#run for the hills far away from the plot and everyone else

[zykamiliah]

since this post is doing the rounds again, i want to take a moment to remind everyone that saving lbh from the bullying disciples, saving lqg's life, almost sacrificing himself to protect the sect during the demon invasion, are things that sqq does without any ulterior motives. if he wanted to capitalize on his good deed, he would have revealed himself after protecting lbh. when he meets lqg in the lingxi caves, it surprises him to see him there, and it's after he's already rescued lqg from a qi deviation that it occurs to him that "hmmm, this is a good ally to have, just in case". and during the demon invasion, after getting poisoned, he was ready to self-detonate so that he could take out sha hualing.

like, yeah, sy!sqq is smart and cares about his own survival-- but he's also a big softie that can't stand seeing people hurt and do nothing

[thevirtualvalentine]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS — OSAMU MIYA

content warnings: smut, mentions of voyeurism (suna is just there for the ride), possessive language and toxic behaviors, f!reader, situationships, oral (giving and receiving), mind numbing flirting & witty banter, creampie, he calls you a slut twice, you’re both kinda shitty. 🤷🏾

plot: as usual, atsumu has brought another “friends with benefits minus the friend” home. but unusually, osamu can’t stand the thought of you together, even suna agrees, right?

a/n: tv girl referenced! something evil took over me when writing this, I’m getting uninvited from so many miya birthday parties omg … T_T enjoy this 4.6k word vom.

Osamu never thought being roommates with his own twin could get any worse than when they were young boys sharing a bunk bed. Atsumu was never the type to return clothes he borrowed and certainly was the type to eat food sharpied with someone else’s name. What was Osamu’s, by extension, was Atsumu’s. He loved his brother and would yield to his selfishness because that’s just how things were.

Lately, however, Atsumu has been seeing someone, more and more frequently. Going as far as replacing his other quick fucks between practices for you. Osamu can understand why, you’re witty, unbelievably sexy, and far too sophisticated to be a fuck laid by Atsumu whenever he sends a quick “come over” text.

This matter has perplexed everyone in Atsumu Miya’s circle, questions raise on how he even managed to get your attention. “Yer all just mad it’s me she wants,” the cheeky bastard says with a toothy grin. To that, he’s not wrong.

That’s how Osamu and Suna have ended up here, with their ears to the door trying to understand what you possibly could be getting in fair exchange. “You fuckin’ love it don’t you baby,” Atsumu says to you in a tone dripping with confidence. It makes both their stomachs churn thinking of someone so beautiful with a guy like that…

“I just can’t believe this,” Suna dramatizes, he really wants to aid his friend but with each passing second of skin slapping against skin — he doesn’t know how much longer Osamu can take it. The Miyas are .. rather possessive, especially him.

“Mhm hm! Love it ‘Tsumu your dick is so good!” It’s downright pornographic how honey-sweet you sound, it just has to be fake.

“Rin, we both know Atsumu can’t fuck women that good. Tell me I still have a chance,” he’s delusional and he knows it, but the small sliver of hope keeps him desperately chasing after what’s not his.

“You’re crazy,” he snickers, almost pitying his friend for how hard he is beneath his pants. “One Miya is trouble enough, but two? She’ll be running for the hills.”

That’s all Osamu needed to set his plot into motion, he’ll just have to steal you away from him — his own brother.

It’s a quiet Sunday morning in the apartment, you roll out of Atsumu’s huge bed to make yourself coffee like you usually do when you stay over. Bless his heart but you and your newest fuck could not be any more different, he’s a late sleeper, overconfident, and to top it all off he’s not the greatest lay. You weren't sure how you ended up sleeping with a volleyball player.

But, he is undeniably handsome, which is how you found yourself in his bed. Shoving those thoughts aside, you slip into the hallway in nothing but one of his oversized shirts making your way to the kitchen. “Mornin’, coffee’s on the table.”

His voice startles you from your half-awakened stupor and you realize it’s just Atsumu. How sweet, he’s never done something like this for you before. You rub your sleepy eyes as you take a sip from the warm mug, hold on. You just left his bed, how could he be here?

Dark brown hair and cold grey eyes meet yours and instantly you know who this man is. “Oh- I’m so sorry Osamu, it didn’t register to me that you’d be here today.” You panic, trying to cover yourself up with something but he just laughs you off while drinking from his own cup.

Osamu Miya, the twin brother and (elusive) roommate of Atsumu. “You’re fine pretty, just enjoy the coffee. Let me know if you want any breakfast with it.” Once a month Osamu closes his shop in preparation for a big rice delivery from Kita, he’s just happened to catch you alone in his living room.

Involuntary heat rises to your face at his choice of words, you haven’t been formally introduced on account of the fact your relationship with his brother isn’t serious but you don’t mind his informal greeting. “So the rumors are true, you’re a chef?” you query, setting your mug down on a table closest to your seat.

God. The lilt in your voice makes him shudder and swallow hard, not to mention that the fat of your thighs peek out from under your shirt when you cross your legs. You aren’t aware of this, but that’s his shirt Atsumu has yet to return — but right now he’ll let that go — he gets to see you wear it.

“Mhm, it seems I can’t deny the allegations. Mostly onigiri though. Sorry to disappoint.” He can’t help himself but to flirt with you, his twisted infatuation morphing into a crush now that he’s immersed himself in the real thing. The soft glow of the morning light makes you appear like an angel on his couch.

“Well Mr. Chef, don’t hurt yourself trying to make bacon and eggs,” you muse. While he may be as handsome as Atsumu, he’s different; calmer, wittier, and more adept at ordinary life skills from the looks of it. This man, you reckon, is the sole reason why your sneaky link even has a proper roof over his head.

The conversation flows naturally between you as he prepares the needed ingredients. It ranges from work to his restaurant then back to you again, you find yourself laughing at his jokes and feeling much more comfortable in the apartment than before. There's a certain chemistry that seems to occur between you.

It continues like this for a while, Osamu finding reasons to be at the flat instead of his restaurant so that he may spend time with you, chatting you up over breakfast that he’s prepared. Flirtatious remarks beneath the guise of innocent conversation.

It feels wrong, coming over for one man hoping to see another the next morning, the worst of all being that they have the same face. Yet, they could not be any more contrasting. Where Atsumu forces your submission in his bedroom - Osamu rightfully earns it by tending to you. Sometimes when you look up between your lashes you wish it was dark hair you were seeing instead of platinum.

It’s another quiet Sunday morning in the Miya’s apartment. Your feet feel light as you make your way down the hallway to see him, Osamu. It’s inexplicable to you why there seems to be more cadence in your step with each strut forward, and on queue there he is. Alluring as he sits on the couch in his compression tee.

The same relaxed smile and soft tone, “Mornin’ sweetness, your coffee’s on the table.” You scoop the mug up as you plop down on the forgiving cushion next to him.

“This isn’t a sound business practice, aren’t owners supposed to open their restaurant?” You’re quick to start this morning, craving the stimulating conversation you can only find in him - like he’s some sort of haven amongst the rubble that is your situationship. The guilt does gnaw at you, making the coffee taste even more bitter than usual.

It’s what he’s been waiting for, the foundation begins to crumble and like your hero, he’ll swoop in. “Yes, but lately I’ve been hired as a private chef. The clientele is rather demanding of me if you can believe that,” he retorts while deadpanning in your direction. When he looks at you it feels like you’re bare for his eyes alone. Those cool tone grey eyes that know exactly what you are.

It leaves a lump in your throat that makes it difficult to talk. He continues between sips of his coffee, “she only requests bacon and eggs when I could give her so much more.” It makes your blood rush trying to see through his act, is it literal or innuendo? Nevertheless, you dance around each other avoiding the inevitable for a taste of limbo.

“What’s on the menu then?” You’re content to shove the ball back on his side of the court, intent on making him reveal his cards in a full flush.

The air in the room suffocates you, what seems like a quick conversation plays in slow motion. You’ve always been one to play coy, guarding your heart with quick jabs and humor. He indulges you, plays the game, the one of the cat and the mouse.

But the Miya’s are not coy, not by a long shot. “You.” It’s simple and effective, and he doesn’t miss the hitch in your breath when you realize he’s both literal and figurative.

During this long winded plot of his, Osamu has purposely avoided the topic of Atsumu all together. He doesn’t want to feed the green in his vision, doesn’t want to think of the consequences, he just wants you. Desperately.

It’s like your brain's shut down, the truth is right here in your face but it’s flustering. You’ve won, but why does it feel like you’ve lost? “I— Osamu,” you start, but you just can’t meet his gaze.

“Face it, when you’re with him you’re thinking of me.” The shame washes over you and becomes a pit of despair in your stomach. Your hands bunch the fabric of Atsumu’s shirt as you sit there and face the truth for yourself. The ugly, raring, and raw truth: that you want his hands to roam the canvas of your body, that it’s his lips you want seared into your flesh, that it’s his room you wish you were going into during the wee hours of the night. Not Atsumu’s.

He’s in front of you now, his broad shoulders casting a dubious shadow over you. “Tell me — right here n’ now — that you don’t want me and I’ll leave you alone.” But still, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. To be met with that face.

“Osamu, please.” You beg, pawing at his shirt, with tears in your eyes. “Don’t leave,” you feel pathetic, shame eating at you for acting so desperate. You’ve never behaved this way before, not genuinely at least. He drives you crazy, and you’re not willing to let it go so easily.

He thinks he’ll cum in his pants from this little display alone, your honesty and vulnerability fueling his twisted desire. He looks more like his brother than ever before, trademark wicked smirk at the feeling of victory. It’s delightful.

“Shh, pretty thing I’m not gonna quit you,” he says taking your face in his big hand. It’s hot, searing to the touch. The pad of his thumb strokes your plush cheek, “feel what you do to me.”

Osamu takes your hand in his, covering it seamlessly while dragging it up his thigh. He’s hard, incredibly so. It’s almost painful just how bricked he is beneath his pants. “See,” he helps you palm from the base all the way to the tip and you swear you’re dripping onto his couch. He groans softly feeling your delicate hands basically grope him in his shared living room, but fuck does it feel good.

He has to stop himself from grinding into your hand, frantic to finally get some reprieve to this insatiable ache for you. “So, how long,” you ask, not stopping your ministrations.

The air around you has changed, you’ve regained your composure knowing you weren’t alone in your desperation. He hisses when you cup his balls looking for a response, “how long what?”

His face is flushed a wild shade of pink and it’s only heightened by the morning light pouring in through the windows. “Now you want to play coy with me, Osamu Miya? How long have you waited to fuck me behind Atsumu’s back? Was it when he first brought me home,” your hand slides along the fabric smoothly as you rest your head against his hip.

“Maybe it was all those times you made me coffee?” You continue palming him, essentially jacking him off through his pants. “Or maybe when you were listening outside the door?” You squeeze and he lets out a choked whimper.

“Like yer any better slut, jerkin’ me off while you’re under my brothers roof.” He can’t control his tone, country accent raring to go on account of feeling cornered. You make him feel so good he doesn’t want to stop, he’s never been this hard in his life.

You hum, pleased with his response. “Such a nasty mouth for a chef. Do you speak to your customers this way?” He’s pulling himself out of his pants before you get the chance, his tip angry and red, soaked with precious pre.

It makes your mouth water, you’re eye level with his cock and all you want is to make yourself gag on it. “Nah, just the pretty ones with a bratty mouth. So show me what you can do hot stuff.”

Spitting directly on his head you drag the bulb down to his base with your tongue, watching as he shudders from your seated position. You place your hands on either side of his hips as you take him fully in your mouth, lapping the salty taste up trying to replace it with your own. “Dirty lil thing, you do this for him?”

The possession in his voice is palpable but you give him a taste of his own medicine. “Nah, only for the handsome ones who are smartasses,” releasing him from your mouth makes a pop sound. You jerk him in one hand as you belittle him, smiling with spit dribbling down your chin.

He thinks he might be in love with you, isn’t that funny. A woman who can reduce him to mere putty that’s rightfully not his, how raunchy. It makes Osamu’s balls pulse uncomfortably.

You’re a vixen, sent to entice him with your every move and fluid jerk of your wrist. He has to stop now or he’ll cum too fast, he wants this moment to last forever. The way you worship him and his cock, the way your smart mouth makes his head swim, and how warm your hands are on his bare skin.

Osamu Miya has never felt so greedy in his entire life. He hasn’t felt the need to ask anything this demanding of his brother, but what’s Atsumu’s is Osamu’s. Right? What’s a quick fuck to one is a wife to another, and with the way you’re sucking him off he might just have to put a ring on it.

Reluctantly, he pulls himself from your hot mouth before he’s able to spill down your throat. He taps the tip of his cock against your lips insultingly with a grin, “Enough, so damn desperate yer gonna choke on it.”

He’s mean but it excites you, Atsumu has never spoken to you like this only really going through the motions. You can’t help how your pussy clenches involuntarily around nothing nor can you stop the heat from rising to your face as you draw your thighs together. You sit there, staring at each other with bated breaths as the reality of what you’re doing sets in.

But if you thought that was going to deter him, you are sorely mistaken. He practically falls to his knees to get a taste of your lips against his, resting his upper body between your legs on the couch. Osamu groans tasting himself on your tongue as he invades your mouth.

You’re slobbering all over each other in a heated attempt to engulf one another. He grabs the back of your thighs while you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s like months of desperate mutual yearning have come to fruition and neither of you will let up. Not even for air.

You’re not wearing any panties and you’re sure your cunts drooling all over the place as he sucks kisses down your neck and collarbones. “Osamu—” you whine quietly, only for him to hear. His tongue licks and prods at your sensitive skin giving you goosebumps. It’s so hot and heavy you can’t make any sense of yourself just from some simple kisses.

He’s reduced you to nothing with minimal effort, wildly different from other sexual encounters you’ve had. “I need more of you Osamu, please,” and it’s the sweetest words he’s ever heard uttered. You’re absolutely perfect, just for him.

“Of course love, whatever you need.” His hands begin to spread your legs apart as another gush of slick pours out of you from the pet name alone. “I bet he doesn’t even know what to do with this, doesn’t know how to make you feel good like I can.”

If that’s a promise, you need him to fulfill it. His words are heavy in your ears as you watch him take his shirt off, they weigh in your chest threatening to drag you down with him. He spreads your puffy folds apart with his thumb, getting a good look at you and letting out coos of praise. “Yer so fuckin wet I can see it,” he dips into your warmth only slightly, marveling at the slick that coats his fingers.

He eyes them and you try to stop him before he does what you think he’s gonna do. “Don’t do that, it’s nasty,” you say trying to grab his hand.

But he swats you away, appraising the translucent liquid by spreading his fingers apart before sticking them in his mouth. “Mhm, n’ you taste as good as you look.”

He loves this look on you, the horror written all over your face as he sucks them clean. A chef never wastes a proper meal, and he’s still fuckin hungry.

Osamu yanks you down the couch to be as close as possible, he can feel the heat radiating from your cunt with just his face above it. He can tell you’ve never had someone properly eat you out by the way you’re so scared to let him even play around with you, and that lights a fire under his ass.

He dives tongue first into your folds, purposely avoiding the spot you need him the most. The moan you let out is a stark comparison to anything he’s heard from you before, but he can’t have you spoiling the fun already.

So he’ll kiss you instead, forcing you to taste yourself and groan into his maw while his fingers work magic in your cunt. Your nails find purchase in the skin of his back as he holds your leg open with one hand and slides his middle finger inside you with another. He pulls back, gauging your reaction for any discomfort as he works it in and out of your sopping heat.

“So messy for me baby, god I love it,” but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking at where his finger slips inside you; making you watch as his knuckles disappear before sliding in another.

The second digit proving to be a stretch for you as you cry into his mouth about how good it feels, “so good ‘samu, just a little faster.”

That’s when he curls them upwards, toying the rougher patch of your g-spot with the pads of his middle and ring finger. The force at which you try to close your legs and dig your nails into his skin lets him know he’s in the right place. “Gotta stay quiet sweetheart, can ya do that for me?”

You don’t know how you could be, with the way he’s listening to your body he’s managed to play its perfect tune. But you nod, covering your mouth with your hand obediently as he descends between your legs again.

Finally, he pays mind to your puffy clit. Giving it kitten licks while his fingers are still making a sloppy mess of you down below. He groans sending vibrations through you in the act of suckling your bud between his lips.

It’s muffled, but he can hear you chanting his name as he throughly wrecks you with just his mouth and hands. It causes white hot pleasure to settle in the belly of you as you writhe and try and to run away from it. He won’t let you, forcing your legs apart even wider.

You’re cumming on his fingers before you even know it. Leaving red welts on his shoulder as you go limp on the couch. “Just keep cumming for me pretty. Let go,” his low calm voice centers you when you begin to twitch against your will.

You’ve rarely ever truly came when fucking Atsumu, but Osamu has you pleading for mercy as he thumbs your clit through the aftershocks.

He lets you catch your breath, helping you remove the oversized shirt from over your head. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he says while thumbing your chin, and kissing your tits tenderly. His eyes reassure you from between the valley of your breasts.

You’re appreciative of his masked concern, “then stop talking, and start doing.” The fight in you is exactly why he wanted you in the first place.

“To think this gorgeous pussys been wasted,” he tsks. “Don’tcha worry yer pretty head baby, I’ll fuck that attitude outta ya.” He stands up, removing the rest of his clothing and putting you on the couch how he wants you. Obviously, he was going to go for missionary, all so that you could see him in the act of claiming you as his own.

You know you’re in trouble with Osamu when he slips into his country accent, it’s involuntary but it’s his true nature. You’re placed onto your back by his big arms, most likely from carrying heavy bags of rice everyday at his job. You can’t help but ogle at the thin layer of sweat that coats him, and he smiles. So charming.

He begins by lining himself with your entrance, teasing the ring of muscle with the tip of his cock. It makes you whine, needy for more but he won’t just take you. No, he uses your pussy to lube himself up. “For fucks sake ‘Samu just put it in please,” you think using a nickname on him will work like it does with Atsumu.

But Osamu is in control of himself and his desires (for the most part), he’ll rut his hips into your sticky labias, running over your sensitive clit with the underside of himself. “So needy, jus’ watch” he tilts your chin downwards to make you gaze at where your bodies nearly meet.

He’s going to break you before anything else. The sight is turning you on beyond belief, his body tensing and releasing with every slow drawl of his lazy hips. “How bad d’ya want me? Tell me n’ I’ll fuck you slut.”

The way in which he carries himself warns you to not mess with him, submit. It’s all in his face, the restraint, the power, the control. You want to break down and beg him for everything so that he may see you for what you truly are in those grey eyes. “I think about you every time I come over here, every time you’ve poured me coffee or made my eggs I’ve wanted you. ‘Samu I need you s’bad please..”

You feel him physically twitch and groan lowly at your confession. He wasn’t expecting all that but it certainly does stroke his ego. Osamu pinches your nipple slightly as he grins. “Yeah baby, you wish it was me touchin’ you,” its rhetorical. He’ll reward you though, ‘fer bein so damn good’.

He feels heavenly entering you, it makes your toes curl when you hear him sigh into a slow pace. He takes his time with you, working you up to fully enjoy your experience with him. “You feel so good, fuck.. n’ your pussy’s so warm,” he says while tightening the grip on the back of your knees.

Everything is hitting you at once and it’s getting hotter by the second, your heavy breaths hitting his face as you accept him in full. It’s a snug fit and the curve of him feels just right in your walls, fuck you need him closer.

“I want you,” is all that comes out between soft whimpers. And he obliges, folding you in half and guiding your arms to hang around his shoulders. He feels so deep inside you that you can’t even see straight. His face is red with his brows drawn together in pleasure.

You try and keep quiet but the muffled sound of skin against skin keeps ringing in your ears along with the slosh of your cunt. “Lettin’ me pound you raw too, should just let me have ya. I know I’m fuckin’ you better than him.”

His words are like fire on your skin, burning you from the inside out. Your walls flutter and convulse around him as he snickers. It registers that you can feel all of him and you whine. The flood gates threaten to spill.

“I— Osamu s’good, oh my god!” He revels in the fact it almost sounds like you’re in pain from how much satisfaction you’re feeling, because of him. It’s his name you’re wailing, not Atsumu’s.

You dig your nails deeper, certain to draw blood as you're needy more of him. The band in you is threatening to snap. He’s close too, quickening the rate at which he barrels into you. Reaching deeper and deeper as he makes eye contact with you. It’s so intimate that you feel yourself succumbing.

“Where do you wan’ it baby,” his eyes are glossed over with lust and his voice thick with desire. There’s only one place you want him, inside.

It’s like music to his ears, he’s spilling his seed in hot thick ropes as he stills himself balls deep inside you. You unravel, biting your lip as you squeeze him tighter than a vice, he’s groaning and shallowly pumping into your shaking form.

You never knew missionary on a sofa could feel so fucking good, he looks at you with such care in his eyes that you melt.

Osamu helps you clean up, apologizing for the frothy ring of cum on his base and the mess that pours out of you. He’s "a sucker for a cream pie" is what he tells you.

Things between you couldn’t remain as they were, you both knew that know after you practically devoured each other right down the hall from Atsumu’s room.

He brings you to his space, letting you shower and wipe yourself down (not without groping your curves between steps). You talk about what you should say or how to even go about it over breakfast he made, but this time you're wearing his shirt.

It’s safe to say Atsumu was not pleased losing one of his favorite fucks, but in some weird way he’s not completely pissed. He’s never seen Osamu so fucking selfish n' greedy before, so he must be pretty serious about you. In time he’ll forgive him, even swing by the restaurant to see you two.

“How’s it feel havin’ my seconds,” he’ll taunt behind your back to Osamu when you’re not around. Jutting his elbow into his brothers side.

Osamu rolls his eyes, “still bitter it’s my cock she’s begging for every night I see. Get better soon.” He knows you’re happier with him, sending a hardened look at Atsumu.

They both smile as you approach the table with snacks, dropping whatever argument as you greet them. “Hello Miya and better Miya.”

Osamu snickers, kissing your left hand with his engagement ring on it. Atsumu just grumbles under his breath. “Hello Mrs. Miya,” they both say in unison.

[g1rld1ary]

ode to my family ; lockwood x relicman!reader

➻ synopsis: you're a relicman, lockwood is the agent who's trying to recover your stolen sources, but you both might get more than you bargained for

➻ word count: 2486

➻ warnings: swearing, violence, no pronouns but reader is referred to as a girl

➻ wrote this for the anniversary of l+co's cancellation :(( I love this little show and all the joy its given me this year <3

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Life as a second-generation relic man (or woman) wasn’t easy. Far from it, in fact. A life of dealing with the black market, being on the run from agents and being stuck under your father’s thumb wasn’t exactly the life plan from your vision board, but what could you do? Your father had never let you pursue any training for your talents and you’d never had much education either, so you were more or less stuck in the family business.

Still, you made the best of it. You were dedicated to your job — maybe just because you had nothing else to do — and some point along the way you started to believe that your father might have been right. Why should DEPRAC get the final say on all these sources? As long as they were handled properly, why should all those beautiful old artefacts be destroyed? And as far as your father told you about his trade business, the sources only went to serious collectors with proper protection. So, you were a pretty instrumental hunter in the business, and that was the way you figured your life would continue.

Despite the popular misconceptions about your job; the violence, other ruthless relic-men, near-death experiences, your biggest nuisance was agents. Mostly the other relic men left you alone once you’d staked out a location but agents were so nosy. Like, finders keepers much? They were so aggressive too, always whipping out their rapiers the second they spotted you. You wondered if they’d surrender when they found out you were a girl. You hated the leering looks from the older men you met on missions and your skills being underestimated, so you wore a fencing helmet whenever you went out to pose as a boy. It also helped you get out of sticky situations; more than once you’d ducked behind an alleyway to stuff the helmet in your bag and walk away from the scene unharmed.

Anthony Lockwood hated relic-men, with the exception of one Flo Bones — but that hardly counted. All they did was make his job harder and stop him from getting back to Portland Row and a nice mug of steaming tea. He particularly didn’t like you, though he truthfully had no idea who you were. The sabre mask had given you a bit of a reputation amongst hunters and agents alike; tough, efficient, and deadly with a rapier. Plus, you had a great success rate in beating Lockwood and Co. to collecting a source, waving it around obnoxiously as you slipped out the window and into the night.

Tonight there was something different in the air. Your father had sent you for a major haul, some old source collector had recently died and left their entire collection in an old dusty warehouse. It was simple, get in, grab as much as you could possibly hold and get the fuck out. However, it seemed that you weren’t the only one who’d been alerted to the news. The area was crawling with men you recognised from other missions or auctions, and you knew instinctively the night wouldn’t go how you’d initially planned. Still, you weren’t going to let your father down and come back empty-handed — he’d probably have your head if you failed.

You trudged up the hill to where the building was, cursing the wet grass underneath your feet. In a big plot twist for everyone, it was raining in London. However, the dark clouds made it easier for you to go unnoticed, sticking to the shadows and ducking past the men hanging around. You’d made it inside the warehouse pretty easily and started packing sources into your bag before you realised it was almost too quiet inside — there should be way more collectors around. Peaking out the window you blanched, there were a myriad of agents outside scaring away other relic men (or fighting those who weren’t so easily deterred). You cursed quietly, knowing they’d soon venture inside and find you unless you could get out fast.

You were almost out, just creeping through a backdoor when you spun towards freedom, only to be met with the cocky grin of none other than Anthony Lockwood. You sighed, scanning the landscape for a quick escape route.

“So we meet again,” He said, rolling up one of his shirt sleeves. You refused to glance down and take your eyes off his, knowing he was, annoyingly, a great fighter, and you needed to stay focused. “Will this be the day you finally speak?” He all but taunted, still not reaching for his rapier. You wished he would, it would make the interaction go faster if you could skip the niceties and go straight to fighting. You wouldn’t indulge him and break your cover though, you doubted Lockwood would keep your secret.

“I suppose not,” He mused, “No matter. How about you return the sources you’ve stolen and we’ll call it even, hey?” More silence, you didn’t dare to move, not until you knew you could get away. Only when it was evident that you weren’t going to cooperate did Lockwood’s hand reach for his rapier and you eyed it slowly, hand drifting over to your own.

“I don’t want to fight you,” He tried once more, though you watched the blade slide slowly from its holder, “These sources deserve to be handled with proper care — these people deserve to be laid to rest, don’t you think?” You faltered for a moment. You’d never thought about it like that, it had never occurred to you that these sources really were the very essence of so many dead people. Your father had raised you to think of them as a means for profit, nothing else. Still, if you returned empty-handed your father would kill you, or worse. You had to succeed.

Evidently, Lockwood could tell your intentions, and brought his rapier out in a preparatory position and you did the same, slightly apprehensive for the fight to come. You knew you were good, but Lockwood had impeccable technique. Regardless of your feelings the fight began, and all you could hope was that you could hold your own until there was an opportunity to escape. Lockwood was putting up a significant fight though, which was highly inconvenient. Just when you gained the upper hand he subverted your expectations, putting a foot square into your stomach, pushing you back against the wall of the shed.

You groaned, losing your footing and smacking down against the ground, head hitting the dirt with a dull thud. You didn’t immediately recognise anything was wrong until the finishing blows from Lockwood never came. Looking up at his dumbfounded face you understood why.

“You’re a girl?” He asked, and you hastily grabbed the mask that had fallen off, then stopped when you realised there was no point in putting it back on now.

“Yes.”

“You’ve always been a girl?” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, Lockwood. I’ve always been a girl. And if you’re too afraid to fight one then can I go?” You looked at him expectantly. He shook his head.

“Sorry, but you’re still holding extremely dangerous sources that cannot be sold. If you hand them over I’ll let you go and keep your secret?” He offered, and it was your turn to shake your head no. You used his shock to switch your positions, your back now out to the world. You didn’t run though, rapier out in front of you. In terms of the limb-to-body ratio, Lockwood had about the same proportions of a Daddy Long Legs, and you knew he’d catch up to you easily if you ran. So you fought, rapiers clanging as you defended yourself against him.

“How old even are you?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Sixteen,” You said, “Why? Do you think I’m a child?”

“No, Jesus,” He laughed, parrying your move easily, “I’m hardly older, don’t be so aggressive. Why are you fighting? Don’t you have a life to live?”

“Obviously not,” You scoffed, “I’ve been trained for this, this is why I was born! I have to help my Dad’s business.” Lockwood grew more bold on the offence and you were struggling to keep up, distracted by your chatter.

“Why not run away? You’re too pretty to be stuck as a pawn for him.” You faltered for a second, stumbling backwards from the compliment, but counteracted it with a harsh hit aimed at Lockwood’s side. He let out a noise of pain but didn’t move, only coming closer to you as you grew more tired, movements becoming sloppy.

“You don’t get it, do you? If I leave I die. I have nowhere to go, and even if I did have somewhere to go my father would hunt me down and probably kill me for betraying him.” You kicked him in the knee and he swore, but he looked more enlivened by the fight than anything else. You supposed he probably didn’t actually get to fight much — with ghosts not being enthralling fencing partners and most relic men actually trying to kill him. And as much as he was annoying you, you didn’t particularly want to kill Lockwood. So here you were stuck in an endless match, blocking and parrying and him trying to convince you to leave the business you’d grown up in.

“Oh my God!” You groaned, smacking the hilt of your rapier into his shoulder, sending him stumbling back a few steps as you similarly retreated towards freedom. “Can you just leave me alone?” As much as you hated to admit it, Lockwood was making a convincing point. You had never truly realised the damage your dad’s business was doing, blissfully ignorant from the explanations he gave you. You had no choice though, no way out of the mess you’d been born into.

Lockwood was drawing closer, his years of technique and experience outlasting your brute force and passion, and you didn’t really know what was going to happen. Surely he wouldn’t kill you, but you’d be in deep shit if you returned home empty-handed, or you could very well be arrested for theft. You were deep in thought about this, as well as trying to keep Lockwood a suitable distance away, which was prohibiting you from being completely aware of your surroundings. This had been working out for you so far until you felt your foot miss solid ground. Your eyes widened, knowing exactly what was happening a moment too late. You’d hit the hill and there was no chance you were finding your footing after slipping the first step down.

Lockwood had evidently realised this at the same time as you, hand reaching out to grab you instinctively. It did little to stop the momentum you’d already gathered, instead pulling him down with you. You both gasped as you tumbled, Lockwood instantly tossing his rapier out of the way and you followed suit — no sense in you both being stabbed because you couldn’t control your limbs.

The fall itself was a blur, you only knew you’d landed because of the dull pain spreading up your back. You’d screwed your eyes tight bracing for the impact, and when you opened them slowly you were face to face with none other than Anthony Lockwood, only inches away from you and breathing heavily from the adrenaline.

For once Lockwood had nothing to say. No charming comeback, no witty remark, he couldn’t even offer one of his trademark megawatt smiles. All he could do was stare at you and breathe, which should have been creepier than it was. Maybe because you were doing the exact same thing. You didn’t know what had come over you but all you could do was look at Lockwood, held up by his forearms, droplets of sweat collected on his brow from the previous fight. You were only ripped from your stupor when you saw Lockwood’s eyes flick down to your lips, so fast you were sure it was unintentional. Still, it did the trick.

“Get off me.” You hated the way you stuttered the first word, still wanting to put up a brave front, but you were tired. And confused. And you really didn’t want to explain to your dad what had happened. Lockwood coughed, instantly rolling off you and onto his back next to you, both of you staring at the overcast sky. You were glad it wasn’t actively raining anymore, but you knew your back would be caked in mud when you stood up.

You were tired, you didn’t want to fight anymore. You got the feeling that Lockwood felt the same since neither of you moved a muscle, lying side by side in silence. You had much to think about. As much as you hated it, you couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said earlier. Your father’s business was bad, torturing those who wanted to be laid to rest and endangering others — you had a feeling he wasn’t actually checking the qualifications of his clients. And in that case, you didn’t want to be part of it anymore. You wanted to be good. You just didn’t know how. Glancing at Lockwood, he was still staring at the sky like it was a puzzle he was trying to decipher.

You broke the silence.

“Hypothetically, if I were to leave… where would I go?” He was looking at you in a flash, hope and bewilderment clear on his face. “If I leave my father will kill me, I have nowhere to turn.” Lockwood hesitated for a moment, seemingly searching for the right words.

“Well.” He scrambled to stand up, dusting off the front of his pants as if his whole back side wasn’t covered in earth. “You could come with me.” He extended a hand out to you, looking the picture of a perfect gentleman. And honestly, with the little you’d spoken to him, it seemed as if he really might have been. You sent one more cautionary look toward his hand before taking it, being pulled up to your full height before him.

Lockwood didn’t say anything more, merely giving you a smile, a genuine one that seemed to create its own source of light, before leading you away from the warehouse. Your backpack full of stolen sources sat sadly in the grass next to your mask, waiting to be collected and disposed of by DEPRAC officers, laying the poor ghosts to rest for good.

[heliads]

Lacrosse

Stuck in Beacon Hills after Liam Dunbar insisted he stay, Theo Raeken wants nothing more than to run. He joins Liam's lacrosse team in the hopes of becoming a nuisance, but instead, it just brings them closer together than Theo could ever imagine.

masterlist

Theo Raeken is alive, surprisingly, and that leaves him with far less to do than he really expected. Theo always assumed that once the fighting stopped and his life was no longer in immediate danger, he’d just know what to do after that. You know, he’d live a normal life and that would be that. He would know how to exist like everyone else. 

Theo is now freshly out of hell and he can confirm that he was wrong. Living is hard. You have to do it right. Decisions made in the thick of battle don’t have to be good, they just have to keep you alive long enough to make another one. Outside of a fight, though, everything matters. 

Frankly, it’s a little disheartening. Theo figured he was capable enough to survive without anyone, but it looks like that might not be the case. 

He’s not alone, though. Someone made sure of that. Someone stopped Theo from moving out of town despite his best efforts otherwise, and that someone would be Liam Dunbar. 

Yeah, Theo can’t really believe that part. Despite the fact that Theo spent several months manipulating Liam into wanting to kill Scott McCall (and would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids), Liam still wants Theo here. Unhinged behavior. 

Every other member of the McCall pack shares in that skepticism, but Liam is apparently unbothered by it. He decided that Theo would be staying, and seeing as Theo himself seems to have no say in the matter, he’ll be sticking around a little longer. 

The problem is that Theo doesn’t want to stay in Beacon Hills, not really. This is the site of his great failure, his inability to topple the McCall pack like he’d been planning for so long. Even the sight of Liam is another reminder that Theo tried to make everything work according to his twisted schedule and just couldn’t do it. 

At the end of the day, Liam Dunbar is– well, he’s Liam, and that encapsulates a whole hell of a lot more than Theo could ever adequately put into words. Liam flies off the handle at a moment’s notice. Liam alternates between being down in the dumps to raring to go with more frequency than a pendulum. 

Liam also is the only one who checked to see where Theo was staying after the dust cleared. The only one who could be regularly counted on to watch Theo’s back as opposed to just leaving him high and dry in the middle of a fight. Theo isn’t sure how to respond to any of that, so he goes with his usual response:  blank apathy with a little bit of targeted aggression. It has yet to fail him.

The fact that he’s been all but ordered to stay put so Liam can keep an eye on him is incredibly frustrating. Theo wants nothing more than to leave this whole godawful town behind him, find another pack to torment and maybe succeed there. Liam only wants Theo here so he can feel some sort of protective bullshit. After all, Liam’s the one who ‘saved’ Theo from his dark side, maybe he feels called to keep Theo in line now.

Regardless, Theo doesn’t like it. Liam apparently wants him on the straight and narrow, which isn’t anywhere in line with Theo’s idea of a good time. Instead of putting his plotting skills to good use and actually succeeding, Theo has to do boring things, like go to class, do his homework, and otherwise live like Liam and the rest of the do-gooders in the McCall pack. What a nightmare.

The only foreseeable way Theo can get out of this is if Liam gets so sick of him that he finally relinquishes the noose he’s got around Theo’s throat. So, Theo launches his best plan of attack:  namely, being so infuriating that Liam kicks him out of Beacon Hills as soon as possible.

Theo is wonderful at being insufferable. He’s also very good at being adaptable. When constantly flirting with Liam’s ex, Hayden, doesn’t seem to be doing the trick, Theo switches tactics and goes after his friends instead. Suddenly, Mason and Corey can’t hang out because Theo desperately needs them for studying or something else. Liam is left alone with no one to blame for it but Theo.

Or, that’s how it should have gone, but instead Liam just grins and talks about how glad he is that Theo’s really fitting in with the rest of them. Impossible boy. Theo can’t even rely on the old classic of getting Stiles to suss out his obviously evil tactics because all of the pack members in Scott’s pack graduated earlier this year. It’s just Theo and Liam and the rest of the younger ones, and none of them are nearly as suspicious as Theo would like.

Out of sheer desperation, Theo focuses on the one thing Liam likes more than anything:  lacrosse. Theo still has the reflexes, speed, and strength of a werewolf, even if he left most of his chimera abilities behind in hell. All Theo has to do is run a few laps, do some pushups, and show off the fact that he’s obviously got anger issues, and the lacrosse coach is practically jumping up and down with delight.

Theo shows up to the first practice that afternoon, outpaces Liam every chance he gets even when it means he’s heaving for breath whenever the other boy’s back is turned. It’s worth it, seeing the competitive streak flare to life in Liam’s eyes when he realizes he’s finally met his match. Yes, Theo wants to scream, that’s what I’m talking about. Hate me. Hate me so much for beating you that you run me out of this town.

Theo’s never really cared much for lacrosse, but at this moment, he thinks he’ll play it until the day he dies. He gets to run for hours and charge into other people and knock them down so he can score and score and score, never ending, always up for one more round. Coach loves him. Liam grows more furious by the second. It’s everything he wanted.

At the end of the day, Theo has to snap his mind back to reality and remind himself that this isn’t why he joined the team, not that animal roar in his ears whenever he scores but to get out of here once and for all. Pushing Liam past his breaking point is all that matters.

Theo swears to himself that he’s only there to serve as a hindrance, to get under Liam’s skin in yet another way out of thousands, but something in his chest still sparks with approval when he gets his official school jersey for the first time. There’s a number on the back, his, and some voice inside asks if he’s ever had something just for him in so long. The rage, that was the doctors’; the guilt, that belonged to his sister; but whatever he does out on the field, that is his and no one else’s.

That gets harder and harder to remember as the days turn into weeks and the whole lacrosse thing keeps getting better. Theo plays as a part of the team, they face other schools and they win decisively, Theo makes sure of it. To hell if he’s an aggressive player, that’s how you win. Even when some of that rage is directed towards Liam instead. Besides, Coach has said that Theo and Liam can fight with each other all they want in practice so long as they turn that aggression towards the rival players when it’s game time, so isn’t that basically just a seal of approval for Theo to be Theo?

The best part is that he’s good at it. Really good at it. That goes beyond a werewolf’s enhanced athleticism– Theo was made for sports, or so he’s taken to thinking since putting on that jersey. The plays make sense to him, the strategies stick in his brain even when he’s dead tired but the game must go on. Theo likes lacrosse and lacrosse likes Theo. Easy as that.

Even Liam can admit it. He keeps doing this thing where he keeps treating Theo like his friend. Whenever Theo scores a good goal or Beacon Hills High wins a game, Liam goes up to Theo and slaps him on the back or gives him this one-armed hug around their lacrosse sticks that should be awkward but somehow isn’t. For this brief moment, it’s like Liam forgets who Theo is and what he stands for, that they’re just teammates who can celebrate together, joined together by the sheer force of that victory.

The moment always ends, though. Liam’s breath catches in his chest, Theo can hear the hesitation, and he steps away quickly as if nothing happened so they can go back to hating each other. The moment keeps getting pushed off, though. Every game it takes them more and more time to remember who they are.

That extra time gives Theo chances to notice things that he didn’t before. Liam’s good at lacrosse just like Theo is, they both have that same fire in their stomachs to go out there and do something well. They both stand side by side when it’s time to face off with the other team at the start of the match, like they know they could win the whole game even if it was just the two of them and the other team should be quite aware of it, too. 

Also, Liam Dunbar laughs with his eyes closed. When he really means it, that is— nothing like that polite chuckle he’ll do when someone isn’t really being funny but standing there motionless in the face of a failing joke seems to be in poor taste. Theo has seen it a few times now.

The first thing he thought was that it was a weakness. Never close your eyes around anybody or you’ll get hit before you know it. The second realization hit him like a gut punch, because Liam probably knows that but does it around Theo anyway because Liam trusts him enough for that. To give Theo a chance to strike because he knows Theo won’t do it. To close his eyes when he’s laughing and let Theo smile back at him. Trusted. Protected. No longer a threat. 

Theo has always been a threat. The thought that at some point over the past few months, that stopped being true, shakes him more than he cares to admit. Not everybody around here feels the same way, and every time Scott or Stiles comes around, they always bring back a fresh current of distrust against Theo, but Liam seems to have given up on that front.

Maybe Theo has given up too. He realizes that it’s been a while since he thought of leaving. Just the other day, he was talking absently about plans he was going to make a few months from now, plans that involved him staying here perhaps forever. Liam had been there (isn’t he always?) and grinned triumphantly when Theo mentioned that. Theo hadn’t understood it then, but he thinks he does now.

There is a lot to Liam that Theo didn’t notice, even beyond the physical. He does things to Theo that Theo can’t describe. Liam makes Theo nervous, but not like hunters-and-death nervous, something else. Something like a racing heart even when he should have cooled down after practice. Something like how every time they drive together or walk together or even stand side by side, Theo can’t stop his mind from spiraling into the thousand ways they might touch, accidentally or maybe– maybe even on purpose.

Theo feels that all he can do is look, and look, and look. Liam’s hair is longer now than when they first met, it gets in the other boy’s face until he irritably brushes it behind his ears only for it to fall back in place about ten minutes later. It’s dark usually, but when the sun is setting and the windows are rolled down in Theo’s truck, Theo swears Liam’s hair looks like pure gold.

Theo can’t stop looking. He thinks that it might be all he has ever wanted to do, look. They’re in a car driving home from practice and it’s a good thing that Liam is behind the wheel, because Theo probably would have crashed a dozen times from not keeping his eyes on the road.

This isn’t what Theo was supposed to do, and he knows it, so he turns to a distraction in the form of the only answer he seems to get right:  lacrosse. The championship game is coming up for the season, and Theo wants to win this one more than anything. He throws himself into training extra long, extra hard, anything to get this right. He needs this win more than breathing.

It almost works, that’s the best part. Theo loses all track of time and then he blinks and he’s there on the field, the night sky pitch black and the lights like stars forced down to earth. There’s a roaring in the stands that matches the triumphant yell building in his throat, and he realizes at last that he has done it.

God, he feels like a bullet ripped from a gun. Theo is soaring through the air, a crack of gunpowder in a shock of sound, and nothing in this world can tear him down. He won. He won. They all won, actually, and for some reason that distinction makes it better, not worse.

Theo spots Liam across the field and sprints over to him, not caring if he’s moving too fast for a human or not. Liam doesn’t see Theo immediately, too caught up in glancing around the stands like he’s looking for someone. Theo doesn’t like that in the slightest. Something in the back of his head screams that Theo is the only one Liam should be looking for, the only one that should matter in the entire damned world.

Then Liam glances up and sees Theo there before him and grins, this wide smile a bit too big for his face, so full of the same joy and passion that Theo feels right now. He almost wonders if that’s the chemosignals getting to him, both of them standing so close that their same happiness is reverberating through their bodies, building with every passing moment. It might be why he feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. It might be why he finally has the confidence to do something he’s been wanting to do for a very long time.

Liam is surprised when Theo kisses him, Theo can feel it like an electric shock against his skin. He isn’t angry, just surprised.

Theo breaks away, chest heaving, and Liam blinks up at him. “Hayden used to do that. Kiss me after games, I mean.”

Theo nods, jaw set. “Yeah, well, I’m doing it now.”

It doesn’t feel like Theo is encroaching upon some ancient tradition of Liam and his ex-girlfriend. Instead, it seems oddly as if Hayden herself is the outsider here, that Liam’s having brought her up is wrong somehow. The girl’s memory is a villain, and Liam turns a dark shade of scarlet not entirely unlike the tint of his jersey for having shattered their peace by saying her name.

Theo isn’t willing to let the moment be ruined, though, and he pulls Liam in again by the collar of his jersey. The maroon fabric twists in his fingers. It’ll turn out to be torn later, pierced by claws Theo doesn’t remember bringing out. He’s always had such good control over his supernatural tendencies. It’s just like Liam to ruin that for him.

This time, Liam kisses him back. It’s Theo’s turn to be surprised now, amazed by the force with which Liam tears down their walls.

“Easy,” he says, halfway to a laugh, “try not to break my teeth.”

“You’d deserve it,” Liam grumbles, but he’s grinning again by the time they reconnect.

There’s a shout across the field, someone calling their names. Belatedly, Theo remembers that they probably have to shake hands with the opposing team and take photos and whatnot. He says as much to Liam, who looks supremely unhappy to be interrupted in this way.

Theo isn’t bothered by it, though. Not much. Sure, the timing is inconvenient as hell, but there will be chances later:  after the game debrief, in the car driving home, all night and all the next day, plus the rest of the weekend. Kind of like forever, actually.

It occurs to Theo, as they’re walking back across the field, that finally– finally– he did something right. It feels very, very good.

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

[kill-the-feels]

the most dangerous thing is to love ~ ch. IV

a/n: hey besties!! it's been a hot minute since i've been on here and even longer since i updated this, but i come bearing a fun chapter so i hope you'll forgive me! i've also got the next four or five chapters plotted out, so the next few updates should be quicker in coming! thanks to everyone who's waited and loved it so far! <3 (previous part) (master list)

warnings: language, lots of snark, references to past injuries, slight horror vibe at the end

word count: ~4.9k

You crouch behind Fett as he lays flat against the edge of the cliff, eyes squinting in the blistering sunlight.

The crystal water all around you shimmers in the distance, the dark forest and cave system between you and the shore.

“I don’t see anything,” he says. You creep up beside him, mirroring his pose, lest you fall over the side.

This is the highest point on the island, a rocky hill that left the both of you winded on the climb up.

“Nothing?” you repeat. He gives you a wicked side-eye, the kind that gives a blaster bolt a run for its money, irritation at your questioning evident.

“Nothing. You’re positive it was bones you found?” You clench your jaw, his skeptical tone grating. This is the third time the two of you have been over this.

“Unless sticks are shockingly white and humanoid. And carry ancient med kits.” He snorts beside you, wiggling himself back away from the ledge.

“This little island is clearly uninhabited. And there are no signs of life. Which makes the presence of another human-”

“Disturbing, to say the least,” you interrupt. He glares at you.

“And unlikely.” You glance at the horizon. Empty, same as it has been.

“Or like us — unlucky. Who’s to say they weren’t like us? Survivors who washed up here, survived as long as they could, then died.” You paint a morbid picture, and Fett makes a face.

“This cannot be the only island on the whole planet. Someone has to be out there.” He's trying to be logical about this whole thing, but you remain unconvinced.

“Maybe. But I don’t like our odds.” Fett fiddles with a button on his wrist, and you watch as it blinks red twice, then shuts off.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, hurrying back the way you came before you can ask any questions. ~~~ The climb back down takes the rest of your afternoon, and the two of you retreat back into the caves as night sets in, building a fire and sitting closer to it for warmth.

“We need food,” you say, halving a ration bar and passing him half. He scowls at it.

“These taste like shit,” Fett says bluntly. You nibble on the edge of it, trying to make it last, so you can trick your stomach into thinking it’s more food than it is.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have the chef prepare something else for next time,” you say, and he glares at you, his favorite pastime.

“If someone hadn’t tossed my helmet, it’d be easier to find things to eat.” You make a face, sticking your tongue out at him like a three-year-old. Always about that damn helmet.

“We could also fish," you suggest. "Got to be plenty of those.” Fett pokes a stick in the fire, ignoring you.

“Tomorrow you’re showing me where you found the bones,” he says instead. Unease slithers down your spine.

“I’d rather not go back there.” He finally glances at you, disdain barely masked on his face.

“Afraid of the nexu?” You clench your jaw, grabbing your own stick to poke the fire with.

“No.” It’s the truth. It’s not the nexu that leaves your skin crawling. It’s the idea of being back in that spot. Everything was so still and quiet, and you can’t shake the sensation that something else was there besides the nexu, watching you.

“If you found the med kit there, odds are there are other supplies. We’re going back.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and you bite off another corner of your ration bar, gathering your courage to poke the proverbial bear again.

“Why are you the one calling all the shots?” You interrupt the silence, unable to let it go. Fett doesn't respond at first, instead twisting his stick in the flames, burning a neat circle around the end. His silence is worse than his caustic arguments, because you can't argue with silence.

“I thought this was a truce.” Bitterness seeps into your voice as you try again.

“If you with your infinite knowledge of survival would like to be in charge, then by all means,” he says calmly. A small flame grows on the end of the stick, steadily climbing up its length to his hand. Fett smudges the stick out in the dirt.

The side of his mouth tilts up, just barely, and you gape. Instead of arguing with you, meeting your anger with the plenty of his own that he's got stored up, he does that.

“Did you just make a joke?” Your own stick burns, and you toss it in the fire instead of extinguishing it.

“I don’t make jokes,” he says, stretching out on his back, one hand resting behind his head. You stare at him as he throws the other arm over his eyes.

“You made a joke.” He gives you a noncommittal hum.

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Fett says. You snatch up another stick, letting it catch fire. When it burns, you hold onto it, torn between smudging it out and burying it in Fett’s ribs.

In the end, you put it in the dirt beside his stick, pillowing your hands under your head and shutting your eyes. ~~~ “Get up.” The foot to the ribs doesn’t feel any better than before, and your eyes fly open, glare ready.

“Good morning to you too, ass,” you mutter. The sun is barely peaking over the hills but the morning is already hot and steamy, with distant creatures calling out in the jungle.

The waves crash against the rocks as you eat the half of the ration bar Fett passes you on his way out of the cave. You’re scrambling to follow, still half-asleep and vaguely confused.

“Easy,” you huff, sliding on loose rocks as you make your way up the hill. “Do you know where you’re going?”

In your haste to follow him, you put your foot down on the wrong rock, and it twists, sending you sprawling on your knees. Fett catches hold of your upper arm before you can slide too far down, hefting you back to your feet.

“We’re meant to be walking, not sliding,” he says. Blowing hair out of your eyes, you watch where you step, until the two of you reach the top of the hill, just outside of the tree line.

“Where do we go from here?” He's looking at you expectedly, like you should just know where to go. You hesitate, trying to remember.

“I was trying to head to the beach, where we washed up,” you say. “And I know I headed downwards, pretty much straight in.” You bite your lip, unsure how to tell Fett that you basically stumbled onto the spot.

He glances at the sky.

“You have no idea where we should be going,” he says. It isn’t a question.

“I know the general idea. Just… be quiet and let me think.” After the nexu attacked you, it was a miracle you managed to make it back. The green all looks the same, and you have a feeling that the less you try to navigate, the more the your instinct takes over. Plus, the cave is next to the water, so you were able to follow the sound of the waves as you got close enough.

But as you walk forward, the jungle starts to look a little less confusing, certain landmarks seeming familiar. Fett follows silently behind you, shoving leaves and branches out of his way with more force than is probably strictly necessary.

He says nothing, but gradually his breathing gets heavier, like he’s struggling to keep up, still recovering from being sick. You round the corner, into a small, open area littered with rocks.

“Let’s stop for a minute,” you say. Fett glances around, eyes tracing the line of the trees.

“Is this where you were?” he asks, leaning on a waist-high rock. You shake your head.

“No, I don’t recognize any of this. But I need a breather.” The look he gives you is not amused.

“So we keep walking.” He starts off, headed in what feels like the complete wrong direction. With a groan, you hurry after him.

“We can keep walking all you want, but I’m telling you, I need to take a breather, and so do you, and I’m not sure which way I-”

Fett takes another step forward and something clicks under his foot. He freezes and you react on instinct, holding your breath.

“What was that?” He glances back at you without moving, then looks down, lips set in a grim line. Slowly, he crouches, keeping his feet in the same position, until he can brush the leaves and detritus of the jungle away.

His spine stiffens, ramrod straight, and more telling than anything he could say with his words.

“It’s a mine,” he says, voice flat and without any emotion. He's way too calm for the situation, in your opinion. You squint at the ground, just able to make out the top of a durasteel circle.

“Why is there a fucking mine?” you ask, voice a horrified whisper. Fett looks around as he carefully stands back up.

“I don’t know. But there are probably more. Are there any under your feet?” You crouch, maintaining your position the same way he did, and carefully clear away the leaves covering the ground around you.

“I don’t see any.” Fett’s jaw clenches.

“Go back the way we came,” he says. “Watch your feet, trace your steps as best you can.”

“And you?” He eyes the distance between you two.

“Just go.” You shake your head.

“No, we can come up with something. We’re a team now, remember?” He rolls his eyes.

“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Instead of stepping away, you step closer.

“For once in your fucking life, can’t you listen?” he says, angry. “If you step on one, at best we’re both screwed, at worst, we both die.” You stop moving.

“Okay. Since we’re stuck — for now — let’s discuss: why are there mines?” You add the “for now” when he glares at you.

“You’ll be happy to know this counts as a sign of life,” Fett says. “And is one hell of a disturbing way to find out.” Thunder rumbles above the two of you.

“It definitely ranks above the bones,” you say. The wind whistles through the trees, brushing over your skin, leaving chills in its wake.

“Bones can’t kill you.” He looks above him, at the way the clouds are steadily thickening.

“What do we do?” Fett looks behind him, at the way the two of you came. He sighs, rubbing his hands down his face.

“I don’t suppose you have secrets skills with defusing bombs hidden up your sleeve.” You’d almost believe it was a joke, except you know Fett and find it hard to believe he’s joking right now. You’re certainly not laughing.

“Sorry, fresh out of that one,” you say, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Fett closes his eyes, seeming to gather himself before he looks at your fingers.

“Alright. Do exactly as I say.” He reaches for one of the pouches on his belt, pulling out a tiny blade and a little pointed rod of durasteel. When you hesitate, he shakes them at you, drawing you closer.

You move carefully, examining the ground before you shuffle your feet forward until you’re right in front of him.

“What now?” Fett crouches a little, trying to get a good look at the mine.

“Clean it off some more — carefully — so we can see what we’re working with. There should be a place to unscrew the casing. That’s what the pointed piece is for. Tell me when you’ve done that.”

Gently, holding your breath lest you breathe too hard and set the damn thing off, you scrape away dirt and leaves until the muddy mine stares up at you. There’s a raised circular section, with dirt caked into what looks like a tiny X.

“Unscrew there,” Boba says, and you flex your fingers to try and work out the shakiness.

“No problem. Anything else while I’m down here? Some refreshments, maybe?” He scoffs.

“Cut the shit and focus on what you’re doing.” You save the choice words you’ve got for him because it takes too much of your concentration to make sure the little rod is fitting correctly in the corroded X of the screw.

Slowly, it gives way and starts to twist.

“Wait until it’s almost all the way free, then switch to your fingers and twist — slowly. When you get it out, put it to the side and pry the casing open just enough to see what’s inside. Try not to disturb any wires.” He makes the instruction sound like something as simple as baking.

“How am I meant to pry it open and not disturb any wires?” The screw loosens dangerously and you quickly grab at it with your fingers, giving it the final few twists it takes to pull it all the way out. You set it and the rod to the side. Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for the hard part.

“Get at an angle where you can see down inside without moving it too much. Tell me what you see.” You make a face, the angle required putting your face right next to his leg.

The proximity is weird and makes the situation even worse. Squinting, you try to make out what’s under the dirt.

“Bunches of wires,” you mutter.

“I know that,” Fett says, and you can hear the eye roll. “What color?”

Your head is fully pressed against his leg now, fingers trying to delicately crack open the side some more.

“Brown,” you say finally. “And a blue and white one. Maybe a black one under all that? Or a dark grey?” He huffs.

“Which? It’s important to know.” And really, it shouldn’t surprise you that Fett knows how to disarm a mine. He is the Boba Fett after all.

“Black,” you say decisively, because either you’re right or you’ll be dead wrong and blissfully dead so you don’t have to hear about how you were wrong.

“Cut the brown wire.” You look at the blade in your hand.

“Uh, not to question you, but that was awful quick. Are you sure, buddy?” He looks down at you, where your head is still pressed to his leg.

“Cut the brown wire,” he says through gritted teeth.

Slowly, you stab the blade into the gap, trying to not to touch any other wires. Your heart is racing, skin buzzing with anticipation.

Ever so gently, you turn the blade, watching in fascination as it severs the brown wire.

It is a win, you suppose, that you don’t immediately blow up.

But Fett still has to move his foot.

“Is it cut?” he asks. You nod, already carefully backing away.

“Get back here,” he says, “and cut the blue and white one.”

“I have to cut more?” You’re not proud of the way your voice whines. He glares at you, not even dignifying you with a response.

This time, you’re less careful, slicing your way through it.

“And now the dark grey one?” you ask. He jerks his gaze down to you.

“You said it was black!” Is that fear in his voice?

“I meant black, calm down.”

“Don’t touch the last wire. Back up.” You hold your breath, watching.

Your heart bangs against your rib cage as Fett slowly inches his weight off.

There’s a click and you squeeze your eyes shut. Waiting.

It doesn’t blow.

“Fuck,” he hisses, resting his palms on his thighs, catching his breath. You sigh in relief and he pins you with an unamused stare.

“Some thanks for saving your life would be nice,” you say, and he ignores you. The thunder is louder this time, vibrating against your bones.

“Let’s get moving,” Fett orders, as a few fat raindrops start to fall on your heads.

“Back to camp?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“It’d take too long. Let’s find somewhere to hunker down.” The two of you set off in the opposite direction, moving as quickly as you can as the rain picks up. ~~~ He’s damn lucky.

Squinting through the curtain of rain, Boba follows you as the two of you try to find somewhere to take shelter.

It makes him wish he had his helmet, but he’s not complaining, because he’s damn lucky.

Even now, his hands are still shaking so badly that he keeps them clenched into fists, ignoring the way his legs feel weak and wobbly. He’ll take that to his grave, thank you very much.

But still, being forced to confront his own mortality twice in less than a week is not doing great things for his mental space, especially when he has to deal with you, instead of having peace and quiet to process everything.

“Up ahead,” he calls, seeing a rocky overhang that juts out enough to offer some cover.

Cold rain runs down the back of his neck, slipping underneath the collar of his flight suit and sending shivers down his spine.

It worsens his mood, his frustration making it hard to concentrate. You slide underneath the rock, the space just big enough for the two of you to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, heads brushing the rock above you.

“I hate the rain.” Boba blinks at you as the words slip from the both of you in unison.

“Ha,” you say, nudging your shoulder with his. He shoves back, disliking the contact. “Figures we’d have something in common.” Boba scowls out at the grey curtain cutting the two of you off from the rest of the world.

Rain makes his bones ache, makes him feel cold and clammy, and it’s just so loud.

“It’ll pass,” he says, not sure if he’s reassuring himself or you. You glance at him.

“I know. But if you get sick again, I’m going to be pissed.” He rolls his eyes.

“Not gonna get sick.” You don’t look convinced, your hands twisting in your lap. Rainwater that must have been collecting above him gushes over the side of the rock, running down his side, soaking him. Boba glares, biting back the groan and unintentionally shifting closer to you.

“Easy, big guy,” you say, and he looks down to find your hand in the center of his chest piece as he ends up nearly in your lap.

“It’s getting too wet over here,” he says, glad that his brown skin hides the way he can feel his cheeks getting hot.

With a long-suffering sigh, you scoot over, towards the edge on your side, and he moves closer, hating that his options are touching you or sitting in the small waterfall.

“If it isn’t raining, it broiling hot,” you say. “I wish we could just have one day with moderate temperatures and nothing trying to kill us. No cliffs, no killer cats, and no fucking mines.” Boba snorts.

“I dunno. Mines and cliffs are easy enough to avoid. If there wasn’t any challenge, we might get bored.” You roll your eyes at him, and Boba looks away, momentarily distracted by the strange jump in his chest.

It’s the physical contact, he decides. He hasn’t had something like that in years, not since Jango died. Obviously, he’s had lovers. But it’s different, a quick release that ends just as soon as it’s begun.

The last time he sat this close to someone? And didn’t do anything else, but just sat? He couldn’t say.

“What if it doesn’t let up? Do we camp here?” You make a good point, but he’s not exactly sure where the two of you are, and the rain makes it hard to see where you’ve been. Trying to navigate your way back to camp could prove fatal.

“We don’t have to make a decision yet,” he says, giving you a non-answer that has you rolling your eyes again.

“Sure thing, boss,” you mutter, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. Your brow stays furrowed, like you’re thinking about something that’s troubling you. Boba stares at the rain, willing it to stop. It doesn’t work. It never does, but it didn’t stop him from trying when he was a little boy and it doesn’t stop now.

“How does a person like you end up on a bounty hunter’s radar?” he asks, hating the silence. You open one eye, glancing at him, unamused.

“You know how. It’s the same as it always is.” Objectively, he knows the answer. Jabba put the bounty out, so it has something to do with the Hutts. It’s why he took this job.

But he wants to know what exactly you, of all people, did to merit being hunted down, other than being a wise-ass.

You clench your hands in your lap, twisting your fingers around each other. There’s a barely contained anger there, simmering just below the surface. He recognizes it because he sees it in himself, an odd realization to have.

“That can’t be the whole story,” he prods. “You weren’t worth the fuel it took to find you.” Your jaw clenches and you stare pointedly into the rain.

“And yet, it is.” You don’t offer anything else, just take a few measured breaths in and out, calming your temper. It’s a little impressive actually, to see that you are capable of reigning in your blistering comments. ~~~ You know what he’s doing. He’s probing, trying to learn more about you. What you don’t know is why. You two might be allies, but you’re certainly not friends.

He scraps a spare blade over the side of the rock, sharpening it.

Most likely he’s asking because he still can’t believe that the Hutts are really that petty. Regrettably? They are.

Fett shifts beside you, his knee brushing yours, and you resist the urge to shove him away. You’re cranky right now, back stiff and stinging with the stitches.

And just when you’d started to dry out from the last afternoon thunder shower, here you are, soaking wet again.

Your head hurts too, most likely from dehydration and hunger, and you’re to the point where you just want to tear into something with your hands. Fett’s looking more and more like a solid target, especially if you have to keep sitting in close quarters like this.

“Something is jamming my fucking signal,” Fett says, breaking the silence. Slowly, you turn to look at him.

He shows you the same button on his wrist he was messing with when you climbed to the high point on the island. Once more, it blinks red twice, then shuts off.

“It’s not just dead?” you ask, unsure how it works.

“No, it’s not dead. This thing is meant to be used in emergencies. It’s powerful and can pick up any frequency. When it can connect. Even if there’s no one in the area, it should let me transmit something out, to be heard if someone gets near us.” You hear the unintentional emphasis on “if.” Not knowing exactly where you are in the galaxy makes this ten times harder.

For all you know, the two of you could be in the far reaches, where people rarely — if ever — make it.

“Have you been trying it out this whole time?” He gives you his signature side-eye, before slapping it a little harder.

“When I’ve been awake and able, yes. I’m not an idiot.” Your mouth opens of its own volition, the scathing reply poised to leap off your tongue, Fett unintentionally setting you up perfectly.

And just like that, it quits raining, saving you from most likely putting your foot in your mouth again and starting another fight with Fett.

The last remnants of rain drip down the branches of the trees, soaking into the ground, filling the jungle with a quiet hush. You peer into foliage, watching as a steamy mist rises up from the warm ground.

Now that the rain has stopped, it’s humid, everything around you clammy. Fett wastes no time brushing past you, slicking his hair back, the curls unruly and wet.

He peers into the jungle around you, eyes scanning the foliage.

“Does any of this look familiar?” he asks, and you’re tempted to say yes, just so he thinks you’re more useful than you currently are.

“No,” you say honestly. “I think we made a wrong turn.” Fett rolls his eyes.

“There is no ‘we’ in this. You got us lost.”

“Ehh,” you say, face screwing up. “Maybe technically, but really I told you from the beginning. I don’t know how I got there.” His scoff is filled with contempt, and he shoves your shoulder.

“That way. That’s the direction of the caves. We’ll try again tomorrow.” The prospect of spending another day hiking through the jungle in the broiling heat and inevitable rain does not fill you with joy, but you figure it’s in your best interest not to argue right now.

So you stomp forward, crashing through the foliage, generally being as loud as you can, because you’re learning that the creatures who inhabit this island dislike the noise and tend to run from it.

You round the corner of another large boulder, and freeze.

The tree.

In the misty steam rising from the jungle floor, it’s not as clear as it was the last time, but it’s definitely the tree, the same moss covering it as last time. There’s the pool beside it; you're unable to see the waterfall trickling down, but able to hear it in the hushed stillness all the same.

Fett rams into your back, nearly knocking you over, and you don’t even protest at the sudden sharp pain from your stitches.

You just keep staring at the tree, the mist moving all around, like another entity.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, unwilling to break the silence, even to tell him this is it. The sun is still overhead, and if you look behind you, you can see it peeking through the trees. But in front of you, this tree and its little haven, remain shrouded in shadows.

Your eyes fall to the base of the tree, where you know the patch of grass rests, housing the long-forgotten bones.

You force your foot forward, having difficulty picking it up, like you’re slogging through layers of mud.

You shouldn’t be here.

The words come unbidden to your mind, whispered as clear as day, like someone spoke them into your ear. Fett hasn’t moved either, looking between you and the tree. He squints at something, resting on a root beside the tree. The dark shape looks familiar, and you’re fairly certain it wasn’t here last time.

A cold wind whistles through the trees above your head, stirring the mist and rushing over your arms, like two cold hands.

You back up a step, bumping into Fett again. Something is wrong here. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a pregnant pause, the anticipation nearly killing you, everything in your body telling you to run.

You blink. Once. Twice.

The mist fades away. Gradually, the sun seeps into the clearing, the cold wind replaced by the same balmy breeze everywhere else on the island.

In the absence of the mist, you can see what the shape is.

“Is that my fucking helmet?” Fett speaks first, disrupting the silence and causing you to jump. He charges forward before you can stop him, and you have no choice but to follow, feet no longer stuck to the ground.

He snatches it up and spins on you, finger pointed in accusation.

“Is this why you didn’t want to come here? Why you’ve been leading me in fucking circles? Real funny.” You’re shaking your head, genuinely afraid, but not of him. It feels like he’s disturbing something, being too loud when he should grab the helmet and get the hell out of here.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper. “It wasn’t here last time. I swear.” Your eyes fall to the patch of grass, the bright green almost unnatural against the dark moss.

Is there—? Yes, just there, the white of the bone. Only, it looks like it’s been rearranged, because you definitely left that thing sticking up more.

“Fett, we need to go,” you say softly, and he must hear something in your voice that your words are not saying, because he blinks and looks around for the first time.

The leaves brush together above you, sounding like a crowd whispering. Debating something. The sun shifts again, slipping out of the clearing, and you watch as the mist starts to swirl back up. The cold returns, and you take a quick step back, as shivers race up and down your spine.

Fett tugs his helmet on and reaches for a blaster.

“Don’t,” you risk calling. “Let’s go.” You take another step back, out of the clearing, into the sunny jungle. Fett looks back at the tree one more time, before he follows you.

Neither of you speak for the entire trek back to the cave.

When the sun sets, Fett tightens his grip on his blaster, and you notice the way he stokes the fire higher, until it lights up every corner of the cave.

[dantenyhpmir]

You Scare Me

Pairing; Konig x F!Reader, 

Plot; Konig visits you in the hospital after saving you in the most gruesome way 

Warnings; Voyeurism, threat of sexual assault/rape (Not from Konig), Freezing as a trauma response, PxV Sex, Unprotected sex, Oral sex(Fem receiving), “knife play”

Word Count; 5420

Dante Nyhpmir Masterlist

The trip to the new mission was awkward to say the least. You and Konig had assigned seats next to each other but he didn't seem like he wanted to talk with you much. Honestly you got a long fine with everyone else on the team. Zero was the other sniper who was training you, she was so confident in her craft and in you it didn't take long for you to believe in your skills as well. The team got divided up differently this time. Ghost assigned Zero to cover himself and Soap while you were covering Alejandro and Konig. Both lovely people. Well you think. You couldn't get a read on Konig. No matter how often you worked together. Every hello you gave him was met with a quick hi and an even quicker exit. Like he wanted to avoid you. You were always kind, you didn't understand but now in the back of the jeep heading to the next mission, he couldn't bolt. 

"You okay Konig?" You ask genuinely

"What? But of course" he says nervously, staring out the side of the jeep. Avoiding eye contact 

Ghost is driving while Zero is in the passenger seat going over protocol. You aren't paying too much attention, you've been over it so many times. It feels like she's just saying it to fill the air. You turn away, pretending to listen while you also stare out the window. Konig's head slowly turns. He catches a look at your jawline, your beautiful hair and can't help but stare at your chest and especially your thighs. He swallows hard before your eyes realize his fixations and he turns again. Like a child caught in candy he shouldn't be eating. 

"Are you nervous about the mission?" You ask out of concern 

"Oh, um, yes. Very much so, quite" he coughed out. 

You can see Zero's eye roll in the front mirror. And within the hour you would understand why. 

Konig wasn't scared of anything. He was 6'8, absolutely massive and one of the deadliest men to probably ever walk the earth. Covering him in battle was basically a vacation, your scope framed on him but never really needing to squeeze the trigger. By the time you would notice another enemy he had disposed of them. Picking them off so quickly, most of them didn't register the giant was so within their scope. You fell victim to it in a way, so fixated on his moments, watching the hulk of a man move through out of the crowd destroying everything in his wake, you hadn't noticed an enemy sneaking up behind you. 

There was no warning for you, that's what made it so scary. The instant pain of a knife going into your side. You cry out in agony, your instincts hardly ever failing. Even within your shock knowing to hit the button on your radio and crying out for help. 

"I'm down, hurry!!!!" You manage to cough out as you turn to see your intended killer. One man standing over you as others follow him. Usually no one finds you over the hills behind the old barriers. Especially with how little shots you ever fired off. They must have just been heading this way and noticed you, hardly anything gave away your position. 

He looms over you before kneeling down. Your adrenaline wants to take over so badly but your flight is stronger. You know you can't fight off all these men, not at close range. If they were far away they wouldn't stand a chance against you and your sniper, but they were too close and your body was betraying you. Bleeding out and in too much pain to get up and run like the devil was chasing you. All you could do was manage to drag yourself back, but you hit yourself on the barrier. What once was your cement alley turned into your prison as the man got closer trailing the knife over your cheek. 

"We're going to have fun with you" he laughs 

"Red, where are you??" Zero cries over the radio 

"Tell her you're fine" he says while the knife moves deeper into your cheek and a smile tugs on his lips.

You swallow hard, too scared to move. You can't even do what he's asking. Your arms won't let you. Why was your body betraying you? 

"Did I stutter?" He asks while grabbing on your face and pushing the knife in closer to your skin. This time cutting through the flesh 

"Move!!" You think but you can't. They always talk about fight or flight but no one talks about freezing. How your body knows that fighting would end in turmoil and that you couldn't out run all of them. It felt like a betrayal, the way your body wanted to protect you. Sometimes training kicked in, sometimes it didn't and sometimes, the gentle giant would appear without a sound, barreling his hands over the man's head to stick his fingers into his eye sockets. 

The man screamed in torment while dropping the knife as you came down from the shock. There stood Konig. Pulling this scum of a man away from you by his eyes that had already collapsed, leaving their gooey remains on Konig's fingertips as he smashed his head into the barrier next to you. 

Over. 

And over. 

Again. 

"Don't" 

He smashes his head into the cement

"Ever" 

Again with more veracity 

"Touch" 

Again 

"Her" 

You swear you can see pieces of the man’s skull at this point. You've never seen anything so grizzly, at least not this close up before. The site of the inside of a man's brain is enough to make you lose your lunch, between this and the amount of blood you've lost, your vision is already dizzy. Starting to fade. You try to stay awake, fighting with the last morsel of energy you attempt to scrape up to stay active but you can't. 

The last thing you see is Konig turning to the other men who had followed your would be killer. Their shock stopped them in their tracks just as Konig tore into each of them. None of them had time to grab a hold of their weapon before their hands or throats were slit and then met with a thorough head bashing. They weren't just killed, “execution” seemed too generous from what you saw of Konig. They were obliterated. Their cries of terror drowned you out as your vision finally faded and your hearing along with it. 

Beep. 

Beep. 

Beep. 

The heart monitor calls to you as you wake. 

Beep. 

The air is stuffy, all you smell is Ethylene oxide and hydrogen peroxide in the air before finally registering your new room. Your new hospital attire. 

Flowers and a card sit across the table. There's a note from Price explaining what had happened to you. As if you didn't know, as if you didn't live it. As if the hole in your side with a giant bandage wouldn’t cue up the memories. It made sense they wouldn't necessarily be there when you woke up. You didn't even know how many days you had been out. The flowers had a card reading from Zero and the card signed by everyone of the team. Everyone except Konig. You wondered if he had complicated feelings about the whole situation or if he didn't think anything of it. Maybe he realized how traumatizing seeing that was for you and wanted to avoid really taking accountability for that. Or the opposite could be true, he could be wondering why he even needed to step in in the first place. Where was your training? Why would an armed soldier not take care of herself? 

What did it matter to you? You couldn't even tell if he liked talking with you. What would it matter what his thoughts on your situation were. You were hospitalized, you needed to focus on getting better. To rest while you could but your mind was so fixated on him. The way he moved, the second he was there. His words rang in your ear. 

Don't

Ever

Touch 

Her. 

You took a moment to exhale. Over and over again you heard it in your head, and your mind's eye started wondering just as your hands did. No one was coming to check on you. The team would be busy, no one knowing when you'd actually wake up. You had plenty of time to explore, to day dream. To day dream of what that intensity could bring to you. 

Don't 

You see his eyes staring down at you in your wondering imagination

Ever 

His hands, you think about ripping apart that man's skull 

Touch 

All for you 

Her 

When did you start wanting Konig? When did your brain start fixating on him so much, when did your body start craving his touch and could only settle for your own while you imagined just what he could do to you. 

He could kill you if he wanted. 

He never would. 

He was scared of you. 

Your body was so warm and cheeks already flushed thinking of him before even beginning to touch yourself. You moved the blanket off your bed, it was too hot. No one was coming anyway, let them see. With what you had been through, “who could judge, who would dare ask” you thought as your fingers explored between your lips, spreading every bit of juice that drenched out of you to the top of your clit as you ran circles around it. Off in your own world. 

The hospital smell didn't bother Konig too much. His cloth mask typically blocked out most of the smells. He wasn't sure how you'd react to seeing him, he didn't know you that well. Not that he didn't want to. You just intimidated him. He was already confused by social situations enough as it was. The dynamic that existed between all the men on the team was enough to navigate and although you probably would've been easier to communicate with, something always stopped him. Anytime your eyes met him, it scared him. He'd choke and realize he hadn't said anything for too long. Realize you'd probably have caught him staring and he was too quick to lose track of time when he'd look at you. 

He would always try to run into you. Maybe that day he would have the courage to ask you to grab a drink, but it would never be the day. He'd start over thinking. He had never seen you drink, would you even want to do that? What if it was a sensitive topic for you? Hours wasted going in circles over such a simple thing, if that was enough to over think with, the last two days were overwhelming. 

How could you possibly want him after what he did to those men, in front of you. Your head was so close to theirs. Did you imagine if he'd had missed and it happened to you? Your wide eyes from terror were burned into his head, he hoped the fear that radiated off of you was from the other men but…. It would be reasonable to be because of him. From all the gore he caused. He would just lose it sometimes, he didn't mean too but he did. It was always rewarded here but it couldn't have been the gentlemanly thing to do even within the circumstances. Was it? God what a long walk it had been to the hospital to visit you. He had to talk to you. If only it wasn't because of this. Asking you out for a drink felt so much more reasonable after all that. 

He had already been told your room number, quietly standing outside your hospital bedroom door. About to knock though it was slightly open. His eyes turned to look inside. 

He couldn't help but linger on you. How could anyone? Even after days of being asleep he thought you looked beautiful, your hair just messed up in the most charming way, your eyes closed and at peace. It took him a moment to realize your breathing and your hands. Your breathing was getting heavier and your fingers were circling more and more. His eyes widened. He shouldn't be looking, it was a complete invasion of privacy but it was his turn to freeze. 

God all he wanted to do was barge in and "fight" with you until that bed legs had broken but he couldn't. The right thing to do was leave but flight wouldn't work. He couldn't move his legs. All he could do was stare. Watch. Frozen. 

Your pace quickened. Over and over in your head hearing again and again. 

Don't

Ever

Touch 

Her 

And you let out a breath, so off in your own world before whimpering out his name. 

"Konig" 

His eyes widened as he fell forward through the door. If there was anything that was gonna make him move it would be hearing his name fall out of your lips while you touch yourself. The high is short lived though from the embarrassment he feels. Even through the small eye holes in his mask, you know he's flushed as he falls into your room and alarms you. 

You stop. 

You both stop. 

There's a pause in the air. 

A stillness. 

You're caught. 

He's seen you. He's seen you laying on bed spreading yourself and thinking of him inside you. He's heard you call out of his name while you play with your cunt. 

And he's caught. 

You've seen him watch you. How long was he at the door, staring in awe at you without your knowledge. You could call him a pervert or a voyeur all you wanted. it would be in your right too but why bother? 

Why would either of you deny when you're both so clearly on the same page? 

"I'm so-" he starts 

"Konig" you cut off 

Everytime he hears his name uttered from your mouth he's frozen. 

Beat. 

You haven't moved your hand. 

He looks you up and down 

"Do you want me?" You ask with big doe eyes and your lips slightly hung open, as if they’re just a little too heavy to close

"I– I, uh" he starts, not knowing where to go 

You move your hand. The embarrassment washes over your face. He was just surprised, probably laughing at you under his breath. You cover up. 

"Nevermind, that was stupid of me" you say looking down 

"No, no it wasn't! I just-" he stutters 

You look at him, with a confused intention on your face 

"You scare me" he finally coughs out 

Beat. 

"What?" You're even more confused

"You're, really intimidating" he utters 

"Konig, you destroyed every man like they were made of paper." You state, "how am I the intimidating one?" 

"I'm sorry for that" he says without looking at you 

"Why?" You ask

Now it's his turn to be confused. 

"I just, lost control, thinking of you, hurt" he says scratching at his head through his cloth mask. 

"You saved me" you say again, stating facts. 

"Did I, scare you?" He ask, unable to look at you 

"No, should I be scared?" You ask 

"No" he says, finally looking you dead in the eyes "I don't, ever want to hurt you" 

The eye contact sits in the air for a minute. 

You move your hands slowly back down, your knees curl up as the blankets fall off your legs 

"You can try," you say, looking down and back up at him. He's so shy, and scared. You have to make it clear to him. Almost hit him on the head with a shovel to make him realize how much consent he has. How much you want him. How much you want your guard dog. 

His chest is breathing heavily. 

He takes one slow step forward as his arm shuts the door. With a flick of his wrist it's slammed. There's another moment of silence before he exhales and takes another slow step towards you. 

He's trying to keep himself contained. 

His eyelids shut and you swear someone new is behind them. The half stare cuts into you, making your heart race. 

"You aren't scared of me?" He asks, sternly. 

"No." You say, shaking not from fear but pure excitement…. Well, maybe a little fear. 

"You should be mein liebling" falls out of his mouth as he undoes his belt. It's painful, could he go any slower? You think to yourself but it does feel more threatening. more intense as he tossed it aside and grabbed your ankles to pull you over the side of the hospital bed. You sit up, holding your back up with your arms as your legs open with him standing between them. 

“What does mein liebling mean?” You say staring at his lips 

His hand reaches up slowly to hold onto the side of your face while his thumb rests on your bottom lip, taking a second to strum it. 

“My darling” He answers 

Your mouth basically hangs open at this point. If you hadn’t soaked through your panties before, you had now. The precious moments before he would lose it on you, it made your body tingle. Like every section was lit up with goosebumps.

“Can I move your mask?” You ask softly

“You can do whatever you please” he says slowly, his eyes unable to look away from your lips. 

It takes you a moment to sit up. Leaning in closer, hooking your thumbs under the bottom of the cloth mask that drapes over his face. You look him in the eyes before slowly moving it up over his nose. His jawline exposed. The most you’ve ever seen of him in the months you’ve worked together. 

He licks his lips. 

You go to lean in but seconds before your lips can meet his, he interrupts 

“Just so you’re aware, once I start, I won’t stop with you” he says in a low breath

“Is that a threat?” You tease 

“Yes” he states. 

“You wouldn’t hurt your liebling?” 

“Never” he breathes as he leans in. He won’t kiss you, you’ll have to meet him here. Always“This flimsy bed doesn’t stand much of a chance, no?” 

You can’t wait any longer as you throw your head into a kiss, your lips press as hard as they can against his and both his hands grab the side of your head pushing  your kiss even closer. His body pushed right up against the hospital bed, he moves his hands from the side of your head to palm both your ass cheeks and drag you closer to him. 

He needs you, pressed up against him. His hands run around your back to the ties on the hospital gown but they’re done in such a way that untying will take off your nails and he didn’t have the patience for that. 

His mouth moved along the side of your neck, kissing and grazing the skin while your lashes fluttered and looked down. His hands went for his knife. Your eyes shake, you know he wouldn’t hurt you but you also can’t help but think how deadly he is with that thing, 

“Konig….” you say nervously

But just as quickly as it takes you to register what’s happening, the strings on your hospital gown are cut. He moves aside to rip the clothing off you before going back to kiss your neck and hum into your ear “No need to be scared mein liebling, remember?”

“Right”  you say, easing your own anxiety. You’d like to think your heart stops racing after this but it only gets faster. Tighter in your chest as he kisses down your body. Holding on  your breasts and kissing around your nipples, grabbing as tightly as possible onto your waist before making his way to your panties, cutting them in a swipe as well. You can’t stop starring as he spreads your legs apart and kisses between your thighs, closer and closer to your slit. Being sure to kiss between the knook on your thigh and pelvis. He slows down even more as he kisses over your pubis and down over your clit, not touching it just yet but squeezing tightly on your thighs as his arms wrap around them. Lightly breathing warm air your opening, watching you pulse and looking up at the sweat falling from your forehead and cum drunk expression hanging off your face before even considering diving in. 

“What do you want, Darling?” he coos with another breath hitting goosebump 

“I want you to taste me” you say as fast as you can, you can’t stand him dragging this out of you. 

He licks up the side of your thigh, over the knook connecting your pelvis, just beside your lips as his tongue curls in between your slits and runs along your clit. Just the tip grazes it over and over again, his tongue feels hard with how much pressure he’s put forward. Trying to contain himself but not being able to help himself much longer. 

His arms grip onto your thighs, just within his finger tips you can feel his strength. You know you’ll be smiling at the 5 bruises of each finger tip on your thighs tomorrow as he pulls you in closer and buries his tongue inside. Feeling the inside of your walls and lapping up as much as he can, wanting to taste everything. The lining of his upper teeth pushing against your clit and rubbing it up and down with each thrust of his head. Never letting the ends of them hit your most precious nerve. 

His hands move over to your waist, pulling you in even closer and his tongue even deeper. His hands had felt the bandage on your side and adjusted. He wasn’t kidding, he wouldn’t hurt you. The bed shakes a little from his adjustment, not even an ounce of his weight is on the bed and yet the wheels screech below you as he moves you around. 

You’re flushed, forehead and cheeks bright red and covered in sweat already looking down at him. Taking care of you. His eyelids open and slowly his gaze locks with yours as he laps you up slowly. 

“Konig, please, I can’t hold out like this” you manage to get out 

“Does it hurt you?” He asks, “To be this stimulated?” 

“In a way” you cough out, “I love it, I want more. I want all of you. I want what you were threatening me with” 

He pauses. Looking at you, not breaking your gaze. The cloth falls back over his face and he pushes it into his mouth to lap up your juices as he whips it across his mouth. 

Never break from your gaze. 

He stands up. 

Slowly. 

Looking down at you. 

He holds your face with both hands, making you look at him. As if your eyes ever moved. 

“You needed to be prepared first” he says as he undoes the button of his pants. You can see the bulge pressing forward already as they slide off. His boxers barely being able to hold him anymore as they finally come off and you see what was the most intimidating thing about him to date. Konig was a large man, to say the least and his proportions were, well, they made sense. You understood why you need to be prepped. You had never taken a cock this big, this long, with this much girth. 

He grabbed your waist and rolled the bed forward along with you, careful to avoid the wound. His cock between the folds of your slits gets wetter and wetter with each pull of the bed. His face practically next to yours, looking down at you. 

“Still not scared?” He asks 

“Now I might be” you admit, feeling how long he is as he glides you back and forth along it. Not quite entering yet 

“I would never hurt you” he explains, calmly 

“I think you might” you breath, looking down at him, still grazing you. Still lining himself with you. 

“We go at your pace, yeah?” he says, lining up the tip of his cock to the entrance of your slit. “Whatever you please”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself in, just the head moving yourself with the hospital bed. He stops the bed with his hands to make sure he doesn’t press in any farther. 

“I want more” you cough out in a sweat 

He holds your eyes and pulls the bed a little closer. You cry out. 

“Fuck” 

“More?” he asks 

You catch your breath, “yes”

“As you wish” he coos as he pulls the bed again, along with your body more deeply. You cry out again. 

“Shit that’s deep” you whine 

He snickers. 

“What?” you ask

“I still have more to give…” 

“Hurt me” you say 

He moves his nose to joust with yours. 

“Oh mein pet, I don’t wa–” 

“My pace, remember?” 

There’s a pause. He looks you up and down. 

“Once I start, I won’t stop. Remember?” he says sternly 

“Bracing myself” you say, grabbing onto his neck and bringing your body close. 

He wraps an arm around your body while the other absorbs the weight on the bed as he pulls you in as deep as he can go. Your mouth falls open but no words come out, it takes a minute for your cries to exit your body and then it takes a moment to bite down on his shoulder. He loves it, his body goes limp for half a second enjoying finally being fully inside you and the pressure your bite brings stiffens him back again. 

“Oh mein liebling, you’re so delicate” he whispers in your ear before pulling you off him and slowly, slowly bringing you back in again. “I did not prepare you enough, I can feel you stretch around me” 

He wasn’t kidding and it takes a few thrusts to finally adapt to him. He takes his time, slowly moving you back and forth, up and down on top of him. Your body holding onto him, nails digging into his back with each thrust until you can feel yourself relaxing. Enjoying every motion of his body. Each time he rocks you back and forth on his fat cock. 

“Don’t stop” you breath out

“I haven’t started” he says 

You don’t have the energy to muster saying anything else, only showing him with your body as you brace yourself again against him. He can feel the edges of your teeth lining up with his trap muscle and he knows you’re craving more. 

“Hurt me” You cough out 

He smiles under his mask for a brief moment before laying into you. Grabbing a hold of your waist with his arm as tightly as he can, leaning his weight into the bed with his other. He pulls you in as hard as he can and as fast as he can. You feel like a toy being thrown around, as if you weigh nothing with how fast he can throw your body onto his. Pushing deeper and deeper. He grunted with each thrust, 

“Fuck, you’re so much tighter than I imagined” he whimpers as he thrusts into you, the wheels of the bed screeching beneath you. The ferocity shakes them, damaging them. The bottom layer or the wheels has surely been ripped off with how hard he was fucking you on that fragile hospital bed. 

“Is that why you could never look at me?” You exude through breaths as he pulls back before driving his cock back into you. “You’re busy thinking of what I’d feel like?” 

“And what your pretty eyes would look like whist you cum” He sings, “among other things” 

“Tell me” 

“Now all my mind will be able to think about is you touching yourself while thinking of me” 

“I hope that’s burned into your brain the way your words are etched into mine” You whimper 

“Which ones?” He asks “Mein Liebling?" 

“That’s a new personal favourite for sure,” You catch your breath in between each time he plows into you. You need a minute again though, to bite into his trap muscle. 

He exclaims, your bites kill him. 

“What you said, on the mission” you manage to get out. “While you obliterated those men” 

He pulls you in again and again. 

“I don’t remember what I said, I’m sorry my darling” he grunts. “I was in a bit of a rage” 

He pushes through, leaning even more into the bed frame. 

“You said” you’re cut off by each thrust 

“Don’t” 

Thrust 

“Ever” 

Again

“Touch”

Again

“Her” 

The bed breaks underneath you both. The legs not being able to sustain his weight, especially with how much he’s leaned into it. Just as you recognize the bed has broken out from under you, he catches you with his arm. You only feel the gravity affect you for a second before he’s got you and you wrap your legs around his waist as he pins you to the wall. 

“No one does get to touch you” he says as he pins you there, 

“No one huh?” You tease 

He plows into you 

“You get to touch me, I always want you touch me” You whimper into his ear 

His pace doesn’t change, he keeps the same. Keep it consistent as you edge closer and closer though he might not be able to hold out much longer. All the nights he stayed up thinking about you, finally being able to bury himself inside you. Having you practically begging him for it, wanting him. Konig only ever felt wanted from the violence he could implore. Never for this. It was destroying him. You scared him. 

“Tell me” he says under his breath 

“Tell you what? That I crave your touch?” you exhale 

“Tell me you want me” he thrusts again and again, 

You catch your breath before meeting his request. 

“I want you Konig” you cry “I’ve wanted you since we met.. I think about you every night, everytime I touch myself my mind wanders back to you.” 

“Fuck, I’m so close” he grunts. 

You were too and with his fingers tightening into your skin with each line you said, you wouldn’t be far behind him. Your body had been lit up and overstimulated for so long, you were surprised you had made it this far at all. 

“I want you Konig” You scream “I want you, I want you so badly. I want you…”

“Every” 

He pushes 

“Single” 

Thrusts again 

“Night” 

Again

“No one” 

He pulls your whole body in

“Can touch me” 

Again

“But you”

It’s enough to send you both over the edge, your stomach lights up from the orgasm finally not being able to be held back. No amount of bracing could stop you from finishing all over his cock and he had to let go and fill you with every ounce of cum he had. His legs were weak, not even necessarily the work out but hearing you call to him like that. Would make any man weak in the knees as he kept you pushed up against the wall. 

Your body took so long to stop twitching, you could feel each vein going off and pulsing on his cock, hitting your walls as he took a moment. Allowing every drop to meet your walls before finally being able to look at you. He held you in place while slowly, very very slowly pulling out but the shaft of his cock ran along your clit and sent jolts through your body which he held you for. You had never been so stimulated, it would take so long to calm down. 

He didn’t drop you, which surprised you. Kept you there while you finished shaking before wrapping you up and laying you both on the broken bed on the floor. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Catching your breath was so difficult. 

“You’re very beautiful. I would uh, day dream. About your smile, just as much as uh–” he stuttered “this.” 

You roll over on top of him. Still breathing heavily. 

“I meant what I said for the record” you coo at him, “I want you” 

“I meant what I said too” he couches 

“Which part?” you ask calmly, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk this much” 

He chuckles “That you scare me” 

Dante Nyhpmir Masterlist

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 9: Tellings of the Wheel

Hello again! This reread is filled with spoilers of all kinds (that Dracula guy isn't just a funny foreigner - he's a vampire!) and is best avoided if you don't want to read that sort of thing. For everyone else, let's get started!

The chapter icon is another dragon's fang, probably associated with Rand's dream and the general sense of panic in the village.

Rand’s heart pounded as he ran, and he stared in dismay at the barren hills surrounding him.

Dream sequence time! This is quite possibly our first sighting of Tel'aran'rhiod, a plot device that lets Jordan get away with far more dream sequences than most authors can. After all, if you die in T'A'R, you die in real life. Unless you're Lanfear, apparently.

But that's way, way away.

This was not just a place where spring was late in coming; spring had never come here, and never would come. Nothing grew in the cold soil that crunched under his boots, not so much as a bit of lichen. He scrambled past boulders, twice as tall as he was; dust coated the stone as if never a drop of rain had touched it.

If Rand is in T'A'R, then he's in the worst possible place to be in T'A'R: the Blight. Indeed, after just a little bit more running he ends up in the shadow of Shayol Ghul itself.

That bleak stone spire, a dagger stabbing at the heavens, was the source of his desolation. He had never seen it before, but he knew it. The memory of it flashed away like quicksilver when he tried to touch it, but the memory was there. He knew it was there.

Rand's very first LTT memory! He's going to get a lot of these, and this one is particularly interesting because it's later stated (I think in the BWB but possibly in the text itself) that in the AoL, Shayol Ghul was just a pleasant island. Ignoring the weirdness that is it not being where the Collam Daan was (I don't get it and I never will), this implies that the Forsaken took the time to renovate the island into a more forbidding mountain by the time of the Hundred Companions or that the Dark One's touch did it all on its own. Either way, the mountain wasn't affected by the Breaking... Or duh, the island was the first thing Broken when all the Companions went crazy together. The memory is hard for Rand to capture not just because it's his first one, but because it's from a time Lews Therin himself doesn't remember well.

Serve me, a voice whispered in the stillness of his mind. A familiar voice. If he listened hard enough he was sure he would know it. Serve me. He shook his head to try to get it out of his head. Serve me! He shook his fist at the black mountain. “The Light consume you, Shai’tan!”

If you say the Dark One's name in a dream, does it count? The smell of death lays thick over Rand immediately, but it's Ishamael who shows up being all crazy eyes and maybe it's just his B.O.

Not caring if he fell over the edge, he threw himself away. He had to get away. Far away. He fell, flailing at the air, wanting to scream, finding no breath for screaming, no breath at all.

Rand warping so easily from the Blight to Tar Valon is another thing that makes this place feel T'A'R-like more than a vacuole like Ishamael sometimes uses in this book. Rand wants and needs safety and ends up where he's told was safe, but of course even in the dream it isn't. First Ish tries to pull him away from the city, but Rand gets there. Then we get this oddity.

Smiling people walked by on either side of him, people dressed in so many colors they made him think of a field of wildflowers. Some of them spoke to him, but he could not understand, though the words sounded as if he should. But the faces were friendly, and the people gestured him onward, over the bridge with its intricate stonework, onward toward the shining, silver-streaked walls and the towers beyond.

T'A'R is not normally so populated a place! I think Ishamael switches up his tactics at this point, trying to get Rand caught in a particular dream to make him more malleable. Once he gets into the city, he finds it a lot harder to break the script; the White Tower keeps looming in front of him no matter which way he goes, and everyone is sugar sweet.

His feet itched to join in their dance, and even as he thought of it he was dancing, his steps fitting as if he had known it all from birth. He threw back his head and laughed; his feet were lighter than they had ever been, dancing with. . . . He could not remember the name, but it did not seem important.

Another memory of his past life, though distant. Are they just coming forward because in the dream Rand doesn't mind them too much, so he doesn't try to repress it like he does awake? Does Ish have some crazy technique to make people more in touch with their past lives? Semirhage will later state that people with Rand's condition are almost impossible to cure, so it may well be that the prospect of driving Rand to despair over his memories is worth the risk of him using those memories if such a state can be deliberately induced. Or maybe the first memory is legitimately LTT's and the second is Ish trying to bring Ilyena to mind but failing because Rand's not unlocked it yet.

“We have been waiting for you,” the Myrddraal hissed.

It's a simple trick, but it's brutally effective. By trying to make Rand associate Tar Valon with the Shadow, the chances of him willingly going there and possibly benefiting from the help Moiraine and Siuan would try to provide (though again I can't stress enough how bad an idea it would be to try) are much lower.

He rubbed a sore spot on his side. Apparently he had slept with the sword hilt jabbing him in the ribs.

Rand should get used to having a sore side now, all things considered.

But Rand could see no need to go over every step of the journey from the farm, or his fears, or the Myrddraal on the road. Certainly not his nightmares as he slept by the bed. Especially he saw no reason to mention Tam’s ramblings under the fever. Not yet.

It's sad that despite all this Rand is still doing a better job of communicating with Tam than most people will manage with each other in this series. Of course, if he had told Tam, he might well have put two and two together much too early and really freaked out.

“Then he knows what he’s talking about. You listen sharp, think deep, and guard your tongue. That’s good advice for any dealings beyond the Two Rivers, but most especially with Aes Sedai. And with Warders. Tell Lan something, and you’ve as good as told Moiraine. If he’s a Warder, then he’s bonded to her as sure as the sun rose this morning, and he won’t keep many secrets from her, if any.”

Most of Tam's advice is good and true (especially since he's aware enough to explain the basic principles of how Aes Sedai Truths work, even though he doesn't understand the mechanisms behind them), but his warning about Lan is actually not. Tam has no way of knowing it of course, but Lan and Moiraine are going to have divisions and Lan is just as obsessed with making Rand his found family as Rand is to win him over, so they're not as united a front as all that.

As to what the Aes Sedai got out of it, the stories were silent, but he was not about to believe they did not get something.

I could tell you what the Greens get out of it, Rand, but even your farming education won't have prepared you for those depths of depravity.

The Aes Sedai in general most notably get the benefits of a second pair of eyes and ears (not useless even from a non-channeler) and also a slave who can never truly rebel, because the Aes Sedai can Compel them at any time. This is naturally a huge secret on their end because holy shit is it fucked up.

“Perhaps I’ll follow in a few days anyway. Catch you up on the road. We will see if Marin can keep me in bed when I want to get up.”

Sorry Tam, she can and she will. Further, Nynaeve will leave in the interim, so you'll be convinced not to leave for quite some months yet. Seriously, you don't make it to Tar Valon for AGES. It doesn't even make sense.

Outside the room Mat waited, cloaked and coated and carrying his bow. A quiver hung at his waist. He was rocking anxiously on his heels, and he kept glancing off toward the stairs with what seemed to be equal parts impatience and fear. “This isn’t much like the stories, Rand, is it?” he said hoarsely.

What kind of horribly boring stories do fantasy characters tell each other that at the first sign of anything bad happening everyone's always going, "This never happened in the stories!"??? Dear fantasy writers and would-be fantasy writers: never use this cliche again. It is overused, nonsensical, and adds nothing!

Wondering what they could be watching, Rand went to join him. The Warder muttered at him to take a care, but he did open the door a trifle wider to make room for Rand to look, too.

"Today, I teach him to kill all of his own townsfolk who threaten him. Tomorrow, I teach him to die for our fallen kingdoms in the Blight."

You just know that if Mat had approached the door, Lan would have kicked him in the shins until he sat back down.

Cenn Buie was there, as well, looking uncomfortable.

"I can't believe that the crowd of people I incited to riot are rioting!"

Dead silence fell, except for the shuffling of a few feet as men drew back. Two Rivers folk could fight back if they were attacked, but violence was far from common, and threatening people was foreign to them, beyond the occasional shaking of a fist. Cenn Buie, Bili Congar, and the Coplins were left out front alone. Bili looked as if he wanted to back away, too.

I dunno Jordan, once you've gotten to the torch and pitchfork phase (okay there's no pitchforks but there are torches), they're usually past the point of their conscience kicking in like this. Guess Rand's ta'veren is keeping him alive.

Cenn half lifted his right hand, then looked away from it angrily. “I cannot deny what she did,” he muttered, and he did sound ashamed. “She helped me, and others,” he went on in a pleading tone, “but she’s an Aes Sedai, Bran. If those Trollocs didn’t come because of her, why did they come? We want no part of Aes Sedai in the Two Rivers. Let them keep their troubles away from us.”

I dunno Cenn, even ignoring the Dragon Reborn you don't know about standing some fifty feet away, there is that other dude who can channel claiming to be a Dragon, and the weather is unnaturally evil. The fact that you can't even stick to a single conspiracy theory at a time is what makes you simultaneously so pathetic and so realistic. Ten years ago I woulda called this sequence of dudes who Moiraine healed trying to have her burned at the stake contrived, but not these days.

“Is this what Aemon’s blood has come to?” The Aes Sedai’s voice was not loud, but it overwhelmed every other sound. “Little people squabbling for the right to hide like rabbits? You have forgotten who you were, forgotten what you were, but I had hoped some small part was left, some memory in blood and bone. Some shred to steel you for the long night coming.”

Sorry Moiraine, but the only parts left are in the EF5 (or in Rand's case, his adoptive father), and if it weren't for Perrin, these rabbits would all be dead by the end of book four, no matter how good their longbows are.

Eldrene, so beautiful that it was said the flowers bloomed to make her smile.

Rand will eventually unlock memories of the Songs of Growing and make stuff bloom around him all the time. Did the Songs last a little longer than we think, with Eldrene and others slain in the Trolloc Wars their last practitioners, and the details getting a little mixed up in the telling? Mat hears the Song and thinks it sounds familiar...

At night their cook-fires outnumbered the stars, and dawn revealed the banner of Ba’alzamon at their head. Ba’alzamon, Heart of the Dark. An ancient name for the Father of Lies. The Dark One could not have been free of his prison at Shayol Ghul, for if he had been, not all the forces of humankind together could have stood against him, but there was power there. Dreadlords, and some evil that made that light-destroying banner seem no more than right and sent a chill into the souls of the men who faced it.

The Dark One wasn't there, but he's not Ba'allsy either; Ish is. Just think bro, if you hadn't been sooooo insistent on wiping out Manetheren, its heartlands wouldn't have decayed into the very hinterlands that Rand grew up safely in. For a dude obsessed with breaking the Wheel, you sure are good at playing into the Pattern.

But some did not flee. First in a trickle, then a river, then a flood, men went, not to safety, but to join the army fighting for their land. Shepherds with bows, and farmers with pitchforks, and woodsmen with axes. Women went, too, shouldering what weapons they could find and marching side by side with their men

Literally Manetheren has been fighting an apocalyptic war for two centuries and they STILL aren't throwing every able-bodied woman at the problem? Maybe if you'd used the full extent of your populace, you could have wrapped things up in fifty years instead of two hundred plus!

*glares at Jordan*

But the price was high for Manetheren. Eldrene had drawn to herself more of the One Power than any human could ever hope to wield unaided. As the enemy generals died, so did she die, and the fires that consumed her consumed the empty city of Manetheren, even the stones of it, down to the living rock of the mountains. Yet the people had been saved.

Between the manner of her death and the relative circumstances (the loss of her husband and Warder), people including me are pretty convinced that Egwene is Eldrene reborn. It's nice to know that this time around she'll do it a little better, and instead of burning out and taking everything with her, she helps sew reality back together instead.

Other wars would wrack them in years to come, until at last their corner of the world was forgotten and at last they had forgotten wars and the ways of war. Never again did Manetheren rise.

Moiraine skims over a lot of details that aren't really relevant to her, "Try to burn me at the stake and I'll end you with just a fraction of the power Eldrene Sedai used to nuke her enemies" spiel, but we don't have to! Manetheren would be replaced by two kingdoms, Farashelle and Dhowlan. The former was the northern section and held the territory that would become the Two Rivers, the latter was basically Ghealdan, the kingdom whose queen would later swear fealty to the man rebuilding Manether--

Wait, what's that? Sanderson completely tossed aside Perrin's thread of rebuilding Manetheren? Whoops!

The two kingdoms occasionally skirmished, with Farashelle trying to restore Manetheren to its former glory, but nothing ever came of it thanks to Garen's Wall. A thousand years after the Trolloc Wars, Farashelle was conquered by False Dragon Amalasan and then claimed by Hawkwing and Dhowlan was conquered by Hawkwing directly. This tale of reunification is a fun parallel to Rand the real Dragon growing up in western Andor and Perrin the conqueror uniting both regions for his k-

Oh. Right.

After Hawkwing's death, Farashelle was briefly independent until conquered by Andor. Dhowlan was eventually made into Ghealdan by a compact of four nations that established a Crown of the High Council, paralleling the compact of four towns in the Two Rivers that would lead to the establishment of a new kingdom-

Er... guess not.

Oh well, it's not like the only note Jordan left behind on Perrin specifically stated he was supposed to become king or anything.

Weep for Manetheren. Weep for what is lost forever.

This was supposed to be ironic by the end, but since it isn't, I implore you to obey Moiraine and WEEP. Lord knows I'm going to.

Lan pulled Rand back and shut the door. “Let’s go, boy.” The Warder started for the back of the inn. “Come along, both of you. Quickly!”

Now that you're done weeping, let's end on a lighthearted note: Lan cares enough about Rand to address him specifically. Mat meanwhile, he's clearly only bringing along because Moiraine told him to.

Next time: Awesome speech finished, our heroes are finally ready to think about talking about planning a committee to consider the best way to organize their pre-departure if and when they can finalize a date.

[teenageread]

Review: Howl’s Moving Castle

Synopsis:

Sophie has the great misfortune of being the eldest of three daughters, destined to fail miserably should she ever leave home to seek her fate. But when she unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Sophie finds herself under a horrid spell that transforms her into an old lady. Her only chance at breaking it lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Howl's castle. To untangle the enchantment, Sophie must handle the heartless Howl, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, she discovers that there's far more to Howl—and herself—than first meets the eye.

Plot:

As the eldest of three, Sophie had no plans to get her fortune. Instead, she was content on running the hat shop that her deceased father owned, and one her stepmother planned on leaving to her. Sending off her younger sister Lettie to work for the town’s bakery, and her other sister Martha to learn magic, Sophie had no problems running the shop. Despite the borning work, and the annoying customers, Sophie knew that was the life she as the eldest was meant to have. When one rude customer made Sophie snapback, Sophie was horrified to know that the customer was the Witch of the Waste. Turning Sophie into an old woman, Sophie had no choice but to flee town and find somewhere else to live. That is when she stumbled across Wizard Howl’s moving castle. Known to eat young girls' hearts, Sophie trusted her old body to fool Howl and made a deal with the fire demon, Calcifer. Calcifer promises Sophie that if she can break his contract that he would free her from the witch's spell. Yet he can not speak about the contract, therefore Sophie must use clues around the castle to figure out how to do it. Meeting Howl himself, he seems nonchalant about letting Sophie stay in the castle as a cleaning lady, as his only concern was about looking pretty for the girl he was trying to woo, and avoid the King. Meeting Howl’s apprentice, Michael, Sophie begins living a more exciting life than the hate shop could ever offer her. From visits to other lands, meetings with the King, new friendships, and love interests, Sophie, despite having a body of a ninety-year-old, may find her fortune after all.

Thoughts:

Diana Jones beautifully crafts this fairytale-like story for children and adults to fall in love with. Told from the third person perspective of Sophie, Jones writes about how she gets turned into an old woman by an evil witch and runs away from her family’s business to live with an eccentric wizard, his boy apprentice, and a fire demon. Adapted by Studio Ghibli and made into a movie with the same name, Jones’s story is vastly different from the film but equally enjoyable. Sophie is not some soft-spoken girl, but a nosey, loudmouth, who finds her way into everyone's business, but always tries to help out and has great kindness towards all. Jones really keeps you into the story through the usage of Howl himself, as Jones writes him to be a moody lover boy, who is flippant about most things in his life. Every scene with Sophie and Howl is magical, and Jones writes their friendly interactions to be laced with sassiness, friendship, and fun conversations. The plot of the story is hard to get a hold of as Jones kind of just rambles her way through Sophie’s and Howl’s adventures. Sure there are bigger moments, but there are a lot of smaller, disconnected moments in this novel, as each chapter seems to be the start and finish of some event. In true children’s story fashion, Jones keeps her writing simple while whimsical, as the novel just flows with simple character designs and each having its own quirk. Overall it is a cute novel with a fun story and loveable characters that you will be glad you met through this novel, and enjoy how different they are from the movie.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

[bi-bard]

Sonder - The Wrecks Writing Challenge (Masterlist)

Hello!

This is a masterlist for my next writing challenge! It's going to be dedicated to "Sonder" by The Wrecks. If you haven't listened to the album yet, you need to. It's brilliant.

I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun planning it!

(Thank you to The Wrecks for making an album that was so easy to think of plots for)

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

Sonder

How Come Your Truth Revolves Around You? Frederick Chilton X Reader (Hannibal) Summary: Someone can only work with Dr. Frederick Chilton for so long before they realize where his ambitions lie. Some people can't sit by and watch that.

I Love This Part

This is the Part Where You Recognize This Was Your Fault and You Made it Mine Kara Danvers X Reader (Supergirl) Summary: After getting sent away by the D.E.O, (Y/n) turns to one person that they trusted to never turn their back on their friends. However, the world is never that predictable.

Where Are You Now?

Where Are You Now? Emily Prentiss X Reader (Criminal Minds) Summary: Emily was (Y/n)'s first love. When she leaves without a goodbye, (Y/n) never thought they'd see each other again... until they start working together.

Don't Be Scared

Don't be Scared; This is the Life Oliver Queen X Reader (Arrow) Summary: (Y/n) didn't know what they were truly signing up for when Oliver became mayor and hired them After disagreements and arguments, (Y/n) starts to realize that their new job just might not work out.

Unholy

Open Your Eyes; Here Comes the Old Me Cal Roberts X Reader (The Path) Summary: After Cal's first major TV interview, an anonymous article is released describing manipulation at the hands of the man trying to recruit

Dystopia

We're on Our Way to Dystopia Eddie Lane X Reader (The Path) Summary: After his original crisis of faith, Eddie is on the search for answers. However, it is far too easy for the wires between answers and happiness to get crossed.

Unrequited

Unrequited Love Makes the Heart Grow Fonder Barry Allen X Reader (CW's The Flash) Summary: (Y/n)- and almost everyone else around them- was convinced that Barry and them were either together or on the way there. So, when Barry and Iris get together, there are a lot of questions from all angles.

No Place I'd Rather Be

I'll Plant My Soul, Just Take Me There Adam Raki X Reader [Adam (2009)] Summary: Adam gets offered a job in California and wants nothing more than for (Y/n) to go with him. (Y/n) just needs a good reason for uprooting their life.

Ugly Side

I'm Just Asking if I Can See You Lance Sweets X Reader (Bones) Summary: Lance spent a long time trying to get through (Y/n)'s shell. It looks like he's finally found success. However, when (Y/n) is ready to be serious, Lance suddenly decides to run for the hills.

Normal

I Just Wanna Fall in Love Like Everybody Else Does Dean Winchester X Reader (Supernatural) Summary: Dean wants to try his hand at a "normal" relationship. His biggest fear is that his lifestyle and past will keep him from experiencing the one thing he wants more than anything.

Lone Survivor

I'm a Reckless Lone Survivor Alana Bloom X Reader (Hannibal) Summary: (Y/n) tries to warn Alana about Dr. Lecter's true nature. Alana doesn't take the warning seriously until it's almost too late.

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

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 305: Worst Intervention Ever

Previously on BnHA: Shinomori, whose name took me an entire week to memorize, was all, “nice to meet you Deku, I’m ten feet tall, do you want to know how I died?” and without waiting for an answer explained that he kicked it from old age at forty thanks to good ol’ OFA. Deku was all “wait a minute, then how come All Might, who’s fifty-five and is definitely dyeing his gray hair, is still alive?” First and Shino were all, “we really have no fucking clue but we think it’s cuz he’s quirkless, JUST LIKE YOU!” So basically, since quirkless people don’t exactly grow on trees these days, Deku is probably going to be the last user of OFA. The chapter ended with Nana being all, “psst, Deku, about my grandson. Uh, can you kill him?” which is sure to lead to a very interesting conversation this week.

Today on BnHA: Nana And The Gang are all “so, Deku, how can we put this delicately. The thing is, we’re pretty sure that AFO really fucked my grandson up, so on the off chance you can’t save him, how would you feel about, you know... [throat slitting gesture].” Deku is all “idk you guys, I kinda feel like he’s really just a traumatized child at heart and he’s in a lot of pain and stuff and so I should try to help him.” The Vestiges are all “BUT WHAT IF YOU CAN’T” and Deku is all “BUT I WANT TO TRY, DAMMIT” and the Vestiges are all “well when you put it that way, we, uh, were just testing you, so congrats, you passed!” The chapter ends with First being all, “ANYWAY SO WHY DON’T YOU TWO SHY BOYS STANDING OVER THERE IN THE SHADOWS COME SAY HELLO” before we CUT AWAY FOR ANOTHER WEEK, goddammit.

seriously, Nana

just... have you met Deku?? look, if you really want Tomura dead, just sic him on the U.A. first years and tell Shouto and Honenuki that it’s a training exercise

oh my god lmao

we’re too far away to see Nana’s face here so I will just assume that she turned and is staring DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA for this one line lmao. “I just wanted to clarify in case anyone felt inclined to take my dialogue out of context and spend an entire week complaining about it”

oh my god?! are you all purposely trying to make me sad??

someone stop me before I launch into an impromptu rant about all my Tomura feels. WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING ME. oh my god but yes, exactly. he’s just in pain all the time. this is exactly why I think Tomura has such high redemption potential even though so far he seems to lack so many of the redemption arc essentials such as feeling remorse, wanting to change, and taking responsibility for his actions. the reason why I’m willing to overlook all that in his case is because Tomura has essentially had zero agency his entire life. AFO molded him into a killer by making sure he was in constant mental agony, and making it so that the only thing that even slightly relieved that agony was killing peeps. like, please don’t think I’m making excuses for him or anything, but if you take a child and manipulate their existence to make it virtually impossible for that child to grow up as anything other than a killer, and basically never give him the chance to be anything else, then no shit he’s gonna be a killer?? he’s basically never had the choice not to be. it’s never been an option for him. anyways I feel like I am EXPLAINING MYSELF SO BADLY but nonetheless I am prepared to die on this hill

anyway so now Nana is all “that’s a rhetorical question btw because Our Hearts And Minds Are One so we can feel everything you feel bro.” so yeah, that’s interesting

now Banjou is getting started on the “let’s try and talk Deku out of wanting to save Tomura because it’s insane” part of their OFA Mystical Space Void Reunion agenda

look, Banjou, I feel you, I really do. you guys don’t think it’s realistic that Deku can defeat Tomura without killing him. so if it’s a choice between killing Tomura vs letting Deku and everyone else in the entire world die, then duh, you think Deku should kill him. I get it! and if this were a real life mass murderer I’d totally agree with you. but the problem is that this isn’t real life, this is a sympathetic shounen villain with a tragic past who might as well have FUTURE REDEMPTION ARC RECEIPIENT stamped on his forehead at this point

so First is all “look, there’s absolutely no doubt my brother has fucked this kid up good and proper by now”, which, again, fair

though, that’s kind of exactly my point though. everything that Tomura is, everything he’s done, he’s done because of AFO. AFO has so effectively shaped his personality and his worldview by this point that it’s all but impossible to penetrate that. he’s AFO’s puppet. but the problem is that rather than treating him like a victim, you all are treating him like a casualty. like he’s already a lost cause. but good luck trying to convince Deku of that

WHOA WHAT, RANDOM SUPER-IMPORTANT AND BIZARRELY UNRELATED EXPOSITION DROPPED IN JUST LIKE THAT??

way to still not reveal Sixth’s name, btw. THE PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW, DAMMIT. but also so this confirms something we basically already knew already, which is that not even AFO can steal OFA. it literally can’t be taken away by anyone unless the owner wills it. SO SUCK ON THAT AFO YOU EGG

(ETA: so I have no idea why this was omitted from this translation, but apparently the Sixth’s name was revealed as “En”, which is obviously not his full name but at least it’s something. also he most likely has a fire or smoke-related quirk based on the kanji used, 煙.)

so Banjou is saying that Deku’s “lack of an iron will” could be a disadvantage against AFO. hahaha what?? Midoriya “I’ll break all of my bones without blinking an eye just to protect someone” Izuku lacks an iron will? do tell

he says this is going to be a test of Deku’s determination. well yeah, no shit. but just not in the way you guys think

OH HELLO AGAIN

darker hair again here! but I don’t trust the contrast in these scans at all after last week. his coveralls are way darker than they looked before too, and you can clearly see he’s standing in the shadows now

(ETA: yep, once again the raw shows that his hair is considerably lighter than what’s shown in these scans here. although there’s no mistaking now that his hair is consistently being colored in this slightly darker shade, and it’s not just the lighting.)

anyways lol First was saying something about how AFO can’t steal OFA, and they’ve spent all this time cultivating it as the ultimate weapon against AFO, and blah blah blah. go on then, keep lecturing

NANA GODDAMMIT NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT

girl what?? you did everything in your power to protect your family, and AFO, fucked up man that he is, targeted them anyway. there is one person and one person only to blame for what’s happened to Tomura, and that potato-faced asshole needs a good kick in the balls

NANA GODDAMMIT DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE

SO HELP ME GOD!! I WILL GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG YOU’VE EVER HAD!! THAT IS A THREAT

so now Nana is all “I’m just going to call my grandson a Thing to ensure that fandom has only the freshest, grass-fed no-hormones-added discourse this week”

I don’t even need to drop into the tags to know exactly which specific people are going to respond to this, and what kind of posts they are going to write lmao. everyone’s all caught up in the “that thing”, and meanwhile I’m over here completely hung up on this “nay” that’s appeared out of NOWHERE you guys. look at that. she really said “NAY”

Nana, my love, my dearest, I feel you girl I really do. but he’s not an unforgivable manifestation of pure evil, Deku is exactly right actually, he’s a boy in pain. you guys need to stop questioning Deku’s shounen protagonist instincts here and just let him work his sparkly magic. “let’s try and convince Midoriya Fucking Izuku that he can’t save someone” is a plan that is NEVER going to turn out well you guys

“DEKU GODDAMMIT WHAT IF WE CAN’T SAVE HIM” lmao it’s like an intervention

“DAMMIT DEKU JUST ADMIT YOU HAVE A SAVING PEOPLE PROBLEM!”

RED ALERT IT’S ANOTHER CLOSE-UP OF THE BACK OF MISTER TWO BON CLAY’S HEAD OMG

(ETA: I was too distracted with freaking out about Two and Three to really appreciate how ridiculously handsome First looks in this panel. but on my second readthrough it stood out so much that I had to go back and add an extra bullet point just to talk about how hot he is. look at him. wtf.)

THAT IS DEFINITELY AN UNDERCUT. THE PLOT THICKENSSSS. also those are fucking exhaust vents on Mister Three’s neck. MISTER THREE COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE RELATED TO THE IIDAS, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR SECRETS I’M DYING OVER HERE

so now Deku is launching into what will undoubtedly be a “saving people problems require SAVING PEOPLE SOLUTIONS” heroic counter-speech!

I mean, they can already feel the “lol nah I’m gonna try and save him” feelings running through him lol. ~OuR hEaRtS aNd MiNdS aRe CoNnEcTeD~ and all that. this is just a formality, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love a good shounen protag speech

oh wait hold up, do you mean to tell me that the whole “hearts and minds are connected” thing I was just mocking just a paragraph ago actually allowed Deku to feel what Tomura was feeling?? like literally feel it??

YET AGAIN these Tomura feels are pounding on my front door you guys?? they just will not quit?? people my house is already full of feels, does it look like I need you to sell me any more of them?? -- what do you mean, they’re free??

AW YISS THAT’S IT DEKU. THAT’S SOME GOOD SPEECH RIGHT THERE

I appreciate the contrast here between the Douchebag Triumvirate of Overhaul, Muscular, and Stain versus the Misguided Twosome of Gentle and La Brava. never let it be said that Deku doesn’t know the difference between a redeemable villain and an unredeemable one

OH NO -- OH MY GOD

someone please help me I need directions to the OFA Spooky Galactic Nebula Realm in this fictional Japanese manga land. it’s not on google maps. I need to give these two babies a big hug and wrap them up in a blanket and treat them to some McDonalds Happy Meals please help

other things: (1) ENDEAVOR CHILLING OUT IN DEKU’S “PEOPLE I HOLD DEAR” PANEL LMAO NEON DISCOURSE EXTRAVAGANZA, (2) “ONE FOR ALL IS A POWER TO SAVE, NOT TO KILL” I’M ABOUT TO CRY DEKU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW IS IT EVEN POSSIBLE TO FEEL ALL THIS LOVE, (3) [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] THERE’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING IRON WILL!!!!!!!! -- I’m sorry, please don’t call security, I’ll be good

I just randomly remembered that Deku is still saying all of this in his muffled “FMMPHHMMPHMM” voice and I’m somehow cracking up lol. so actually it’s a very good thing Their Hearts And Minds Are Connected, otherwise they’d no doubt be all, “...what?”

(ETA: so I completely missed this on account of it literally not being visible in the scan at all, but in the raw you can clearly see Baby Kacchan and Baby Shouto fanboying over All Might in two of these panels, and excuse me, ma’am??

thank you very much Deku for including them in your montage, particularly since you’ve never seen Baby Shouto before lol. amazingly accurate image you managed to conjure up, all things considered.)

SDKFJLSKHG -- AS IF ON CUE???

HE’S SO ADORABLE HELP?? Trippy Space All Might looks like he’s about to cry, and First is all “don’t crack a smile... you have to be Firm and Serious here... dammit, don’t smile” omg

anyways! YOU GO DEKU. “MY QUIRK MY RULES, BITCHES” damn, son

KLJLKKHLG TRIPPY SPACE ALL MIGHT LITERALLY ACTUALLY IS CRYING ALL MIGHT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

“I JUST... [CLENCHES FIST] REALLY LOVE SAVING PEOPLE” FUCKING HELL LMAO THIS IS THE WORST INTERVENTION OF ALL TIME

Deku is literally all “sure, maybe I’ll have to kill him, but have you guys also considered, MAYBE NOT??” it’s no use Nana he’s too powerful

LMAO FIRST

“like I’ve been saying this whole time, you should definitely try saving Shigaraki Tomura.” “but, uh... First, didn’t you just -- ” “shut up”

(ETA: clearly it’s not just his brother who inherited those smooth-talking genes.)

so now Deku has turned back into a sixteen year old and his clothes have gone missing again. just OFA things

dskljdlsklgk

yes... sure... “testing” you...

HEY

FIRST OF ALL, DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI YOU MADE NANA CRY. even if I’m pretty sure they’re actually tears of happiness/relief. and SECOND OF ALL, “TELL MY BOYFRIEND I SAID HI” DJSKDLKJJL ANYWAY MAYBE GRAN, NANA, AND MR. SHIMURA WERE IN A THROUPLE

[SCREAMS]

WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE?? WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE!!!!!

(ETA: and two-to-one odds that we cut away to some other scene once they finally start to turn around next week. I’M CALLING IT NOW. giving myself a week to brace myself for the rage.)

fucking hell. well if anyone needs me I will be adding Horikoshi fucking Kouhei to the list of irredeemable villains, peace

[greetings-and-salutations]

“I Make My Own Destiny.”

Luke Castellan x Reader

Masterlist

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: After being sent on a dangerous quest to retrieve Hades’s Helm of Darkness, (Y/n) just wants to see Luke again. But, of course, nothing can ever be that simple…

Warnings: Starred out swear words, a complete and utter lack of sticking to the plot of the source material, and Luke doesn’t show up until the end.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Reader

(A/n: this is like the first time I’ve ever written an entire fight scene fun fact. I’m kinda proud XD)

(Y/n) ducked as another wave a heat flew over her head, the brightness of the fire lighting up the night sky around her. She was so close to camp when the Chimera and its mother, Echidna, showed up. She could even see Thalia’s tree in all its glory about a mile ahead of her. But, the Fates apparently had other ideas.

“Die demigod!” Another blast echoed loudly in her ear as she felt the burn so close that it could have singed off her eyebrows. She rolled back onto her feet.

“I’d actually rather not a the moment. Kinda got some business I gotta take care of…” She waved Hades’s Helm of Darkness in the air. She’d been sent to get it from some graveyard in Cincinnati where he’d left it and couldn’t be bothered to go back and pick it up himself.

The whole quest in itself was ridiculous, but she couldn’t exactly say no. Then some other poor demigod would have to do it, and she knew if the option were given, Luke wouldn’t think twice.

Her thoughts flitted back to how worried she’d been when he returned to camp, all battered and bruised, with that bloody cut on his face, too deep to not cause some sort of scarring. Yes, taking this quest had definitely been the right decision. Though now, with a Chimera grinning down at her threateningly, she wondered what she had ever done to deserve such a fate.

“And I’ve got someone I gotta meet up with in about an hour, so I think I’ll have to take a rain check on that. Can we reschedule for say, never?” Luke always told her that she talked too much during battle, but (Y/n) couldn’t help it. Quips and One-Liners were currently the only thing stopping her from dropping her sword and crumbling into a fetal position until the Chimera sent her barreling down to Hades the hard way.

“Disrespectful Half-Breed!” A mighty roar sounded, so loud she felt her ears ringing.

“That’d be me.” In all the ruckus, she managed to stumble her way closer and closer to the hill, but she was still far enough away that any run for it would be futile. In other words, she had to keep fighting.

“Hey, Gryffindork!” The lion head turned to glare at her angrily, though there was no way of knowing if he actually understood her reference. She didn’t care much though, as the Chimera tilted its head in confusion. It had served it’s purpose. “Eat Metal!” Time seemed to slow down as she jumped at the monster, her sword held high as she aimed its point at the lion’s forehead. Before it could make contact, however, a strong paw smacked her out of the air, the force of its push sending her almost a hundred feet away, only to plummet to the ground painfully, a sickening crunch leading her to believe that the crash landing had broken her wrist. Well, this just got a whole lot harder.

She glanced back towards the tree. While the Chimera’s toss had gotten her exponentially closer, she was still too far away. She’d never make it if she tried running. (Y/n) sighed.

“I guess this is where I’m making my stand.” She muttered bitterly.

(Y/n) stumbled to her feet, the pounding in her head and the throbbing of her wrist weighing her down immensely, but she refused to die like this. Not when she was so close.

“That the best you got?” She called out tauntingly, her sword practically limp in her hand, but she’d be d*mned if she gave up now. Not when Luke and everyone else she cared about was just over that hill.

“Puny hero. You’re too weak to fight me. Why do you keep trying?” Echidna was trying to get a reaction out of her, but (Y/n) wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. The Chimera stalked closer to her, it’s heads all licking their lips, anxious for her inevitable defeat.

“Didn’t you hear? I got stuff to do.” She answered simply, grimacing as she hoisted her weapon threateningly, well, as threatening as a tired, wounded, teenager in an orange camp t-shirt and high tops could look. “Any last words?” The Chimera roared menacingly.

“Insolent child! This is your demise!” Echidna screeched, the Chimera’s snake tail hissed in agreement.

“Noted.”

The Chimera came barreling towards her as she lifted her sword to meet it, a determined expression overtaking the terror and pain that had been gracing her features previously. She could do this. She had to do this.

Everything happened so fast when the monster reached her. She hadn’t even been able to swing at the Chimera before it had her on her back, it’s large foot holding her down with its claws daring her to make a move against it. Echidna appeared over its shoulder with a demonic smirk as (Y/n) fought desperately to be released.

“Don’t be too sad, little demigod. This was always your destiny.” (Y/n) glared up at her, feeling a sudden burst of adrenaline. She was going to prove her wrong. She was going to prove everyone wrong.

“I make my own destiny.”

The Chimera cried out in anguish as (Y/n)’s sword pierced through its chest, the point glinting sickeningly as it came out the other end. Echidna screamed as her beloved son was reduced to monster dust in front of her, (Y/n) standing from under it, her sword still glinting with the creatures remains.

“You ignorant-“ She was cut off by (Y/n)’s sword slashing her in half.

“Yeah, yeah. See you when you get out of monster jail… a*shole.”

A sudden loud roaring of cheers gained the girl’s attention, and she turned to see that the hill that held Thalia’s tree was no longer empty. A group of orange t-shirted, armor clad teenagers crowded around excitedly watching (Y/n) as she stood ankle deep in monster dust.

“Gee, thanks for your help…” she grumbled in annoyance, before leaning down to grab the Helm of Darkness from where she’d dropped it during the fight. She’d gotten it this far. She was going to get that d*mn thing over the property line. She’d fought to hard to stop now.

It took longer then she’d wanted it to, and she probably looked pathetic stumbling all the way up that hill on her own, but she managed, the resolve in her too great to give up. When she crossed into Camp Half-Blood, her fellow campers didn’t move, didn’t say anything as they watched her make her way to Chiron, who stood a few feet away, having been told of her return. She tossed the oversized helmet down at his feet, before falling to her knees, exhausted from the last few days.

“Anyone missing a Helm of Darkness?”

“(Y/n)!” Her head spun faster than any movement she’d done since the Chimera died, her eyes falling on the one person who’d been clouding her thoughts from the moment she left Camp.

“Luke!” She made to stand to greet him, but the blonde boy was faster and had practically tackled her to the ground before she had a chance to do anything, his arms wrapped around her in a hug that would have hurt with how tight it was had she not been so hyped up on adrenaline. “Luke…” (Y/n) breathed in his scent with a sigh of relief. She’d missed him more than she thought she would, and after everything that just happened, she wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to him and never leave again.

“Thank the gods you’re okay.” (Y/n) chuckled a little at that.

“You worried about me?” She asked with a light smirk that made him roll his eyes as he pulled away just enough to see her face.

“You know I was. I can’t believe you fought Echidna and the Chimera all by yourself.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“We’ll, I hope I did you proud.” She replied cringing a little as she started to feel the pain in her head and wrist, the adrenaline clearly wearing off.

“You always do me proud. But, gods, I was so worried.” He ducked his head into her shoulder again, causing (Y/n) to smile a little.

“I’m sorry… but, do you think we could finish this conversation in the infirmary? My everything hurts.” Luke nodded quickly, moving away from her body, as if trying not to hurt her. “Can you- can you…” (Y/n) didn’t know why she was being so awkward. Luke had picked her up dozens of times, but she wasn’t usually this helpless. Thankfully, Luke figured out what she wanted and his arms found their way around her once again, this time holding her bridal style as he started for the infirmary.

“Everything’s gonna be okay… I promise.” (Y/n) just nodded a little, resting her head against his shoulder as he walked, the both of them ignoring the stares and whispers they received as they went, as neither knew whether it was because of their rather romantic “welcome back” or (Y/n)’s seemingly impossible heroic feat, and neither cared. They were just glad to be together again.

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Years Past

Summary: Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Romance, Character Death, Sad With a Happy Ending, Sakura POV.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: T

A/N: A little late to this prompt, but better late than never, I suppose. This has been sitting in my drafts since June, but reading it made me emotional and I got distracted by writing things for Like Gold. I apologize for the tardiness!

Sasusaku Month 2021, Day 7 Prompt: Years Past @ssskmonth

AO3 Link - FF.net Link

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Sakura passes in her sleep, marcid and weary of a broken heart and missing mismatched eyes, at the age of eighty-two.

It is longer than most Shinobi make it by far, but she doesn't feel very grateful for it, in the last five excruciating months of her life.

Her husband hadn't made it to eighty-two; Sasuke-kun passed in December. It had been peaceful, all three of their children, most of their grandchildren, and even some great grandchildren, the ones not on missions outside of the village, at his bedside.

Sakura had been there, too, old and frail and holding his hand. She'd kissed him goodbye tearily, sensing it was almost time after decades of watching it happen to others inside secluded hospital walls. It had been in front of nearly all of their descendants, family the only thing helping to hold her together in his final moments.

He hadn't complained. He'd kissed her back, for everyone to see, and Sarada and the twins had started crying, then, squeezing their hands around those of their parents, because they knew it really was time.

He had thanked her, said her name one last time, all equanimity even then. Then, so softly, "I love you. I'll see you next time," before he went, bones settling wearily at long last.

There had been melancholy in his expression even in death, wrinkled skin turning glaucous and beginning to sag against old, hardened muscle.

Sasuke-kun was buried next to Itachi’s memorial. There is a plot he saved for her on his other side, his right arm, the hand she held so many times in life.

Sakura haunts their small home in grief, feeling already a ghost even while surrounded with beautiful raven-haired children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As she sees each and every one of them over the months that follow, a select few stare back with her own eyes. Most of them are so like her husband's, though, luciform soot flecked with silver, and she feels so sorry when she looks too long and starts to cry. Little Satoko, their newest great-grandchild all of eleven months old who she dotes on endlessly, reaches at her wrinkled cheeks to try to wipe them dry, babbling out a garbled version of "Oobasan, no cwy." He is talking earlier than most babies, stormy eyes eerily full of awareness and an endless lineage, just like Sarada at that age. Sakura laughs as she sobs, cradling him close to her heart, and looking out her window at their daughter's visage on the mountain. It is also Satoko's grandmother's image; it is hard to believe their sweet little baby is now old enough to be a grandmother. She remembers the first time Sarada had smiled at Sasuke-kun, the first time he held her at only an hour old, and he broke down sobbing.

She makes the trek to Sasuke-kun's grave every day for 138 days, each step an arduous agony, before stooping down to lay a fresh daffodil atop the soil where her husband's bones rest. She has also planted white lilies around his headstone, the same as those that surround Itachi's and the Uchiha Memorial Stone. Her children help her keep them watered as needed through a short spring drought; she is too old to carry a watering can now without spilling.

She misses him. It hurts worse than Sasori's poison or Madara stabbing her or giving birth or a giant shuriken nearly cleaving her in two.

There is joy to be found in the desolation, too, in her last few months of life. Their progenies throw her a birthday party like none other, and she eats her fill of cake while watching little hands eat some, too. Little Satoko dances, or moreso balters, with Sarada in time to a dramatic song he finds by pressing buttons on the radio; it is not a very appropriate tune for a dance with a toddler, all clumsy crescendo and orchestra, but amusing all the same. Sasuke-kun would have smiled, if he were there.

The white lilies bloom before her eyes one last time, resplendent and perfect. She gets to hear about Haruki making Chunin on the first try, every bit the pride of the Uchiha, reborn anew with Sharingan blazing. She even gets to see Akiko make Jonin in person, ambitious and ingenious with Sharingan and diamond seal on her forehead setting her apart from her adversaries in the arena.

But finally, at long last, it is her culminating day. 138 days doesn't seem like a long time to be without him, compared to the larger number of days he was absent in their youth, but she finds it is worse, following their life together.

She tells them all she loves them and falls asleep for the last time, watches their confluence of family say goodbye from above. Sarada and the twins cry the hardest, clinging to her body as her heart finally pumps for the last time. Satoko is too young to understand, but he pats at her, too, in a sea of dark-haired descendants that she knows will continue to bring honor back to a clan revived at the brink of death. She takes in each and every one of their beautiful faces one last time, faces so similar to Sasuke-kun's; not a single one of them has her nose.

It is a legacy of love they have created, exactly the dream they started willing into color the day they discovered they had made Sarada together.

Then, she is on a dock that has slightly singed edges, looking over a small, familiar pond.

It is a spring evening, the sun just falling beneath the horizon and cherry blossoms abloom, and she thinks that is strange, because it is June and Hanami has already passed them by. Satoko had been so cute in his new outfit; she had made it herself, not much else to do in their empty house filled with aching memories. The tiny uchiwa on the back of his collar was sewn with the utmost care, the kind that came from decades of practice.

Crickets chirp, cicadas buzz, and there are a few fireflies leaking out of the greenery, soft light reflectant in the stillness of the water. It is serene. She had sat on this dock many times with her husband, when he was alive, on his right side so she could hold his hand. He told her she was beautiful during Hanami here, every year. She shifts to begin the process of sitting down, planning on leaving the space he'd taken up in life empty for him, in case his ghost is around. She has felt it, sometimes, tugging at her own spirit; she leaves his side of the bed empty every night, trying to will him back to her.

As Sakura shifts, she looks down, and she is startled to see pink hair instead of white, and no wrinkles. She crouches to analyze herself more closely in water still as glass, and there are no creaking old bones. She is young again, somehow.

She is overjoyed; she will be able to water the white lilies herself again. She can even dance with little Satoko now.

Light footsteps sound behind her, and just as she stands and turns, she is being swept into an unfamiliar yet comforting pair of arms. A woman with long inky hair, black as night, is hugging her tight.

"Thank you for loving my son," she breathes immediately, and Sakura starts crying, because she somehow knew who it was before she even said anything, without even seeing her face. When her eyes focus blearily through tears over Mikoto Uchiha's shoulder, Sasuke-kun's brother is walking up not far behind her.

Itachi Uchiha is smiling at her like she's done something wonderful, like he has been waiting for years to meet her. He is younger, healthier here, flecks of silver dancing in eyes just like her husband's, just like their childrens'. There's an impossible ache in her chest.

He waits patiently for his mother to pull back. When she finally does, Sakura looks into her eyes, and Mikoto is smiling at her so big, like she hung the moon in the sky, beginning to peek out from behind clouds above them.

"I have waited so long to meet you," she says, eyes shining, and her eyes are like Sasuke-kun's, too. "You are so beautiful."

Then Itachi is embracing her, and Sakura cries harder, because his arms feel almost like Sasuke-kun's arm had felt, slipping around her for sixty-one years of marriage, the same height and strong.

"I have waited, too. It's an honor. Thank you, for everything," Itachi says as she sobs.

"They are so beautiful, too, Sakura," Mikoto adds softly, hand at her shoulder, and she knows she means their children, Mikoto's grandchildren that she hasn't gotten to hold yet, Sarada and the twins and their children and all the others. Little Satoko had made twenty-seven blood relatives; including spouses who married into the clan, the number was thirty-eight, and there were two more babies on the way, yet.

Itachi lets her go, smile tender when he pulls away. He directs his gaze momentarily to the path leading up the hill, as if he's looking for someone.

She follows his gaze; Fugaku Uchiha is coming over the top, all stoicism even as a spirit. He stops momentarily and gives her a nod of recognition, not breaking eye contact for a long time.

Then, he glances back over his shoulder, tilts his head as if telling someone to follow him down the hill, and Sakura is running, though she hasn't been able to for years.

Sasuke-kun is all of twenty again, young and strong, too handsome for his own good and every bit the sweet but stoic man she fell in love and grew old with. He's smiling at her, just for her, and she's in his arms - he has both, here - in the blink of mismatched, teary eyes.

His arms feel like home, two spirits together in permanence at long last. It is the same feeling as the little piece of heaven they touched together whenever they made love, souls intertwining, but this time for good. She has missed him. Oh, she has missed him.

"...I told you I'd see you next time," he murmurs against her hair.

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Five

If you remember that post I made about the Red Resistance you’re a real one.

Notes: this one is very short. It’s just to move the plot along and blah blah blah. Next chapter is a good one I think.

The next time Scott showed up to the Red Desert it was for a petty fight that Scar had instigated by trying to steal directly from the Renchanting base. The situation made Scott face palm, and he contemplated not even showing up. However, when Jimmy offered to go in place of him, he told him not to bother. That he would be back in less than a day and night cycle.

Scott walked into the meeting just as the Red Army crested a hill. Which they stayed on. Scar yawned exaggeratedly and trekked up to his opponent, who was wearing a bandage on his left arm.

Cleo was also there. She seemed to be focused on drawing shapes in the cracked sand with the tip of her sword. Most likely feeling bitter about her former ally, Tango, joining Dogwarts. Everyone was paying as little attention as possible while Scar fired off false promises and white lies. Grian busied himself with apologizing to the nearest members of the Red Army for Scar’s embarrassment.

Scott was nearly falling asleep on his feet when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Tango.

“Hey Major, you got a minute?” he whispered.

“So many,” Scott responded, gesturing to the desolate state of their meeting.

The two of them quietly excused themselves from the group to speak in private. Scott didn’t know why he didn’t tell Tango to just leave him alone. Maybe it was because Tango had a certain air of reluctance about him, Scott was certain he pulled his punches. Maybe it was shear boredom.

“So, nice weather,” Tango observed the arid desert sky.

“Uh huh..” Scott provided, unimpressed.

Tango stared at him blankly. Awkwardly.

He cleared his throat, “so I heard about your battle with Skiz and Ren. Impressive,” Tango said.

“What is with you people and beating around the bush? We’re not friends,” Scott pushed Tango away by the middle of his chest, “Tango,” he reminded.

Tango looked hurt for a second, “ouch Major. Fine, I wanted to ask you to join me,” he said.

Scott burst out laughing, to which Tango scolded him and shook him by the shoulders. That shut him up, it also earned Tango a slap.

“Don’t touch me,” Scott ordered.

Tango put his hands up, “no touching here! But be quiet. I brought you over here alone for a reason,” he pointed out.

Scott glanced at his allies. Blissfully unaware of the possible treason he may have been about to commit.

“Nobody knows this yet,” Tango whispered, “but I’m spying on the Red Army,” he said.

“What?” Scott asked rhetorically.

“Yeah, I have a plan. It involves you,” Tango responded.

Scott paused to consider if he was really about to entertain whatever was about to come out of Tango’s mouth.

“How do I know you’re not just trying to get close to me and then kill me on behalf of him,” Scott pointed at Ren, who was rolling his eyes at Scar and animatedly conversing with him about something Scott forgot about a long time ago.

“You remember the cow farm right?” he said.

“Yes,” Scott nodded suspiciously.

“I let you take my cow, on the promise that you and Jimmy wouldn’t tell anyone,” Tango recited.

“And we didn’t,” Scott said.

“Exactly. I know I can trust you, and I can’t trust them, Etho tried to kill me remember?” Tango pointed at Etho and Ren.

“So I want you to join me. Not the Red Army, me. Impulse is doing the same thing,” he concluded.

“Didn’t Impulse actually kill you?” Scott pointed out.

Tango waved his hand, water under the bridge.

Scott drifted off into contemplation. Everything about joining a coup against the Red Army screamed danger. More than usual. Dogwarts was a force to be reckoned with. They had superior gear, defenses, players, and alliances. Maybe Scott could cheap shot Martyn and Skizzle, but he could not promise that same luck against Etho or anyone else for that matter. The thought of even trying made his stomach turn.

And then there was Jimmy. If their plan didn’t work, what would happen to Jimmy? The Crastle? Or the Red Desert for that matter? The target on their backs was large enough. Scott had to take a step back. Since when did he get himself involved in a war?

Since he started defending himself, his mind provided.

Since he started standing up for his own freedom. For their freedom.

“Okay,” Scott said.

“Really? You’re in?” Tango’s eyes lit up, his joy was a bit loud for Scott’s new predilection for secrecy.

“Shh!” Scott put a finger in front of his face, “that’s not what I said…” he averted his eyes.

“I want to, believe me, I do,” he said, “but I can’t.”

Tango’s smile faded instantly, his red eyes grew disappointed, “Why not?” he seemed hurt.

“I have too much to lose. I can’t risk this,” Scott held the charm of his necklace up, it’s gemstone still shimmered bright green.

“Scott, I admire your devotion, I really do; but this is a bit bigger than that,” Tango said.

Scott’s expression fell into shock and reproach.

That seemed like enough of an answer for Tango, who backtracked as he realized he’d struck a nerve.

“I mean!” he corrected, “I mean nothing will happen to Jimmy. Cross my heart, he will be under the Red Resistance’s finest protection,” Tango stood up straight and crossed his heart.

Scott decided that was satisfactory. He made a face that said the opposite though, just to make sure Tango’s pride wasn’t too uplifted.

“Fine. I’ll join you Tango, but if I get even the slightest inclination of funny business, I’m out,” Scott cautioned, but he agreed.

“Terms and Conditions, I get it. The Red Resistance will not indenture any of its members,” Tango responded with a gleeful grin.

“You guys and your red themed names,” Scott teased, but held his hand out. They ought to make it official before everyone stopped snoring.

Tango shook it enthusiastically. The two called it done and Scott returned to his side, and Tango returned to the Red Army.

*****

Scott traveled back home that day. No fighting had taken place, although Scar had decidedly talked himself into a hole and ended up giving Ren access to any sand Dogwarts and their affiliates needed for the next week. It was no skin off Scott’s back, he didn’t care. Not his sand.

Wearing so much armor and standing in place for two hours gets on ones nerves. Taking off his heavy diamond chestplate felt like enough liberation for the day. He expected to hear from Tango or Impulse at some point, preferably soon.

Jimmy asked him how the meeting went when he returned, holding out a cup of coffee.

Unsure of whether or not to tell the truth, Scott lied, he said nothing happened and made fun of Scar for running his mouth so much. He said he was tired.

*****

“Scott? That you?” Tango’s voice came through a small door in his abandoned cow farm. It wasn’t needed anymore.

Scott pointed his torch towards the voice, illuminating a door, which Tango had crafted into the side of the underground farm.

“Yes it’s me. Why’s it so dark in here?” he asked.

“I don’t want people to know I’m still using this place, that’s why,” Tango motioned for Scott to come to him.

Tango silently listened for any sign that Scott had been followed, then pushed a stone slab in front of the hidden door with a silent thud.

On the other side of the door was a short hallway, then a very small room with some pillows on the floor and a table. A map of the server that included all the structures and members was pinned up on the wall. There was also a well loved notebook on the table.

“Where’s Impulse?” Scott asked, sitting down on one of the pillows.

“Ren needed him for something, he’ll probably be here next time,” Tango explained. He sat down and lit a candle to make more light.

“I thought we would start by going over the basics today,” Tango picked up the notebook and flipped through some of the pages absently.

Scott looked away and then back, “okay, shoot,” he said.

The “plan” centered around infiltrating the Red Army, convincing them (mainly Ren) that Scott had decided to switch sides. Then, him, Tango, and Impulse would eventually build their trust. Somewhere in there they would convince the Red Army to stop messing with people and come to an agreement with the rest of the server. Something about working together instead of against each other.

“We still have to work some stuff out,” Tango concluded with confidence.

“That’s the plan? You really think this’ll work?” Scott crossed his arms.

“If you can insult Scar convincingly enough, yes,” Tango said.

“Oh this’ll be easy!” Scott laughed, mostly to cover up his nerves.

Tango chuckled with him, then became serious once more, “I’m glad you have a sense of humor going into this. Even after what they did to you,” Tango said.

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he apologized.

Scott’s hands stung a bit in response, but he nodded a silent “thanks”.

They were quiet. Scott nervously fiddled with the hem of his coat, lost in thought, mostly regret.

Impulse did show up the next time. He arrived just after Scott did. Everyone sat awkwardly in the little room for a while and Scott was wrapped in nostalgia for a similar time. A time where the only threat was an obscene number of phantoms.

Over the course of their meetings, Scott observed his teammates and their actions. A far cry from who they used to be, including him. Scott’s hair had grown past his ears and turned purple at the tips, and he’d become rather paranoid about always wearing armor.

Tango spent much of their interactions lost in thought. The ghost of whatever was eating at him weighed visibly on his shoulders in the way his head was always bowed in a perpetual staring contest with the ground. He was irritable.

Impulse was a wild card to Scott, they’d never really met before; but it was clear he’d been changed as well. Illustrated by his long “mining” trips, which he only returned from to attend their weekly meetups with no resources to show for it, and a general aura of depression.

His mind was drawn back to the picture Cleo had taken of almost all his server-mates, together in front of the Vibe Machine. He’d studied everyone’s faces countless times. Mostly wondering where everything had gone wrong.

Had they ever truly been friends in the first place? Or was camaraderie a comfort when everyone else was just as weak as one another.

[capstoverogers]

A Soul for a Soul

Tryna break into the wlw Marvel tumblr fic world; consider this grief-ridden multi-chapter fic my resume ;)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/Black!Reader, Eventual Carol Danvers/Black!Reader

Genre: Grief, Angst, Romance

Summary: You thought you were used to the struggle. Between growing up as an orphan in Oakland before elbowing your way through the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D., you were sure nothing could faze you.

But then you lose the love of your life and for the first time ever, you’re not sure how to move forward.

Notes: In this world, Peter Parker survived the Snap and S.H.I.E.L.D. still exists, just underground. Also features an OC with pyrokinetic abilities who’s the Reader’s best friend.

Chapter One - Hope

Word Count: 3,666

Warnings: Cursing, Allusions to Sex, Very Slight Ant-Man Slander, but Out of Love

In a lot of ways, the past five years had been quiet.

You’d grown up in Oakland, gone to college in Washington D.C., then lived and worked in New York ever since. You didn’t like quiet.

The biggest cities had lost their bustle, and it was one of the many reasons why you resented Thanos.

That and for taking the little bit of family you’d ever had. And the two men who were the closest things you had had to living brothers. And your absolute best friend in the world.

You coped in the way you always had - through work and through perspective. With Agents Fury and Hill gone in the snap, along with half of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had been underground after its public fall, you had moved through the ranks overnight (and you had been pretty high up there to begin with), taking over a great bulk of the remaining operations of the covert agency. Those first couple of years, you were in D.C. during the week days, watching as a fractured government slowly tried to repair itself while dispatching any leftover agents to take care of the chaos that had arisen in the aftermath. You’d go home to a pathetic one-bedroom apartment in the city most nights, it often being too late to commute to where you really wanted to be, get a few hours of sleep, then do it all over again.

It was all right. Kept you distracted. Made you feel purposeful.

It was the weekends, though, you found your truest solace. You’d put off all your responsibilities except in case of an emergency, take a quinjet up north to the Avengers compound, spend Saturday and Sunday with the woman you loved. Most of the time, you’d have the entire compound to yourselves. Maybe you didn’t like the quiet, but you loved it when it was quiet when you were with her.

After a few years, though, there was less for everyone to do as slowly, society started to move on. It was a blessing, you supposed, though sometimes it felt like a curse. You had never done well with idle hands.

It was slow enough that you could work remotely, at least, leaving your little D.C. apartment behind to take up permanent residence in upstate New York, except for emergencies. Natasha’s bedroom became y’all’s bedroom. You started to see just how broken she was, felt like a terrible partner for not realizing it sooner. She’d been able to mask it well when she’d only see you on weekends and through holograms. Now that you were together all the time, her walls couldn’t stay up for long.

Like the Avengers always had, she kept the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Far be it from you to convince her that she didn’t need to do that, but you at least wanted her to know that she could share that burden with you. To get her to realize that became your greatest mission.

And you never failed missions.

By the time you reached the five year mark, the two of you had fallen into the sort of routine you could see yourselves doing for the rest of your lives, if this really had to be the rest of your lives (you think both of you, deep down, had hope that it wasn’t, that something more could be done, which is why you two had tried your hardest to not stop working ever since half of the world disappeared before your eyes). Together you both kept watch over a broken world - Natasha by keeping in touch with the remaining Avengers and your new friends from space as you continued to run S.H.I.E.L.D. from the compound. Occasionally you’d go out for an actual mission, finding that you got cabin fever if you stayed put too long.

Natasha would never come with you, though. She was waiting for the right one, she told you. But you think she was just scared of what would happened if she took her eyes away from the world for even just one second. She’d let you carry a little bit of that weight with her, finally, but far from it all.

She was completely open with you, though, for the first time in the seven years you’d been together (dating a former assassin came with a huge set of emotional intimacy issues, but there was no one else you’d rather work through that with). And when you two realized that wow, you’d been together for seven years, you decided that you all could use a bright spot in this darker world.

So you had a bittersweet wedding. Peter Parker was your “man of honor”, Steve Rogers was hers. Tony presided at his beautiful cabin home with his daughter Morgan as the flower girl and Rocket - much to his outward chagrin though you suspected he secretly loved it - was your ring bearer with the vibranium wedding bands that Okoye had brought for you from Wakanda. You’d even gotten Thor out of his desolate mancave on New Asgard for the night, with the promise of all the beer he could drink.

It was hard not to think of all the people who should’ve been celebrating with you, but you’d at least found the burst of happiness that you could. Moments like that reminded you two that you still had to keep fighting, even if you didn’t quite know what for all the time.

About a month later, you left for a quick mission. You were gone for three days and came back to a bustle unlike any you’d seen at the Compound in years. There was a space ship parked out front, but more surprising was the sight of Tony’s Audi convertible.

Nat’s eyes looked the brightest you’d seen them in awhile, all pretenses shattered as she greeted you with an excited smile that was surprisingly adorable.

“So this is what you do when I’m gone?” You teased, wrapping your arms around her distractedly as you took in the energy around you. God, you had missed this sort of noise. “Throw parties?”

“You caught me,” she gave back, eyes twinkling before she wrapped her arms around you tightly, but in a way that didn’t feel desperate. It reminded you of how she’d hugged you throughout your wedding day. You let yourself fall completely into her embrace, burying your face into her neck and inhaling deeply. It had only been a few days, but you’d missed her so much. How you used to spend all week without her, you had no idea. “I think we found a way to reverse the snap.”

You yanked your head up so quickly that you almost gave yourself whiplash, playfully glaring when Natasha laughed. Her eyes were so warm with hope, though, that that was soon all you could focus on.

“What?!”

She nodded excitedly, squeezing your hips. Your mind immediately started reeling, unable to keep from imagining what this meant, who you’d be able to see again.

“How?!”

Natasha’s lips curled up into a little smirk, eyes still twinkling.

“Time travel.”

Wait.

“What?!”

-----

The compound was chaotic in the wonderful way that you cherished. Thor’s booming voice and Tony’s wisecracks and Steve’s voice of reason and Rhodey’s deadpan and Bruce’s reverberating Hulk-heavy footsteps and Rocket’s quips and Clint’s snark and Natasha’s sarcasm and laugh and sass and just everything about her that had been buried beneath the rubble of the last five years, coming out now more than in just moments. None of you slept as you all plotted, planned, built; a certain energizing spark taking over all of you in this renewed sense of purpose.

There was only enough of these “Pym particles” for ten people to do this time heist, though, which meant you were the odd one out.

“Maybe when you get powers, we’ll reconsider it,” Tony quipped when you complained, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

“I could beat you up if you didn’t have that suit,” you gave back, smirking.

“She could,” Natasha echoed before he could get a word in, shooting you a grin as she came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist.

Tony dramatically clutched at his chest.

“I’m offended you don’t think I’m more than my suit, Romanoff.” He paused. “Or is it (Y/L/N) now? Romanoff-(Y/L/N)?”

“Natasha and (Y/N) Widow, actually,” you joked, grinning as a laugh rippled through the Avengers. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t take Pepper’s last name, Tony. We all know she’s really the one running the show.”

You gave him your most dastardly grin as Rocket gave you a fist bump, Thor - perpetually buzzed - howled and Scott and Steve exchanged amused looks.

“See, this is why you’re not coming with us,” Tony said, pointing at you though he couldn’t quite hide his hint of a grin. “Today’s youth, so disrespectful!”

You let that go. You were in your 30s, but Tony always had a hard time not seeing you as that 22 year old first-year S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit he’d met over a decade ago.

So you chuckled, turning in Natasha’s arms in time to catch her fondly rolling her eyes.

“I will say, I’m gonna miss this banter on our mission.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, as hers moved to your shoulder pulling her closer to you.

“Let me come with you and we won’t have to miss nothin’,” you said lowly, smirking at the way she eyed you.

“You know there’s no one I’d rather by my side,” she admitted softly, letting her fingers massage the back of your neck. You hummed pleasantly, letting your eyes flutter shut as your forehead fell against hers, “But I also like the idea of you here, safe.”

You sighed, not meaning for your breath to hit her lips, but enjoying the feel of her tensing against you nonetheless.

“I might not be a super solider or some guy with …ant powers…” you grinned when Natasha chuckled, “but I can hold my own, Nat.”

“I know you can,” she murmured. “But I’d rather know I’m coming back to you than be worried about you out there.”

You opened your eyes, found them staring into earnest and soft green irises. You could see how important this was for her, doing something that felt tangible after spending so much time and energy over the years to keep the world going, never losing hope even when no one else believed.

This mission would always mean more to her than it ever would for you.

So you nodded, craning your head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”

She smiled, “I know.”

“Get a room, why don’t ya!”

“Shut up, Rocket.”

Hours before they were set to leave back in time, you got a call from Peter Parker saying he desperately needed you to pick him up as soon as possible from Central America, which was strange because the last time you’d checked, you’d sent him on an undercover mission to check out some disturbances in Europe (as the only Avenger whose true identity was still secret, he was most ideal to send on these sorts of things).

It did sound urgent, though, so you quickly headed to your room to change into something more extraction appropriate, unsurprised to hear the door open a few minutes later.

“Oh good,” Natasha’s voice purred playfully behind you as you pulled off the shirt you’d been lounging in. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you got all your mission clothes on.”

You chuckled as you turned to face her, then faltered. Though there was a coy smirk playing at her plump lips, her eyes told an entirely different story. You motioned for her to come closer, trying to keep the spirit high.

“Quickie before I leave?” You joked, sitting back on the bed as she came to stand in between your legs. She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes as they flickered over you before she gently placed her palm on your cheek.

“Will you be back before we go?” She asked softly.

You shook my head, your frowns matching.

“Even if it is just a pick-up and go, the round trip will take four hours.”

“I’ll see if we can wait on you.”

As much as you wanted that, you found yourself shaking your head again.

“I don’t want anything to throw y’all off,” you told her, covering the hand on your face with your own. “This is too important.”

She nodded; if there was anything you both understood, it was that some things were more important than the two of you. The fate of the world was definitely one of those things, and all the lives that hung in balance. It’s what made you heroes, before anything else.

It’s also what made you and Natasha fit together so well. You understood each other in ways that no one else could.

“I’ll see you when you get back, though,” you assured with a soft smile, grasping at her waist to pull her into your lap. She straddled you like it was second nature, though it didn’t necessary feel immediately sexual. You just liked that she was close. “After you’ve gotten that stone and you’re about to bring everybody back.”

She grinned, “You really think we can do it, huh?”

“You can do anything, Nat. You’re my fucking hero. There’s no one I trust more to save all of us.” You let my fingertips trace gently down her cheek as her eyes softened lovingly. “Don’t tell Rocket or Tony I said that. They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Nope. Been recording this conversation the entire time. Gonna share it with everyone.”

You laughed as she grinned slyly.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, your thumb grazing against her bottom lip.

“I love you,” she gently pressed a kiss against the pad of your thumb. “Don’t tell anyone how soft you make me, though.”

“Oh, they already know,” you teased quietly, relishing in the way she made your heart feel. You were so close to telling Peter to find his own ride, not wanting this moment to end, but you knew you and Natasha would have to pull away eventually.

Still, you could make it stretch as long as possible.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed softly, pressing her forehead against yours. “But I like to pretend that they don’t.”

You chuckled as she grinned cheekily.

“I love you too, by the way,” you murmured, as if she didn’t already know. “So fucking much.”

Your thumb drifted from her lip, down to her chin, and forever in tune, she quickly erased the distance between you before you could pull her closer. Seven years, and you had yet to find anything as incredible as kissing her.

Except maybe when after just a few seconds, she pushed you back onto the bed, hovering over you with a twinkling smirk.

“Change your mind about that quickie?” You said playfully, biting your lip at her husky, soft laugh.

“Don’t you have to give a certain spider a ride?” She teased, as if she wasn’t the one who’d pressed her chest delicately against yours.

“There’s another spider that I’d rather give a different kind of ride right now…” Your fingers drifted down to the hem of her pants, but she was off of you before you could start to shimmy them down. You pouted ridiculously as she stood up, earning a laugh.

“We’ll have our own celebration in here when we’re both back,” she said coyly with a wink.

“Good, because we’ve only fucked once since I’ve gotten back from my mission, and it’s making me irritable.”

She chuckled as she grabbed ahold of your hands, effortlessly pulling you up off the bed and back into her arms.

“I love you,” she said again, pressing her lips against yours for a long moment. The words felt more weighted than they usually did, in the way they seemed to seep into your skin, take ahold of your chest and clench your heart. You could feel that this moment was important.

“I love you, too, Nat.”

On your way out, you were intercepted by Clint, who gave you a wry grin as he glanced down to your left hand.

“So I heard you and Nat got hitched,” he said, his eyes a soft contrast to his casual tone. “Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too,” you said honestly. Clint and you had never been particularly close, but he was still family, and he meant so much to Natasha. “Steve had to be Nat’s best man, and it was disaster.”

Steve had actually been great, but you knew Clint would get a kick out of the idea of Captain America stiff by the altar, uncomfortable in the face of any kind of public display of affection, as far from the truth it actually was. There was something appreciative in his eyes as he laughed.

“Well, I got dibs when you guys renew your vows.”

You nodded fervently, “Definitely. Maybe once y’all bring everyone back, we’ll do a bigger wedding. I mean, Nat would hate that - “

You paused, then burst out laughing because Clint had said the same thing at the exact same time as you had, and it made you kind of regretful that you hadn’t thought to bond with him more before Thanos had snapped his fingers. But you supposed there was time for that.

Your and Clint’s laughter faded, and both of you hovered there for a moment. Before it could get too awkward, you gave him a soft smile.

“Take care of my girl, Barton.” He and Nat were paired up for the time heist, after all.

He nodded, corner of his lips curling up into a smile that you knew was sincere for him.

“She’s probably gonna be the one having to take care of me,” he joked, but then his eyes softened. “You know I’ll do everything I can to have her back.”

“I know.”

Still, you felt a little uneasy as you headed towards the hangar where the quinjets were kept. You didn’t like being away from home base while they were out on missions. It had always been like that, even before you were with Nat. The fact that she was your wife now intensified it. You really wanted to be there when she got back.

But alas, duty called.

-----

You were thrust into battle without a moment’s notice, when Doctor Strange’s portal appeared in the back of the quinjet just seconds after you had yanked Peter out of the Mexican rainforest as he ran from a bunch of cartel guys, wielding assault rifles and screaming “gringo!” at him.

He was in the middle of an adorable, earnest, apologetic ramble (one that would always be so Peter, even if he was less boy and more man these days) after you’d playfully accused him of being racist because he made you rescue his “white ass.” He’d be trying to tell you that he’d deviated from the mission you’d given him because he’d heard rumors of something akin to the power of an Infinity Stone buried deep in Central America. He knew you’d never authorize him to go after a rumor, so he took matters into his own hands (also very Peter, and it would be hypocritical for you to fault him for that), hoping to find a power source that could maybe reverse the damage that Thanos had done.

Not that it was necessary now. The Avengers had done it. Nat had done. Everyone was back, but apparently somehow that meant a resurgence of Thanos had come with them.

There were no time for questions, though, even though you had so many as you found myself in the rubbled remains of your home with an alien army before you and a homegrown one behind you. There was no time for proper reunions, even though you managed the quickest one when you came across your best friend Zoey on the battlefield - body engulfed in the trademark flames that defined her alter ego "The Flame" - and you two clicked right into place as you set her up perfectly to sizzle one of Thanos’s goons to ash, like no time had ever passed.

You guessed for her, though, no time really had passed.

There was a quick grin and nod before chaos descended again, and you were separated into different parts of the battle. There was a glimpse of T’Challa, carrying an Iron Man glove full of jewels - the Infinity Stones, you realized - across the leveled field - and Sam soaring above you, and Bucky firing shots into the enemy relentlessly, but there was no time to focus on any of this.

There was no time for you to find Natasha in the cacophony, as you forced yourself to focus fully on the battle in front of you. When you all had finished off Thanos once and for all, then you could hold her in your arms until the end of time if you wanted. But first you all had to make sure there was still a world for everyone to still live in.

There wasn’t even time to properly celebrate, as Thanos and his entire army dissipated into dust in the perfect full circle, when Tony slumped over, eyes glazed, his light gone. There was Peter’s full weight against you suddenly, his wet eyes drenching your neck, then Steve’s strong arms around both of you. like an anchor.  You couldn’t help but think that Steve’s gesture was more than just a comfort gesture because everyone had just lost the man who had brought you all together, who meant so much to each of you in different ways.

You didn’t want to confront what else it could mean, though.

[pandawriterstuff]

Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

[jellyloveru]

since i won't be seeing sonic movie 2 until it's piratable, i think i'll try to piece together the plot from everything that we've got from the trailers:

we start with green hills. it's been some time (a few months) since the end of the first movie. everything is great for sonic, he's happy with changes, but in the same time he's itching for being a hero. after all, he did defeat that egghead - he can do the same with a couple of thieves, right?

he can't do the same with a couple of thieves.

sonic and tom have a talk on a boat. there might be some parallel with tom's goal from the first movie - sonic wants to do something greater. become a hero, a guardian or something like that.

rachell calls wachowski and invites them to the wedding. it's not quite important if they knew beforehand or not (most probably knew) - sonic can't come with. first of all, he should be hiding from the government (and he already might have gotten their attention with the 'stoping the thieves' thing), second of all - i don't think rachell wants to see something like an alien hedgehog during her own wedding. especially taking in count her last experience with him. wachowski leave sonic alone at home.

here's where i'm unsure. either we are shown the wedding or sonic's alone time. he might be having fun around the house - jumping over expensive glass and what not.

here might be a bit about the wedding - tom amd maddie arrive, maddie and rachell are preparing and are having fun. insert a joke about maddie devorcing tom and remarrying soon too.

here might or might not be a bit where robotnik returns to earth.

sonic is alone at home. it can go multiple ways: a - he has fun. b - he becomes bored. c - something unsettles him (might be all three in that order). might be a scary movie or something else - either way he gets spooked and is lured towards the front door.

BAM! It's robotnik! but didn't sonic beat his sorry butt? well, he can do it again!

"sonic? meet knuckles :)" or "sonic couldn't beat his sorry butt again". half a house is destroyed, battle happens, sonic loses.

here's where i'm uncertain. how does sonic get out of this situation? does robotnik just be like "eh, well, he's too weak, i've got things to plan, toodles" or does sonic run away? would he run away taking in count what happened with longclaw all those years ago?

(would it be tails who saves him? seems inlikely, since this scene taked place at night/late evening, and sonic learns tails' name during the day)

either way - robotnik has things to do, plans to execute. he dresses nicely, gets some new toys and starts looking for agent stone, whom he soon finds.

(could this take place in green hills? like, stone finds out robotnik's last whereabouts and stays there in hopes of meeting him one day again? could there be a couple of jokes about how he's a beloved barista in GH now? akward tom-stone-sonic interactions?)

robotnik tells stone his plans - about sonic, knuckles, (possibly) master emerald, and a giant robot.

(taking in count that knuckles is not there in that scene - did robotnik just leave knuckles and sonic mid fight? either way - knuckles can't know about robotnik's true intentions so he can't be here)

something strange occurs in green hills - a giant robot. sonic tries to stop it alone but can't. that's when we meet tails. together they manage to do that.

here's where everything's kind of a mess. the goal that is set here might be the master emerald - robotnik is after it, so sonic needs to go and stop him. they travel the world (snow mountain, beer pub (i hope they won't cut it out. just alter it) ), robotnik, his robots and knuckles are also there/not far away.

they get to the angel island/the temple. they avoid some traps (perhaps in a joking matter) and then there's knuckles vs sonic fight. robotnik gets the master emerald. knucles learns the truth.

somewhere in between aaaall that tom and maddie try to contact sonic. that's when they learn about what's happening. everyone learns (or just rachell and wachowski learn) that there are multiple space super animals now.

the tornado scene. i don't mean tails' plane. robotnik creates a tornado. government is there, wachowski are there. the three space super animals are there.

(might take place where rachell's wedding is happening)

knuckles, tails and sonic fight robotnik. robotnik is defeated.

(add.: sonic does or doesn't save rachell's wedding. wedding scene. rachell might tolerate him a bit more)

tails stays, knuckles leaves/tails leaves too, but promises to stay in contact/sonic and tails leave together to travel around, they promise to to keep in contact with wachowski. robotnik and stone are still out there somewhere - might be the reason sonic goes adventuring.

the end.

....

or is it?

and then G.U.N. comes out of nowhere.

the end :)

(it's late at night, so i'm not sorry for mistakes, let your brain sort it all out ¦])

(p.s.: i am sorry if i wrote rachell's name wrong)