Blaine stops scooting, and his jaw drops. “You’re royalty?”

Kurt moves closer to Blaine. “Yeah,” he says, though this he doesn’t sound quite as proud of. “I’m a prince,” he reveals with a sigh. “And on my birthday, I’m going to become king.”

“Wow.” Blaine moves again. “And when’s your birthday?”

“In five days. During the solar eclipse.”

“That’s really interesting. Because you see, I …” Blaine’s hand brushes Kurt’s, his wet skin hissing when it touches Kurt’s warmth.

“Because you what?” Kurt asks, mesmerized by the sound, the tingle on his flesh.

“I …”

Leaves rustle in the trees overhead. A large shadow passes with a trail of rose gold blazing behind it.

“Oh, really, Rachel!” Kurt snarls as the shadow makes another pass. Thinking quickly, he shoves Blaine into the water. The tingle settles in his palms. He closes his fists around it to hold onto it longer.

“Wha---what is it?” Blaine sputters, bobbing down fast, expecting something to swoop in and grab him.

“Oh, nothing! Just that my sister told my mother on me!”

“Gotcha. I’ll come back tomorrow night then.” Blaine disappears without giving Kurt a chance to say yes or no, and in his veins, Kurt’s blood boils.

“Kurt! Where are you?” He hears his mother search for him from the bough beside the fire, and for the first time he notices that the spot where he and Blaine were sitting is pretty much shielded from view of the sky. With any luck, his mother didn’t catch sight of Blaine at all.

But luck hasn’t exactly been on his side lately.

“Yes, Mother?” Kurt calls, taking a few steps forward and dropping into a dutiful bow.

“Kurt!” Elizabeth rushes for her son, concern in her voice. “Rachel says you were having a problem and that I needed to come right away!”

Kurt’s eyes find his sister, smiling smugly and sticking her tongue out, thin arms crossed over her chest. The boiling in his blood rises to his eyes and they begin to burn.

He turns those burning eyes on his mother, fighting hard to soften the glare. “Yes, Mother. I do have a problem.”

“Oh? What is it, my son? Tell me.”

“My problem is … I don’t get any peace! Night after night, my sister finds need to come down here and bother me! Soon, my time here will be done! I will be king and the freedom I have - the little I have - will be gone! I asked for one night to myself - one night! - and she couldn’t give me that!”

Kurt’s mother stares at him, expressionless, but that’s usually when other fairies would have need to fear. Her face becomes blank when she’s thinking through her next move. Kurt isn’t sure how his mother will respond to his confession, but when her face glows red, he takes that as a bad omen.

He holds his breath.

“Rachel!” His mother yells for her daughter, who has since dashed away.

“Y-yes, Mother?” Rachel says, cowering in the bushes, less cocky now that her mother’s steely eyes are fixed on her.

“Did your brother ask you to leave him alone?”

“Well …”

Elizabeth’s eyes flash wildly and Rachel whimpers from her hiding spot.

“Maybe. But I …”

“Yes … or … no?” Elizabeth asks, and Kurt actually feels sorry for his sister – though not much.

“Well … yes, but …”

“But nothing!” the queen roars, raising a hand to silence her daughter. She looks back on her son with sympathetic eyes. “Kurt, I apologize for the behavior of your sister. If you are willing to bestow upon her your forgiveness, I will personally ensure that she does not leave the palace again until your coronation. What say you?”

“I forgive her,” Kurt says, bowing low, not a line on his face betraying his inner rush of triumph. “Thank you, my queen.”

“No. Thank you, my son.” Elizabeth kisses Kurt on the top of his head. “We will leave you to your thoughts.”

Kurt nods, raising his eyes once more to his sister, rising up slowly from her hiding place.

“Rachel!” their mother snaps. “You will come with me! And since you are so eager to be up and about when you should be resting, we will start your lessons early. Now, in fact!”

The queen flies off toward the palace, Rachel following behind. Rachel peers over her shoulder and spies her brother, waving with a patronizing smile on his face, returning to his dance around the flame.

She grits her teeth, trembling from head to toe as she silently plots her revenge.

[zeldauniverse]

I warned last time that we were now heading into a decline in The Legend of Zelda TV series’ quality. That was certainly the case from the mediocre “Stinging a Stinger,” which followed the contrasting and excellent pinnacle of the cartoon, “Underworld Connections.”

“Hitch in the Works” continues this trend, skirting dangerously close to becoming the most boring episode in the series. Thankfully, the episode is saved somewhat in the final sequence, but overcoming the filler beforehand is a trial that even Link would hesitate to pursue.

Doofing around

Link tells Doof about his plan to simultaneously drop his cleaning duties and win Zelda’s affection. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

There is a surprisingly ominous opening to this episode, with a castle door slowly opening and a suspicious shadow being cast across a dimly lit room as foreboding music plays. As it turns out, the mysterious figure is just Link sneaking around, navigating his way out of North Castle to go fishing before Princess Zelda can find him and force him to do chores. It’s a fun and compelling little opening sequence while it lasts, but things quickly become much less engaging from here.

Zelda inevitably finds Link and orders him to get back to his duties. Link avoided chores before in “Cold Spells,” wherein he faked a cold to avoid the labor. He doesn’t get off so easily this time, which is unfortunate for both him and the viewer as watching him bumble around the cellar is a chore in itself.

Allow me to quickly run you through the first half of this episode to save you time and boredom: Link does chores. Link meets a robot. The robot breaks. The robot belongs to a man called Doof, the castle handyman and Link’s friend. Doof fixes his robot. The robot makes a mess. Moblins arrive and break the robot. Link fights the Moblins. Doof fixes the robot again. The robot collapses yet again and Link is scolded by Zelda for goofing off. Link resumes his chores. We’re now halfway through the episode, but this robot seems important, right?

It isn’t seen again for the remainder of the episode.

Far too much screentime is given to Doof’s robotic cleaning servant, which contributes very little to the episode.

It’s not that I wouldn’t be open to seeing more slice-of-life scenes in this series; it could be a refreshing change of pace to watch Link and Zelda spend more time at North Castle, rather than adventuring in Hyrule or the Underworld. The problem is that nothing interesting happens in the first two-thirds of this episode, and certainly nothing that makes me think, “This is The Legend of Zelda.”

As for Doof himself, he is similar to Sleezenose in the previous “Stinging a Stinger” episode: a non-canon character with a single-episode appearance and very little to offer the series. Despite the amount of screentime Doof has, he has very little relation to the final Underworld sequence, which feels incredibly detached from everything that leads up to it. In other words, everything that occurs before the final five minutes of the episode feels like filler.

Zelda overhears Link’s plan to make Doof’s fake Moblins capture her and decides to play along.

After Link is done cleaning up the assaulting Moblins, Doof’s robot crashes into him, rendering Link unconscious. Zelda wakes Link up and accuses him of sleeping on the job, refusing to believe the castle was ever under attack. Link, still determined to get out of doing his assigned chores, asks Doof if he can use his magic and craftsmanship skills to make some fake Moblins. Link’s plan is to fool Zelda into thinking she is being captured, giving him an opportunity to “save” her, win her affection, and get out of his cleaning duties. Unfortunately for Link, Zelda overhears his plan, and when real Moblins attack again, neither of our heroes attempt any resistance against what they perceive as Doof’s manufactured minions. Following this error in judgment, Zelda is kidnapped more easily than ever.

Thank Hylia for Ganon, who’s about to save this episode from all of the tedium endured so far.

The princess bride

Ganon’s Jewel of Control is designed so that anyone who wears it obeys the evil wizard’s orders.

With the princess in his clutches, Ganon plans to use his new device, the Jewel of Control, on her. This is a necklace that forces the wearer to obey all of Ganon’s orders. Ganon announces to Zelda his plans to marry her so that he may become the new ruler of Hyrule, and while she initially and unsurprisingly refuses in disgust, she promptly agrees as soon as the Jewel of Control is placed on her. Like the Force Field Ring in “Doppelganger,” the Jewel of Control is another item that is exclusive to the TV series and not based on any of the items from the games, but it feels like a plausible enough device that may be used by a Legend of Zelda villain.

Link inevitably arrives to crash the wedding, but Zelda isn’t in a hurry to be rescued after becoming a slave to Ganon’s command. She insists on marrying Ganon, which confuses Link and puts a halt on his escape plan.

Having Zelda hypnotized into serving Ganon introduces an interesting dynamic for the series that, unfortunately, isn’t explored enough

Having Zelda hypnotized into serving Ganon introduces an interesting dynamic for the series that, unfortunately, isn’t explored beyond Zelda mindlessly agreeing to get hitched. If only the episode hadn’t wasted so much time before this point, the Jewel of Control’s influence on Zelda could have had much more potential. It would have been fun to see Zelda conform to Ganon’s orders as his new servant, stealing the Triforce of Wisdom from North Castle under the guise of the ordinary Princess Zelda, and being forced to fight Link. It’s an interesting concept that feels squandered and rushed by being crammed at the end of a dull and failing story, rather than being used as the core of the adventure as it deserved.

Let’s not lose our heads, though

When Link’s rescue mission goes south, Ganon summons the Gleeok for a rematch against Link.

Ganon has an ace in the hole to deal with Link’s interruption and unleashes a familiar face (or three) from “Kiss ‘N Tell,” the Gleeok. The heads of the Hydra-like hellion aren’t as talkative this time around, roaring in anger rather than blathering amongst themselves. It makes sense, of course: Link made a mockery of the Gleeok last time they met, and there is no time for goofs as vengeance burns in all six of those eyes. It may not sound exciting to watch Link repeat the same fight as before, especially after already watching him battle the commonplace Moblins and Stalfos to reach this point, but there is one aspect of this fight that makes things incredibly entertaining.

After avoiding the beast’s incoming flames, Link zaps the Gleeok three times. A successful series of Crissword zaps usually results in enemies vanishing back to the Evil Jar, which is the case here — but only the creature’s body disappears. The Gleeok’s heads remain, flying through the air, chasing Link, and spewing fiery breath in his direction. This is a special moment, as this is what happens when Link fights the Gleeok bosses in the original Legend of Zelda game.

This time, the Gleeok enters its second battle phase, with its detached heads flying furiously at Link.

Fighting a Gleeok is a little more graphic in the game — at least technically. The simplicity of the game’s sprites and animations help keep the gory details of Link’s battle vague on the screen, but the game’s manual says, “Heads that Link cuts off from its body fly around in the air.” Rather than having Link sever the Gleeok’s heads with his blade, which may have been too violent for a children’s cartoon, the TV series cleverly gets around this by instead having Link using sword zaps to make the Gleeok’s torso disappear.

With the heads furiously flying toward Link and relentlessly hurling flames at him, Link decides to avoid confronting them directly. Instead, he runs toward Ganon, luring the heads to crash into their master and explode upon impact, allowing Link to take Zelda and escape back to the surface.

There aren’t any new enemies introduced in this episode, but there is something very familiar about the monster who presides over Ganon’s wedding ceremony. This Grim Reaper-like figure looks almost identical to the Magician from The Adventure of Link’s artwork, with the purple cloak, white skin, red eyes, and lined face making the appearance uncanny.

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The wedding scene from the “Hitch in the Works” episode of the TV series.

Official Adventure of Link artwork of the magician (courtesy of Zelda Wiki).

From a Zelda lore perspective (within a non-canon story notwithstanding), it could also be interpreted as a Wizzrobe with a scythe. Either way, the creature is never addressed by a name or title, so it’s assumed to just be a generic creature that resides in the Underworld. The influence of the visual appearance is very clear, however, and makes sense considering that the TV series’ production team was likely given many materials to work from, including official Zelda game artwork. It feels like a fun little homage, even if the context is vague.

Hitch your wagon elsewhere

Ganon looks about as bored as me watching this episode. At least he made the right decision to shake things up toward the end.

There isn’t a whole lot more to say about “Hitch in the Works,” especially as the majority of the episode is very forgettable. Zelda doesn’t get the chance to engage in any action this time around, and even her role as a mind-manipulated damsel is dull and underplayed. As is a common problem within the TV series, the dialogue isn’t particularly inspired, either. Link delivers the most lame and slapdash comeback ever when arriving at the wedding and giving his reason why the couple should not be wed: “Yeah, I got a reason. And here it is: Back off, Ganon!” Speaking of Ganon, however, he remains the best part of this series and is the saving grace of this episode.

We still have another poor episode to go before the series picks up in quality again, but let’s not end this review on a downer. After all, I may have been a bit harsh on “Hitch in the Works.” That’s right, I lied: There is one magical moment aside from the Underworld battle. I don’t need to describe it to you. Just observe the animated GIF below.

https://zeldauniverse.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/tv-series-episode-10-hitch-in-the-works-link-shield-bomb-jump.mp4

"Thankfully, the episode is saved somewhat in the final sequence, but overcoming the filler beforehand is a trial that even Link would hesitate to pursue." The Legend of Zelda TV series retrospective: Episode 10, ‘Hitch in the Works' I warned last time that we were now heading into a decline in The Legend of Zelda…

[hmratking]

Did you have any “silly” beliefs as a kid? Where did they come from (parents, friends, out of nowhere, etc)?

I believed many things as a kid. I believed that I could be anything I wanted to. I would create stories to pass the time and I believed that I was a sprite, a fairy, an alien child, a child of power, a child of light, a child of darkness. I believed that I was the daughter of the Goblin King, I believed that I was a Knight of the Future, the counterpart of the Power Rangers. 

I believed that the sky was dark and the mountains were red and magenta and violet and blue. I believed that the world around me was magical, I believed that the people around me were hiding inside the mundane bodies they had and that one day, they would emerge to show their true selves. 

I believed that people could start dancing and singing in the middle of normal scenarios. I believed that villains existed and that the only thing that no one could take away from us was our smile. I believed our smiles were the most powerful things that could keep us aware, alert, and simply us.

I believed in so many things as a kid, as a teen, and I still do as an adult. Where did they come from? My mind. My need to feel extraordinary in an ordinary world. They came from movies and books. They came from songs. They came from being pushed aside because I was too “weird” for everyone else. They came from being bored. They came because sometimes I had no one to play with and talk to. And when I did, they bored me. I was thinking of magical creatures and intergalactic battles! They were thinking boys and kissing and sex. 

I believe that I am still that magical child. And one day, I will go back home to my people, the magical star people, who are waiting for the day that their child returns, with many tales and many adventures. There’s nothing silly about it. 

Thanks, hon @loveherdekay

[nalufever]

Opportunity

Chapter Two of The Night Shift, a collaborative work between myself and @hidetheremote

AnS fandom, Obi x Shirayuki, hopelessly late posting for ‘Trope Madness’ 

One of Obi's faults is that he's gallant, always wanting to help those less fortunate - and some people (Torou) take advantage of his foolish, soft heart. Good thing Shirayuki is always in Obi's corner.

Read Chapter One HERE

Fifteen years ago…..

Garbage whipped by a bitter wind skittered past a cold and shaking Obi. Winter had hit hard, the snow was piling up fast. If he’d had free time and the urge he’d have made a snowman - but he didn’t and couldn’t waste energy on such a frivolous activity. Obi needed to find shelter and he was running out of time.

Tall for his age and thin, most people assumed he was an adult and left him to his own devices. Obi was barely able to feed himself, let alone clothe himself. His jacket was half as old as he was - and badly patched. It didn’t keep him warm from the snow that threatened to freeze his bones as he scrounged for work. Not wanting to burden his few friends with overstaying his welcome, Obi refused to take advantage. He moved from friend's house to friend's house, keeping his secrets close to his chest.

A newspaper carried by the strong wind hit him in the chest with a wet thump, startling Obi into reflexively grabbing it. An article jumped out at Obi, one that mentioned a food kitchen looking for volunteers. It was close - and that was the best news he'd had all day.

The first person to greet Obi was a short but bouncy, red-headed sprite of a girl. “Hi! I’m Shirayuki, what’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Manners are very important!”

The young girl pouted and Obi couldn’t help but tease. “On second thought, you’re right. Manners are what separate humans from animals, Miss. Please accept my apologies for my lack of priorities. My name is Obi.”

Shirayuki smiled and Obi’s worries and fears started fading. He’d have a hot meal and maybe start to rebuild his life; this girl was beaming at him so brightly he felt invincible - his guiding star had to be on the rise. Obi accepted a tray from the girl and portions of everything available, waving goodbye to the little Miss and then searching for a good spot to sit and eat.

In the far corner away from the door (which every time it opened sent more cold snow and air swirling into the room), Obi sat with his back to the wall at a table with another girl of roughly his own age - also with her back to the wall. Intent on feeding himself, Obi tore open the bun and slathered butter on it, ripping a big portion off with his first bite. He chewed and did his best to keep his appreciative moans and smacking lips to a minimum.

“Oi! Keep it down!”

“Sorry-not-sorry.” Obi shoved a giant spoonful of stew into his mouth and turned his head to look with suspicion at his table mate. “Mrff sppr anfry.”

“Gross. You always talk with your mouth full?”

Obi swallowed and sighed at the girl. “I’m super hungry.”

“Nice to meet you, ‘super hungry,’ I’m Torou.” The girl - Torou - flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder and batted her matching brown eyes at Obi coquettishly. “First time in a place like this?”

“Is it that obvious?” Obi sat more upright and pretended to not be guarding his food. “I’ve been doing alright for the most part. I don’t like to have to accept help, but I-I’m having a hard time.”

“We all are, every person here has it tough.” Torou pulled out another bun from her pocket and a couple more packets of butter, pushing them at the thin but cute teen. “What about a real name?”

“Ugh, yeah - sorry. You can call me Nanaki.” Obi crammed the rest of his bun into his mouth, grabbing the offered bread to shove it into a pocket for later. He chewed and swallowed. “Thanks, Torou, I haven’t eaten since…I’m not sure.”

“I could tell.” She giggled, twirling strands of her hair around one finger, leaning closer. “Well, maybe we can help each other.”

“You got more food in your pockets? Don’t you want to eat that?”

“Silly boy, I’m talking about taking opportunities and turning them into cash.”

><><><><><

Present day….

Obi checked his phone and again Torou had texted him, begging for one more chance. Enough was enough. He’d done lots of stupid things when he’d been young and homeless - and now Obi was poised to finally have a date with Shirayuki. There was no way in hell he wanted to screw his chances.

He sighed, about to shut off his phone, but it chimed - this time a phone call from Torou. Voice pitched low and aggravated, Obi growled, “What do you want?” The hallway was too full of distractions so Obi sped to the stairwell and slumped against the far wall.

“I still want what I was asking from you at the Greenhouse.” She was clearly amused. “I’m gonna keep working on you until you cave. One little, tiny favour is all I ask - you could do it in your sleep!”

“Maybe fifteen years ago, but I’ve changed - and I thought you had too.”

“What’s that old saying? A leopard doesn’t change its spots?” Torou’s laugh was high and shrill. “I’ve shed some of my spots - but there’s one big one that just won’t budge. Tomi won’t let me escape so easily.”

“Tomi, still?” Ire and disgust coloured Obi’s tone.

“Don’t say it like that, I gave up most of that when he got sent away.” Torou’s voice got thin and small, in direct contrast to how she’d laughed only seconds ago. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice.”

“Ugh… Dammit.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“I’m not saying yes, but it looks like I can’t say no.” Obi rubbed his forehead. “My shift is pretty well over. Where are you?”

“I’ll text you the address. And Obi...don't end up like me.”

Obi heard Torou sniff and end the connection. Stomach roiling with old fears, new doubts and a fair amount of anger for Tomi, Obi shoved his phone into his pocket and made tracks for the parking lot.

><><><><><

“Pssst!” Torou yanked Obi’s arm as he walked past where she’d been lurking. “Come here often?”

Obi grimaced, turning to face Torou as she started giggling. He growled, “I didn’t come here for my health or any of your lame jokes. Why don’t you come with me and we can discuss your problems in my car? It’s too cold out in the open.”

“Didn’t know you wanted to get cozy.” Torou batted her eyelashes and licked her lips. “Giving up on Shirayuki? ‘Bout time.” She held onto his shoulders, almost leaning against him.

“As if. Your antics leave me even colder than the weather.” Obi shrugged away from Torou.

“Spoilsport.”

“Yeah, well -”

Torou’s phone chirped and she shushed Obi to look at the message she’d been sent. The blood drained from her face and she gasped, shivering, absently rubbing her gut. All her previous flirtatiousness behaviour died. “The job is a go - right now.”

Obi watched Torou shrink in on herself. As much as he didn’t want to assist her - he felt obligated. He’d never seen her so distraught before, not even when she’d been threatened with juvie. “And never again.”

“Sure, sure.” Torou pulled herself together, turning back into a capable thief in the space of a heartbeat. “Joint’s been cased thorough, I need you to get me inside, my talent will crack open the safe.”

“Fine, I open the door and leave.”

“Not so fast, two heads are better than one, right? I could use an extra set of eyes and ears - just in case.”

“Sounds like it hasn’t been cased proper.” Obi folded his arms and glared. “You need me to help search for the safe, don’t you?”

“Tomi stops digging once he sees what he wants.” Torou shrugged, jamming her hands into her pockets. “Especially if he can send someone else to do the real work.”

“Fucking unbelievable.”

“I promise, never again.” Torou gave a subtle head nod to the garish green house on the corner. “C’mon, time’s a wasting!”

><><><><><

It was regretfully easy for Obi to bypass the electronic locks on the back patio door; fifteen years hiatus on his break and enter skills hadn’t been enough to set any rust on them. Dammit. One more careful motion and the physical lock popped open. Obi slid the door open and motioned to Torou. “Hurry.”

“Don’t get your panties in a knot.” She blew on her gloved fingers. “We both search - upstairs first - there’s only three bedrooms on that floor. Behind big ugly paintings first and closets second.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” Torou blew Obi a kiss before tiptoeing down the hall and running up the stairs, knowing her unwilling partner would soon follow once he explored the main floor. His habits were part of his charm.

Obi scowled as he stalked through the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary - it was well maintained and decorated nicely - if a bit old-fashioned. He shuddered - lots of big floral patterns and an excessive amount of plaid where they’d run out of room for roses. There was a wood burning fireplace too - currently unused - flanked by an antique set of wrought iron tools.

Obi met Torou leaving the bedroom closest to the stairs; she shook her head. “A kid’s room. It’s gotta be the second or the master bedroom.”

“You take the master then, most likely it’s not the second - but I’ll check it out.”

“Okay.” Torou gave Obi a mock salute. “You haven’t missed a trick even after all these years.”

“But I’d like to,” he muttered, “forget all about this and the dumb stuff you pulled me into.”

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Torou taunted Obi with a wink and another blown kiss.

“That’s only if Tomi didn't steal them first.” Obi rubbed his forehead and walked towards the second bedroom, slipping inside. Nothing on these walls except more giant, ugly, cabbage roses on the wallpaper. Ugh! So old-fashioned. Was this the house of a grandma from the 1950’s? The closet door was in contrast overly new looking - and the right size for a custom walk-in. Could be the safe was here instead of in the master.

Only one way to find out - Obi drew open the closet door and did his best to staunch a horrified gasp. No safe, but lots and lots of adult...gear. Whips, chains, what had to be porn magazines, several squirt bottles of lube and items he thankfully could not easily identify. He shook his head and shuddered. Fucking hell.

Suddenly aware he’d zoned out, standing in front of what could fully stock an orgy, Obi made to shut the Pandora’s box of porn - but a heavy tread stumping up the stairs made his flesh crawl and his blood chill. Too late to run to warn Torou… A split second later, Obi made up his mind and jumped into the closet, sending a frantic text to Torou. <>

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He anxiously watched his phone, expecting Torou to text him back - but no answer. Shit. Was the homeowner bludgeoning Torou as he cowered amongst the pleather outfits and massive battery driven toys? Shit. Obi held his breath - the carefree, loud footsteps were getting louder. His stomach plummeted. Somebody wanted a little something-something before getting some sleep.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi secured his phone and waited in the farthest corner of the closet, poised to take action. The door was yanked open and a hand rummaged inside - through long familiarity no doubt - reaching with unerring grace for the flesh pocket - and shut the door. Obi slumped backward in relief. Thank all the unholy sex gods and goddesses.

Shit - now did he try to save Torou from the horny homeowner or escape? Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi strained his ears - nothing. No horrid buzz of an adult toy - no heavy footsteps - no screams. He said a little prayer and pushed the closet door open the smallest amount he could to see out of - and about felt his soul leave his body.

The horny homeowner was sitting on the spare bed looking through his mail - the waiting lurid plastic lips of the fleshlight leering at Obi. Jesus, lord love a duck. At least the guy's head was bowed and he’d missed seeing a surprise visitor pop out of his closet. Obi didn’t know what to hope for - the horny guy going to town on himself, or sudden merciful death.

Torou texted Obi. <>

Several things happened at once. Obi’s phone signalled itself with a snippet of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance, horny homeowner bolted off his bed, still holding his mail, looking around wildly. “What the fuck!”

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Obi yanked his balaclava down to obscure his face, blindly taking the closest item to hand and bolted out of the closet. Fast, so fast - sprinting like the wind - but the horny homeowner managed to tackle Obi. Obi felt a sharp, burning pinch and then he twisted, bucking off the guy who was screaming bloody blue murder. Slamming the door behind himself, Obi used the bullwhip he'd grabbed, jamming it like a doorstop to keep the irate man a little occupied while they escaped.

“Go, go, go!” Obi ran past Torou who was cradling her ill-gotten goods in a nondescript gym bag.

“I’m going!” Torou hissed. “New much?”

“Never again!” Adrenalin kept Obi and Torou running outside into the bare glimmer of dawn - Obi towards his car and Torou - she jumped into a waiting white van that zoomed off before she’d even fully landed in the passenger seat. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Obi ran into the semi cover of a bush - slowed his headlong rush into an ambling power walk and uncovered his face. Nothing said ‘up to no good’ like a balaclava pulled down on a guy fleeing in the dark. He’d fucked up but he could repent at leisure once he was safe.

Obi hustled down the alley to his car, unlocking it, smiling at the cheerful chirp and slid inside behind the wheel. His back spasmed - fire erupted in his nerves. What the fuck? He felt his back as best he could, fingers coming away sticky - with something god-damned familiar.

><><><><

“Gimme a damn minute!” Shirayuki pulled on her bathrobe and belted it tight - the idiot pounding on her door was obviously drunk - and she’d have to kick his ass to curb without her pajamas. Barefoot, she stomped over to her front door, quickly checking that her door was on the chain. “What the hell is wrong with you? Some people are trying to-” she yanked open the door as much as the safety chain allowed, her angry tirade dying as she met Obi’s glazed eyes in his pale face.

“Mostly, what’s wrong with me, is I’ve been stabbed.” Obi gurgled a listless chuckle and collapsed.

[seriestrash]

Jackson Street Gym

Summary: AU where Cyrus doesn’t know where TJ works and stumbles across him there by chance. Requested by anon [x]

Time frame of this AU: Same as the actual scene, whilst Buffy is away.

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 1979

It’s Saturday morning and after staying up until the early AM working on a science project, Cyrus is not thrilled to be waking up only a few hours later. He’s even less enthused about his wakeup call being delivered by a five year old jumping on top of him. 

“Hi, Cy, Hi, Cy, Hi, Cy!” The young boy chants as he bounces on his knees on Cyrus’s bed. 

“Hi, Mason.” Cyrus sleepily greets his step brother. “When did you get here?” 

“Mommy just dropped me off.” Mason finally stops his jumping. 

Cyrus looks at the digital clock on his nightstand and groans at it only being a few minutes after six in the morning, meaning he barely got three hours sleep.  

“Dad and Leslie said we get to spend the day together and it’s going to be so much fun!” Mason excitedly hits Cyrus in the arm. 

“Yay.” Cyrus’s fake enthusiasm was not winning him any awards. 

Cyrus sleepily drags himself out of bed and into the kitchen where Leslie gives him a sympathetic smile as she pours him cereal. 

“I didn’t know Mase was coming over this weekend.” Cyrus was so tired that he missed his mouth after trying to take a mouthful of his breakfast. 

“Kelly’s sister went into labour early so she dropped him here.” Leslie explains why Mason is here on a weekend that he’d normally be with his mother.

“I’m getting a new baby cousin.” Mason is enthusiastic as he bounces around the kitchen. 

“Yeah you are, buddy,” Todd picks up Mason and spins him around, “Why don’t we put your bag in your room and let Cyrus have a chance to wake up properly?” 

“Okay.” Mason seems disappointed as Todd carries him out fo the room. 

“I know you were up late last night, Cookie but-” Leslie begins but Cyrus cuts in. 

“Nooo.” Cyrus groans. 

“Honey, I know but Todd and I both have patients all day.” Leslie looks apologetic. 

“I love Mason but he’s so exhausting,” Cyrus sighs, “And I’m already so exhausted.” 

“You could take him to the park or that kids gym on Jackson Street and he’ll tire himself out by lunch.” Leslie suggests. 

“That is some optimistic thinking.” Cyrus yawns knowing full well the chances of tiring out that pure energy ball were slim.

Cyrus gets dressed for the day as Mason was already eagerly nagging him about doing something fun. Cyrus had nothing against his energetic step brother it was just that they had very little in common - with him being five and all - and Mason was known to be spritely and considering Cyrus’s lack of sleep, the full on day did not sound ideal. 

Cyrus decides to take Mason to the Jackson Street Gym as it was a controlled environment and therefore easier to keep track of the bouncy kid. The two are walking down the street together when Mason spots the sign and runs ahead. 

“Be careful of the road!” Cyrus chases after him but is uncoordinated with his efforts and trips over, scraping both his palms up in his attempts to catch himself from falling.  

Cyrus picks himself up just as Mason barrels into the gym. Cyrus stops to assess his tender hands that were scraped pretty badly and beginning to bleed. Although his injuries stung, Cyrus has little time to stand around and think about them as he had to catch up with Mason. 

Once inside the gym, Cyrus freezes when he spots Mason bouncing up and down - nothing out of the ordinary there - what actually surprises Cyrus is the person bouncing along excitedly with him. It’s none other than TJ Kippen. Scary turned not-so-scary basketball guy. Or, super-kind-to-me-but-not-always-to-Buffy basketball guy. A concept which leaves Cyrus conflicted about their friendship now that Buffy has moved away. 

In a panic Cyrus takes a purposeful dive behind a stack of safety mats. Once crouched behind them, Cyrus begins to wonder just what his plan was, what was next? He’d hide there forever and abandon Mason? Hope TJ leaves before Mason questions where he is? Cyrus is dwelling over his lack of viable choices when two familiar faces peek around the mats to look at him. 

“Hey, Underdog.” TJ says with a crooked smirk. 

“Whatcha doing, Cy?” Mason questions. 

“Hi,” Cyrus says still in his crouched position with a little wave, “I was just playing hide and seek. Mase, you win..” He offers up unconvincingly. 

“Hey, did you hurt yourself?” TJ asks concerned after noticing Cyrus’s injury when he waved. 

Cyrus faces his palms towards himself, both of which were still bleeding. “Oh,” Cyrus says as he gets to his feet, “I just tripped over outside, it’s nothing.”

“Hey, Mason, why don’t you go play with some of the other kids and I’ll help your clumsy brother here clean up?” TJ says with a smirk meant for Cyrus although it was pointed at the younger boy. 

Mason happily joins in with the other younglings and TJ leads Cyrus to the back after telling one of the older workers he was helping a friend out. The two teens are inside the staff room where TJ wets some paper towel and helps Cyrus clean his palms gently. 

“So what’s the verdict, am I going to make it?” Cyrus asks. 

“I think you’ll survive.” TJ says with a chuckle as he throws away the damp paper towel. He then takes Cyrus’s hands and looks over his palms again. “We have some decorative band-aids if that will make you feel better?”

“I wouldn’t say no to something with dinosaurs on it...” Cyrus jokingly fakes being sheepish. 

TJ wears a knowing look as he reaches for the first aid kit. Then he rather excitedly reveals a box of band-aids. Cyrus’s mouth hangs agape and he takes the small box in his hands, “They’re shaped like little tyrannosaurus rexes.” 

“For your dino-sores.” TJ laughs softly as he takes the box and points to the pun on the label. 

“Well I’d hate to bleed out.” Cyrus says goofily and he holds out his palms. TJ obliges and places a green dinosaur band-aid on each of Cyrus’s scrapes. 

“There, all better.” TJ says with a grin. 

Cyrus is smiling at the decorative dino on each palm when TJ continues, “I didn’t know you had a little brother?” 

“Step brother technically,” Cyrus explains, “But yeah, we’ve been brothers since he was one.” 

“So you two must be pretty close then?” TJ asks.

“Not exactly.” Cyrus frowns. “We don’t have much in common.” 

TJ laughs at this, “Cyrus, he’s five, you’re not supposed to have stuff in common, you’re supposed to have fun.” 

“I suppose working at a kids gym makes you the expert?” Cyrus folds his arms. 

“It helps,” TJ laughs, “And so does having younger siblings myself.” 

“You do?” Cyrus asks. 

“Yep, twins, a boy and a girl, making for the most hyperactive duo. I also have an older sister so I have experience being the younger sibling too.” TJ explains. 

“I did not know you came from a big family.” Cyrus says, “I also didn’t know you worked here.” 

“And here I was thinking you were stalking me.” TJ jokes. 

“You’re full of surprises, TJ.” Cyrus says with a titled head and fixed gaze causing TJ to look away nervously. 

“Mason seemed pretty excited when he first got here.” TJ tries to shift focus off himself. 

“Mason is excited about everything.” Cyrus states with a laugh.

“Maybe so, but he was particularly excited about having- how did he put it?” TJ pauses for a second and smiles, “Super mega fun time with his big brother.”

“He said that?” Cyrus asks with a smile.

“In his eyes, you’re the coolest person he knows.” TJ pats Cyrus on the shoulder. 

“He clearly doesn’t know a lot of people.” Cyrus scoffs and TJ rolls his eyes at Cyrus’s negativity.  

“From one big brother to another, they all think we’re the coolest.” TJ leans in closer like he was letting Cyrus in on a secret. 

“You’re also a little brother too.” Cyrus highlights with a raised brow, “Is your sister the coolest person you know?”

“God no,” TJ scoffs, “I’m old enough to know better,” He laughs, “She takes way too long in the bathroom.”

Cyrus chuckles along at this.

“So.” TJ says nervously after the room falls silent, “I should get back to work.” 

“You probably should.” Cyrus laughs with a nod. 

“There’s a parents room out the back where the mom’s and dad’s all sit around and read magazines or talk about their kids,” TJ explains with a look of boredom, “But you’re welcome to hang out the front with me and Mason and about a dozen other kids.” 

“Is that allowed?” Cyrus questions. 

“Of course.” TJ nods. “You could maybe finish that game of hide and seek?” 

Cyrus’s cheek burn red under TJ’s knowing look. 

“If I was an insecure guy I might have thought you were avoiding me.” TJ adds more sheepishly. 

“What, why would I be avoiding you?” Cyrus scoffs dramatically although he intended for it to be casual.

TJ and Cyrus make their way back out into the gym where Mason pounces on Cyrus. With TJ’s comment about not having to have things in common rather just have fun in Cyrus’s mind, he lets himself enjoy the quality time with his brother. It also wasn’t terrible spending the day with TJ either, more so very enjoyable and any guilt Cyrus felt about Buffy was lost in the moment. 

After some fun and games - and a whole lot of chasing Mason around - Cyrus is beginning to feel his three hours of sleep catch up with him. 

“Does this place have a nap time?” Cyrus asks with a yawn. 

“It’s a gym, Underdog, not a daycare.” TJ laughs, “Why are you so tired?”

“I stayed up late working on my science project.” Cyrus explains. 

“But that’s due on Monday?” TJ wears a quizzical look. “You stayed up all night on a Friday to work on an assignment that isn’t due until Monday?” 

“Yes?” Cyrus is confused over what the big deal was. “I’ve been working on it all week, I just put the finishing touches on it last night.. Or this morning depending how you look at at...” 

“I haven't even started mine.” TJ shrugs nonchalantly with a laugh. 

Cyrus winces at this, it hurt his academic achieving ways. 

“Going by the look on your face I’d say I better start it tonight and not leave it until tomorrow like I had planned?” TJ chuckles. 

“I think that’s a good plan.” Cyrus nods with a smile. 

Mason joins the pair of teens and tugs on Cyrus’s arm. 

“Hey, Mason, are you getting tired yet, you maybe want to go home?” Cyrus looks at the boy hopefully. 

“No!” Mason runs a circle around TJ and Cyrus. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Cyrus frowns sleepily. “I think I might just sit down for a little bit and watch.” 

Cyrus walks over to one of the foam cubes in the room and sits down, tucking his head up on his arms on top of the cube, “You have fun, Mase.” 

“Ni, ni, Cy.” Mason gently pats Cyrus’s hair before returning to play. 

TJ watches and lets out a quiet laugh at the very tired Cyrus. “Dork.” He says to himself before addressing the children running around, “Who wants to play the sneaky, creepy, quiet game?” 

Various shouts of expressed interest to play come from all the children. TJ wears a wide smile as he places his index finger over his mouth. All the kids quiet down and TJ invents a new game for everyone to play, one that just so happens to allow Cyrus to comfortably snooze in the corner of the room. 

End Notes: Hope you liked it anon! I hope it was incredible enough for you ;) 

My new one shot tag list! 

|| @andi-shackk || @duderrific || @human-shitpost || @cyrushgoodman || @castle-byers-all-friends-welcome || @the-greatt-perhaps || @stupidlambforever || @dont-judge-me-im-a-fangirl || @gusandimack || @tjhasacrushgoodman || @1302dillywomps || @cheesystars || @i-am-beyoutiful || @koimy || @phinallyjackie || @angelstr343 || @you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus || @back-to-this || @spookytyrus || @smol28louis || @tyrusmagocious || @editscenes || @happy-pinkpanda || @tj-goodman-bittersweet-boy || @idk-i-stan-things || @lisastae || @wizard-dragontamer || @thinkingabouttyrus || @spacejellyyfish || @traderjoesmitten || @hopeandbelieve5 || @avatarrey42 || @shipperstories || @rbf-lesbian || @itsgalaxy29 || @cxrus-kippen || @janky-snorpion ||

If you would like to be tagged in future one shots let me know! Same foes for anyone wanting to be removed from the list :) 

[megsblackfirewrites]

No Ordinary Love

Gabriel leaned over the railing and smiled down at the waves. He could see seals moving around beneath the water, but he wasn’t focused on them. He licked his lips before hauling himself over the railing, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was around to see him jump. When he was certain that the coast was clear, he jumped.

The waves rushed up to meet him, caressing him as he was dragged down into the depths. Water rushed into his lungs, but rather than drowning him, he could breathe just fine. He kicked his legs and slowly made his way through the seals, ignoring them as they swam around him in fat, lazy circles.

“You’re late,” a voice called through the ocean.

“Late shift,” Gabriel called back. “You could help.”

“You need to learn to swim,” the voice teased before the current grabbed him. “What sort of ocean consort can’t swim?”

Gabriel laughed as he was pulled quickly out into the open ocean. He opened his arms, grinning as his demigod brought him right up against his massive chest. Intense blue eyes gazed down at him before thick fingers pushed through Gabriel’s hair. He shivered at the touch, watching his mate study his face.

“Has it been that long?” the demigod of the currents asked.

“Three years, babe,” Gabriel said. “What, you don’t like the wrinkles?”

The demigod frowned before kissing him. Gabriel groaned into the kiss, feeling a long, thin, flexible tongue push into his mouth. He lifted his hands and wrapped them tightly around his mate’s shoulders, exhaling a stream of bubbles.

“You are a fantastic kisser, Jack,” Gabriel murmured when they pulled apart.

“I have a lot of time to make up for,” Jack said before he leaned back.

His powerful serpentine body wrapped around Gabriel’s body, securing him in place as Jack started swimming down into the black reaches. Gabriel shivered and closed his eyes, focusing on breathing. He felt Jack reach the Veil and dug his fingers into the thick, blue scales. He felt reality bending around him, threatening to rip him apart in the process, and then there was nothing. He inhaled and opened his eyes, staring at the underwater kingdom that stretched out around him.

The beauty of the place stunned him no matter how many times Jack brought him here. The colours were vibrant. The fish swam in tight schools that gleamed like gemstones in the water. Water nymphs darted back and forth between the forests of kelp, giggling and waving at Jack as he swam past them. He could feel their curious eyes on him for a few moments before they zipped off to their next game. Massive corals towered overhead, their mighty branches looking like trees against the golden sea floor.

“I don’t plan on letting you go this time,” Jack warned as they neared the palace.

“My mother will kill me if I leave without a word,” Gabriel smirked.

Jack twisted around and grabbed Gabriel’s face, pricking the skin with the sharp talons that tipped each finger. He grinned wickedly, showing off fangs that were not made for tearing fish flesh apart.

“She has had you for years; it is my turn,” he growled.

Gabriel shivered with arousal at the possessive tone. He wanted to be in Jack’s bed already, accepting the demigod’s love and seed. He licked his lips slowly, glancing around as he spotted other demigods in the windows of the palace.

“Think they’re jealous?” he asked.

“What, of the gorgeous shadow sprite that I have wrapped in my coils?” Jack growled before he slipped through the massive archway into the palace. “Of course they’re envious. They all want you, Gabriel, and it infuriates them that I don’t share.”

“Like your father shared his partners,” Gabriel snorted in amusement.

Jack smirked in agreement before he released Gabriel onto the palace floor. His feet suctioned themselves to the marble immediately and he took a moment to acclimate himself to the underwater world. He might have been a shadow sprite, but his family had not stepped beyond the Veil in generations. He was a foreigner in these lands, just like any poor human stupid enough to walk here.

Jack patted Gabriel’s ass before he swam past, his thick, serpentine tail moving through the water with ease. Gabriel followed as quickly as he could, shivering at the idea of staying here with his mate for an extended period of time. Usually, he only got to spend a year or two before he was forced to return to the mortal realm. For immortals, that was a drastically short amount of time; Gabriel wasn’t a true immortal, though, so even if he was closing in on two hundred years of age, he still grew old and could die.

“So, what’s the plan to keep me here for eternity, my lord?” Gabriel asked.

“I’m going to keep you stuffed with eggs,” Jack shrugged. “Death won’t take a soul while they’re carrying a god’s child.”

Gabriel let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Okay, that is not going to work,” he cackled. “You aren’t a god, sweetheart, for one. And second, who says I’m going to carry your eggs? You’re the larger partner. And have a working egg canal.”

Jack gave him a look before he pointed through an archway. “In.”

Gabriel smirked and walked through the archway. He froze in his steps as he spotted a bundle on Jack’s circular bed. A shaggy brown head popped up and brown eyes blinked. Jack smirked as he swam past, coiling his body in welcome to the little figure on the bed.

“Come say hello to your papa, Jesse,” Jack cooed.

“Papa!” the little demigod squealed before zipping over.

Gabriel grunted as the solid child slammed into him. He stared down at the happily wiggling child before he looked at Jack.

“Is he…?”

“Adopted,” Jack chuckled as he settled on the bed. “Jesse, don’t squeeze too hard. You’ll make his eyes pop out of his head.”

Jesse giggled happily before zipping over to Jack and snuggling close, curling up against the huge chest. Gabriel took the time to look the child over, taking in the brown skin, brown hair, and red and white tail. He wasn’t sure what the tail was supposed to be, but it was definitely some sort of fish.

“I…I thought maybe I…sired him,” Gabriel looked away.

“Oh, don’t worry; you will sire all of my children,” Jack purred. “But, until you’re ready for that, Jesse can teach you how to be a parent.”

“Going to be hard to keep up with a swimmer,” Gabriel said as he rubbed his head.

Jack grinned and rolled onto his back. “Oh, Gabriel, I can deal with that,” he said as he waved a hand in the air. “Say the word and you will not have to worry about swimming.”

Gabriel stared at his mate and nodded. “Please.”

Jack grinned as he curled his hand into a claw. “As you wish, my darling.”

“Yer so slow!”

“Still getting used to the tail, Jesse,” Gabriel huffed as he tried to move his tail. “How did you take to this so fast, you gangly thing?”

Jesse snickered at Gabriel’s attempts to keep up. He flicked ahead, weaving through the garden with ease. Gabriel tried to get his stupid tail to obey him, resorting to clawing at the water to get himself moving. He saw Jack out of the corner of his eye and turned, watching as his much larger mate swam up to him.

“Still not used to your tail?” Jack teased as he cupped Gabriel’s cheek.

“Ssh,” Gabriel huffed. “You gave me a massive one.”

Jack chuckled before he reached down with both hands to hold Gabriel’s tail. “It suits you, darling,” he said. “My big, fierce hunter.”

“I feel small next to you,” Gabriel said.

“I’m a demigod; you’re a sprite. Comes with the territory, darling.”

“Don’t be an ass. Even if it’s what you do best.”

Jack chuckled before pulling Gabriel up against him. His lips pressed over Gabriel’s eyes before he whistled for Jesse.

“Nap time, Jesse,” he called.

“I’m not tired!”

“That’s what you said yesterday and I found you sleeping in the garden,” Jack smirked as he swam over to Jesse and scooped him up before he could flee. “Nap time for all of us.”

“Snuggles?” Jesse grinned up at them.

“A little later,” Jack smirked. “I want to spend some alone time with Papa.”

Jesse pouted and snuggled. “Okay,” he huffed.

He didn’t put up a fuss as Jack swam into Jesse’s room. He released Gabriel long enough to tuck Jesse into his circular bed before he grabbed him and hauled him into their bedroom. Gabriel couldn’t stop himself from laughing as Jack’s hands roamed over his pale belly. It was so weird to watch his bronze flesh meld into the white underbelly of an orca, but he was getting used to it.

“Jack, please; calm down,” he teased. “You get to play with me however long you like. At least until Jesse wakes up, anyways.”

“I will ravage you,” Jack warned as his lips closed over Gabriel’s, swallowing the wanton moan that slipped its way past Gabriel’s lips. “I will fuck you until you are swollen and puffy, too bliss blown to even know which way is up.”

“That had better be a promise,” Gabriel groaned as he dug his fingers into Jack’s hips. “Because I want to be fucked good and hard.”

“You will be,” Jack promised as he bit Gabriel’s neck. “And I won’t stop until you’re begging for it.”

Gabriel shivered before he tried to swim towards the bed. Jack watched him flail for a few minutes before he hooked an arm around Gabriel’s waist and pulled him over to the bed. Gabriel pouted before kissing Jack’s lips and biting hard on the soft flesh. He didn’t want to hear anything about his inability to swim, Jack.