#since this is pre event you can pause it and/or we can even move it post event after the event

[yasminxmoreno]

"You act like Kendall is going to be mad at little ole me," Yasmin teased, placing a hand over her heart as if she was absolutely offended by his statement. "Honestly if it hasn't been thirty years yet, it feels like it," she laughed with a shake of her head. "Okay, wow, way to make me feel super, super old." Yasmin wrinkled her nose with the thought. "I cannot believe that. I'm still convinced she's just a baby." Time really did fly by. "Good choice," she smiled a thank you as he ordered two of the martinis.

"If we get too drunk tonight, I'm blaming you when Kendall gets upset with me" he joked, smiling back at her. "You really should, it's been what- like 30 years?" he exaggerated, but it honestly wasn't too far off from the truth. "Pretty soon my daughter is going to be the same age that you were when I met you- isn't that crazy?" he said, finding that statement hard to believe himself. "Ooh raspberry martini, that sounds good" he said before ordering two of them, one for her and one for him. He was usually more of a wine drinker at home, but when he went out he liked to treat himself to something different.

[kryptonitejelly]

a flyboy! blurb - pre-flyboy!era, something more from Jake’s POV. where jake goes on a mission and you always notice when he is gone.

-

Jake runs a hand across his face as he settles back onto his bed in the small windowless ship cabin, his body leaning against the cool wall that flanked one side of his bed, legs dangling over the edge. His body was tense, tired from the ruthless flying of the day. He had taken a shower to cool off after the debrief, but his body still felt warm, overheated to the touch. Every mission they went on was physically demanding, exhausting - because it was a literal fight for your life and the lives of everyone you went with, but more so, it was often mentally taxing. Jake loved flying, loved the thrill, but every now and then there would be one mission that got to him more, that tired him from the inside out.

He reaches over, sticking a hand under the single pillow at the head of his bed, pulling out his phone which he had flipped face down and hidden - a strange ritual of his before every mission. Jake wasn’t entirely sure why he did that, but there was something about the thought of someone walking into his cabin if he didn’t make it back alive, picking up his phone and gaining access to every facet of his personal life that bothered him. It was stupid of course, because in the event he didn’t make it back, they would find the phone, it would have just been a matter of time - but hiding it, as childish as it was, made Jake feel as if allowed him to keep what was personal to himself personal for longer.

The phone screen lights up as soon as he flips it over, and Jake’s thumb swipes along the notifications that litter the brightly lit rectangle. It hadn’t been that long since he had seen his phone, from pre-mission briefings to post-mission debriefs it had been a little over 12 hours, give or take, but it had felt like an eternity. Jake’s thumb pauses when he finds what he is looking for, clicking into the chat which he has with you. He had never stopped texting you no matter where in the world he was, but his replies had been more sparse in the days leading up to a mission, as they always were. He allows himself a small smile as your chat with him fills the screen, the last picture you sent him, which he had seen before heading out, coming into view - one of your freshly manicured nails painted in a light, almost nude shade of pink. His eyes flicker to the new messages below, eyes devouring your words which pepper his screen.

Thank the heavens. They are finally making blueberry muffins again.

I see mister-wears-a-fancy-watch-to-workout in the gym again. He has his eyes on a new target again today; one of those yummy mummy types it seems. Will he succeed? Stay tuned.

Update: He made a move, they are talking by the smoothie bar.

She’s left, but she made it a point to wave goodbye. I guess we wait for episode 2.

Hey. I think you are out one of those missions now. You know, those things you do. You never tell me when (I know, top secret), but I can always tell - you don’t respond as much in the lead up, and then you go completely silent for a day. You think you’re sneaky, but you have patterns Mr Seresin.

The sentence makes Jake chuckle before he reads on.

I just want you to know - I know when you are gone, I miss you during the time, your lack of annoyingness becomes a painfully obvious quiet.

Oh and you better make your way back to me each time.

I hope you know that.

It isn’t an option.

So don’t even think you have a choice in this.

The chuckle on Jake’s lips morphs into something else entirely, a soft smile, which is accompanied by a deep throb in his chest and the feeling of butterflies twisting themselves around in his stomach. His eyes run over your words again, the phrase “make your way back to me” playing on repeat in his head in your voice. Jake knows exactly what he is feeling - it is exactly the same thing he has felt around you, with you, and for you, all these years.

“Oh baby,” Jake mutters to himself lowly, words mushed together - it wasn’t something he had ever called you out loud, and yet uttering it like this, having the words fall off his tongue felt so natural.

He brings his fingers up to the screen, tapping swiftly away at the keyboard, before he sends a message back.

J: I didn’t know you were the boss of me now.

His words at joking, and Jake doesn’t expect you to reply, but he sees three moving bubble float across the bottom of the screen - a signal you are typing. He glances at the top left of his phone screen, doesn’t even need to calculate to know that you are up way too late (or early) in your time.

I’ve always been the boss of you Seresin. Always will be.

He smiles, heart warming as your reply pops on screen.

J: You should be asleep.

You don’t get to order your boss around Seresin.

He starts to type a witty response, but you beat him to it.

I’m glad you’re back and safe.

Jake feels a warmth burst through his chest, escaping like a rush of water from a dam, flowing through his veins.

[vodika-vibes]

Oh ho ho ask and you shall receive.

Can I get a western au with Misfit and dealers choice on genre. Just at one point can I hug him. Thank you

Love oo

Better Place

Summary: After losing his career due to gross insubordination towards his Commanding Officer, Misfit finds himself moving back to the small ranching town he grew up in because he has no other options. He’s surprised when he realizes that this is his chance to heal.

Pairing: Pre Specialist Misfit (Clone OC) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2421

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse

Prompt: Western AU - though it doesn't really have a Western vibe, sorry.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @kimiheartblade

A/N: So, I had an idea, and I think I'm happy with it. Jango was a good dad to some of his children, but was a bad dad to others. Misfit, Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, and Sister are all the "undesirable" children, and I have ideas as to where they are, but I couldn't work it into the story.

“Here’s the Ranch,” Boba says to Misfit as he unlocks the door and walks over to a window to pull it open, “No one’s lived here since dad died, but I’ve had people coming out and keeping it clean. Everything is still in working order.” 

Awkwardly, Misfit lingers in the doorway, he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and sticks it between his lips, though he doesn’t light it just yet. He watches Boba move around the kitchen, pulling open curtains and opening windows.

He hates this place.

He never wanted to return here.

Being in this house makes him feel like a child again. Unwanted. Unheard.

Ghosts of memories dance across his vision. He can see Jango—father— sitting at the dining room table, holding court with his favored sons: golden boy Boba. Ponds. Cody. Both sets of twins, Neyo and Bacara as well as Wolffe and Fox. The baby, Bly.

All the while, the less favored kids are left watching from the outside, in the hopes that they might earn an approving look from their father.

Not that they ever did.

He wonders if Jango regretted it, ignoring so many of his children, before the end. Misfit knows that he didn’t come and visit when he got word that Jango was dying.

He also knows that the other undesirable kids didn’t come either.

Knowing Jango, he didn’t even notice.

In any event, Boba inherited the ranch after Jango died. Though, it’s clear to Misfit that his older brother hadn’t actually stepped foot in the place since before Jango died.

It should make him feel better, the knowledge that Jango must be rolling in his grave since Boba’s just giving him the ranch. But it just makes him feel hollow and empty.

“Are you sure you want to just give me this place?” Misfit asks.

Boba turns to look at him, “We talked about this already, vod.” He leans against the counter, his arms folding over his chest, “The ranch is too far away from where I work.”

“We both know that Jango wouldn’t want me to have this place.”

“Yeah, well,” Boba shrugs, “Dad’s dead. What he does or doesn’t want is unimportant. He left the ranch to me, and I’m giving it to you.” He pauses, “The animals were sold after dad died, but I do remember that you never cared much for cattle or sheep.”

Misfit’s grin is slightly wry, Boba’s not wrong, that’s for sure.

“So, do you have any plans for the place?” Boba asks.

“Plant a garden, probably. Assuming the garden boxes don’t need to be repaired.” Misfit shrugs, “Turn the old barn into a workshop for my woodworking.”

“Oh, you’re still doing that?”

“I like working with my hands. It makes me less likely to turn to alcohol or drugs.”

Boba pauses and for a moment a pained look crosses his face, “I had heard…there are meetings in town for people fighting addictions. Support groups.”

“Yeah, I know.” Misfit pauses, “I already reached out for a sponsor.”

Relief washes across Boba’s face, “You have? That’s great.”

“Contrary to what you all seem to believe, I don’t actually like being high or drunk.”

“We’re just worried, Misfit.” Boba replies, “We thought you were going to get Court Martialed.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You-” Boba exhales slowly, “Never mind.” He pushes his hair through his curls, “When I heard you were coming, I went out and bought some food for you.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I could do. You’re still my brother.” Boba stops leaning against the counter and walks over to another window and ties the curtain open, “Honestly, I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the others…they’ve completely cut us off.” Boba says awkwardly. 

“Can you blame them?” Misfit asks as he finally steps into the house properly. He’ll have to redo the entire house to make it less anxiety inducing, but it’s always nice to have a project.

“No.” Boba admits, “Dad was great…for some of us. It took a long time for me to recognize that the way he treated you younger kids was…” He sighs and shakes his head, “None of you deserved that.”

“No, we didn’t.” Misfit agrees. “Anything else?”

Boba’s quiet for a moment, “I left my old motorcycle in the barn, you can have it. I can’t ride it anymore. The helmet and leather jacket are back there too. They’ll both fit you.”

“Thanks Boba,”

“You need a way to get around. It’s not super, you won’t be able to do a massive grocery trip, but it’s good enough.” Boba walks over to Misfit, and reaches out to grip his shoulder, “Listen, if you need anything, just give me a call. We’re family.”

Misfit stares at him for a moment, “Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it, vod.” Boba drops his hand, “I wasn’t always the best brother, but I’ve grown up since then.”

Misfit sighs and nods, “Alright, Boba. I’ll let you know.”

“Great. I’m going to get out of here, let you get settled.” Boba heads to the door, and then turns around to walk backwards, “Answer your phone when I call, Misfit. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Then Boba is gone, leaving Misfit alone with his thoughts and memories.

His hands twitch, and he finally lights his cigarette, in the hopes that the familiar sensation will help him feel a little less like a child again. 

It helps settle him, a little bit, and Misfit starts poking his way through the house. It is in pretty solid condition, all things considered, he decides as he goes up the stairs.

The paint and wallpaper in the rooms are dated, but both are easily corrected. Besides, wallpaper is outdated as a whole anyway. 

The bedroom he used to share with Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair will probably be reworked into an office, Misfit decides as he peeks into his old bedroom. It needs a new coat of paint, and he’ll probably take the door off, to make it more open.

Misfit clicks his tongue and heads back downstairs. He finds a notepad and a pen in the kitchen, and then heads back upstairs, making a list of everything he’s going to need to make the house less nightmare fuel for himself.

As he heads out to the barn later, to make sure the motorcycle still works, Misfit can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be as terrible as he fears.

Three months later, Misfit thinks that he’s about as settled as he’s going to get. He has a dog, a mastiff he named Bull, and the entire house has been repainted so that it doesn’t look like the same house.

He managed to get his garden in, and rigged up the hoses to automatically water the plants on a set schedule (he had to get on a video call with Tech to hammer out the more finicky details when some of the coding didn’t work properly, but it works now and that’s the important thing.)

Misfit has even managed to repair the old fences so that Bull has free reign of the yard. 

All in all, this place feels more like home now than it ever did when he was a child. Even his relationship with Boba has settled into something safe and comfortable. 

They don’t talk about Jango. Ever.

But they get together once a week, have lunch or dinner together. It’s settled something, an old hurt, in Misfit’s heart. It’s nice to know that his older brothers don’t actually hate him.

It’s around that time when his neighbor across the street sells their home. The original owners, an older couple who used to babysit Misfit when he was a little kid, had been thrilled to see him again when he moved in.

But they are an older couple, so Misfit wasn’t surprised when they admitted that they were moving out. He also wasn’t surprised when they asked for him to come and help with a few repairs around their home before they sold it.

The new owner is a young woman around the same age as him. Though Misfit hasn’t met her yet.

The morning he meets her, he’s out in the front yard working on his garden, while also playing with Bull. In fairness, he doesn’t notice her first, but Bull releases a loud bark and tears over to the fence.

Misfit straightens from where he’s pulling weeds, and he whistles sharply. Bull immediately sits, though his entire body is wiggling with excitement. “Good boy, Bull.” Misfit praises as he pulls a cookie out of a pouch on his hip and passes it to the dog.

“He’s so well trained!” The woman standing at the fence says, her eyes wide as she looks from Bull to Misfit and then back again, “Did you train him yourself?”

“Had some help from my cousin.” Misfit says, “He’s a dog trainer here in town.”

“The one who visits every week?” She asks, “I saw him the other day.”

“No. That’s one of my brothers. Hound doesn’t visit often.” He pulls off his thick work gloves and sticks them in his back pocket, “Anyway, can I help you?”

“Oh! I was just coming over to introduce myself!” She holds out her hand, and introduces herself with a broad smile, “I just moved in, and I’ve been wanting to come and introduce myself, but you’re a hard man to catch.”

“I’m a pretty busy guy.” He pauses, “Misfit.”

“I…sorry?”

“My name. It’s Misfit.”

Her lips part, “Oh. That’s…not really a name.” She finally says.

“You get used to it. There’s a bunch of us Fetts around here with names like that.” Misfit replies with a shrug, “You get used to it.”

She frowns slightly, and then her smile returns, “So, you take care of all this land on your own?”

Misfit pulls a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it, “Pretty much.” 

“The previous owners told me that you hand carved the railing in my home,” She bubbles excitedly, “Is that true?”

“Yeah. I make furniture and stuff for a living. Never been much for farm work.” Misfit pauses, he looks at her eager face, and then sighs, “Would you like to come in?”

“Only if it’s not too much hassle,” She replies sheepishly, “I’ve never met someone who can make furniture with their own hands.”

Misfit sighs and pushes the gate open, moving to the side to let her into his yard. “How do you think furniture gets made?”

“Uh…in factories?”

“Sure, if you want cheap things that’ll break in a year, I guess.” Misfit motions to Bull, “My dog, Bull. Let him sniff your hand before you try to pet him.”

He waits until Bull decides that she’s boring, before he leads her around to the barn. “This used to be an actual farm, then?” She asks as she looks up at the, recently painted, barn. “I thought these came in red?”

“I painted it because I don’t like red.” Misfit says as he slides one of the barn doors open, “And yeah, it was a farm for years. It’s only in the last couple of years that there haven’t been animals living here.” He moves to the side as three cats sprint out of the barn.

“You have cats too!” She asks, excited.

“They’re strays. They keep the mouse population down, so I’m happy to feed them.” He pushes the other barn door open, and gestures vaguely towards his workshop. 

“Oh, it smells nice!”

“That would be because that shelf is made of cedar.” Misfit replies as he steps around her and goes over to his workbench, “It’s for my brother. His bookshelf collapsed because of too many books.”

“You’re a good brother,” She sounds marveled. 

“Nah. I’m making him pay me for it.” Misfit says, “He’s a professor at an Ivy league university, he can afford it.”

“So if this used to be a ranch and now isn’t, what are you doing with all of the land?” She asks, curious.

“Planting trees.”

She laughs, and then pauses, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

She blinks at him, twice, and then she grins. “Wow, you’re like, the whole package, aren’t you?”

“...what?”

“It’s just,” She flushes, “You’re handy,” She gestures to the shelf, “You’re good with animals, you care about the environment and you’re close to your family-”

Misfit stares at her, blankly, “I have a dishonorable discharge from the military, and am in recovery for both alcohol and drug addictions.” He says flatly, “The only reason I’m allowed to live here is because no one else wanted to, and they don’t care what I do with it.”

She shakes her head, “Addiction is an illness! Not a moral failing! And your brothers clearly love you enough to give you all of this.”

“...you’re very kind, but I promise I don’t deserve it.”

She scowls at him, and takes several large steps towards him, and wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

Misfit’s hands raise to hover over her shoulders, unsure what he’s supposed to do in this situation. “Um…”

She doesn’t pull away, “I don’t know who told you that you’re not deserving of basic kindness, but they’re wrong.” She tightens her arms around him, “You’re a good guy. Bad guys don’t take care of animals or worry about the environment or take time out of their busy day to humor someone’s curiosity.”

Misfit sighs and lightly places his hands on her shoulders, and pushes her away gently, “Thank you. I’m not the best at taking compliments, but…thank you.”

She smiles at him, her face slowly turning red in embarrassment, “You’re welcome! But you must think I’m so weird-” She says with a sheepish laugh.

“Weird isn’t so bad.” Misfit replies as he turns his attention away from her. He hesitates for a moment, considering something, before he looks at her again, “So…I’m holding a cookout this weekend, with my brother and my cousins and their partners. There’s going to be a bunch of people here, if you want to come over and meet some people.”

“Ah! Really?”

Misfit shrugs, “It’s not easy being the new person in town.”

She beams at him, warm and wide, “And you think you’re a bad guy.”

And Misfit looks away from her, his ears burning.  He’s not sure if he’s a good guy, exactly, but…maybe he could try to be. If only to keep her smiling at him like that.

[catierambles]

Syverson headed towards the private room their mysterious visitor had been given, as all of her tech was experimental and highly classified, including her little AI powered drone that followed her around. Communications was still spotty with brass, so he wasn't able to corroborate her story yet, but he had no reason to doubt her; she's been nothing but a help since she arrived in spectacular fashion, rescuing a squad on patrol that had gotten ambushed.

"Ves?" He asked, "You hungry?"

"What're we looking at, Fynch?" He heard and stopped outside her door that was open a crack. He knew her AI drone, who she called North, short for North Star as "he always pointed home", and she was Ves Thosh, who was Fynch?

"Well," It sounded slightly digitized, "The main thrusters are shot and the hyperdrive is kaput. Even if we could leave orbit, which we can't, we wouldn't be able to get out of the system in your natural lifetime."

"There's a problem with that." It was North, "We're on Earth."

"What?"

"We're in the right place, Fynchie," Ves said, "Not the right time. We're pre-Traveler, pre-Golden Age."

"What?"

"Yeah." She said, "By a couple hundred, by my guess."

"Ooh boy." The voice he reckoned was Fynch's. "The Hive dabbled in temporal rituals, but they've never actually succeeded before."

"Go team," Ves said, "It doesn't mean much if we can't get back, though."

"Yeah, I took a look at the data captured by the ship's sensors at the time of the event."

"And?"

"It was paracausal, but I can't make heads or tails of it."

"And I doubt we have access to an expert on temporal paracausal energy here." Ves said, "They haven't even figured out terraforming yet and have segregated governments still." He took that moment to push open the door and she looked over at him, making him stop in the doorway. He's never seen her without her helmet, as she always made the excuse that the releases were damaged, and now he could see why. Her skin was a pale lavender, light like swirls moving under the surface, her eyes icy blue and glowing. Her drone paused as well, as did the projection of what looked like another drone, this one made of bone.

"I'll let you guys sort this out." It said and vanished.

"Fynch!" She said, but it was already gone. "Uh...hi, Captain."

"Ves?"

"I can explain."

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

If I Could Turn Back Time

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

A/N: This fic is cross-posted on Wattpad and Ao3

Chapter 3

“You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

First period had started ten minutes before as I rushed into the building. The halls were void of students and staff, and the only sound was the squeaking of my coffee-sodden shoes on the white tiles. 

Every head in the classroom shot up from their phone as I burst through the door, setting my bag down and taking out the soaked papers to dry. “I am so sorry, guys!”

“Miss Foster,” one kid said. “Is that coffee on you?”

I paused and stared at them like a deer in headlights. “Um–uhh…yeah.” I began to set up my desk–booting up my computer, filing away papers, trying my best to not cry at the feeling of wet socks–while simultaneously trying my best to form a coherent response. “Little accident at the Weathervane. I ended up spilling all of my latte on me…and another customer.”

I took a deep breath and fixed my shirt, sighing as I tried to gather my thoughts, but something–her–she lingered in the back of my head. Larissa. Not even ten minutes together and her eyes, her smile, her very person was already imprinted in my mind. “Okay–uh…what class is this again? First period? Right, okay. Where’d we leave off yesterday?”

“The intro to the Russian Revolution of 1917,” a girl in the back answered.

“Right!” I moved to the white board and took a marker, drawing a long line with dashes here and there. When the timeline was built, I began to lecture the students, smiling to myself when turned away from them, knowing that they had no clue I had first hand experience with the subject at hand.

“Okay, the Russian Revolution…” I started. “As we learned yesterday, the revolution was initiated in February of 1917. The first revolt was centered around the capital at the time, Petrograd. This would later become Saint Petersburg. Tsar Nicholas II eventually stepped down from the throne after being convinced by the high ranking military officials that in doing so, the mutinies and turmoil would subside. This would allow the new government, led by the Russian Duma, to take over, and this becomes the Russian Provisional Government.” 

I looked across the sea of students all looking at the board, some taking notes, and one trying to not fall asleep. “Can anyone tell me what was a major contributing factor to the 1917 revolution?”

A girl in the back shot her hand up quickly. “Oh! The Russian Revolution of 1905.”

“Good!” To know that at least one of my students was paying attention and that I wasn’t talking to the wall always filled me with hope–especially in a town like this. “As we learned last week, the events of Bloody Sunday caused a lot of upheaval. If you turn to page 276 of your textbook you can see a primary source image of propaganda from 1905, and if you turn to page 301 you can also see a comparison of the multiple revolutions Russia had pre-World War One and throughout…”

The soft glow of lamplight encases the living room as the TV plays quietly in the background. I scan over tests, marking each incorrect answer and unfortunately recording more D’s than A’s. 

I glance at my phone. It had been an entire day since I spilled coffee on Larissa. I had no idea who she was or what she did for a living, but scenarios crossed my mind as to why she hadn’t reached out yet.

What if she was just being polite?

What if she wants nothing to do with me?

I barely know this woman and I’m already craving her approval and attention.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I don’t even know her last name and I’m already clinging to her.

It had been three days since the incident and now I was convinced Larissa wanted nothing to do with me. I stood in line at the Weathervane, staring off into space. As I stepped up to the counter, I smiled and placed my order before moving off to the side to wait. But once again I was a complete idiot.

“Wow, I really need to start looking where I’m going,” I huffed after running straight into her.

The softest smile from her sent butterflies through my chest. It was incredible, the effect this woman had on me. “Well, at least there was no coffee this time.” 

Larissa’s giggle was the sweetest sound to grace my ears. 

“Oh, by the way,” she continued. “I just wanted to apologize for not messaging you sooner. I’ve been quite busy recently.”

I smiled back, relieved it was all in my head. “That’s fine! I completely understand. I’m a history teacher at Jericho High School, so I’m well acquainted with ‘busy’.”

Larissa paused for a moment. “Would you want to sit down with me? I have some free time so I didn’t order my coffee as takeaway.”

“I would love that,” I said after taking a second to think. “But, unfortunately, I have to be at work in fifteen minutes.”

I could’ve sworn there was a look of disappointment in Larissa’s eyes. The blue hue grew ever so slightly darker and her smile faltered briefly before widening. “That’s quite alright. Your students come first.”

“Well,” I chuckled. “More like my need to pay the bills comes first. The students can be a pain in the rear, but you do have a point. The students are our future. And to have a better future they need a good education.”

The entire day I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It got so bad to the point where I actually had to give one of the classes a free period. “I need to catch up on grading,” I told them. 

What a lie.

I spent the entire time thinking about Larissa. How her hips swayed when she walked. How her perfect red lips would curve into the sweetest smile. And how her eyes could tell you every emotion she ever had. 

“Miss Foster?” 

“Miss Foster?”

A voice brought me from my trance and I looked up at the girl. How long had she been standing there? “Oh god. I’m sorry, Macy. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I just had a question about this section of the assignment you gave us yesterday…”

As she explained her problem it was hard to focus. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my phone screen light up with a text. My heart practically burst at the unknown number and suddenly, for the time ever, I didn’t want to help a student. 

But, I did. I answered her questions, and I helped her answer an essay prompt about the early civilization lesson we were going over. As soon as she sat back down I picked up my phone, and sure enough it was Larissa.

‘I was just wondering if you’d be available to go to dinner tomorrow night? A new restaurant opened up in the square, and I’ve been meaning to try it.’

Dinner. She does want to go to dinner. 

‘And what about the dry cleaning?’

‘The lady said she couldn’t do anything about it. The fabric was too light.’

Figures. 

‘I’m available anytime after 4.’

‘Is 5:30 okay?’

‘Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.’

I don’t think I had ever been so impatient in my life until then. It was less than a day away and my heart was already fluttering uncontrollably, and it felt like years before the final bell of day had rung, dismissing the students from class.

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Ten Random Lines Tag

Tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer ty!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics/writing projects, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag people (ten if you want to follow the theme).

Tagging: @theramwrites @puzzleddragon02 @saltysupercomputer @aether-wasteland-s @lexiklecksi and anyone else who wants to!

Okay I really only have 2 main WIPs but sure we can see snippets of some tiny things......

Second Chance I don’t even have to explain to Hayln why I am actually still alive, because it’s a null day (that really is a good name for it. On the Base we call it pre-day and post-day, in reference to when the reversal occurs). Except here’s the funny thing: Turns out, since I didn’t exist, the most natural thing to occur is for me to simply not exist for about 16 hours. When I explain to the Spirit that No, I am NOT okay with that, it says that if I really want to, we can resist that natural couse of events.

Syndicate He flashed a smile. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said and came over, picking up mugs from the desk that I hadn’t noticed and bringing them over. He handed me one. “Got you coffee.” A string and tag on the side of his mug showed he was having tea. 

Drake Knight I look to the sky, pausing three-quarters down the alley to catch a breath and attempt to wipe some of the coffee off the front of my shirt. It’s empty for a bit, just a gray sky, but then a shadow passes over us and I see it clearly for the first time. Nothing special, the dark gray scales indicate it’s probably from the mountains. But it’s smaller than I expected. Most dragons you fight are adults, but this one isn’t much larger than an elephant. I think it is anyway, hard to tell from the flyby.

Angie & Eddie So Angie stood up and made her way to Target. Passed the cart return, the shampoo bottles, the spa day bins with images of thin women relaxing. She went down the band-aid aisle, the cold medicine aisle, the muscle relaxants. She paused, facing a wall full of pads. She’d been in a slight daze, half convincing herself this wasn’t real, but not she had to focus because where the fuck were they? God, she wasn’t going to have to ask someone, was she?

Creative Nonfiction Portfolio In my dorm, the top left dryer doesn’t work. I’ve put wet laundry inside and returned to find wet laundry. After that, I avoided that dryer for weeks, until it was the only one available so I let it run through, figuring if it didn’t work there would be an open dryer by then. Lo and behold, my laundry remained wet. Have I reported it to the conveniently posted number hanging on the laundry room wall? Nope. Everyone seems aware it’s broken, someone must’ve reported it. And ultimately, we’ll live. But, that’s just a dryer. No one’s in any danger.

Immortal Souls The rain picked up. Back home, inside, I loved rain, but now I hated it. I pulled my hood up to cover my head and swung my backpack over my shoulder, moving off the bench and under an awning of a corner store. It was the kind of building that looked like it had been passed down between different owners, none of which bothered to change the old sign. An ancient hand-painted sign that said “Collier’s” was faded and mounted above a newer, stenciled sign that said “Watkin’s Market.” A glance around told me that Watkin’s was the name of the street, so, definitely not the most creative. It was advertising cheap cell phones and beer, so not much of a market either.

The Snow Queen Retelling "What’you suppose they are, demons or something? Goblins? Nothing like the ones at the church. That one looks like he can fly.” He stared at it, getting lost in the red of the glass, a color that stood out in the colorless castle. He hadn’t noticed it before. Or, he remembered, he’d thought it was stupid, that the colors gave him a headache. He’d never stopped to take them in, to look at how pretty the colors were when light shone through them.

Faye & Myra-- Summer Hangout I felt like crying, but that would be way worse right now and I couldn’t face it. I took a deep breath and pushed it away. I grabbed the few tintypes I’d taken out of the box, brought the box back, and purchased them. I went over to Olivia.

Layla In an instant, the numb feeling of being disconnected vanished, and panic rushed through me. Twitches underneath my eyes warned me that tears were coming, and then they did, filling my eyes and blurring the message. My mouth quivered, my breathing was speeding up. What was he doing? Couldn’t this be over? Hadn’t he gotten what he wanted?

Lialyn Lialyn was a kingdom of Mages. Every part of their lives had been shaped around the fact that everyone, from the rich to poor, learned magic. As the prince, he and his sister were expected to master as soon as possible. They were supposed to be superior in magic the way other countries had their royalty superior in swordfighting. Which meant that Sam had failed his family from the start.

[percontaion-points]

5 Survive chapters 27 & 28

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 27

“Oliver, we have to,” Reyna replied, hardening her voice, a warning in there too. “We have to. This could be about us. About what we did.”

Chapter 27 summary: They start fighting about there being an inside person, helping Mr. Sniper. However, it’s pretty obvious that everybody thinks that Oliver is off his goddamned rocker with this one. He starts talking less and less sense. Eventually, he demands that Red strip in front of everybody to prove that she’s not wearing a wire. Simon and Arthur tell Oliver to knock it out. Then Oliver demands that everybody put their phones into a pot, which he then secures in place using tape, before putting the entire thing inside of the oven. 

Finally, Reyna says she thinks that this could be because of “what we did”. So probably not pregnancy. 

Chapter 28

“It was in January,” Reyna said, burying her hands inside her sleeves. “When we went back to college for the semester. We—” 

“—I’ll tell the story,” Oliver cut her off. “You won’t tell it right. You won’t…I’ll do it.”

[...]

“And he’s bothering Reyna,” he said. “He’s up in her face, talking to her. He’s even holding her by the arms. And Reyna’s trying to break free, push him away.” 

A silent tear fell down Reyna’s face, pooling at the crack in her lips. 

Oliver: Stop talking! You don’t tell the story right!

Oliver: *proceeds to mansplain about how a woman got sexually harassed by another man*

“So, of course, I run over and tell this random guy to get lost, to stop bothering my girlfriend. And then this guy, he turns to Reyna and he says, ‘Am I bothering you?’ So Reyna, of course, says that yes he is.” 

Red was watching Reyna, and maybe she was wrong, but she thought she saw the slightest movement in Reyna’s head, moving side to side. Reyna stopped when she noticed Red’s eyes. 

“So I pull Reyna away from the guy and I tell him to leave her alone,” Oliver said. “And then this guy loses it. He shoves me and I’m asking him what his problem is. And then he hits me, punches me right in the face.” He paused, sharpening his focus on Maddy. “He hit me first, that’s very important. He hit me first.”

Okay, now Reyna gets to tell her version of events.

Something tells me that it’s going to be a VASTLY different event. 

“I’m sorry, Oliver,” Reyna said, voice croaky and raw, a new tear dancing down the lines of her face, in and out of the other tracks. “He wasn’t a random guy. I knew him.”

Chapter 28 summary: Reyna begins to speak, but then Oliver silences her. Thinks that she’s too stupid for her to properly tell a story in which something happened TO HER. Oh, Oliver doesn’t say it like that, but he heavily implies it. Which I think makes it worse.

Anyway, one night in January, he and Reyna were chilling at a bar (which they can do because they’re over 21 and in college). There’s this guy who’s been eyeing Reyna all night, but Oliver is like “But she’s hot, so I get it.” The night goes on, and they forget about the guy. 

As they go to leave the bar, Oliver realises he forgot his scarf inside, and goes back to get it. It takes a while, since somebody had turned it into the lost and found area. When he comes out, he finds the same man from the bar talking with Reyna. 

Oliver obviously freaks out and gets into the man’s face. Insists that the man hit him first. So Oliver swung back. But hit him too hard, and he went down. They were debating calling 911 when the man woke up and got up. Oliver and Reyna leave. 

A few days later, Reyna was doing a tour of the hospital (I guess she’s pre-med, or maybe in nursing school? The narration is unclear about this), when one of the nurses told them that a patient died earlier. It was the guy from the bar. He’d died from a brain-bleed. 

Oliver says that since nobody came to talk to either of them, they figured that there hadn’t been any security cameras around the bar to show the fight. That he was hardly going to confess when he himself had a good law career ahead of him. Notably absent is Reyna’s future, and how this would make her look bad, too. 

Maddy randomly asks how old that this guy had been, but Oliver doesn’t know, nor does he seem to care. However, Reyna says that he was 22… And that she knew him. Which… I figured that Reyna had a completely different event than the one Oliver described. 

[gav-san]

THE QUEEN OF THE KING 12/15

Previous/Next

The Hyrulian King looked at the guard, head tilted with a single brow raised. After a moment he blinks as if he hasn’t quite understood the words that came from the guard's mouth. It may as well be true since many of the words were lost in the frenzy of the man who dashed into camp, had bloodied, a large gash across his face.

“Say it again.” He commands, voice turning sharp, and the guard trembles, struggling not to touch the hasty bandage job that had been given.

“We had found the run-away princess, and were about to-” The king waved his hands, and the guard stumbles over his words. “-And then that Gerudo beast-king showed up and threw half the man off the cliff-and-killed-the-others-after the princess threw down the Archbishop-”

The king stood and the man cut off immediately.

“Be gone.” He commanded, and the king's guards followed his words. The man was dragged out. 

From the dark corners of the tent, the scribe Zicar gave a small smile as he approaches the king, hands behind his back.

“My King.”

“Councilor.”

“We should have him… removed,” Zicar says, very politely. “After all, the people will react far better to our proposition of war with the Gerudo if they think the Gerudo King has both killed the old Arch-Bishop and kidnapped their beloved princess.” He gives a bit of a smile, lifting his hands. “And what of the people’s princess after we win the war? We want a defense to retake the Gerudo Gorge and expand, not to give them a reason to revolt.”

“I bet we could even recapture the princess and she’d come back willingly, and serve out her days as a quiet court figure, as you desired. We just tell her how the king threatened to take Zelda. Even now, I have set up her up to sway many Gerudo women to believe their king is a savage tyrant. If the princess turns against him, it would be a huge victory, and ensure Zelda’s prosperous reign.”

“Your foresight is terrifying.” The king said, a little frown on his face. The scribe bowed.

“I simply desire to serve you, my King. That Gerudo Beast is a threat that must be dealt with a swift, brutal blow.”

“Let it be done.” The King said with a wave. "I have no more patience for the Gerudo."

-X-

“I dislike you.” You sat on the soft Gerudan rug, arms folded, as the Gerudo king carefully built up a fire at the entrance of the cave that he had set up as camp. It is not a bare, empty space, but one filled with things pre-placed under a raised Gerudo tent, and in the back, a deep pool of warm water that smells of eggs. Thick, lush cushions and soft woolen blanket, warm enough that even without the fire, it would have been bearable as the night cooled dramatically. Off to the side are packs filled with food and drink.

It all says one thing; He had planned the events happening. The King had willingly given you over. Your frown deepens and you glance at the luminescent marks on your wrists and ankles. No longer the gold of bangles, but the sheen of magic had taken over into the marks of its true form. Ones that only the Gerudo could see, as he had told you, but that would protect you until one of your deaths.

The King turns a cocky smile on his face, eyebrow quirked. It doesn’t help your pulse that he has little on, golden skin lush in the evening sunset.

“The feeling isn’t mutual. I find myself quite fond of you, little moon.” He turns back to his task, and you settle into the corner of the blanket, turning away. There’s not much you can say, feeling pitiful and weak.

“Will you return me?” You say softly, causing him to pause. “To Hyrule?”

For a moment he stills.

“No, my queen.” And then he resumes his work. “The magic has already bound us together. As far as my people are concerned, we are tightly bound and married.”

“I have not consented to this. To you. ” You say, teeth gritting. The King frowns, looking over with his thick arms resting on his knees. “Let me go and I will not hold it against you.”

The King laughs, making you cross, moving to get another log from the entrance.

“The magic would disagree. It does not meld if there is no hope for your feelings to change.” You huff, greatly offended. And it seems to please him. “The only way to remove the magic is for me to die, and I am not planning on doing such a thing.”

You slam your hands on the rug, ignoring the sting in them.

“What about the freedom and consent you and your sisters get to enjoy?” You say angrily, not sure why you care so much. “I find it highly disturbing that you would not offer such a thing to me!”

He raises a thick brow, his mouth doing a poor job of hiding the way it curves up.

“The honor of being the bride of the Gerudo King makes up for such things. A good king always satisfies his wife.” He says it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You give a strangled breath.

How dare he so casually speak of such things!

Well, you could play that game!

“What if I take a lover?” You say sharply, and the man simply laughs, the pleasant sound rumbling in his chest. 

“My sisters would be honored to teach you their ways.” You gape much like a fish.

“I meant another man!” You hissed, which only caused him to chortle.

“My little vai, I can see that there will never be a boring day with you. But fear not, you won’t find any male so proficient. Or any male at all in my fortress.” You go bright red, and the man roars with laughter. He was insufferable.

“I am not yours! And you can not chain me up forever!” You say, feeling very childish for such words, but you are surprised when his hand comes up as if to brush your cheek softly. But he pauses thoughtfully and resumes his task.

“Ah, little Vai , there are no chains for my queen.” He says. You want to point out the magic he has inflicted on you, but you 

“I am not your queen!” You declare, and you swear you can hear him chuckling again.

The King isn’t looking at you, but you can see he looks rather amused.

“You are only unsatisfied now because we are yet to be one. As soon as you allow it, beg for it, I shall leave you so pleased that your pretty eyes will be unable to wander. You will likely be unable to even walk. And then I will worship you again.” He smirked, golden eyes going lidded as he took a long, lingering look over your body.

 Your red blush refused to be satisfied with just your cheeks, as you felt your entire face burn at the open way he discussed his prowess. 

Your fists clenched, and for the first time in a long time, you shook with the desire to just hit flesh, preferably his. Fully knowing such a pathetic assault would only egg him on or worse, hasten the loss of your independence, you have no recourse.

Kidnapped, offended, furious, and too small to cause any real disturbance, you did the one thing you could.

You turned on your heel, went to the other end of the tent, sat on the far mat, and ignored your noble husband of the desert.

His chuckles burned your pride, and shame twisted in you at your tantrum and ignored fury. So much so that you knew if you made a single move, you were liable to burst into tears.

“You won’t get away with this.” You say, mouth clenched together.

“Oh?” He says, “Shall the King come to rescue you, after tossing you aside?” He turns, and it makes your chest burn in shame and hurt.

“It’s not important! What is important is that you understand that if you kidnap a noble from the castle, the entire kingdom will come after you!” You hiss. “My people love me. Zelda loves me!”

The Gerudo King sighed. 

“And so will mine. And we will treat you as you deserve. A true Queen.” He states. “Do not fear, my queen, and rest your fears. They will consume you.” 

“So you think.” You say, doing your best to keep your fury down. It was hard, feeling so betrayed. You would never forgive yourself if Zelda was taken right from under your nose. Might it be so hard to think others would feel the same for you?

“First, I think you are misled about the kidnapping. We Gerudo would have many enemies if we didn’t come with leverage for such an occasion.” 

“Are you saying you bribe people? That you bartered for me like goods? ” You sneer. The Gerudo King shakes his head.

“No, little Vehvi. We ask the guardian for permission and offer a dowry. You were the price of peace. Neither side wishes for war, and the King can see that you have the ability to stunt his reign.”

You go quiet.

There was no way the King would let things go so easily, especially with the Gerudo. But tonight, you had too much on your mind. At this point, you were just shutting down.

After being saved from the river, the Gerudo had simply picked you up, both soaking wet, and walked until you reached this place. Being half dazed, you have no idea where you are, or how’d you even escape him, if you felt like it.

Right now you just felt like curling up into the corner and crying. 

And in a compromise, you do curl up as much as your dignity allows. You note the sound of the fire starting, as well as thick heavy steps. In a moment, a thick blanket falls over your shoulders, and you jump in surprise.

“What are you doing-” You declare, started, but the Gerudo King merely sits a bit away. 

“You are cold, my queen.” He says, putting his face in his palm. “Go, rest in the warm waters in the back and refresh yourself. It will warm your bones, and I shall prepare nightclothes for you.” You roll your eyes, arms crossed.

“Don’t pretend to play the gentleman. How could I even consider bathing in such a dirty place?” You saw, hair matted to your face.

He gives a small smile, tilting his head.

“This one comes straight from under the mountain. It may smell a bit, but you’ll feel much better after.”

What, you want me to strip so you may get a taste of what you will no doubt force? No, I think not.” You say. “If I am to be forced, you shall not get the pleasure of my full beauty.” And you are determined to keep up such an attitude but the look on the Gerudo King’s face makes you surprised.

“Force?” He says, standing, mouth open in a furious drawl. “No man will ever disrespect a woman as such in my kingdom! I would cut any man’s head off who dared!” He bellowed, and you withdraw, struck by fear, so much so you curl into a ball. After a moment the King regains his head, hands aloft in a gesture of submission.

He kneels, looking very repentant.

“Forgive my queen. I forgot that you are not accustomed to Gerudo's passions or our ways. I would never force you into any affection you did not desire.” His voice goes low, like the thrum of low bells. You find it hard to remain untouched, but you try.

“So that’s why you kidnapped me?” You say, and he looks rather distraught.

“I have not brought you here to harm you. I merely do not wish for you to get sick in those damp clothes.” He says. “But I see that I rightfully must gain your trust. I shall sit at the mouth of the cave and sing, that way you may know where I am at all times. If I betray this, I shall take you wherever you wish, on my word.”

He crosses his arms over his chest as if making a pact worthy of another King. And knowing what you do about the Gerudo, you know that the Gerudo hold such things in the highest esteem. To break his word is to forfeit his kingship.

You glance at him, brows furrowed. You can feel the grime of the river, the dirt, and the moist unpleasantness of dampness. 

“You swear it?” You say softly.

He gives what seems to be a sad smile.

“I would do most things, to see you happy, my moon.” He says, moving to stand and turn at the exit. After a moment he starts humming, mixing some singing. It isn’t overly loud, just enough you can hear how well he does it.

And after a moment, you stand, slowly creeping to the back of the tent. You aren’t sure why you are so quiet, perhaps to make sure he doesn’t hear you at all. Pulling back the material you duck under, finding the lip of the pool from the soft glow of the candles the Gerudo King has placed there.

You debate throwing yourself in clothed, but after a moment of standing in your dirt-encrusted dress, you decide to wing it. After all, what did you have to lose?

You stripped down, not even leaving your shift and socking on. They have faired a bit better but you don’t want them wet when you get redressed. 

Bare as the day you were born, you slowly descend into the pool, nose wrinkled. 

It’s not as if you desire to smell of rotten eggs, but the warm water does comfort you, and you dip down to your chin. The splash must have been loud enough to get the Gerudo King’s attention, and he hums as he comes a bit closer.

 “ Silver as the waves on the sea, the color of the flowers of Bree-” He has kept his word and continues to sing. You shrink, wondering if he will indeed go back on his pretty words. You can see his silhouette through the thick tent, and he looks to be going through bags.

“ My darling, my moon my first and my last, the flowers on the mountain, the color of the sea ,” He sings, though it turns into talking to you as you shrink down further until the water covers your nose. “I have placed oils, as well as a cloth to dry yourself, and clothes on the other side. I shall go back now.”

And then he is singing again, back at the entrance of the tent. You move to the edge of the pool, arm just long enough to raise the tent back. From the little peephole you have made you can see the thoughtful gifts he has set out, and his large bulk in the cave entrance. 

“ Cleave unto me and I will move mountains and worlds-”

You grab the items and drag them in, before lowering the tent.

Closing your eyes, you wish you could also closer your heart. You could not feel warmth for the man who has a surprisingly beautiful singing voice.

.

.

.

You drag your bath out. Part in spite, to make him sing his voice horse, part because you enjoy his voice. Mostly because you are a mess, and pulling the comb he had set out through your hair to make it presentable again was taking a long time. It had been years since you had combed your hair and washed it till your body was sore. It was mortifying how lagging you were.

You could not, however, wash off the silvery bands of magic crossing your limbs and head. Not that you could even feel it, but the fact you had been branded made you so angry you’d like to brand the Gerudo King with something less pleasant. 

But the consideration he was giving, and his voice was still doing things to your belly.

By the time you have redressed your shift, you realize that your beloved brown dress is ruined. And what’s more, the clothes the Gerudo King has given you are… not appropriate. It’s more modest than most of the silky Gerudian robes that his people wear but by Hyrulian standards, the filmy red silk is what a woman would wear for her husband on their wedding night. And for sure, you refuse to consider yourself married, or this as your wedding night. You refuse to consider yourself anything but a prisoner to the Gerudo king.

A prisoner who can’t help but have something akin to a twisted affection for her jailer.

So you debate your options.

You could scream, throw a fit or even wear your dirty clothes. But the biggest thing you feel is just tired. And it is surprisingly easy to go out on a limb and discover that you do believe that the Gerudo King won’t touch you, even if you decide to wear such a thing. That he keeps his word.

And that you desire to test him, in a way you don’t fully understand.

-X-

Lord Ganondorf was feeling the depths of his humility. As he expected too, as a matter of fact, since only a brute could do what he has done. And while he could blame it on tradition, magic and so many other reasons, he knows that at its core, he has failed.

He should have trusted in his abilities to woo you. He should have extended his stay. Anything to not see the woman he already loves looking at him with such fear and disdain.

He had a long road ahead of him, to regain your trust. And while he would have desired his wedding night to be far more mutual and romantic. He wished to stay awake with her and compose a poem together, letting the binding magic slowly weave them closer and closer. 

He glances back at the little pile of cushions holding his queen. But even now he can see the shine of the red Gerudian silk you wear, though you have kept that ugly white gown underneath. He chuckles quietly.

Stubborn, till the end. But perhaps there is hope after all.

With a small smile, he looks up to the sky. Tomorrow they would set out.

[lucacangettathisass]

How The Light Gets In 2.0 (3)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

CHAPTERS: One, Two

Tagging: @ghastlyrider @rommies @janebby @wedonttalkabouthenry if anyone would like to be tagged lmk!

NOTES: So this where more major edits will be happening as I try to actually match events in the game with the events in the fic, as I got some things mixed up last time. You will all also get to see a pretty big change from the original story *eyes emoji*, I hope you all like it! I highly recommend installing the Interactive Fics chrome extension if you haven’t already so you can use it to change ‘[Name]’ and ‘[Last Name]’ to your actual name! Shout out and god bless to the maker(s) of that extension!

“Now, let’s see how well these clothes fit.” Miss Grimshaw said, holding up the garments.

The men politely turned around, in order to better preserver yours and Sadie’s modesty, but the idea of being undressed in the presence of strange men still made you flush terrible, and that feeling of mortification more than the cold made you rush to get dressed.

In the end it turned out that Miss Grimshaw had guessed rather well, as Sadie had a similar body type to Miss Gaskill. Unfortunately, while she no doubt went with Miss Jones for you as it appeared the two of you had similar proportions, it turned out that your bust was heavier and your hips wider, which only served to cause you embarrassment.

“We’ll have to get you somethin’ that fits better once we’re off this mountain.” Miss Jones said, handing you a coat to make you warmer, and to cover up the rather embarrassing amount of your chest that was on display.

“I’ve always had a little trouble finding clothes that fit.” You said, wrapping the coat around you. “It’s just one of those things.” You smiled, doing your best to hide just how insecure this frustratingly persistent issue made you. As a child you were “awkwardly shaped”, as so many put it. Of course you knew what that really meant, and the phrasing only served to make you uncomfortable whenever going to get clothes.

You settled back down beside Sadie, feeling much better now that you were wearing something warm. You truly were surprised at the kindness these people were showing you and Sadie, considering that they were meant to be outlaws, and you felt awful for prejudging them, especially since you’ve had to deal with people’s pre-convinced judgements of you all your life.

“So, if you don’t mind me askin’…” Miss Gaskill looked between you and Sadie. “What…what happened?”

Immediately you looked over at Sadie to gauge her reaction, and see if she wanted to speak. But she just continued to stare into the fire, face empty.

You gently placed a hand on hers and squeezed it. “Those men, the O’Driscolls, they said they just wanted some shelter. So we, well, Jake and I, we let them in.” You paused as a lump started to form in your throat and a startling realization came to you.

You were partly at fault for what happened.

If you had been as skeptical as Sadie and vetoed Jake’s decision with her, then none of that would’ve happened. You would still have a home, and Sadie would still have a husband.

“And, well.” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat down, but it refused to move, forcing you to try and speak around it which only resulted in you sounding strangled. “I’m sure you can guess the rest.”

There was a heavy silence after you spoke, and you could feel the pity radiating off the others, and even noted the Reverend crossing himself. Even little Jack seemed upset, although you weren’t entirely sure if he understood just what was being discussed. If he did, that would just make it all even worse.

‘Lord Jesus have mercy me.’ You silently prayed. ‘On all of us.’ You would need to get a new prayer rope.

“We’ve lost some people too.” Miss Jackson said sadly. “We don’t even know where two of them are.”

“I’m sure Mac and Sean are fine.” Miss Jones said. “They always find a way.”

Knowing that some of them had hope made you smile and warmed your heart. You looked up at one of the windows and saw that the snow had eased up a little, and it looked like you would actually be able to walk through it without much difficulty.

“I’m going to check on Gladys.” You told Sadie. “I won’t be long.”

She only nodded, and you squeezed her hand before excusing yourself and venturing outside.

The stark contrast between the shelter and relative warmth of the house you had just been in and the open cold of the outside immediately made goosebumps form all over your body, but you ignored them and trudged your way to the snow to Gladys, who had remained hitched to the hitching post, much to your surprise.

“How you doing girl?” You asked gently, stroking her dark mane.

She whinnied, gently nudging your face.

“I know.” You said softly, doing your best to soothe and ease her. “I don’t know how much longer we’re gonna be here, but hopefully it won’t be too long.”

Gladys snorted, sounding a little skeptical to you.

“It never hurt to have hope.” You pointed out. You stroked her long face, fingers gliding along the black patch that formed a mask like pattern around her eyes. “Things are going to be different from now on girl.” You said softly. “These people were nice enough to take us in and it looks like we’re going to stay with them for a while, so you behave, ok?”

Gladys snorted again and stomped a hoof, but she still nuzzled her nose against your cheek, making you giggle. “Thanks girl.”

After a few more minutes of bonding, you returned to the house, and upon entering saw Miss Roberts engaged in what appeared to be a pressing conversation with Mr Morgan.

“Arthur please!” Miss Roberts pleaded, clearly desperate. “It’s been too long already!”

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Mr Morgan warmed his hands by the furnace.

You looked up and noticed another man leaning against the window. He was wearing a rather charming bowler hat and what appeared to be a thick shawl of some kind that covered his shoulders and chest. He brought a lit cigarette to his mouth, pausing when he spotted you.

His dark eyes slowly raked over you, starting from your feet, all the way to the top of your head, before going back to your face. His gaze was hard to read, something you’re not used to, but you could still feel the intensity. He brought the cigarette to his mouth again, slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

You felt your face flush with nerves and you looked away, back at Miss Roberts and Mr Morgan.

“I’m sure Marston is perfectly fine Abigail.”

Marston?

The name sent a jolt down your spine, and you could feel all the hairs on your body standing up.

“Just-please Arthur.” Miss Roberts clasped Mr Morgan’s arm, face desperate. “Please.”

Mr Morgan held her gaze, stoic and impassive.

“Come on Arthur.”

You looked back at the other man as he crushed the cigarette with his boot. “If it was the other way around, I know he would look for me. And you.”

That seemed to get to Mr Morgan, as he sighed heavily, closing his eyes. “Fine.” He grumbled. “Gonna need a horse though.”

“You can take Gladys.” It took you a moment to realize that the words had come out of your own mouth. You cleared your throat as all eyes fell on you, and you felt yourself flushing again. “I-I don’t mind. And she’s confident with this environment, she won’t let you down Mr Morgan.”

The older man looked just as surprised as you felt at your offer. “Ya sure?”

“Of course.”

He seemed to consider this, before sighing once again. “’Preciate it.” He looked back at Miss Roberts. “We’ll be back.”

And with that he and the other man left, with the latter giving you one last glance.

“Who was that with Mr Morgan?” You asked as soon as the door closed.

“Javier Escuela.” Miss Grimshaw replied. “He’s from Mexico.”

“And seemed awfully interested in you young missy.” Mr Uncle chuckled with a warm smile.

“Oh I very much doubt that.” You replied.

“Who’s the Marston they were talkin’ about?” Sadie asked softly, startling all of you.

“John Marston. Jack’s father.” Miss Roberts sat down by the furnace, pulling her son into her lap. “He’s been missin’ for two days, and, well...” She cast her gaze downwards. “I just want to know if he’s ok.”

You tried to tell yourself to remain calm. John Marston is a perfectly common name, it doesn’t mean anything. Not in the slightest.

You glanced over at Sadie, only to find that she was already looking at you, face hard. “I suppose we’ll find out, one way or another.”

You looked away.

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Leave Your Lover (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! So, this was going to be one really long part, but it kind of got away from me and I had to split it into two. Don’t worry the next part is going to be very long either way because that’s the half that got away from me. This takes place pre-Infinity War. Inspired by Sam Smith’s “Leave Your Lover”, mainly the line featured. 

Summary: A brief glimpse into life on the run. Will Wanda be able to find Y/n? 

“If I can't have you I'll walk this life alone, spare you the rising storms and let the rivers flow.”

Being on the run was difficult to say the least and being on the run while trying to find someone who was actively trying not to be found was even worse. Despite being told by the rest of the group that it may be in her best interest to just move on and let you go, Wanda knew that wasn’t an option. She had made a promise to herself that she was going to keep fighting for you, no matter the cost. Wanda had let you go once and she wasn’t going to let it happen, not if there was a part of her that knew you still had love in your heart for her.

The only one who knew where you were at all times was Steve and he had spent the last few months absolutely refusing to disclose your exact location. That never stopped her from trying though. 

Eventually though, he gave in. Steve wasn’t sure if it was her sheer determination that impressed him or the fact that he had never seen you happier than when you were with her. If she thought she could create happiness in a terrible situation, Steve thought she at least deserved a true chance and he wouldn’t stand in the way. 

When she received the location, Wanda quickly packed what little she had and booked the next train ticket to Rennes, France. Feeling hopeful for the first time since long before the events of Lagos. _________________________________

For the majority of the time you’d been on the run, you stuck to the idea that hiding in plain sight was the best course of action. Which is why you were currently at a poorly lit bar, trying to live as normal a life as you possibly could under the circumstances. The only unfortunate thing was that you couldn’t interact with anyone due to the risk of being discovered. So, when you felt someone tap your shoulder, you knew it would be time to go.

Before turning, you downed your drink to prepare yourself to either get hit on by a random drunk person or convince them you weren’t who they thought you were.

Neither options were what you got when you turned around though. You tilted your head in pleasant surprise at the sight before you.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Without thinking and perhaps partially due to the alcohol coursing through your veins, you wrapped yourself tightly around the woman in front of you. She laughed in surprise and gladly returned the embrace. You couldn’t help but revel in the contact, touch deprived from all the time you had spent in solitude.

For a while, you both just stood there, wrapped in one another’s embrace. Ignoring the occasional odd look from random passer byers. With one final squeeze, you released her but kept your hands on her shoulders. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nat.” you admitted to her with a smile on your face.

Natasha easily returned the smile. “It’s good to see you too. I was passing by outside when I thought I saw you sitting here and I had to see if it was really you.”

“What are the chances?” you asked with a laugh as you signaled the bartender over and ordered drinks. “Let’s celebrate.”

After drinking for a bit and catching up slightly, you both agreed that staying longer would be too much a risk and decided to take a walk outside. 

“You dyed your hair.” You noted as you reached over and took a strand of her hair gently in between your fingers before letting it go. “It looks good.”

A playful smirk spread across Natasha’s lips. “Yeah, well, I figured the red was a dead giveaway for me, so… blonde it was.” She nudged you playfully. “A better disguise than a beanie and glasses at least. You’re no better than Rogers.” 

A boisterous laugh escaped your lips, “What can I say? That man taught me everything I know.” Natasha shook her head but laughed despite herself. 

You knew you would have to separate soon, but you tried not to focus on that. The pair of you walked in contented silence, enjoying the comfort of not being alone, even if it was temporarily.  Eventually you both come up on the street where your hideout was located and for the first time you didn’t feel the need to rush in. Thankfully there was a small bench located across the street and you both wandered over and took a seat, enjoying the cool air.

“How have you been?” Natasha eventually asked, her eyes on yours as she attempted to analyze you.

You pondered the question for a moment. “I’ve been… lonely.” You finally breathed out, turning your gaze skyward. “I feel alone. I miss real connections. I miss just being able to walk down the street without fear of corporal punishment. I miss human contact.”

Natasha’s hand fell to your knee and squeezed lightly. You turned your head to meet her eyes. “I know what you mean. You’re never really alone though, Y/n. You know we’d all be there in a heartbeat if we could, if we have to.” 

The touch and the knowledge that you weren’t alone was something you had missed. Again, whether it was the alcohol in both your systems or the deprivation of another human’s touch, but you both found yourselves leaning forward and connecting lips. 

It was gentle and nice, but you couldn’t help but compare it to Wanda. Kissing Wanda always felt powerful and right. The way your whole body felt like electricity was coursing through your veins at the simplest of touches. Kissing Wanda always felt like coming home. You could’t help but think you needed this to realize that the one you still wanted was the one you shouldn’t want.

Despite this, you didn’t pull away, tangling your hand in Natasha’s now blonde locks as her hands fell to your waist. You allowed yourself this small moment of comfort.

Across the street, Wanda had been approaching only to stop in horror at the sight before her. Her mind rushing and heart breaking at the sight. If she felt a fraction of what you did that night on the roof, she couldn’t imagine how you got through it. As much as her heart ached in her chest, she didn’t allow it to stop her. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. That you hadn’t already given your heart to another. 

After some time, both you and Natasha pulled away. Laughing when you met one another’s eyes. “That was… nice.” You said lightly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re drunk. We will never speak of this again.” She chuckled and looked at her watch. “My train leaves in a little over an hour, I should probably go.” You nodded in understanding and she hugged you once more before beginning to walk away.

“Hey, Nat?” you called after her. She turned. “Take care of yourself, okay?” She nodded and blew a teasing kiss your way before walking off into the night. With a sigh you leaned into the bench and closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the fact that you were alone again. 

It had to have been less than a few minutes when you felt someone sit next to you, your eyes shot open and met with stunning emerald eyes that used to be your world. “Wanda?” you whispered, feeling the air leave your lungs at the sight of her. 

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly, but there was melancholy in her eyes. “So, you and Nat, huh?” There was no accusation in her tone, just sadness. Possibly even acceptance. You quickly realized that she must have seen the kiss.

“And if we are? Together, I mean. What will you do?” You probed challengingly.

Pain flooded her eyes as she dropped her gaze to her lap. “Nothing. I’m not going to interfere if you’re happy, but… but just know that I won’t stop fighting for you. I’ll be here waiting because our love is destined and I’m not going away. I’ll still love you even if you chose to love someone else. You have all of me. Always.” She paused slightly. “You are my only direction.” She added quietly, repeating the words you once told her back to you. 

Your heart clenched at the referenced moment, of one of your formerly favorite moments. 

Staring off into the distance, you could feel the numbness begin to fade as the alcohol started to leave your system. “Why?”

She lifted her gaze up to you curiously, but you didn’t meet her eyes. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep trying?” 

Wanda took a deep breath and turned so she was facing you completely even if you wouldn’t look at her. “Love.” She stated simply, “I’m in love with you, beyond all rationality. Even if you don’t believe me. I want you to have everything you want, even if its Nat, even if that destroys me.”

Even in Spain you had never heard her speak so passionately. It terrified you. Terrified you so much that you wanted to get up and run far, far away from her. Far from the feelings that her words stirred within you.

Wanda wasn’t done though, she needed to get everything off her chest. To lay all her cards out. “When you love someone, you don’t stop. Even when everyone on the team calls me crazy and tells me I should just move on and let you go. I won’t stop or give up because if I could give up…” She risked taking your hand in hers, sighing in relief when you don’t pull back. “If I could give up and listen to everyone’s advice and move on and find someone else that wouldn’t be love. That would be some imitation that is not worth fighting for.”

“Wanda…” you whispered finally looking up at her, noticing the way her eyes shined with unshed tears.

She squeezed your hand again. “But you… You are more than worth fighting for. You will always be worth fighting for. And if I can’t have you I’ll be alone because no one else can hold my heart. This is love.”

“I’m not with Natasha.” You admitted softly after Wanda’s declaration, watching the way relief filled her eyes. “I think we were both just lonely and comforting each other.”

The relieved smile that took over Wanda’s features was contagious as you couldn’t help but smile hesitantly back at her. 

Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. That was the first time you had smiled at her since the night on the roof. 

“What does that mean?” she questioned hopefully.

With hesitation, you interlaced your fingers with Wanda’s. “It means that I’m still not sure I trust you and I’m not ready to be with you again.” Her head dropped in dejection. “But. I’m not going to ask you to leave if you want to stay and work on that.”

For the first time in a long time, Wanda felt a semblance of happiness blossom in her chest. Unable to stop herself, she surged forward and took you in her arms, melting when you held her back. “I promise I’ll earn your trust back. I’m not going anywhere. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Y/n.”

Part 10! double digits! Pre-Infinity War and Infinity war was supposed to be one chapter and in hindsight that was probably overly ambitious of me. That means there will now be 13 parts instead of 12. Anyway, as always let me know what you think, and hope you enjoyed! :)

[sirsleeps]

typical occurrence pre-movie nights. | sbi & gn!reader

Hi 😈 anon!! I hope that this satisfies all of your conditions, and that there were enough sbi chaos for you…. though I think I stuck to Mr Blade a bit too much (to which I’d just like to apologize for :(() thanks again for requesting this! It’s been a lot of fun writing it (though I’m not gonna lie, the movie of choice really gave me so much freedom I really couldn’t choose which hence) hope you enjoy the fic! :D

request: [by 😈 anon] “Hello! Do you think you could do a SBI x Gn! Reader! The SBI have a movie night and invite the reader! You can do any type of movie! (Maybe a horror one!) I just think it would be chaotic! You can do a one shot, Hc, or small scenarios! Whatever you want to do!”

pairing: sbi & gn!reader

warnings: swearing, potentially ooc sbi, not beta-read

word count: 1.4k

There were a few unspoken traditions that took place every Friday evening.

It was a time where everyone within the SBI family would put down their work and rest to get together for their weekly movie night. Whether they were far away from home, busy with work, or doing some laborious, mundane task, their chores would be held on pause for that evening. And if, for some apparent reason, one is unable to physically attend the gathering, then they would all host it on a computer so that one could watch along.

As per usual, (name) was in charge of bringing the drinks to the weekly movie night. This was typically because (name) didn’t live with the formerly mentioned, nor were they a household member of the SBI despite being given the decision to move in with them. With a couple bottles and cans of assorted drinks in their tote bag, they unlocked the front door.

Walking in they were greeted by Techno, who looked like he was anticipating their arrival, and the sound of squabbling. ‘From Wilbur and Tommy, no doubt,’ (name) thought.

“Hey Techno, I assume we’re going to spend the next half hour arguing about which movie to play again?” They asked, handing a couple of cans and bottles to him.

The rhetorical question emitted a laugh from Techno. By the number of times (name) was invited over for their movie nights, arguing over the movies to show is a habit that never changes. At this point, it’s become such a common occurrence that it would feel weird if neither Wilbur nor Tommy bickered over which movie to screen.

“Ehh… it is what it is.”

“So, how are you?” (name) laughs as they hauls the bag of drinks over to the table near the bickering duo.

“We met up not even two days ago, I don’t think much would’ve changed since,” Techno rolls his eyes, “but s’alright, I’m doing well.”

Though their attempt to drown out the bickering in the background was futile as Wilbur turned his head towards (name) and Techno demanded for their input on the movie choice, which made them sweat, anticipating the flurry of questions that were bound to be sent their way.

“(name)! Tell Tommy that we shouldn’t watch Into The Spiderverse, because we always play it every movie night!” Wilbur exclaimed, pointing a finger to Tommy.

“We do not!! Stop exaggerating, Wilbur!” Tommy cried in retaliation, “(name), tell him that we aren’t watching the Fantastic Beasts Series because it’s shit!”

With a dramatic gasp, Wilbur quickly turned back to Tommy. A series of ‘how dare you’, ‘take that back’, and further incessant shouts of why either movies of choice is-good-and-should-be-watched-again, were exchanged. (name) quickly glanced between the two, their hands up to grab any stray jabs as they tried to break up the ‘fight’.

A wave of exhaustion soon came upon them as the two subconsciously ignored the peacemaker, trying to one-up the other with their playful insults. Letting out a heavy sigh, they took a step back seeing their fruitless attempt to settle down the squabble. They looked at the two with tired eyes, Techno right behind them, cracking open his beverage, enjoying the show.

“So how long has this been going for?”

“Uhhh, about twenty minutes or so, give or take.”

“..Rright. Where’s Phil? I thought he’d be here to break up this uh.. soap opera…”

“He’s microwavin’ some popcorn,” Techno took a big gulp from his drink, “wait, isn’t this his turn to choose the movie?”

“I… think so??”

(name) furrowed their eyebrows, turning their head to Techno, before looking back at the two infront of them. Their hand reached in their pocket to bring out a phone, sending a quick message to Phil about the query. A few seconds had passed between them before a reply was given.

‘Yepp’

‘What are we watching tonight?’ (name) asked once more.

‘We’re finishing off whatever we have left on IT… then onto its sequel’

‘K’

Moving over to the couch, (name) whispered, “Should we tell them that neither of their movies are going to be played?”

“…Nahh,” Techno dragged on, pleasantly amused by the ‘soap opera’ as (name) puts it.

“Well as fun as it is, I’m gonna need them to stop screamin’ their lungs out—”

“What?! No, why would you do that—”

“—before we get our asses busted.”

(name) finished, getting up from their seat on the comfortable couch, before moving over to Tommy and Wilbur, to once more attempt to settle the trivial argument. They gave Techno a side eye, gesturing to help them in case anything ends up broken.

“Tommy, Wilbur,” they started, only to be cut off by Wilbur mocking Tommy with a squeaky voice.

It didn’t end there, no, in fact, anytime they tried to start or complete their sentence, they got cut off either by Tommy’s shouting or Wilbur’s imitation of what the latter sounded like. With a heavy sigh and a facepalm, (name) went back to Techno, drink in hand, and plopped down on the couch. This time, absolutely done with the mess in front of them.

“That was hilarious.” Techno commented.

“Oh shut up, smartass,” they grumbled, taking small sips from their bottle of coke, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“I dunno bro, is it?”

“Oh, are you seriously askin’ me that bro?”

“Well let’s say that it is, what are you gonna do about it?”

In the midst of their back-and-forth bantering, and with Tommy and Wilbur who now have migrated from their place over to the table of drinks near them, none had noticed Phil, who had entered the room with two bowls of popcorn in his hands.

Looking at the sight in front of him, Phil rolled his lips, oscillating and producing a ripple-like sound. He stomped down one foot, grabbing the attention of the other four in the room, who turned their heads towards his general direction.

“Okay chill mate, I could hear you all the way from the other room, and you know how thick these walls are.”

“Sorry Phil—”

“Yea, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry, this wouldn’t’ve happened if someone didn’t suggest such a horrible movie to watch—”

“OHH! You take that back Wilbur!!”

“Oh? What are you gonna do about it?!” Wilbur exclaims, crossing his arms, raising a brow as if to challenge the younger male.

“YOU B—”

“Ohhh-kay, how about we put those movies up, it’s my turn to choose the movies anyways.”

Phil interjects, evoking a laugh from both Techno and (name) as Wilbur froze in shock from the statement. Tommy’s finger dipped along with his shoulders, jaw dropped as he turned to look at Phil once more.

“What?” the two sputtered.

Handing a bowl over to (name), Phil moves over to the laptop hooked up to the projector, and scrolls through the horror section to find IT. While he was scrubbing through to find the timestamp of where the family had last left off, (name) walked to Wilbur to hand him his bowl of popcorn.

“You knew about it?” Wilbur asked, coming out of his shock.

“Yep,” they confirmed, popping the ‘p’, “I was gonna tell you and Tommy, but the both of you kept cutting me off every time I tried.”

“Oh…”

“S’alright, all in good fun,” they let out a small laugh.

Placing down the bowl on the coffee table, they moved to dim the lights in the room. Techno, finished with his drink, got up from the couch to get his second, pulling Tommy along with him back to the couch. A soft, “Let’s go Tommy,” was heard from the pink haired being.

With arms crossed, and an exaggerated frown, Tommy silently grumbled to himself, disappointed that they weren’t able to rewatch the incredible Spiderman animation. Wilbur, on the other hand, vocalised his disappointment to Phil.

“Phiiil, why’re we watching horror movies? That’s like… that’s so cliché.”

“Well it’s my turn to pick the movie, and I want to watch some spooky movies, so that’s what we’re watching.”

“I mean… he’s got you there Wilbur,” Techno gave his two cents.

“Oh shut up, Techno,” he retorted.

(name) came up to the group, quietly laughing to themselves as they handed a can of coke to Tommy and a caprisun to Wilbur, a small smile plastered on their face.

“Well, that was eventful… and the movie hasn’t even started.”

[the-darklings]

Heyyy, I honestly love your writing and was wondering can we have more Clara x reader, please??

what if I told you I have an entire E-rated mini-series half done for clara x reader set in an original world???

but yes, always, always yes for her.

pairing: clara (v) x f!reader

wc: 1.3k+

verse: coa; post the hunt, pre-john's wedding

notes: reader is part of the continental staff

“You’re back.”

Words slip past your lips without you meaning to say them; more of a strained exclamation of surprise than a casual greeting.

The woman halts in her tracks (is she limping?) and rotates her neck. Lips pressed in a bloodless line, the Vipress’ wan expression slices into you like a dull knife. Her chestnut hair hangs limp and soggy with water around her face. Her jaw rigid and her body tense.

Dark eyes squint at you, scanning, and you note the way her deft fingers twitch against her thigh, fighting back an impulse to reach for a weapon. You heard about the Hunt. Heard about all the awful things she was put through before eventually settling with Camorra. There were rumours about their protection being extended towards her. Some say she slept her way into it, namely through Santino D’Antonio who you have to admit has an intense interest in her. Others say she agreed to be Giovanni’s spy, others believed it was all a ploy by Viggo Tarasov to unleash a snake inside the Italian ranks.

Truth is you don’t believe any rumours you’ve heard about her. You recall a woman who used to shadow John Wick with a grin sharper than her blades. But she never struck you as conniving or cruel. She’d been… kind. Kinder than most people you’ve dealt with. In such subtle, unexpected ways. Gratitude few extend for those beneath them, inquiring about your day, or idle conversation. You often wondered if she was lonely. As lonely as you. If that’s why she was so kind.

Everyone wears a mask, but the Vipress always allowed you to see more. Or used to.

A permanent cloud of restless misery seems to hang over her since her ill-fated trip to Tokyo—another pool of rumours swirling around that particular event—and you can’t recall seeing a single smile since.

You miss it. Crinkled eyes and scrunched nose. Rare but potent joy. Infectious in its intensity. She…

Swallowing, you venture closer, risking a soft, “Are you injured?”

Her black clothes drip with water but you don’t comment on the steadily growing pool of water beneath her feet. Her expression doesn’t so much as shift. Stony and untrusting.

“Is Winston in?”

Rough words, her voice scratchy with tension. Her eyes scan briefly behind you, anticipating a danger she shouldn’t. You doubt Winston would ever allow anyone to disobey the Continental rules, much less when in relation to her.

“No, he…” you trail off, still staring at her. “He has your room key. I’m afraid you can’t get in until he returns. You need a change of clothes. I have some spares if you like? You’ll catch a cold otherwise. You’re soaked to the bone.”

A mirthless, half-smile crosses her face, twisting her expression into a pained grimace you hate. She doesn’t suit it. When was she bled of her fiery, snarky humour you always admired? Found secretly hilarious?

“Figures,” she mutters under her breath, glancing behind herself. An empty hallway greets her but you note how her shoulders loosen slightly, forcing a soft sigh out of her lungs. “Sure. I appreciate it.”

Giving her a weak smile, you gesture for her to follow after you. You count to five before her light footsteps register behind you. Your skin tingles as you walk, feeling her intent stare at the back of your neck. Your heels make it even harder to keep an even gait but you succeed. Charon taught you better than that.

Spine straight, you walk proudly ahead, one of the deadliest women in this city trailing after you. Questions bubble in your chest, tingling your tongue but you bite your cheek to keep them locked away. Vipress looks no better than a caged animal right now—the last thing you want to do is add to her troubled, exhausted state.

It’s not long before you reach the staff wing, unlocking the spare laundry room connecting with your new office. Your heels click while you move across the space, pulling out a new pair of jeans, a jumper and undergarments. Simple, standard clothes Continental provides free of charge to its patrons in case their previous clothes are destroyed beyond repair.

You can’t hear her while you shuffle around, but you certainly feel her presence. Prey is always aware of predators even if they can’t see them.

“You’re no longer working in housekeeping,” she speaks suddenly, a question there.

You nearly jump out of your skin, tightening your hold on the bundle of garments in your hands. Inhaling deeply, you turn to her with a slight smile, a little frail around the edges but present all the same.

The assassin leans against the wall opposite to you, bright fluorescent illuminating her features, giving her a near gaunt appearance. When did she lose so much weight? Her usually soft freckles stand stark against her too pale skin.

“I got a raise,” you tell her, pride colouring your voice and you move in her direction with a shy smile. “Just last week.”

Her eyebrows quirk, searching over your new attire of tailored dress pants, white shirt and polished heels.

“I told you, didn’t I?” she says after a pause, and you falter under her piercing stare.

Yes. Yes, she did. She told you repeatedly it’s only a matter of time before you get a raise. She thought you were a great worker and oftentimes joked about putting in a good word to Winston about you. You always wrote off her words as nothing more than jokes, meaningless conversations you have with someone when you want to be polite. John Wick certainly never got involved in your banter. His dark eyes unfailingly trailed after her smiles and laughs instead.

You could understand his appreciation, his secret hoarding of those rare instances. He wanted something—someone—he couldn’t afford to have. Couldn’t permit himself to reach for.

Staring at the Vipress you think you understand him better than you would care to admit.

She’s beautiful in a way a wild flame is beautiful. Get too close and you know you will suffer for it. But you want to.

God, you really do. Crave her in secret because… well. What are you? What can you give to a woman like her? When she holds the interest of so many above your stature. The things they say she did during the Hunt. People who are dead because of her.

She’s one of the most horrible people alive.

Yet her smiles are more blinding than the sun, and you selfishly want every single one of them.

“Yes, you did,” you agree weakly, holding out the bundle of clothes to her.

Her hands are cold when they touch yours but a tingle rushes up your spine all the same. Electric current hums under your skin when her guarded eyes do another searching sweep over your expression.

“You know my sizes?”

Your heart quivers in your chest, unsure how to proceed. Does she think you stranger, wrong, to have remembered such a thing?

“I… your laundry,” you splutter, then exhale, calming yourself to give her a steadier, “When you lived here. The dry cleaner. I… sorry, I realise this might be uncomfortable for you.”

Her hazel eyes drag over you again, hard and unyielding. Your breaths slow when she takes a few steps closer—close enough for you to scent the flowers, herbs and soil that forever seem to cling to her smooth skin. You’ve never wanted to nuzzle into someone’s neck more, feel their warmth beneath your lips. Taste and savour the exquisite familiarity of someone’s very being.

“My sizes have changed,” she says and you tell yourself you imagined the slight smile you glimpse for a split second. “But you’re welcome to learn them again.”

She brushes past you—flowers and poison and death—and you force yourself to breath, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck.

an: she. that's it - that's the message. but thank you so much for asking for her!!! I think Clara deserves a soft sapphic romance, as a treat.

[moiraineswife]

Innocence Died Screaming - An Adolin & Jasnah Fic

I RETURN. I RETURN WITH EMOTIONAL KHOLINS TO MAKE YOU ALL EMOTIONAL TOO!!! ENJOY!!!!!!

Title: Innocence Died Screaming

Rating: T  Content warnings: mentions of accidental mother murder

Summary:  Set loosley pre-Rhythm of War. Jasnah requests some duelling training from her expert duelist cousin. Adolin sees it as a way to spend more time bonding with his cousin. He gets a little bit more than he bargained for when Jasnah calls him out as only Jasnah can for always putting himself down. They have a good heart to heart and I have Emotions.

Teaser:

'“Truthfully?” Adolin said, stalling for time.

“Always,” Jasnah said, with aching sincerity, because she was Jasnah.

“You suck,” Adolin replied bluntly, unable to find a fancier way of saying it to soften the blow.

Jasnah just smiled at that, then gestured at him, “Hence the reason you are here with me presently.”'

Link: AO3

Wit answered the door to Jasnah’s chambers with a flourish when Adolin knocked. Uncharacteristically, there was no quip. Probably because he’d seen Adolin bracing for one, and didn’t want to seem ‘predictable’. Though how anyone was supposed to predict someone like Wit was beyond him. 

“Jasnah, your beefy cousin has arrived to demonstrate the intricacies of hitting people with large metal sticks,” he announced to the room behind him where Jasnah was no doubt working. 

He made to sweep out after that declaration, but Adolin caught him by the arm and raised an eyebrow, “Beefy cousin?” he repeated, incredulous. 

“Well it couldn’t be handsome cousin, Adolin,” Wit replied smoothly, “That’s how I announce Renarin!” 

Adolin opened his mouth to reply to that, then closed it again, grinning, imagining Renarin’s face if that was, in fact, how Wit announced him. 

“What’s wrong with ‘Adolin’?” he asked instead, scratching his head. 

“Well it’s just so boring,” Wit said conversationally, lounging against the door and grinning at him. “Jasnah has a very difficult, taxing job,” he explained, with an almost conspiratorial air, “I need to seize any opportunity I can to inject a little humour into her life.” 

If rumours were to be believed, humour wasn’t the only thing he was injecting Jasnah with at the moment. 

Adolin didn’t say that. He did note, however, as his cousin approached them, that the two of them were alone, without a chaperone. 

That wasn’t entirely surprising. Jasnah had always just kind of done things her way. And she was a woman nearing her fortieth Weeping. But still. There were some rules you just shouldn’t bend, even if you were Queen.

Though Pattern wasn't exactly a model chaperone for me and Shallan, so I probably shouldn’t be judging Jasnah that harshly, he admitted ruefully to himself, grinning a little, then immediately hoping Wit hadn’t noticed.

Wit, fortunately, had eyes only for his queen at that moment. 

“Enjoy yourself, Brightness,” he was saying, waving an elegant hand at Jasnah, “Try not to hurt him too much.” 

He clapped Adolin on the shoulder, winking, then withdrew at a nod from Jasnah. 

Clearly his departing when Adolin arrived was a prearranged agreement between the two of them.

Adolin wasn’t entirely sorry about that. He liked Wit, might even be storming fond of him at this point, but he would be more relaxed without him in earshot of his every word. 

“Cousin,” Jasnah said, nodding to him in greeting. 

“Jasnah,” Adolin returned, grinning and stepping forwards to embrace her. 

All of them had had to get used to more hugs from him in the recent months. His father had been the one who had always rebuked him for it, while his mother had always encouraged him. Given recent events, he found himself more inclined towards listening to his mother. 

Besides, since losing Elhokar, he’d had his eyes opened to how precious his family was. He had loved his cousin, and his king, but he hadn’t felt as close to him as he’d wanted. 

He’d felt similarly towards Jasnah, and was determined not to let that happen again. She was his family. And as his family, she got a hug when he saw her. And had been forced to get used to him dropping by more often to spend time with her and get to know her properly. She seemed more comfortable with that than the hugs.

She was used to them by now though, and tolerated it, awkwardly patting him on the back to indicate she’d had enough of his affection for the day. He drew back, grinning. 

“Shall we get started?” Jasnah said briskly, stepping into a large section of her chambers she’d had cleared of furniture. 

She was also wearing a messenger style havah - shorter than the traditional garment, with high slits in the sides to allow for swift movement, and leggings underneath for dignity’s sake. Very practical, very Jasnah. 

“Sure,” Adolin said, following after her. 

He’d been surprised when she’d sent him a note requesting some training from him in dueling, but had been eager to accept. It would help with his new cousin-bonding goals. And he was always happy to help someone learn how to properly use their blade. 

“I’ve seen you fight a little with your Shardblade before,” he said, as they moved into position, “During the battle of Thaylen City. You were mostly Soulcasting, but you used your blade a couple of times, too. So I know you’re not totally useless.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Adolin,” Jasnah replied coolly, though there was a hint of a smile in her eyes when she said it. 

Adolin blushed slightly, “What I meant was that you at least have some idea what to do. So I thought it might be best if you summoned your blade and showed me a few stances and movements that you know already? Do you know any katas?” 

“A few,” Jasnah replied, “Though they may be unfamiliar to you.” 

“Pick one,” Adolin said, leaning against the wall, well out of the way, “Go through it as you normally would. I’ll observe and see what needs to be corrected from there.” 

“Very well,” Jasnah said, nodding her assent at this plan. 

Adolin folded his arms across his chest, feeling a little odd. He’d given instruction to Shardbearers before. Zahel had sometimes had him help assist in the training of men on the practice grounds. Zahel didn’t much care that he was a prince, he’d been there, and that had been enough. 

He’d also given Shallan and Radiant extensive training now in the use of her blade. He wasn’t a stranger to being a teacher, and he found that he enjoyed it, especially as something productive he could do for the new Radiants in the tower. 

He’d just never expected to be doing it with Jasnah. 

Though, as she summoned her blade, he did feel there was something appropriate about the image of Jasnah Kholin standing there with a glimmering sword in hand. A completeness to the picture. Shallan would have wanted to sketch it, he was sure. He’d have to invite her along to one of these sessions, if they became a regular occurrence. 

“Very nice,” Adolin said, nodding approvingly as he examined the gleaming length of her weapon. 

He’d seen it before, but never up close or with the ability to take in the details. It was an elegant weapon, like Jasnah herself. Long and slender, with a slight curve to it. 

Jasnah held it comfortably. Because how else would the storming woman hold it? No one had yet managed to discover something Jasnah Kholin was objectively just bad at.

She frowned at this comment, “I haven’t started yet,” she pointed out.

Adolin grinned at her. “That’s a bit arrogant of you, Your Majesty,” he teased. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he added, “I was talking about your sword," he nodded to it, "Very nice indeed.” 

Jasnah glanced at the blade and her usually impassive features displayed a look of momentary surprise.

“Ivory says thank you,” she informed him. A pause, then she continued, “He says that he worked hard on perfecting the design and shape of this form.” 

Adolin nodded his approval. The attention to detail was obvious, and told him a lot about Ivory, and why he worked so well with Jasnah. Jasnah was all about the details. 

A slight crease formed between her eyes as she added, sardonically, “He also wishes me to pass on that he is pleased someone has taken notice. Finally.” She pursed her lips.

That made him smile again. He raised a hand and faked a cough to cover his urge to laugh at his cousin's expression. 

He had never met, or even glimpsed, Jasnah’s spren, except when he was summoned as a blade. According to her he was a private individual, who preferred not to be seen where possible. He sensed there was something deeper to it than what she’d said, but hadn’t pressed the issue.

Still, it was hard not to find Jasnah’s long-suffering tone oddly endearing for what it spoke of regarding their relationship. 

“I see Ivory is a man, uh, spren,” he corrected hastily, “Of fine taste, like myself," he said, with a small bow.

“Yes,” Jasnah replied, with a slight roll of her eyes, “Well if you’re both finished admiring swords for the moment, perhaps we could begin?” 

Adolin blushed slightly at the innuendo, which wasn’t something he was used to hearing from Jasnah. 

“You’ve been spending too much time around Wit,” he muttered, before he could think better of it. 

Fortunately, Jasnah only smiled at that, and made no remark. 

Adolin hastily gestured for her to continue, and concentrated on observing her form, rather than considering the tangled rumours of her and her wit. That was not why he was here. 

There was clearly something practiced about the motions of the kata, but it was obvious she hadn’t trained much, and that whoever had trained her previously hadn’t been very good at correcting small, but obvious, mistakes. 

There was nothing overtly wrong with what she did, but there were obvious improvements to be made that he could spot straight away. 

“Not bad,” he said, moving away from the wall, summoning Maya as he went, so that he could demonstrate, “Your stances have the right shape, but you need to commit to them more.”

He gave her a slight nudge with his elbow as he reached her and she wobbled, which illustrated his point, though she seemed displeased by it. Not at him, he sensed, but at herself.

“Sink down into them,” he said, showing her, “Anchor yourself, like a tree, roots planted deep into the ground.” 

Jasnah studied him for a moment with a critical eye, then replicated what he’d shown her, exaggerating the stance she’d chosen as demonstrated. 

“Good,” Adolin said, nodding in approval, “Alright, your grip, don’t overlap your hands like that, there’s room on the hilt for both hands to rest comfortably. Ivory’s not a bastard.” 

He chuckled to himself at the joke. Jasnah just raised her eyebrows. 

“A bastard sword is another name for a hand-and-a-half,” he explained with a shrug. 

Jasnah sniffed, “I think perhaps you might have been spending too much time around Wit.” 

There was no danger of that. If he wasn’t with Jasnah he was nowhere to be found these days. Adolin didn’t point that out either. Not while Jasnah had a shardblade in her hands, anyway. 

Instead he cleared his throat and carefully corrected the placement of her hands on Ivory’s hilt. 

“Alright, try that,” he said, gesturing for her to repeat the kata she’d just completed. 

“Better,” he said, nodding, “You’re right, by the way,” he told her, as she continued to implement what he’d just shown her, “I don’t recognise this kata. Who taught you?” 

She glanced at him as she turned, then grunted, “Swordmaster Katar," before continuing the sequence.

Adolin frowned, “Elsecalling lets you jump between here and Shadesmar, right?” he said. 

“Yes,” Jasnah replied slowly, seemingly confused by the question. 

“Does it let you jump through time, too?” he said, “Because otherwise I don’t see how Swordmaster Katar trained you. Since I’m pretty sure he’s dead.” 

“He lives on in the books he left behind,” Jasnah said, “As do all great historical figures.” She added, with a slight smirk, "I'm glad at least some of them made enough of an impression for you to take note of them."

Adolin put his hands on his hips, and snorted with laughter, unable to stop himself, “Only you would try to learn dueling from a book, Jasnah,” he said, shaking his head. 

Jasnah drew up at that and replied, blandly, “When I first bonded with Ivory eight years ago, there weren’t a lot of living swordmasters who were willing to train a heretic woman displaying ancient, forbidden powers steeped with negative connotation after the original Knight’s betrayal." She met his eyes and half-shrugged, mildly "I improvised.”

Adolin scratched his nose awkwardly and coughed to cover his momentary embarrassment, “Fair enough,” he muttered, “Given that, you’ve done pretty amazingly, I’m impressed.” 

“And without the context of my…Unorthodox education?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious about the answer. 

“Truthfully?” Adolin said, stalling for time. 

“Always,” Jasnah said, with aching sincerity, because she was Jasnah.

“You suck,” Adolin replied bluntly, unable to find a fancier way of saying it to soften the blow. 

Jasnah just smiled at that, then gestured at him, “Hence the reason you are here with me presently.”

“You have done well on your own,” Adolin told her, honestly, wanting to clarify his words. He hadn't expected her to agree with him, and that had thrown his response a little, "But-”

“But context can only excuse one’s lack of skill so far,” Jasnah supplied smoothly, “Before relying upon it simply becomes an awkward crutch to attempt to justify your inability.” 

“Sure,” Adolin agreed, nodding at her. Did she always have to talk like she was writing a new academic text? Storms. “Let’s get back into it, okay?” he suggested.

Jasnah nodded at once and complied with his instruction without a word. 

It felt very strange to be giving Jasnah orders. Stranger still to be instructing her, and correcting her. And even more strange that she deferred to him on everything and took whatever he said on board without question or hesitation.

After a little while of this, he paused in the middle of a sequence, shaking his head, bemused. Jasnah drew up, noting his expression. 

“What is it?” she asked, straightening up and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“This is just...Weird,” he said, running a hand absently through his hair, unable to find a more eloquent way of putting it. 

“Because I’m a woman?” Jasnah guessed evenly. 

“No,” Adolin said, waving a dismissive hand, “I got over that months ago with Shallan.” 

Jasnah smirked slightly at that, but made no comment. 

“It’s just-” he struggled to find the words to explain his emotions, “It’s you,” he said finally, which he knew wasn’t entirely helpful. “You’re Jasnah,” he added. Which was about as useful as his earlier sentiment. 

“I’m aware of that,” Jasnah replied, slowly, clearly struggling to piece together what he was trying to say. 

“It, well it-” Adolin stammered, feeling as lost as he would have if she'd asked him to summarise Aunt Navani's fabrial lecture for him, grappling with fitting his unwieldy emotions into insubstantial words. 

“It feels strange for me to be teaching you anything," he managed finally, "You’re Jasnah storming Kholin. The world famous scholar. This fantastic thinker, and historian, and all of that," he said, gesturing expansively before he said, voice and hands falling flat, "I’m Adolin, the family idiot, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Silence stretched between them for a long, uncomfortable moment. 

“I think that we should take a short break,” Jasnah announced abruptly, dismissing her blade. 

Adolin decided not to point out that they’d barely been going for an hour, and with Stormlight, there was no way she actually needed a break. If he’d been Zahel he’d have laughed at this suggestion. But he wasn’t. And he knew better.

Jasnah would do what Jasnah wanted to do. She was already heading towards the seating area of her chambers. The easiest thing to do was to thank Maya, then dismiss her and follow his cousin.

Jasnah was pouring them both wine, orange for her, yellow for Adolin, and pushed the cup towards him, settling on the couch and gesturing him to the seat opposite her. 

Sighing, Adolin accepted the cup, and the chair, and sat down as indicated. 

Jasnah was eyeing him over the rim of her own cup, considering him like some dusty historical treatise she was trying to pry secrets from.

“I’ve noticed that you do that a lot, Adolin,” she remarked finally, lowering the cup. 

“What? Drink?” Adolin joked, rather feebly. 

Hastily he raised his own cup and taking a gulp of the wine. It was good. Jasnah had appropriately fine taste. But there was a bad taste in his mouth. Less from the wine, and more from the memories that rose at the mention of indulging in it too often.

“Put yourself down,” Jasnah said bluntly, ignoring his attempt at humour. “Particularly with regards to your own intelligence. You seem overly fond of comparing yourself negatively in that regard to those around you.” 

Adolin shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took another sip of his wine before he answered.

“Kind of hard not to,” he said, aiming to keep his voice light, “I mean there’s you. Aunt Navani, Shallan, Renarin. Wit’s never normally far from you, either. Even the Storming Bridgeboy-” He caught himself, realising he’d probably slipped into sounding more resentful than he’d intended. 

No doubt Jasnah had noticed. But he lounged back in his chair, giving her an easy grin to try and smoothe over the sticky moment.

With a shrug he said, “I’m just surrounded by a lot of really smart people all the time. It’s natural to make comparisons.” 

“Hm,” Jasnah replied, in a way that suggested she didn’t at all believe him, “Yet I don’t see you comparing yourself in other areas. You never remark on your lack of ability to draw while around Shallan, for instance. You don’t talk about the fact you can’t set a fracture when you’re around Kaladin. You’ve never once mentioned not being able to play the flute while around me.” 

“You still play the flute?” he deflected, while actually being vaguely interested in the answer. 

Jasnah, again, ignored him. Which was getting annoying. Shallan was a lot easier to distract and divert off course whenever she mentioned things like this. Which he did every time she tried.

“And you also don’t seem to point out the areas where those around you are lacking, either,” Jasnah continued, with characteristic unavoidable intent. “Even if they also form easy points of comparison. I don’t hear you disparage my lack of ability in the areas of personable conversation. Nor Kaladin’s inability to process failure. Or Shallan’s lack of focus. The only person whose perceived flaws you feel the need to accentuate are your own.”

She raised her eyebrows pointedly at him and settled back in her chair, raising her cup to her lips again, watching to see how he reacted.

Storms. He’d forgotten how sometimes conversing with Jasnah could feel like going to battle. Usually his head hurt less after the actual battles, too. 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what she’d said, and the point she was driving at.

“I guess,” he said, not looking at her, “I guess it’s just...Easy to feel less than surrounded by a bunch of genius Radiants all the time. And you are all smarter than me, you can’t deny that,” he said quickly, pointing at her in accusation.

“No,” Jasnah agreed slowly, “But it’s also not something you should seek to highlight in nearly every conversation.” 

“I don’t-” he began. 

“You do,” Jasnah interrupted, voice surprisingly gentle, yet unyielding as ever. “You always find some way to mention your lack of comparable academic capability. Even in situations where it has little to no relevance. Such as our dueling practice earlier”

Adolin sighed, “I suppose you’d take exception to me pointing out that my lack of, what was it, ‘academic capability’ is really hurting my ability to properly argue with you right now?” 

Jasnah smiled thinly at that, “It would serve to highlight my point rather well, actually. So on this sole occasion, feel free.” 

He groaned, “No offence, but I really hate talking to you sometimes, Jasnah.”  

She inclined her head as if to say she understood, and agreed, with that sentiment. He found that curious about her. Most people shied away from criticism or insults. Jasnah seemed to welcome them, like a rockbud opening up to gorge itself on storm rains. Maybe because so few people were ever brave enough to tell her what they really thought. 

“You could point out that this is an area where I am not particularly skilled,” she said, swirling her wine thoughtfully, “Talking with others. Connecting. Encouraging them to open up. Empathising with their emotions and struggles.” She met his eyes again as she said, lightly, “An area in which you excel, I might add. Perfectly reasonable grounds for one of your comparisons.” 

“I would never say that to you,” he protested without thinking. 

Only after he caught the triumphant glimmer in Jasnah’s eye did he realise that she’d maneuvered him into that to make her point. He glowered at her. 

“Can we get back to dueling again?” he growled, “I have a sudden urge to start hitting you with Maya.” 

She just smiled at him. 

Adolin flopped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair again, “It’s just. It’s hard, Jasnah,” he admitted, his voice softening a little, though he avoided her penetrating gaze as he spoke, “I feel like I blinked and the entire world was pulled out from under me like a rug. I’m still struggling to get back to my feet while the bridgeboy is soaring in the sky, and my wife is infiltrating cults. Oh, and my brother has visions of the future, and my father is communing with the Storming Stormfather. And you’re the most powerful Radiant we have and I’m...Still just me.” 

“I understand,” Jasnah said quietly. 

Adolin snorted before he could stop himself. 

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, Jasnah,” he said, sitting up and putting a hand on her arm, “I just find it hard to believe that you of all people can possibly understand what this feels like.”

Jasnah was quiet for a moment, tapping her finger on the side of her cup, then she said, “I spent years researching the Desolations. I collected hundreds of fragments from ancient texts detailing everything I could find related to the Radiants, Urithiru, the Voidbringers, and the events that had nearly destroyed mankind. I barely slept, barely stopped, barely rested for years to accumulate all the knowledge I could.” 

“I know,” Adolin said, scratching his head, unsure why she was telling him this, “Shallan told me.” 

Jasnah nodded, then continued, “I was the newest Radiant, I have achieved the highest Ideal of any of the people we’ve found. I am the most practiced with my powers, the most accomplished. At one time I had more knowledge, and more experience, with the Radiants, and the Desolations, than almost anyone else on Roshar.” 

“Isn’t that what I said?” Adolin asked, bemused. 

“Then the Ghostbloods sent assassins after me on the Wind’s Pleasure. I was stabbed through the chest and almost killed and ended up Elsecalling accidentally for the first time and became trapped in Shadesmar,” she went on, tone barely changing, even as she described this traumatic event.

Adolin winced at that. He remembered the reports that had come in claiming the Wind’s Pleasure lost with all hands. At the time he’d been so worried about Shallan he’d barely spared a thought for Jasnah. 

Of course, Aunt Navani’s insistence that she was fine had been a little distracting, but… He should have been more distressed at the news of Jasnah’s presumed death. Even if it had turned out to be false. 

She was family. Even if she was a little odd, and they had never really spent all that much time together or gotten to know each other that well. He was working to change that with her. 

After Elhokar’s death… Well, he had realised how precious his family was. He wanted to make the most of the people he had left.

“Having been lost there yourself, you’re aware it’s not exactly easy to get out. Or to navigate through, particularly without supplies or Stormlight.” 

Adolin nodded, grimacing at the memory. It couldn’t have been easy for Jasnah, trapped there, alone, with no preparation or warning. She’d never really spoken about it to him. Or, as far as he knew, to anyone. 

She’d published accounts of what had happened to her there, and he’d had Shallan read them to him but… They were put across with Jasnah’s usual academic slant. There wasn’t any mention of how she had felt, or how it had affected her. That wasn’t really Jasnah’s way. 

Her voice was softer when she continued, with a sigh, “When I emerged at last it was to find that the Desolation had already come. The Everstorm had been loosed across Roshar, the Singers had awoken. All of my fears had been realised without my even being there to witness them. 

“In my abseence my uncle had refounded the Knights Radiant, with him as the Stormfather’s Bondsmith. My cousin was a budding Radiant, my ward was another, and then there was the bridgeman strutting around like a prized Rhyshadium with my family, seeming to fit more with them than I ever did. It was somewhat overwhelming.” 

Adolin gaped at her. He had never heard Jasnah admit to anything overwhelming her. Ever. Well, except perhaps Aunt Navani. But she could overwhelm a highstorm at times, so that didn’t really count. 

Jasnah was always, well, Jasnah. The model of Alethi regality and dignity. Always composed, always assured, confident, never in doubt or afraid, or any of the things he seemed to feel so often these days. 

She smiled, a little sadly, and said, “I went from being one of the most knowledgeable people to having everyone know the things I had worked so hard to discover. I’d spent years struggling alone. I’d written to leaders across the world and received only scorn, and mistrust. 

“Ivory and I had been alone, struggling to comprehend our powers and our bond. At first I feared that I was going mad. No one else understood. No one else could understand. And so I had to. Then suddenly Radiants were popping up everywhere like rockbuds after a storm. 

“I thought that I was so prepared, and so informed, and in a moment all of that had been for nothing. Everything I had done had been wasted time. It had made no difference. Everyone knew. Everyone knew more than I did, in fact. Everyone had moved on to a world I had feared was coming for so long. And I was left feeling lost and utterly out of my depth.” 

She took a sip of her wine, and her eyes grew more distant, more pained. He had never seen her like this before. As open, as vulnerable, as human as she continued, very quietly.

“Then Kholinar fell. And Elhokar died. And just like that, I became Queen of an empty, broken nation. A scattered, fragmented people. As lost and overwhelmed as I was. But they looked to me, their Queen, their most experienced Radiant, a ‘genius’ as you name me, and expected me to have answers, to be a shining light of salvation in the darkness of the thing I had dreaded for so long. They wanted me to save them, without ever realising I had already tried to do just that. And that I had failed.” 

So looked up and met Adolin’s eyes, her gaze steady, in spite of what she’d just shared with him and said, with a little humourless smile on her lips, “So yes, Adolin. I think I have some idea of what you have been feeling since all of this began.”

Adolin sat, feeling somewhat stunned, as if he’d just been cracked over the head with a Shardbearer’s warhammer again. 

Then he found himself leaning forwards, taking Jasnah’s hand and nodding to her, “Yeah,” he murmured, voice a little hoarse now. “Everything changed so much so fast. Everything except me.” 

She squeezed his hand. Just a brief pulse of her fingers around his, but it somehow gave him courage to say things he’d never been able to properly voice aloud before. 

“I was one of the most important people on Roshar. Shardbearer. Expert duelist. Heir to a princedom. In line to the throne of Alethkar itself,” he reeled off dully.

He shook his head, and downed the rest of his wine. Jasnah wordlessly refilled his cup for him, and he nodded his thanks to her before continuing. 

“Then the world ended. And there were Storming Knight’s Radiant again. And my father was one. And my brother was one. And my fiancee was one. And my returned-from-the-dead-cousin was one,” he said, gesturing emphatically towards her, “And my bridgeboy was one, too, because of course he storming is.” he went on, waving his cup around so much that a little of the wine slopped over the rim. They both pretended not to notice. “And I was just...Some guy with a dead spren and no place in this new ending world.” 

He met Jasnah’s eyes and gently squeezed her hands as he added, “Then Elhokar died. I failed him. And I failed Kholinar. We only got out of that mess because of my father-” he broke off, clenching his fist and turning away. 

Jasnah let him sit quietly for a moment, gazing vaguely off into space, brooding. There was darkness inside him. No one ever seemed to see that. He never wanted to let it show. But it was there. And it was swirling to the surface now, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it. 

“My father,” he said, very quietly, still not sure if he wanted to fall into this chasm, “Who killed my mother.” 

His voice caught and he was forced to swallow hard to clear the sudden lump in his throat so he could speak again. And when he did he found that he couldn’t stop.

Because he met Jasnah’s eyes again and knew that she, too, had dark thoughts she never wanted the world to see. There was a strange connection being forged between them. An understanding he’d never thought to find, or even look for, with her. But he felt that she understood, and would not condemn him for the words that started pouring out of his mouth like poison.

“And he wrote a storming book about it and told the world what he’d done. How he- What he-” He broke off again, but made himself keep going, “What he did. How he visited the Nightwatcher and she took his memories of her. Or, or a god took his memories of her, because they hurt him so much after what he’d done and I-” 

He balled his hands into fists and pounded them against his knees as the teras pressed behind his defiantly closed eyes. 

Through clenched teeth, he forced himself to get out, “As though he was the only one suffering. As though I was fine. As though I wasn’t in agony every storming day after she died.” 

Something broke in him then. Something that had been fraying for a long time. And he couldn’t hold it back anymore. 

“And it was his fault! He should have felt pain. He should have felt guilt. He should have felt every storming thing that was killing him after what he did because he deserved it. I didn’t. Renarin didn’t. But there was nothing there to take our pain away. We didn’t even have him. We lost both of our parents that night, and he didn’t even seem to care. Still doesn’t. He only thinks about what it cost him. What he lost. What he took away from the world. And from me.”

“I’m sorry, Adolin,” Jasnah said quietly, “I know that you still miss her.” 

“Of course I still miss her!” Adolin snapped, then winced at how loudly he had said that. He sighed, clenching and unclenching his hands several times, like a heartbeat, then said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

Jasnah just nodded, wordless acceptance of his apology.

He set his jaw, then took another sip of wine, finishing his second cup. But when Jasnah made to refill it again he shook his head. He kept the cup in his hands so he could fidget with it, but he didn’t want more wine. He didn’t want- He didn’t want to be the man who needed it to get through something difficult. He didn’t want to be his father. Not anymore. 

“I still love him,” Adolin mumbled, “Even after what he did. He’s my father. And he- I can see that he’s trying to be a better man. She saw that in him, you know.” 

He looked up and saw Jasnah frown slightly, struggling to follow his confused, meandering thoughts. He didn’t blame her. 

“My mother,” he explained, wiping his nose on the back of his hand without really noticing what he was doing. “She was a good person. And she saw a good person in him, too. And she was right. She just-” 

He was crying now, jaw gritted against it, unwilling, but the tears were still coming. He wasn’t sure when he’d started. He supposed that it didn’t really matter. And with that realisation came the freedom to just..Cry. 

His mother would never have chided him for that, for his emotions. She would have welcomed them. Even angry, bitter, grief-drenched tears. The bad feelings couldn’t be kept inside of him, they would make him sick. And they would. They had made his father sick. So sick he’d had to beg a god to heal him.

“Why did she have to die before he listened to her?” he blurted, not expecting an answer from Jasnah. Not expecting an answer at all. Just needing to put voice to the things that had tormented him for so long. “Why did he have to storming kill her before he could become the man she always knew that he could be? Why couldn’t he have been that man for her? The man she deserved? Because she- She deserved better than the man that he was. There. I’ve said it.” 

He turned away from Jasnah, rubbing at his eyes, hoping, stupidly, that she might not have seen his tears. That was pretty impossible, given that she’d been staring right at him, and she was more perceptive than a skyeel spotting rats on the crowded streets of a city sometimes. 

And given that he was doing nothing short of openly weeping at this point. But Jasnah made no comment. Just silently handed him a silk handkerchief she had in a pocket.

“She was a good person, Adolin,” Jasnah agreed softly, “And you are her son. As much as you are your father’s.” She paused, then said, “More.” 

Adolin cleared his throat and sniffed several times before meeting her eyes.

She nodded, answering his unspoken question, confirming for him. 

Then she said, “She used to do the same thing that you do now, you know.” 

He frowned slightly at that, “What?” 

“She would compare herself to the other women of the court. Say how she was not as smart, nor as cunning, as they were, that she lacked their skill in politics, and Alethi scheming.”

“She was a better woman than all of them,” Adolin whispered, wiping his eyes again, “She had a good heart. She was gentle, and kind, and loving. She saw the best in everyone, and everything, even when they’d shown her nothing but the worst parts of them. She always believed things could be better, that we could be better. That’s what she taught me, and Renarin. And she was right. She-” 

He broke off, meeting Jasnah’s eyes again, and found that glimmer in them. She nodded slowly to him, and he swallowed, but nodded back to her, understanding passing between them.

“You are more like her than you allow yourself to be, Adolin,” Jasnah observed quietly. “You have her heart. But you hide it behind your own perception of all the things you’re doing wrong. All the things you aren’t good at. You ignore your greatest strengths to dwell upon your flaws. Until that becomes a flaw itself. It’s holding you back from the man that you could be. The man you should become.”

“When I was younger, I wanted so badly to be like my father,” Adolin said quietly. “I wanted to be the Blackthorn. I wanted to fight alongside him on the Plains. I wanted to see the greatness that everyone spoke about when they talked about him. The unstoppable Shardbearer. The undefeated warlord. I thought he was the best a man could be, the best thing I could ever aspire to be.” 

“And now?” Jasnah prompted gently. 

Adolin clenched his fist in his lap and stared into the candle flame flickering on the table between them, “Now that’s the monster who killed my mother,” he whispered, with a naked condemnation he hadn’t dared approach before. Not even in his own thoughts. “And thousands of other innocent people. And the less like him I am the better I’ll be. The better Alethkar will be, too.” 

He paused, then looked up at Jasnah, realisation sparking in him.

“That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it?” he said quietly, “What we are, what we do? We- We focus on the wrong things. On how good we are at killing and conquering. Or how accomplished our women are at scheming, and manipulating people.” He met Jasnah’s eyes and said, “That’s what you’re trying to change, isn’t it?” 

“No, cousin,” she said, actually reaching out and taking his hands, “That is what we are going to change,” she said, firmly. 

Adolin squeezed her hands and nodded, “We will,” he agreed. 

Jasnah smiled at that, not her usual, small, guarded little smirk, a full smile, her eyes dancing, her intent clear. And Adolin found himself smiling with her. 

As one, they stood, and embraced. Without any reluctance or ginger back patting on Jasnah’s part this time.

As they drew away, Adolin eyed her. “I think Wit has been rubbing off on you,” he observed, giving her a wry smile. 

Jasnah pulled back, frowning at that, “What do you mean?” 

“This feels like the kind of thing he’d do,” Adolin said, shrugging, “From what Shallan and Kal have said to me about the times he’s popped up to give them cryptic advice when they’ve needed to talk about stuff.” 

Jasnah sniffed, “I don’t think anything about that conversation was ‘cryptic’, Adolin. Nor was it intended to be.” 

“That’s true,” Adolin said, nodding, “If it had been Wit he’d have told me a three hour story about how chulls shouldn’t judge themselves on how good they are at flying by comparing themselves to skyeels or. Something.”

Jasnah smiled at that, and her expression softened in a way Adolin had never seen from her before. 

He paused, wondering if he dared ask her if the rumours surrounding her and Wit were true. 

Then the softened expression dropped from her face as she turned back towards him looking decidedly more business-like, and he decided that he didn’t dare. 

She might be his cousin, and they might have just bonded over things he’d never dreamed she of all people could have the experience to understand. But no.

Adolin Kholin might not be able to name all seventeen varieties of fingermoss, or have any idea how fabrials worked, but he was not stupid.

***

[shinygoldstar]

Midnight Snack

DannyMay Day 11: Midnight

(Also DannyMay Shadow, Scars, Power, Nature, Seasons, Teeth can you find them all?)

Word Count: 2271 (not beta’d. experimental writing)

Warning: mentions of ghost cannibalism, nothing explicit

@floralflowerpower ​ – for that ghost cannibalism post

(it’s 1 am so i’m gonna sleep now. might post on AO3 later)

Edit: AO3 Added!

.

It was mid-October. The leaves are starting to turn yellow heralding the approaching autumn. Danny was happy because that meant the unusually hot weather is almost over. It wasn’t that he’s melting from the heat- quite the opposite, he’s probably the only person in Amity that isn’t sweltering under the sun with his cold core. But due to this exact same reason, his cooler body temperature also drew in water vapor which condenses on his skin, pooling into beads of water dripping down his shirt, making him appear extra sweaty. He can’t wait for the temperature to be cool enough to not change clothes every few hours. Good thing his clothes are purchased by the dozen; no one really noticed him wearing new sets of clothes throughout the day.

.

It was the contaminated fridge foods that disappeared first. No one missed them. At least until they can’t find the mutated turkeys for their annual Thanksgiving hunting event.

.

Danny yawned as he and his friends entered Fenton Works. Autumn is comfy. Just the right temperature where he can wear loose clothing and not be stared at for being underdressed for the weather. No ‘sweating’ either. His mouth closed with a click, a bit too fast on his new fangs. Danny winced. The fangs seemed to have grown longer overnight again. At this rate Danny won’t be able to pass them off as normal pointy canine teeth for much longer. It didn’t hurt but the itch is annoying. Danny took a detour to the fridge, grabbing an ice cube from the freezer and popped it into his mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cubes to take the edge off the itch as they walked down to the basement lab. His parents are at a paranormal convention at a nearby city and won’t be back until tomorrow. Danny and his friends gladly took the opportunity to do their ‘Danny’s quarterly fitness test’.

Danny flipped on the light switch and walked to the center of the lab, transforming into his ghost form. “Okay I’m ready. What’s first on the list?”

Tucker dropped his bag and took out a piece of notebook paper, “Okay, first we gotta do the baseline measurements. Height, weight, temperature, and the ecto reading.” Sam dug through her sports bag, pulling out the measurement tape. She held it against Danny, eyes scanning the tape measurement numbers. “Still the same height.”

Tucker nodded, noting down the measurement in Danny’s health notebook. “Next, weight.” Danny stood over the scale. “Yup, still the same weight too.”  

.

Then it was the ecto-samples that Jack misplaced in the kitchen fridge. Jack warned everyone a few days later (everyone knows to avoid glowing food on normal basis so the delayed warning is mostly just courtesy), but no one could find where it went and assumed it grew legs to join the other tiny ecto-samples lurking as their equivalent of household pests. (No matter how often Maddie tried to patch up the mouse hole it keeps reappearing in the same shape but in a different part of the house as if the original mouse hole got transplanted from its original location)

.

“Lunch Lady’s right. You need to eat more. You’re still as skinny as ever.” Sam remarked as Danny took the thermometer out of his mouth. “76 F. The ghosts keep attacking me all day and night. You’d think my parents would notice when a ghost sneaks pass them while they work in the lab but I triggered all their ghost alarms just by being in the house so they deactivated the system when I’m around. They must’ve kept it turned off during the day too.”

“Tough luck dude. Ecto scan next.” Tucker passed the scanner to Sam while Danny stood still for her to scan. The machine beeped, “Wow 6.8, that’s quite a jump from last quarter’s 5.1”

“Maybe it was from all the ghost fighting I did over the summer?”

.

As the leaves began to fall from the branches, ghost attacks lessened in frequency. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth Danny happily enjoyed the lack of ghost attacks to focus more on his studies. If he did well enough, he might even get Bs for his efforts. He also managed to avoid getting detention for the entire week much to the relief of everyone involved.

.

Two days before Thanksgiving, the Fentons finally remembered their turkeys. But by then it was gone. In a rush, they quickly purchased a pre-made turkey instead. While Danny enjoyed the fact that they’re having a normal family dinner for once, he can’t help but feel like there’s something off about the chicken. As if it’s missing a particular tangy or zingy flavor that would’ve made it richer in flavor. ‘Must’ve been because it’s overcooked.’

.

"Honey? Have you seen the new ecto-samples I placed in the basement lab fridge?" “Again Jack? This is the third time this month. Have you checked the upstairs fridge?” “I-ah was pretty sure I placed them in the correct fridge this time. Must be some no-good thievin’ ghost.” “I’ll set up the ecto-anti-theft, that’ll get ‘em good! No ghost can escape Jack Fenton for long!”

.

*Intruder Alert* *Intruder Alert*

Red lights peppered with robotic voice and alarm noises lurched Maddie into full alert mode. She quickly took stock of her surroundings and tried to wake Jack up. But Jack had his earplugs on and continued to snore blissfully. A loud knock on the door caught her attention. “What’s going on mom?” Jazz’s voice floated through the door. Maddie quickly rose to open the bedroom door, swiftly pulled Jazz in and locked the door. “Jazz dear, try to wake your dad up. I’ll go check on the intruder.” Maddie strode quietly to the door then paused, “Have you checked on Danny?” Jazz bit her lips and looked away for a moment “-ah yeah! Danny’s snoring so loud he can’t hear the alarm.” Maddie twisted the doorknob but paused, hesitating. “He’s fine mom.” Jazz reassures her. “If Danny wakes up, he’ll come here first. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

The alarm rang loudly in her ears as she walked down the stairs to the basement lab, its loud ringing noise effectively covering up the sound of her footsteps. Reaching the basement floor, Maddie quickly crept over to hide behind the shelf on her left, eyes scanning the lab for the intruder.

The glass jars clinked as a shadow moved about the fridge. A very familiar shadow. That didn’t glow. Maddie turned on the lab lights. “Danny?” she started, carefully walking over to face him, her eyes still scanning him to check if he’s really her Danny. The faint, barely noticeable scar on his eyebrow from his attempt to fly off the tree when he was five is there confirming his identity.

“What are you doing down here-?” Maddie noticed the glowing jar in his hand, “and what exactly are you doing?” Danny hazily stared at her; eyes half-lidded. Maddie snapped her fingers to get his attention. Danny didn’t blink. “He's still not awake, Danny come on wake up!”, she shook his shoulders. “Huh? Wuzzat?” Danny groggily woke up. He blinked in confusion.

Finally aware of his surroundings, Danny looked down at his right hand that still held the glowing sample. “Aah!” Danny yelped dropping the sample, then realizing he dropped the sample, tries to catch the jar, fumbling clumsily. Maddie would’ve laughed if it was anywhere else but in this situation. “Danny, do you remember what you were doing?”

“I was doing my homework and was craving for a good cheeseburger?”

---

“And the half-opened jar of ectoplasm?”

“Pickles?”

---

“Dude are you for real? That was priceless!” Tucker crowed with laughter. Sam leaned away from Tucker to avoid the meat spittle, “Urgh! Gross Tucker! Swallow it before you speak!”

Danny grumbled into his glass of milkshake, “’s not funny Tuck. you didn't see her face. She was about ready to scan me for signs of ecto-possession. Good thing my lie about craving cheeseburger and opening the wrong fridge worked. Otherwise I’d be in big trouble if she scanned me now with my latest ecto-reading. Anyways I'm banned from the lab now.” Danny bit into his burger.

“So what really happened there dude? Did you seriously sleepwalk into the basement lab?”

“I think so? I don’t really remember anything before Mom found me in the lab. Only that I was feeling a bit hungry.”

.

The ghosts stopped coming. Everyone in Amity held their breath when there were no ghost attacks for two weeks straight, then a month. Then two months, three. No ghosts. They let out their collective breath. It might be too soon to hope but for now they will enjoy their ghost-free, perfectly ordinary life. It feels a bit strange to not have ghost related interruptions as part of their daily routine but they didn’t miss the ghost-related reconstruction expenses. The local insurance company employees received a nice bonus for the ghost-free month.

.

By the time March rolled in, Danny is restless. “Guys, there's definitely something big going on.”, he waved his hands for emphasis. “The Fenton portal is still open yet no ghost came through? Not even Boxy since the North District warehouse thing last month. There’s definitely something big going on. I've been taking the ghost-free break for granted for a while now and it helped save my grades but this is too big to ignore.”

“Dude, maybe it’s because you’re much more powerful now? Your latest reading last week is 8.2. None of the ghosts we’ve met so far is above 6 except for Vlad and the Ghost King.” Tucker suggested.

“You might have a point there, Tucker. We haven’t seen any of the ghosts bothering Vlad so far and he’s definitely higher than 6.” Sam added.

Danny frowned, “Maybe you’re right but I just have this nagging feeling that that’s not quite it.”

.

Danny entered the Zone with little fanfare. The area around the Fenton portal looked normal enough, the usual rocks and clouds of debris are still floating around in their usual areas. Danny aimlessly passed through the nooks and crannies, ducking under the endless spiral staircase, not entirely sure of what to look for. The Zone felt a bit quiet today but Danny haven’t been to the Zone that frequently to be certain about it.

.

The Ghost Zone, while still filled with random bits of odds and ends felt empty somehow. It wasn't until he sighted Skulker that he realized he hasn't seen any of the tiny blog ghosts nor the occasional passerby ghosts through his trip.

.

Luckily or unluckily, Danny quickly spotted someone he knew in the distance. As if called, Skulker turned his head towards Danny, then veered sharply to the left and flew fast in Danny's opposite direction, a first for the self-proclaimed hunter to not hunt his favorite prey. ‘Something's not right and Skulker definitely knows something.’ Danny thought.

Danny quickly chased after him; Skulker could never beat Danny at speed chase even at his best, and he won't be winning today's unplanned race either. “Hey Skulker! What’s going on?” Danny yelled over the gap between them but Skulker gave no reply, diving down deep into the reddish forest ravines of the island below. Not to be deterred, Danny did a quick aerial flip, adjusting his flight angle to follow down Skulker’s path. Danny soon caught up to Skulker and launched him into a nearby rock with sticky ectoplasm to hold him still long enough to talk. Skulker ejected from his metal suit but Danny was faster and caught the real ghost before he can escape.

.

(Why is Skulker fleeing?)

.

"Hey Skulker, not hunting me for once?" Danny asked teasingly.

Skulker paled (Danny never knew ghosts can turn pale) and squirmed even more. Danny's smile dropped.

"What’s going on Skulker?" he asked worriedly. “None of the ghosts have appeared in the human world and the Zone looks empty somehow”

Skulker squirmed a bit more but realizing he’s stuck finally said, “Ghost Child, haven’t you ever wondered why the Infinite Realms is never overcrowded?”

Danny frowned, puzzled as to where this leads to. “How is this related to this situation?” Skulker stared at Danny stunned.

“What?” Danny asked, suddenly self-conscious, “-was there something I was supposed to know about?”

Skulker sighed, unconsciously loosening a bit of his tension, “You’re so young. So very young. We Ghosts don’t fade as fast as Newcomers arrive from your world. In the Realms, there's a natural system that keeps the population under control. An ecosystem. There's predator and there's prey. And then there's the Apex Predator. There's a reason why Dark was feared. It wasn't just for his harsh rule. It was because he was the Apex Predator.”

Danny struck at the odd wording, "’Was’? Was that because he got sealed?” Danny paused, “But wait- if he's sealed, he would still be the Apex predator. So how-? Wait. Did I?"

Skulker nodded, "Good you're catching on fast. By defeating Pariah Dark, you have proven to the Realms that you're the best candidate for the Apex Predator. And with the new status comes sets of conducts, one your body instincts know well. You've been culling down the uncontrolled excess from Pariah Dark's sleep quite fast. Your hunger would settle down soon of course once balance has been re-established in the Realms."

“But- How- Wait- What-?” Danny looked down at his hand “Hey Skulker--!” but his hand is bare.

.

Danny’s lips tasted oddly tangy, energized.  

.

.

.

-----

(Skulker might've slipped out of Danny's slack hand while Danny is in shock. Danny might've bit his lips hard enough to bleed. It's not that hard with his new fangs. But this is just speculation...)

[ducknotinarow]

"Wait!! Your name is Valentina!" Brooklyn exclaims, shocked and mock-offended, "And you just didn't tell me until now?! What other secrets have you kept from me! Are you even my sister?!"

| muse interaction

Nina didn’t stay on the campus herself in all fairness the Avengers tower wasn’t too different from a whole dorm set up anyway. Expect her roommates were billionaires and Hulks over peers in other majors. That didn't mean Nina didn't still hang around her school's campus about as often as those that lived there. You could only take so much family at times and well she had to admit it was fun and a nice change of pace to break away from the Avengers from time to time as well. Though today was special though she had a guest with her to spend time with her. Her baby sister Brooklyn! Okay yeah, Brook just wanted to see the campus they didn't know a thing about schools so learning that colleges could be lived at had libraries, places to eat and do laundry, and such good learning seemed to interest them. Look Nina was going to fully knock her sister for not knowing this stuff cause she had a reason for not knowing all this stuff. She was going to razz them over thinking it was cool and exciting though like the giant nerd her baby sister was. But first, she had to show the campus off and in turn, show off her baby sister.

"This is my baby sister!" She went on to hug her sister from behind as she went about another introduction. Holding Brooklyn's arm to hold it out "Don't be shy Brooks say hello." as if Nina hanging over them wasn't why Brook couldn't in fact interact with one of Nina's classmates. Puppet her sister as they shook hands set her chin on Brook's head as she went to speak. "yeah, I'm towing her around todo she was curious so I'm giving her the grand tour of the joint. And getting to introduce her to everyone since I mention her all the time." Nina went on to explain ever the doting older sibling. Now if only Brook got that more nice side seeing as Nina mostly lived to prank and mess with her given every chance.

They soon said buy as Nina looked down to Brook "Let's see that was the scene building it's where most my day is spent. There are other buildings for classes but I don't know them much. Oh, I can take you to the gallery thinkin' about it. I think they got the mural up now to see?" She went on to speak not giving her sister much a chance to offer her two cents. Before Nina let go and moved out front to lead the way again "Or we can hit the dining hall they got tons of food in there. Like granted food at home is good but oh the food here is the shit!" She exclaimed "I won't even mind if you do weird stuff like make up your weird pmilk. Know what yeah! let's go eat 'cause I'm straving now."

Nina decided hey Brook might like the more buffet style of the area meant they could mix things up however they wanted. In one sitting, Nina sees guys pile up plates with pasta, burgers, and such. Nina was also sure Brook would find a way todo worse and put them to shame. And part of her was curious about that. As she took the lead to get them out of the current hallway they were in. Heading towards the side door it would take them to the dining hall fastest. But she paused a moment when something in one of the display cases they were passing stood by. Humming a bit in thought as she turned to look, seeing a photo of her class, It was from some Stark event they held at the school. A program to help encourage young kids into pressuring the science fields when they went to college. That wasn't why Nina stopped to look at it though. She quirked her red and black-painted lips a moment. Hands set to her hips as she went to speak "aw come on why they used this photo. I showed up in my pj's my hairs a mess even." She pointed it out to Brooklyn so her sister could see the crime committed against her. Nina set her hand to her own face. "I didn'it know Tony was gonna be there, but of course soon as they got wind of it out came the press and all the cameras. Man, how many photos are there of me looking like that?" She went on to complain but it seemed something else about the photo got Brooklyn's attention. It listed off the members of the class, so to honor them for giving back in a sense.

Nina looking to her sister who seemed confused by something, lifting a brow as she looked back to the display case there were a few projects in there as well from stuff shown off that day. But they seemed focused on the photo Nina brought up. "Look I know I ain't look best in there but I promise it ain't that bad jeez" was her take away till Brook seemed to piece her answer together at last. "Wait!! Your name is Valentina!"

Nina just stood there confused looking between the case and her sister. "Uh yeah I just don't go by my full name. I don't think i ever have just always gone by Nina." Nina went to try and explain.

"And you just didn't tell me until now?! What other secrets have you kept from me! Are you even my sister?!"

Nina rolled her eyes she had no idea why this was such a shock to Brooklyn "Technically spekin' I still ain't told ya that. You just happened to find out right now and are making a big deal outta it." Nina went to explain "I don't get why it's no different than you mainly going by Brook when your name is Brooklyn." Nina was more than happy to point out "Side's only pops calls me Valentina...when I'm in serious hot water but the point still stands." She went on to explain, but Brook stood there acting as if her whole world had just fallen around them and changed everything now. Nina sighed and gave another roll of her eyes before she reached over and lightly flicked her fingers against Brooklyn's forehead. Hye she was nice enough not to do with her metal hand at least but someone's hand to tap a bit of sense into her blonde sister's skull, emphasis on the blonde here. "Don't be an idiot." was all she said before turning to continue back on leaving the building now. "My name was always Valentina. Just took the end of it and ditched the 't' to get Nina for the nickname." Nina went to explain hands held up into the air as she shruged her shoulders. Down playing mostly to just get at Brooklyn since it was a big deal to her. Oh but that's when a smirk tugged onto the corners of her mouth as she looked over her shoulder at them now. "You clearly suck at your job if you only now found that out." She taunted with at thier expense "I mean you seeing all kinds of files and more hell even the mueamsue exhibit we went o yet only know you found out? eh I dunno all those running drills you didn't seem to help" she pointed to her own head to suggest her meaning just now without saying it she was just looking to razz them after all. "All those books and yet you are this dumb? man, maybe we should do the library next just sit you in the center maybe something will absorb into that empty space between ya ears." She laughed a bit at the last remark now. Hey if Brooklyn was going to be this dramatic Nina was going to pick on her for it.