#there was no running water either we had to put the fire out with someone’s water bottle

[girl-scout-camp]

Tell me why there’s a gas leak in the kitchen of the camp I was volunteering at today and we still??? Ran an event??? In that building???

[loveinhawkins]

After the almost end of the world, Steve tells Eddie that he can have a shower first.

It feels surreal that they’ve both made it here—that Eddie is standing in his hallway, leaving mud stains on the floor from his boots: remnants of The Upside Down mixed with normal dirt.

Steve almost wants to ask if he can walk around some more, create countless marks as proof of his existence; hell, even take his hand and run it down the beige walls.

Leave a trail, Steve thinks, through a fog of complete and utter exhaustion. So I know it’s real. So I can find my way back to you.

What he says instead is, “Try not to get your dressings wet.”

Eddie pauses on the stairs. Smiles. “Okay, nurse,” he says, and it’s a gentle tease if anything, his voice softened by tiredness.

He’s holding himself a little stiffly while turned to speak, his upper body almost at an angle.

Steve thinks about the jagged line down his side (“If the bats died, like, ten seconds later, you’d have—you asshole,” Dustin had rambled through tears, thumping Eddie on the arm); how Eddie had narrowly avoided a hospital stay. Thinks of the way Eddie tried to reassure Dustin, fiddling with the guitar pick hanging around his neck in a show of nonchalance—but Steve still saw how his hand shook.

“Guess I’m just a lucky son of a bitch, huh, Henderson?”

It shouldn’t have been luck; it should have been a guarantee. Steve should have ensured it.

Eddie makes his way upstairs with slow, heavy footsteps. Steve waits until he can hear the water running, then heads to the phone.

He’s used to this routine by now. Robin and Nancy first, as he knows they’ll pick up rather than their parents.

“Oh, thank god,” Robin had said when she answered the phone after Starcourt. “I thought it was a horrible dream.”

“Thank god?” Steve echoed, laughing.

“Yeah,” Robin said, quite seriously. “It was either I dreamed up everything alone, or we saw it all together.”

And Steve, touched beyond words, had called her a dingus instead.

Tonight, their phone call is much quieter.

“I’m home,” Robin says. “I love you.”

Steve’s hand clenches around the phone. “Love you too,” he whispers, and he ignores the warning sting in his eyes, because he doesn’t have time to—he still has so much left to…

“I’m home,” Nancy says. She adds, “Get some sleep, Steve,” in the fatigued tones of someone who will not be taking their own advice.

Eddie comes downstairs sometime during Steve’s phone call with Mr and Mrs Sinclair. He’s quiet; the only sign that alerts Steve to his presence is the faint smell of mint body wash.

When Steve hangs up, he has to take a breath, still clinging to the phone pointlessly.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve breathes out. “Checking in,” he says.

He dials another number.

It began after Starcourt, the Sinclairs having bought the excuse that Steve had been trapped with Erica in a broken down elevator as the ‘fire’ began—technically true, Steve had thought, just in the wrong order.

Their conversation had been all anxious tones, all, You were there, Steve, what exactly…? Should we be worried that…?

And he gets good at it, at bridging the gap between worlds: keeping the full truth from parents, but giving them just enough information, little things that go beyond the surface level cover story, that somehow help put their mind at ease—cultivating the sense that Steve is the witness, the one being honest with them.

Christ, he’s tired.

The call with Max’s mom is hard. She’s still at the hospital, and technically there’s nothing to really worry about (Max’s arm had a clean break), but that doesn’t change how it all felt, how she shook with pained sobs as Steve tucked her into his side.

“She’s sleeping now. She said you were with her,” Susan tells him, voice low. “Steve, I’m—I’m so grateful.”

But I wasn’t, Steve thinks. Not when it mattered.

He doesn’t realise that he’s still holding the phone after the call has ended until Eddie takes it from him and puts it back in the cradle.

“Hey, can I, uh, use the phone? Wanna call my uncle,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t mention the fact that Eddie has already spoken with his uncle, that Steve had overheard him fighting tears in the hospital as he called the plant where his uncle was still working: because even the earthquake-like rumble felt all over town as Henry Creel died wasn’t enough of an excuse to warrant clocking out early.

“Pretend I’m s-someone else calling,” Eddie had whispered, his voice breaking. “Wayne, I-I’m okay. Got stitches, but I’m okay. Fuck. I love you.”

And Steve tried not to think about how it could’ve so easily been him making the call, telling Wayne Munson that his nephew will never come home again.

Eddie pauses, hand hovering over the phone. Then he twirls his index finger in a little circle: turn around.

Steve does. Can’t find the energy to smile.

“Shower,” Eddie says, then taps him very gently on the back, once, twice, like he’s saying off you go.

Steve manages to twist his body so his own fresh bandages don’t get wet, carefully tilting the shower head away from them. He methodically washes away the dirt; the heat of the water is welcome, but it also seems to weigh down his limbs with every drop.

When he goes back downstairs, Eddie is on the phone. He keeps repeating vague little mm-hmm sounds, and Steve somehow is sure that he isn’t on the phone to his uncle.

“Yeah,” Eddie says as Steve approaches. “Yeah, he’s here.”

There’s a little side table next to the phone; Eddie reaches for the notepad, scribbles, then turns it round so Steve can see.

Dustin’s mom

And Steve…

He knows he should talk to her. He knows Claudia will no doubt have questions, even if Dustin’s probably already given his own half-baked explanation about how he hurt his leg—“It’s just a sprain,” he’d insisted, even as Steve hoisted him up, took all of his weight.

The right thing to do, surely, is take the phone from Eddie.

But Steve suddenly can’t bring himself to even lift his hand for it. He feels drained, feels vulnerable and exposed after the shower—that along with the grime being lifted from his skin, it’s also left his stupidly fragile, exhausted heart on show.

Eddie’s eyes flicker over his face like he can see it, see everything, and without so much as an awkward pause, he murmurs into the receiver, “He’s tired. Yeah, he’s—he’s okay. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

He hesitates for a moment, a fleeting sheen to his eyes, and then he says, “Thank you. Goodnight, Mrs Henderson.” Another little pause. He smiles, adds, “Goodnight, Claudia,” and hangs up the phone.

“Is she… okay?” Steve asks. “What did she—is Dustin—”

“All good,” Eddie says. “She was just… checking in.”

The checking you were okay goes unsaid, but Steve can still hear it.

It weighs him down like the shower had done. He doesn’t register that he crosses through to the living room, just knows that he’s suddenly sinking down onto the arm of the couch, that Eddie is sitting next to him.

Steve doesn’t consciously decide to speak, the words tumbling out of him like it’s inevitable.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mumbles.

He can practically hear Eddie frantically trying to make sense of what he’s said.

“Well, yeah, no plan’s gonna go perfectly, man, that’d be—but, hey, we fuckin’ made it, we—”

But Steve is shaking his head. “No, I… I thought I’d figured it out, I—”

He doesn’t know how to explain it; it’s too much to…

It’s something too big to put into words.

The fact that, as Nancy relayed each phase of the plan, he had listened closely, only agreed because at least he was in the group that would be closest to the ‘blast zone.’

That he’d hated leaving Lucas, Max and Erica alone, but had tried to reassure himself that at least they weren’t in The Upside Down.

That once Dustin knew where Steve was going, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, that he’d follow him to The Upside Down no matter what.

And, honestly, Steve would’ve preferred Eddie not getting dragged into this bullshit for any longer than he needed to be—that if it was feasible, Steve would’ve just told him to take the RV and run.

But Steve had seen how he was with Dustin, roughhousing in the grass. Knew that where Dustin went, Eddie would follow, too—a shield in his hand.

And Steve also knew something along those lines was true for him and Robin: that if he thought he could get away with it, he would’ve told her to watch over the kids at the Creel House, but knew she’d choose to be with him.

That all he could feel about going into Henry Creel’s lair himself was relief—not because he thought he was an essential part in all of this, but because he just…

He needed to be there. Just in case.

Because there was a look in Nancy’s eyes that terrified him. It said that if she had to, she’d die with Henry Creel, so long as it would all be over, so long as Barb would be avenged.

Out loud, all he can say is, “It… it was too close.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “No-one got—”

“You’re not listening,” Steve says, and there’s a scream in his throat begging to be released; he doesn’t let it go. “It was too—I almost—almost had to—”

“Steve.”

“S-someone’s gotta call home,” Steve goes on. “And I—fuck, I was so scared I’d h-have to—to tell them that—”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers.

“But I-I would’ve,” Steve says. His voice cracks. “I couldn’t have just—they would’ve got a-answers, I would’ve—”

“I know,” Eddie says softly, and he’s got a hand in Steve’s hair suddenly, guiding him to his shoulder. “I know you’d—hey, I’ve got you. I know.”

The first sob, when it starts, hurts—feels like it comes straight from his stomach. Eddie holds him through it, almost like he’s afraid Steve might drift away to some unreachable place.

“I’ve got you,” he keeps saying. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

When it’s over, when Steve gives a final, shuddering breath against Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs into his hair, “S’too late for any more phone calls, Steve. C’mon. Show me where to sleep?”

It’s not even all that big of a thing, when Steve leads Eddie to his bedroom, lies down on the farthest side of the bed. Leaves deliberate space.

“You don’t have to—there’s a guest room,” Steve says, tongue thick with exhaustion. “Don’t wanna—kinda worried I’ll hit your dressings in my sleep.”

Eddie looks at him from the doorway. “You’ve been patched up too, Steve,” he points out.

Steve shrugs.

Eddie steps into the room. “It’ll be fine,” he says, smiling. “We’ll both be gentle, huh?”

Steve nods through a yawn. When Eddie makes to shut the door, he says, “Don’t, leave it open. Just—just in case the phone… I’ll sleep right through it otherwise.”

Eddie’s still touching the door handle. “D’you trust me?”

Steve’s eyes keep closing against his will. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Eddie shuts the door so quietly that it barely makes a sound. “Okay. ‘Cause I have, like, freakishly good hearing.” Through his lashes, Steve sees Eddie smirk wryly. “Like a bat.”

Steve thinks he makes a noise of acknowledgement—isn’t quite sure as his eyes have closed.

He feels Eddie lie down next to him, feels the covers being drawn up.

“I’ll hear the phone,” Eddie says. “I’ll answer it, ‘kay? I’ll come wake you up, if I need to.”

A gentle hand on Steve’s forearm.

“Promise,” Eddie says.

Steve breathes in. Out.

“Okay,” he replies, and he falls asleep completely: not needing to stay half-awake, not needing to pick up the phone—not needing to do anything at all.

[suuuupernovaaa]

Taxi Cab

Hobie Brown x f!Reader

She would never hurt anyone. He would hurt anyone for her.

Before Hobie, nothing very eventful ever happened in my life. I grew up in a happy home, went to a good school, and decided to become an art teacher. I got good grades, I made life long friendships with people similar to me, and I kept my head down and minded my business.

Though it's been nearly half a year since he came rocketing into my life, I still can't put my finger what exactly drew Hobie to me. We don't have a lot in common. Where I am passive, Hobie is active and fierce. Where I am lenient, Hobie is harsh. Until Hobie, I had never listened to punk music, considered anarchy, or pierced a single thing on my body.

Well, I still haven't done the last one. Besides my ears. Needles are too much for me. Sometimes I get nervous that the spikes on Hobie's wardrobe are going to stick me.

Hobie is a force. He's dangerous, he's passionate, he's larger than life. Being near Hobie is addictive. He has a gravity around him that draws people in, but it tends to spit them out at much the same rate.

For some reason, I've been able to hang on. Sometimes it feels like clinging for dear life, until he reminds me how much he cares.

Even though he can do that in odd ways.

Like tonight.

Ever since I met Hobie, trouble seems to follow me around. I've been mugged twice, had my tires slashed, and even had to move because someone broke into my apartment and trashed the place.

My parents are becoming increasingly alarmed, only satisfied in the fact that Spider-Punk always seems to be nearby. They don't necessarily approve of Spider-Punk (I mean, most don't), but they do at least appreciate that he seems to be looking out for me.

Which is so weird! Hobie can't figure it out either, but he says Spider-Punk is a narcissistic asshole who only saves people to get attention for himself.

He might just be mad that I said I thought Spider-Punk seemed like he'd be cute, under the mask.

I was hoping my luck had turned around and I wouldn't need to run into Spider-Punk again for a while, but I guess that was just silly optimism. On my way to Hobie's with two large bags of groceries in hand, I'm stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk when a taxi cab crashes directly into a fire hydrant.

The fire hydrant lets loose a typhoon of water in my direction, and I scramble to the right to get out of the water, but it's too late. I'm soaked.

"Oi!" I hear the unmistakable sound of Hobie yelling. He was heading my direction after I told him the bags were getting heavy, and arrived just in time to witness the crash. He wrenches open the door of the car and pulls out the taxi driver. He seems unharmed, a little shaken up, with heavy bags under his eyes and a wobble in his step.

Drunk or high.

"You could've killed someone!" Hobie is shouting, looking over at me and then back at the driver. "I ought to kick your fucking arse." He pushes the man against the side of his cab as the water continues to spray. I drop the groceries, mostly ruined now, and approach Hobie.

The man is muttering something under his breath, and as I reach them, I can smell the liquor coming through his pores.

I grab Hobie's arm. "I'm okay. Come on."

"No, I saw it, he nearly killed you, Y/N. Just a few feet over, you'd be gone. Then I'd have to fuckin' kill him!" Hobie slams him against his car one more time, and I pull on his arm harder.

"But he didn't. The cops are on their way. Let's go. I need help carrying the groceries, and it's too cold for me to be all wet."

Hobie looks at me finally, really looks at me, and then with one more burning glance at the inebriated taxi driver, gruffly releases his collar and turns to me.

Effortlessly, he scoops me up into his arms, bridal-style, and I gasp. He strides with ease over to our drowned groceries, and bends down, picking them up in his hands.

"Jesus, have you been working out?" I ask.

His face is too tense for a smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch. Despite my protests, he carries me into his building and up three flights of stairs, only setting me down once we are safe inside the walls of his apartment.

Without me asking, he goes into his room and brings out a pair of leggings I've left here before, and one of his t-shirts. I change in the bathroom, drying my hair as best I can with a towel, before going back to the kitchen to see what can be salvaged of the groceries.

"I think I can still do something with this! The bread is gone but, homemade bread crumbs aren't like, necessary. They're just fancy." I turn to see Hobie leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, still scowling. "Uh, or I can go to the store, if the homemade bread crumbs were like, important."

I let out a yelp of surprise when Hobie pushes himself off the counter and strides towards me, grabbing me by the shoulders and bringing me to him for a rough, passionate kiss.

In moments, I meld into him, wrapping my arms around his waist as his fingers find their way into my hair, and his tongue enters my mouth.

This kiss feels different. Urgent, feverish, desperate. He holds me tightly, pressing me so close to him it feels like he wants us to be one person, like he would climb right into my skin.

I pull away for just a moment, gasping for breath. "Are you okay?" I say on an exhale.

Hobie stares down at me intensely, his hands still in my hair, his eyes wild and the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"I would do anything to keep you safe," he says flatly. "There's no limit to what I'd do."

I bring my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks, nodding. "I know, Hobie."

"I would have killed that man if you hadn't stopped me."

I know he's exaggerating to make a point, but a chill runs up my spine a the way he says it so calmly, with no hint of irony. I remember his chest heaving, the wild look in his eyes as he held that drunk man up against his own car.

He looked out for blood.

"I'm okay, Hobie. So are you."

"Move in with me. You hate that new place. Stay here."

We've only known each other six months. We're barely adults. I make no money as a new teacher and I honestly haven't figured out how Hobie seems to make so much money off the gigs he plays. It's too soon to move in together. It's not smart.

But I love him. And he loves me. We haven't said it yet, but I don't know that we need to. I can see it in his eyes, feel it while he holds me, taste it on his lips.

He loves me.

"Okay."

"Today. Like, we can get your stuff later, but don't sleep there anymore. Stay with me."

I nod and lean forward, pressing my forehead to his chest. His hands finally leave my hair, and wrap tightly around my shoulders. I listen to his heartbeat - rapid at first, but as we stand there, silently clinging to each other, it begins to slow down.

He's pressing soft kisses to the top of my head, humming quietly, and I've never felt more in love.

I've never felt more cared for, more loved in return, more safe.

Six months or sixty years. I don't think it matters.

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy On Tumblr part 11

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader

TW: suicidal ideation

The two of you sit in silence for a while. Half companionable, half just exhausted. You're warm and comfortable. Chilchucks thighs are, as to be expected, boney and wiry, but they're still much better than the floor. His arm is still resting across your waist, and you're snug against him. It's....nice, actually. It's been a while since someone touched you gently like this. The makeshift fire Chilchuck made is probably going to burn out soon. It looks like he just ripped a few torches off the walls. But it's cozy. It's nice. 

Finally, Chilchuck breaks the silence.

"Look, we've got bigger problems right now, but we're gonna talk about how we're gonna handle you doing magic at some point. You know what happens to halffoots who practice magic, and we've already got Marcille doing shady black magic shit."

You stiffen, both offended and a little scared. Whether he'd meant it or not, there was an implicit threat in his words. 

"I don't do black magic."

He snorted derisively. "Like that fucking matters to the elves."

"Well I don't see any elves down here. You gonna tattle on me?"

There is a pause, just a little too long for your liking, before Chilchuck says. "No, it'd get me and my party in even deeper shit if there was a fucking halffoot mage wrapped up with us." 

You scowl, your head still hurts like hell. "yeah sure that's the only reason you're gonna protect me, and I guess it's the same reason you made sure I ate slowly enough to keep it down when you first found me, and why you gave me those ankle wraps, and why you're cuddled up all sweet with me now." 

Chilchuck snatches his arm up from around your waist like he'd been burned. 

"I- I don't - I'm not- I had to cushion your head! YOU went and got yourself concussed and then used all your mana! I wasn't being....unprofessional!" 

You (slowly, carefully, painfully) sit up off his lap and look at him. He makes a movement like he wants to steady you, but stops himself. You raise an eyebrow. 

"Sure. Now let's figure out how we're going to survive this." 

There's not actually much to go over. You're trapped in a labyrinth. You need to find food and water. You're both banged up. You're out of mana for the foreseeable future.

Your best bet is to start walking. The dungeon will probably give you water, and maybe. Just maybe. You can put the skills Chilchuck picked up from Senshi to good use.

If you can find a monster that won't just kill you in your fucked up state. 

Neither of you talk about what to do long term. Either you figure a way out of the labyrinth, or your party (somehow) finds you, or you die. It's not worth discussing. 

Regardless, there's not much else to do. You pick a direction and start walking. 

There's the same ease of working with Chilchuck as previously. Even with your still somewhat foggy mind and his remaining injuries you manage to make it slowly and steadily through the labyrinth without triggering any traps. 

Eventually you find a room with a small fountain and chug water until your stomach feels a little less like it's trying to eat itself. 

You glance at Chilchuck, who is doing the same thing. "We're gonna need to stop and sleep, and this room would probably be the best to do it in." 

He nods. He looks as exhausted as you feel. 

"Yeah...no traps or other dangers I can see. Torches. A single door we can shut and lock. A water source. This'll be the best we can hope for." 

"Yup, I don't think we're gonna find better. I'm also gonna go ahead and wash the blood off me and clean out my wounds as best I can now we have a source of running water." 

Chilchuck nods again. "I'll step outside."

You snort. "Don't be stupid. We shouldn't separate. Just face the wall, I don't care."

He looks uncomfortable. "Are you....sure?" 

You say. "Yeah I'm sure, no real point to modesty now, and anyway, it's not like you've never seen tits before. I assume you'll want to go right after me anyway." 

He just shrugs. "Alright, let me just lock the door then if we're settling down."

Chilchuck gets the door shut and locked and then plops down, resolutely facing it. 

You give yourself a quick whores bath, wincing as the cold water hits the scrapes and cuts littering your body. You carefully clean out all of them, praying the water is safe. Itd be terrible to get an infection without any way of healing it. 

Once you're finished you feel a lot more like a person, although it feels terrible having to put your nasty clothes back on. 

You walk over to Chilchuck, still patiently facing the wall, and tap him on the shoulder. He jumps. 

"Your turn."

You take your place at the wall, and he goes through what you assume is the same process. You hear him swearing softly under his breath as the cold water hits the cuts and scrapes you know he has as well. 

You let your mind drift a bit. You're exhausted, body and soul. You wonder if this is it, if your luck has finally ran out. You'd thought that same thing way back when, but maybe being saved was just a reprieve from the inevitable. You'd always known it would end like this, dying bloody and broken in the thing that had eaten so much that was important to you. It was fitting, you were at peace with it. 

You would die and your body would rot and you would join the ghosts that haunted this place. You just hoped you could get a shot at the bastard that had started this whole thing first. After that, you didn't care. 

Tag list, ask to tag:

@night-shadowblood-writes2

@thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

@dunmeshimeshi

@leguink 

@gh0st-spider

@reh-llik

@sy1v30n

@qardasngan

@mshope16

@drowsydoggy

@anaxnee

@hopefully-not

@j4mergy

@alula394

@renjunluvr119

@lone-ray

@indigoghnights

@toshi-tori

@manic-bat

@theplutodeity

[lunajay33]

Scared & Sick Pt.2🍂

Summary: You just found out a month ago you were pregnant and the prison became sick, everything was changing and the governor comes back

Pt.1

•Masterlist•

Gun fire was shooting everywhere and everyone was screaming, thankfully Daryl got me out of the watch tower before it blew up. He took my hand and we ran to the bus

“Yer stayin here, I can’ risk ya out there” he said about to go help

“Wait!” I said grabbing his arm “I love you Daryl”

“I love ya too peach” it was rare for him to actually say it, he showed his love it his own special ways

I stood outside the bus doors helping everyone in that’s when I say Mika and Lizzy carrying Judith around, my motherly instinct kicked in and I ran to them

“Mika, Lizzy you both need to get to the bus now” I demanded

“But we need to help” Mika said

Before I could talk someone started shooting close behind us, Mika and Lizzy ran towards it leaving Judith alone in her carrier

I couldn’t waste time not right now, I took Judith in my arms along with her blanket and ran just hoping the girls either made it out or to the bus

I kept running far enough till I made it to the train tracks outside of the prison, our home was gone and I was alone with Judith

I wrapped the blanket around my back and shoulders so it was easier to carry Judith against my chest, we kept walking all day hoping to just see someone, anyone from the prison but no luck

We came across a little store thankfully no walkers were around, finding some baby food, water and a pack of crackers hoping it would keep me going for now

I found a bag and put everything in it and threw it over my shoulder after giving Judith some food to help calm her down, then we hit the road again but god was it tiring, having to carry a baby while you’re three months pregnant didn’t help but I’m determined to find my family

“We’ll find them Jud, and everything will be fine again” I cooed at her trying to lull her to sleep

~~~

Days passed and I was losing hope, I haven’t came across a soul from the prison, we ventured off the trails and now just walking through the woods hoping to find something to eat thankfully Daryl taught me what to look for, I found some elderberries and Judith loved them and honestly so did I

That’s when we heard a huge explosion a little ways away, usually I wouldn’t go towards it but it could be Daryl god knows he loves exploding stuff and I couldn’t waste the chance to find someone

After awhile I finally got close that’s when I heard voices, I walked closer trying to be as quiet as possible, even though there was dried up leaves everywhere

When I listened my heart jumped it was them, it was everyone plus some

I came out from behind the tree I was trying to hide behind and everyone turned, I just stood there as Daryl looked back at me before he ran over and held me tight thankfully Judith was strapped to my back

“I found you” I cried as I nuzzled my face into his shoulder as I could hear him sniffling , god knows what he’s been through while we were apart

He pulled back and I pushed his long hair away so I could see his face clearly as his mouth trembled

“I was so scared I wasn’t going to find anyone and it would’ve just been us forever” I sighed relieved

“Us?” I heard Rick asked behind Daryl

“Oh ya, I have someone here” I reached behind my back and pulled her out of the blanket and over my head

Rick and Carl ran towards me and they held the two of us crying as well

After a minute Rick pulled Judith out of my arms and cherished her

“Thank you”

“It’s nothing Rick, I’d do it all over again”

As we all said our hellos and I met the new people we were on our way, Daryl held my hand the whole till as we walked down a long road

“How’s the baby?” He asked looking down at my bump

“I think she’s okay, I haven’t had much food but I think we will be fine!” I smiled feeling hopefully again

“I’ll get ya fed don’t gotta worry ‘bout that”

~~~~

It’s been a few days now and we were extremely low on food and water plus the heat didn’t help

We were sat on the road taking a break when I looked at Daryl and saw the defeated expression on his face

“Daryl, do you wanna come with me for a sec?” I asked standing and holding my hand out for him

He took my hand and I led him out into the woods as we found a clearing near a little barn, so I sat us down against a tree

I looked up and the sun was shining through the swaying leaves giving me some form of peace

“I’m sorry Daryl” I sighed as I squeezed his hand

“Fer what?” He asked as he looked down at the ground

“I’m sorry that I can’t keep you from hurting, I’d give my life to give you a peaceful life, you deserve the world Daryl”

I heard him cry which broke my heart, I wrapped my arms around him and wiped his tears as he continued to cry into my shoulder, he’d never broken down like this infront of me but I’d be there for him no matter what

We sat there for a while as I let him get all his feelings out before we made it back to the group

We’d find somewhere I knew we would and just the next day like a prayer we were in Alexandria our new home

~~~

It’s been a week now and some of us were still wary about the place it was still better than starving

I came out on the porch finding Daryl where he usually was

“Ya okay?” He asked as I sat next to him and handed him a half of my sandwich

“Ya, I was wondering if maybe, if you wanted to take a shower with me”

He was silent

“Not like that I just…..I don’t wanna be alone”

He took the last bite of his sandwich and stood up taking my hand as we went to the shower

He helped me undress as I did the same for him, he took a bar of soap and cleaned my body after I was done I scrubbed him down watching the grim and dirt wash away down the drain

I set the soap aside and he wrapped his arms around me from behind rubbing my bump and resting his head on my shoulder

“I’ll keep ya both safe”

“You have baby, we are home now I can feel it” I said resting my hands ontop of his

“I love ya peach”

“I love you too”

We were safe in our forever home, hopefully

—-////—////——-

Taglist: @itsmytimetoodream

[wrightingdungeon]

SDV Bachelors seeing you in a swimsuit for the first time Pt2

AMAB and Trans Farmer

Alex: He had invited you to hang out with him and Haley at the beach, drinking, throwing a ball around, just hanging out. He was tossing his ball up and down warming himself up when he heard Haley whistling at something, looking at where she was pointing he saw you. You stood out in your mid-thigh length swimming trunks. The pattern a vibrant mosaic collage of neon colors, each hue blending seamlessly into the next. White lines frame the angular shapes, adding a striking contrast that draws the eye. “I see why you invited him.” Haley teased looking over the rim of her sunglasses up at Alex and seeing a blush forming on his face. “What's up, guys? I miss anything?” You asked as you approached the pair, setting your bag next to theirs. “Oh No, we were just taking in the views,” Haley said giggling as she went back to her tanning Alex flashed her a look that said shut up.

Elliot: Elliot had heard giggling outside his home, opening the door a peek to see what was going on he saw Penny and the children enjoying a day at the beach. Before he shut the door he noticed you, your short swimming trunks, reminiscent of the bold style of the 80s. The pattern features a quirky combination of feathers and flowers in hues of brown, red, and blue, evoking a sense of retro nostalgia. You had Vincent above your head throwing him not deeply into the water and waded in to go pick him up and “Do it again!” Vincent cheered. He chuckled coming out to join the two girls building sandcastles. “Good evening Miss. Penny, having a day at the beach?” He asked looking back at you. “Oh yes, Farmer offered to help chaperone, if you'd like. I'm sure the… children would like you to join.” Penny had a coy smile on her lips using her words wisely to tease Elliot. “Who am I to say no to them.” Elliot chuckled heading back into change.

Harvey: He was nervous, he had agreed to help Emily with a fashion show she was putting on. He thought she meant he would be assisting whoever signed up to walk, not someone who was walking, now he's stuck waiting for Emily to start the show. “Hey Harvey looking good man.” He heard you approaching him, and turning to look at you, he saw you bare-chested your top scars proudly on display donning vintage-style swim trunks that hit mid-thigh. The bold pattern of alternating bright blue, white, and pink vertical stripes, the white drawstring dangling untied. “Thanks for signing up, it makes it less nerve-wracking.” You said rubbing the back of your neck. “Y-Yeah I signed up…. I thought it would be fun.” Harvey fibbed slightly, but he had to agree with you, having you with him made it less intimidating.

Sam: Leaning back into the log he strummed his guitar singing softly looking into the fire. The sun was setting on the luau, people were either heading home or enjoying the last warmth of the sun's rays. You had been busy all day running around helping to make sure everything went smoothly. Sam was sure you had already gone home for the day, ready to pass out in your bed, but seeing you walking up to the fire in your swimwear he slowed his song slightly, taking you in. Looking at your shorter swim trunks, the fabric is a sleek black canvas for a mesmerizing fire design. Vibrant red and orange flames dance across the material, casting a bold contrast against the darkness. Securing the trunks is a strikingly bright red drawstring. “Nice Flavor Town shorts dude.” Sam complimented you, chuckling softly at how cool your swim shorts were. “What are you playing?” You asked sitting next to Sam listening to him as he went back to strumming. “Wonderwall.”

Sebastian: Sebastian was leaning up under a palm tree a small pout on his lips. Robin had dragged him to Ginger Island for “Family time” as she put it. Maru and Demetrius were testing the sand for Microorganisms, Robin had her nose stuck in a book that she had been dying to read, and Sebastian? Dying of boredom. Suddenly a beach ball smacked him in the face. “Ooop Sorry Sebby!” He looked over holding the ball hearing a familiar voice, when his eyes adjusted he saw you running over to him in knee-length black swimming trunks, adorned with captivating blue stripes varying in width. The stripes created a dynamic visual effect, reminiscent of the ebb and flow of the ocean waves. “I'm sorry, the wind stole it.” You apologized kneeling and smiling at him. “But since you have the ball wanna play catch?” You asked pointing back the the group of people you had been playing catch with, dragging him out of his boredom.

Shane: He had not been to the bathhouse but he thought he would try it out today, the stress of Joja had gotten under his skin and he wanted to relax. Walking in and changing into his shorts he made his way to the water, stopping seeing you already walking into the pool. Your figure accentuated by a small black Speedo swimsuit. The sleek garment hugs your body, offering minimal coverage. “Oh hey Shane, finally decided to try out the water?” You asked sinking down to your chin, letting out a soft sigh. “Uhh yeah…” Shane said watching you for a bit shaking his head to focus. “I guess I have been missing out.” He chuckled throwing his towel onto one of the seats as he stepped into the water to join you hissing slightly at the hot water. “How are you not melting?” He asked as he slowly made his way to the center of the pool. “I thought you liked hot things Shane?” You teased looking up at him from the wet mess that had become your hair. Shane chuckled as he sunk down joining you on your eye level. “Eating hot things, not getting in them.” He corrected you a small smile on his face.

[lady-embers]

I think a lot of people continuously overlook the GOOD Nesta did during the series and only focus on her "hateful attitude". Sometimes actions show more than words and Nesta is an action girly.

ACOTAR- She tried to protect Feyre in the market. She went after Feyre when Tamlin took her. She essentially told Feyre to go and save Tamlin and not to worry about them. She was ready to marry someone to help have one less mouth to feed for Feyre. She chopped wood for two days in a row.

Also, I think this quote is important from book 1 from Feyre about Nesta:

"I looked at my sister, really looked at her, at this woman who couldn't stomach the sycophants who now surrounded her, who had never spent a day in the forest but had gone into wolf territory.... Who had shrouded the loss of our mother, then our downfall, in icy rage and bitterness, because the anger had been a lifeline, the cruelty a release. But she HAD cared - beneath it, she had cared, and perhaps, loved more fiercely than I could comprehend, more deeply and loyally."

ACOMAF - She wasn't in here much but both her and Elain opened their home to Feyre and the IC for the war purposes when they were taught their whole life to be scared/fear the fae and ended up turned against their will for their efforts which is incredibly traumatic.

ACOWAR - Nesta helped with the Queens and the High Lords. She helped Feyre and the whole Raven attack thingy. She participated in the war and almost died trying to save Cassian and then beheaded Hybern. She then helped tend to the wounded and dieing. She really had no time to sort through her own trauma during this time either since she was looking after comatose Elain and in a place where she didn't want to be.

ACOFAS - We see her drowning in her trauma. She can't even take baths (which Feyre had said in ACOWAR she'd help with as she never thought about how the Cauldron affected them). She is invited to party with rent money held over her head (despite the fact she had a job as human emissary during the war so where is the money promised to her from accepting that job from Rhysand?) While there, Feyre remarks how uncomfortable Nesta is but doesn't both to wonder why, and come to find out fire bothers her because it reminds her of her father's neck snapping RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER. Cassian runs after her and even though she wants to be alone she's hounded and is seen as the bad guy for not taking his gift. A gift he proceeds to throw away, like a child, into the water because she didn't take it...At this point she just wanted to be left alone and they kept hounding her and not respecting boundaries she was putting up.

ACOSF - She is still drowning..she is forced into the HOW (feyre said she'd be tied and thrown there essentially so it wasn't really a choice) where she has to walk down 10,000 steps (which she physically/mentally/emotionally could not do so she was essentially a prisoner since no help was offered by feyre and Amren own words and let's not forget those same steps were used as punishment for Rhysand and the bat boys)..she starts training though and finds her own found family in Gwyn and Emerie. She helps the IC multiple times with things in ACOSF to and even saves Rhysand, Feyre, and Nyx very lives. She even says sorry to Feyre and Feyre doesn't hold anything against Nesta, not even telling her about the babies wings because at least she told her. We also find out she tried to write letters to others to help during their poverty times and her boots weren't as new as Feyre made then out to be showing Feyre as an unreliable/biased narrator.

All in all, I wouldn't say Nesta is an absolutely terrible horrible nasty person that is beyond redemption or forgiveness.

She is a woman who has been traumatized from a very young age starting with her mother/grandmother to being turned fae to PTSD from war/her father and doesn't know how to cope so she lashes out (which is a VALID TRAUMATIC RESPONSE) to push others away because she HATES herself more than anyone else does. She knew lashing out was wrong but didn't have the tools/upbringing to know healthy responses. It's really not until Gwyn and Emerie came along and showed her UNCONDITIONAL LOVE that she began to change and learn better and new healthy coping mechanism to let go of the bad ones.

Now, I'm not saying her trauma response was good or acceptable or excusable, but I do think she deserves some grace and compassion given all she's been through herself. Trauma is not a comparison game after all and we all experience and cope differently. Just like these characters.

Artist is Crisol Crowling or crisolcrowling on IG!

[rebelspykatie]

Rushin' through me like a fire Part 2

A Steddie Club AU

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

“Well I do. I don’t even know your last name or how old you are, but you want to get in my pants already?” 

Austin rolls his eyes. “Is that all it takes? It’s Lim and I’m thirty-four. Now can we move this along?” 

His gut is telling him this guy is bad news, to run in the other direction and never look back. Unease settles in his stomach. He stares at the guy for another moment before he says, “I’m not going to sleep with you tonight, if that’s all you want.” 

Another eye roll, but this one is with his whole body, pulling him off his bar stool and sipping up the last of his mojito. He leans down to say directly into Steve’s ear, “Go somewhere else if you want romance, honey.” 

As he walks away, Steve slumps back against the bar, the tension he didn’t even know he was holding draining from his body in one fell swoop. This was such a bad idea. Why did he think a bar would be the best place to meet someone? He’s all too aware of what most of the people in this room are looking for, it’s why he sticks close to Robin when they come here. Without her as a buffer, he’s left to the sharks. He thought he was ready to dive into those waters, but maybe not.

“Rough night?” An unfamiliar voice asks from behind him, startling him off the edge of the bar.

When he spins around on the stool, he’s met with a pair of brown saucers staring back at him, glittering orbs, on a face Steve’s never seen before. He thought that they knew every bartender here, but clearly that wasn’t true. Although, this guy isn’t wearing the standard all black attire or a waist apron. 

Instead, he’s donning an intricately cut band tee for another one of the groups Steve’s never heard of, something about a priest. On it, there’s a robotic looking tiger that’s about to pounce and what Steve assumes is the band’s logo surrounding the image. He’s got on black, skin-tight pants with artistic rips at knee level. Steve’s practically swooning over a little kneecap like he’s a Victorian maiden seeing an ankle in the streets. 

Scars litter his skin, snaking up his neck and down his left arm. His long, curly hair is pulled back into a ponytail, putting them on full display and Steve wants to run his fingertips over the ridges. He doesn’t let his eyes linger too long, even if he’s not looking at the scars so much as the expanse of neck he wants to sink his teeth into. Rings adorn his fingers, glittering in the lights around the bar, and a smattering of tattoos are inked onto his forearms. He just thought that Austin was hotter than the sun, but he has nothing on this man. Mouth dry and heart beating uncomfortably in his chest, he shakes his head, refocusing on what the guy said. 

“You could say that,” Steve huffs self-deprecatingly and shrugs. “I’m a bit out of practice.”

“Didn’t look that bad from here,” he leans against the bar, “seems like it was that guy’s loss.” 

His stare is intense, burning against Steve’s skin. He’s not quite sure what’s different about it, but his gaze doesn’t feel as predatory as Austin’s, or any other person in the room. It’s striking, a little playful and flirtatious, but not overly hungry. It’s been too long since someone flirted with him just for the sake of flirting. 

“Are you new here?” Steve asks, unable to tear his eyes away from this guy’s face, trying to memorize the dimples and sharp cheekbones. 

That makes him laugh, a sly smirk popping up that intrigues Steve. “No, and you’re not either, dancing queen. Does that line work on most people?”

He sputters for a second, thrown by the question. “I- that wasn’t a line. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before and I come here all the time with my best friend.” The dancing queen part of that statement finally clicks. Was this guy watching him? Had he been watching him? 

That makes him laugh harder and Steve is so lost. He must recognize the look on his face because he finally says, “I’m Eddie. I own the bar.” He waves a hand at the bottles. “And you’re Robin’s Steve.” 

“How do you know who I am?” 

“You do know there are cameras in here, right? I make it a point to keep an eye on all the regulars. Especially when they start showing an interest in my best friend.”

Steve feels about ten paces behind this conversation, brain moving like molasses to put the pieces together. “Wait, you’re Chrissy’s Eddie.” 

“The one and only.” He nods and gestures to Steve’s drink, “You want another one?”

“I think I need it after this,” he mutters.

Eddie chuckles and starts mixing him another round. He adds a flourish onto the end, doing a trick shot to pour the drink from the shaker to the glass. It’s impressive.

“She never said anything about you owning the bar.” 

“Probably a weird thing to work into a conversation,” Eddie leans against the bar, sliding the drink across it, looking like he has all the time in the world to spend on Steve. The other bartenders move around him, filling orders from other patrons. But Eddie stays right there in front of him, ignoring everyone else.

“How have we never seen you in here before? We come here all the time.” Maybe he should dial it back with the twenty questions. Steve sounds a bit accusatory, but he’s curious about how he’s never caught wind of Eddie.

“I’m a bit of a recluse. Came into some money after my parents died, used it all on medical bills and bought this bar to employ all my friends when we couldn’t get out of this podunk town. Crowds and sweaty bodies make me break out in hives.” He shudders, glancing over Steve’s shoulder to the floor. “I stay in my office or work on inventory once the club starts to fill up. I’m only out here on lighter nights.”

Ah, that’s why they’ve never seen each other. Steve and Robin come in on the weekends, when the bodies are packed elbow to elbow on the dancefloor. He’s only here on a Wednesday because he felt sorry for himself. It’s a lighter crowd than he’s used to, easier to spot prying eyes and wandering hands between writhing bodies. And apparently the way to meet the owner.

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

Well I DID say I had more ideas about ghoul combat sooo ERA 3 GHOUL (+Sunshine) COMBAT STATS LETS GO

Link to the previous post!

Alpha: He was Terzo’s personal bodyguard back in the day and for good reason. Alpha is the most physically imposing of all the ghouls, not quite as big as Omega but much more threatening. He and Omega also have a shared advantage in that they are OLD AS SHIT compared to your usual ghoul and have had over 3 centuries to cumulate knowledge and experience. As such, Alpha is highly trained in most forms of combat, from close quarters to ranged affairs, and his control over fire is nigh unparalleled. Dude is the epitome of You Fuck Around, You Find Out, he has killed before and will kill again should the need arise.

Omega: As previously stated, Omega is old as fuck for a Ghoul and has had literal centuries to refine his craft. It would genuinely be hard to point to a Quintessence user as skilled as him given just how long he’s had to grow and expand his power. There is also, of course, his physical brute strength which is also extremely formidable. He really is just a brick wall of a ghoul, you could probably run straight into him full-tilt and he wouldn’t budge an inch. Either way, by hand or by magic, you are straight up fucked if you try to fight this man because unlike Aether, who avoids killing as best he can, Omega has no such qualms. You will likely be dead before you can land a hit.

Mist: Oh she is vicious. Homegirl came to the surface with a chip on her shoulder the size of the Mariana Trench, borderline feral. She’s mellowed out a bit since then but still very much has a “try it I dare you” mentality. Unlike Rain, Mist doesn’t rely overly on her elemental powers, instead opting to use her superior grace and agility to stay one step ahead of her opponent. She has claws she takes immaculate care of and by Beliah she will USE THEM! One thing Mist and Rain DO have in common, however, is their willingness to bite. Must be a water ghoul thing…

Ivy: Earth bending? Earth bending. Quite skilled at it, too! Ivy is a smaller ghoul in comparison to some of the other past drummers, so he’s used to being underestimated by those around him. Surprisingly, this has worked to their favor more than once! There have been times where someone’s tried to mess with him, be it random civilian or other fellow ghoul, only for them to be absolutely clobbered by pieces of the walls and floors. He’s also skilled enough to put those chunks back when he’s done! How handy!

Ifrit: First off. Why would you want to fight Ifrit? What did he do to you? Second off, he’s gonna kick your ass SO badly. He’s similar to how I described Phantom in that he’s either all in on his elemental powers or all in on beating you to a pulp the old-fashioned way. When using his fire power, he tends to keep at a distance and blast his enemies away which works pretty well considering no one likes 3rd degree burns to the entire body and face. For an all-out brawl, however, Ifrit is actually trained in MMA and boxing! What can I say? He likes keeping himself fit and practicing how to knock heads is a great way to do it.

Sunshine: An unholy mix between Cirrus Dewdrop in terms of fighting style, with Cirrus’s agility and ability to keep people off balance and Dew’s sheer speed, ferocity, and underhandedness. Her ability to combine air and fire into nasty combo-attacks plus lightning fast reflexes makes her a NIGHTMARE to fight one-on-one. Her one weakness, however, is that she struggles in situations that require on-the-fly improvising. If you manage to spook her, there is a chance she will freeze mid-fight. She’s getting better, though!

Bonus!

Water!Dew: The Dew we know today is already pretty scary but you should have seen him back in the day. Although he was less hotheaded and less prone to picking fights, dude’s control over water was surgically precise. Have you ever heard of those industrial water saws used to cut limestone and other rocks? Imagine that but on your flesh and bones. Unpleasant.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 18

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

You dove to the stage floor as the bomb went off, sending tremors through the entire building. You glanced upwards, seeing Wanda on her feet, hands red as she held up the rubble that was threatening to collapse on the people in the bar. Wong and Stephen created two portals for people to run through which get them out into the parking lot. Along with that, Pietro was grabbing some of the small kids, running them out the door as fast as he could.

You could smell something burning and then remembered that Elizabeth had been right next to you.

You couldn't see her at the moment, but you could see that the fire was spreading around you on the stage, trapping you.

Shit, where was she?

And then suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and water started to run through the building, specifically around the stage, putting out the fire. You found Elizabeth standing on the stage, her feet planted firmly on the floor, hands out, eyes glowing blue as she maneuvered the water to put out the fire.

Pietro gaped as he watched her. Bucky leaped onto the stage, kneeling next to you as you pushed yourself up onto your knees. "You alright doll?"

"Yeah." You answered as the water slowly splashed to the floor, Elizabeth's eyes turning back to brown.

"Told you there were some suspicious people on this island." Elizabeth sighed, unfazed, before hopping down off the stage.

"Are you alright?" Vision asked while Pietro asked, "You have powers?"

"Yes and yes. I can control and manipulate water and flick ice out of my hands." Elizabeth stated as easily as though she was talking about the weather. She turned to me, "I'm supposing this is about the prophesy."

You flushed, "yeah."

Elizabeth nodded, "Makes sense. Well, do you at least know how to defend yourself with a gun or something?"

"Er-"

"I'll take that as a no." Elizabeth muttered.

"I have protection detail." You said, jabbing your thumb at your soulmates.

"Very true." Elizabeth said with a small smile and then looked up at the roof, "Perhaps we should move before the roof collapses on our heads."

"I wouldn't let that happen." Wanda said, still holding it up.

"Oh, I know, I was just suggesting that we get out of this building before the other bombs go off." Elizabeth said nonchalantly.

"There's more bombs? How do you know that?" Fury and Tony asked at the same time.

Elizabeth just looked at them over her shoulder, "You can't hear the ticking?"

Everyone fell silent. She was right. The ticking was actually really loud, but over the sound of us singing you couldn't have heard it.

We quickly left the building. Elizabeth's mother quickly bombarded her, asking her a thousand questions, and was extremely angry with the way that she had put herself in danger. Vision quickly interfered, though his calming words didn't little to appease her mother.

Meanwhile, Fury and Coulson were making calls to see if they could get some SHIELD agents- trustworthy ones only- and get them to check things out. Meanwhile, a Nassu bomb squad was called out and everyone was moved away from the karaoke stand and then the rest of you headed back to the hotel.

Back in the hotel, you guys all went up to Clint's room since it was completely empty and you all talked it out.

"The thing is," You added as they all had their own theories. "They knew that we'd be at the Scuba diving and then also Karaoke. Which means that either. . . well. . ."

You couldn't really finish the uncomfortable sentence. It felt to awkward or light to say that there was an imposter amongst you.

"Well we can rule out anyone soulmated to you." Loki said firmly. "Soulmates protect theirs, not hurt them."

"What if it's not a traitor?" Clint asked, "What if someone is bugged, or the rooms are bugged?"

"Maybe we should just do nothing for the next two days." You said, "We're lucky someone wasn't killed today."

Rhodey agreed.

"What about this Elizabeth chick?" Tony asked, "She seemed way to calm during the bombs. And how nonchalantly she talked about them."

"It's not her." Vision and Pietro said together.

"That's because it's what she's good at." You sighed. "She was our small town superhero, although no one actually knows its her, not even her parents. That's what she does. She stops bank robberies or shootings or solves kidnappings or puts out fires. She doesn't do anything big, just small things. So to her, the bombs were just another thing she's good at stopping. She probably waterlogged all the mechanisms and told us to leave as a precaution."

"Why hasn't she tested out her abilities with SHIELD or the Avengers?" Fury asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

"She doesn't want to be a big name superhero. She just wants to do stuff for the little people. She said she'd leave the saving the world to the professionals, but for now she'd just do her part to protect those she could."

"I like her." Steve said. "She has a good moral system. It's not her."

"Could FRIDAY possibly track any and all people that have visited the Scuba kiosk and the karaoke bar ahead of time and see if there are any similar peoples?" Rhodey asked.

"FRIDAY?" Tony asked.

"Right away Mr. Stark." FRIDAY's voice said from his watch.

There was some silence before T'Challa said, "So should we just stay in the hotel tomorrow?"

"If we do that the whole building will probably come down." Natasha muttered darkly.

Bruce gave her a warning look while Sam flat out glared at her.

You blanched a little.

OMG I'M FREAKING CRYING. I WAS LOOKING FOR MORE FANART TO POST AND I FOUND THIS:

I'M CRYING SO HARD  😭😭😭😭😭😭

Here is something happy:

Okay back to story  🥺 :

"We can just go out to the ocean." Stephen said. "Find a secluded spot away from people. That should benefit everyone."

"That sounds good." You said softly.

There was another moment of silence until FRIDAY's voice said, "Sir, I have a potential suspect."

"Good job sweetheart." Tony drawled, looking happier. "Send everything to you know what."

"Yes sir." FRIDAY replied.

Tony pulled out his laptop and then said, "This'll probably be a while. The rest of you should get some sleep, I'll let you know when I'm done."

You nodded, getting to your feet. You hugged the others good-bye and then you decided that you would go and stay with Loki and Thor tonight.

Loki and Thor had gotten separate beds and you climbed into Loki's for tonight. He sat up against the headboard, reading that poetry book again.

"What are you reading?" You asked softly as Thor started to snore. Despite popular belief, he didn't sound like an elephant. He was actually a very quiet snorer.

"It's a poem called 'Never trust a mirror'." Loki whispered. "Would you like me to read it to you?"

You nodded, pulling the covers over you while you laid your head down on his leg. He rested one hand in your hair as he read:

"Never trust a mirror, For a mirror always lies, It makes you think that all you're worth can be seen from the outside.

Never trust a mirror, It only shows what's skin deep You can't see how your eyelids flutter when you're drifting off to sleep.

It doesn't show you what the world sees When you're only being you or how your eyes light up When you're loving what you do

It doesn't capture when you're smiling Where no-one else can see And your reflection cannot tell you, How much you mean to me.

Never trust a mirror For it only shows your skin. And if you think it dictates your worth It's time you looked within"

And by the time he finished with the last word, you were fast asleep. 

[lady-of-imladris]

CHAPTER 5 - PLAYING WITH FIRE

Synopsis: Thranduil fights a dragon, Anarríma is... not happy about it. When he comes home, he is not the same anymore.

Word count: 4.6k

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

Warnings: smut, battles, death

Additional tags: SMUT, breeding kink, bondage

Link to the chapter overview

Read the end notes for a special announcement!!

You drew up some good faith treaties I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone You said I have to trust more freely But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire - The Great War (Taylor Swift)

The early years of their marriages were happy. Filled with joy and laughter and passion. The people loved their king and queen and Thranduil and Anarríma loved each other. There seemed to be no evil left in the world, only light and happiness. Anarríma often travelled to Lothloríen to visit her parents, and sometimes to Rivendell to see her sister Celebrían and her nephews Elladan and Elrohir.

But recent years were not so kind to them. Reports reached the king and queen, of a gigantic serpent that spewed fire, terrorizing people far up in the north. Thranduil sent out scouts and their worst fears were confirmed. The threat was real and something needed to be done. Queen Anarríma begged her husband to seek council with Elrond in Rivendell and Celeborn and Galadriel in Loríen, but he refused. He had sent word of the threat to Elrond, who had dismissed the reports as human superstition.

After a lengthy and heated discussion, Thranduil convinced his wife that their best course of action was for him to go north with a small party and investigate. Eliminate the threat if it was within his power. The silence between them was tense as Anarríma helped Thranduil put on his armour on the day of his departure. “I will not be gone long, meleth nin,” the king promised. She grunted in response. He had refused to let her come with him. He could not bear it when she was angry with him. “I do not accompany you either when you visit Lothloríen, so there is no reason for you to come with me now. Besides, someone needs to keep this kingdom running.”

She glared up at him. “I am visiting my mother. You are running off to hunt a dragon. That is hardly the same.” Thranduil bit back a remark he would surely have regretted, but Ana shot him a look that told him that she knew what he was about to say. “Thranduil I swear to Ilúvatar if you are comparing my mother to a dragon right now, I will make your life hell!” Thranduil started laughing. He couldn’t help himself. Anarríma’s fist connected with his arm. “Do you think this is funny!? You could die! I could lose you! The entire kingdom could lose you!”

Tears were streaming down her face when Thranduil had finally processed her words. “I will return to you. I swear it.” He wrapped his arms around his reluctant wife and pulled her against his chest. The cold metal of his chest plate did little to comfort her. Nevertheless, she leaned into his embrace. The king ran his hands through her hair and whispered sweet words into her ear as they stood there. A knock interrupted them. “Aran nin, we are ready for departure,” a guard called from outside. Ana pulled away from Thranduil. “Go and kill that dragon,” she grumbled, “and then come back to me.”

Thranduil moved to kiss her on the lips, but she stopped him. “No. You have to earn that privilege.” She turned his face slightly, kissing his left cheek instead before turning away from him. Anarríma could not watch him walk through that door. It did not matter if she looked or not. Thranduil was gone and she had to pick up the pieces. She allowed herself five more minutes before going to the bathroom, splashing her face with some cold water to conceal the fact that she had been crying. Anarríma put on her crown and an ornately embroidered robe and made her way to the throne room. The kingdom would persevere.

Thranduil and his group followed the forest river upwards, making their way towards the Ered Mithrim. They buried the charred remains of the villagers which confirmed that they were on the right track. The hunting party made their way west, crossing the rivers that would merge into the Anduin further south. The weather was good and they were certain that crossing over the Misty Mountains would not give them any trouble. Until they encountered that which they had been hunting for. The dragon.

The king had been a young prince during the War of Wrath and yet he had been there to witness Ancalagon the Black. He had seen Elrond’s father Ëarendil kill the beast. The dragon they were dealing with now was obviously much smaller. Still, Thranduil wished that Ëarendil were here now to take this task off his hands. He’d even be grateful for Elrond at that moment. But it was just him and his men. Too few he had brought on this quest. But they had no choice but to kill the beast. The dragon had seen them already.

He dispatched his fastest rider, and dearest friend, Feren to the nearest elven kingdom - Rivendell. “Tell Elrond we need reinforcements. As many soldiers as possible.” He took off fast, stealth was of no use anymore. Thranduil and the rest of his men got into position and drew their weapons. “Goheno nin, Ana. I have no choice,” he whispered under his breath. The king did that, which he had hoped never to do. He drew his swords and approached the dragon.

“What foolish creature dares to disturb me,” the dragon asked calmly, its voice not indicating any plan to attack. “The King of Lasgalen,” Thranduil answered, the voice he was using usually reserved for particularly annoying members of his council. “And what do you want?” The monster was playing with him. “I seek to end you,” he told the dragon truthfully. It threw its enormous head back, roaring with laughter. It was off-putting not only to Thranduil but also to his men. Their king was a fearsome warrior, did the dragon have no sense of self-preservation? Or were they all doomed?

It took the dragon a while to stop laughing. Thranduil just sighed and shrugged. “If you leave the shores of Middle-Earth and vow to never return, I will let you go free,” he offered, hoping the dragon would accept, but knowing that it was highly unlikely. The dragon chuckled dangerously. “Stop playing for time, princeling and attempt what you came to do. You will-” Thranduil did not wait for the dragon to finish his sentence. He gave the archers the command to fire. And a storm of arrows hailed down on the dragon. But none could penetrate its thick skin.

The next hours were spent running, dodging, shooting, slicing and stabbing. Thranduil’s best warriors died. One after the other he lost them all to the fire. The dragon taunted him, made fun of him, called him a fool and weak for daring to defy it. Thranduil did not care. He only had one thought left in his mind. Anarríma. He could not die. He had promised her he would come back. In a last, desperate attempt, Thranduil managed to distract the dragon by redirecting the sun with his swords, causing the glittering stones in the mountains surrounding them to sparkle so brightly the dragon could not look away. The king attacked the dragon from the side, thrusting his sword into its eye, but it was too late for him to move out of the way. The fire burned him.

The world was dark around Thranduil. Dark and hot. So hot it felt freezing cold. He heard someone call his name but whether or not it was real he could not tell. He was floating “Ana,” he whispered, “goheno nin.” And then he was gone.

Feren groaned loudly as he lifted Thranduil onto his horse. “Ana,” he heard the king whisper. Feren huffed a laugh. “If you survive this, my friend, she will kill you.” Elrond had foreseen it all. When Feren had arrived with the message from the king, he had told him that it was out of their power to do anything now and he had sent Feren back to save the injured Thranduil. “Stupid Elrond and his stupid visions,” Feren grumbled and mounted the horse.

The next time Thranduil awoke, everything was too bright. Everything hurt. And Elrond’s face seemed to be floating over him, appearing almost translucent. Then he passed out again. The following week passed in a similar manner. When the king was awake, there was only pain. And when he was asleep there was also pain. But she was there as well, dancing in a meadow in that damned purple dress he loved so much. In his dreams, she laughed and smiled. And she was pregnant. Thranduil smiled in his sleep, making Elrond smile as well as he tended to the king’s wounds. Let him be happy for a while. A bitter awakening waited for the Elvenking.

“Thank you, Galion,” Anarríma yawned as she accepted the letter without looking up from the papers she was looking over. Ruling a kingdom took a lot of work, and Thranduil had been gone for far too long. The queen was working from sunrise to sunset, and on this day, she had not even changed out of her nightgown yet. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly opening the letter from her sister. The soldiers that rushed in, reacting to their queen’s blood-curdling scream only saw a piece of paper, slowly slipping out of Queen Anarríma’s shaking hands. “My Queen?” one of them approached her carefully, “Your majesty, are you hurt?” Ana did not react. Galion, who had come running just after the guards had entered, commanded everyone to leave the room. He knelt down beside his queen. Galion picked up the letter and read it hastily.

“My dearest sister, It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of the incident in the Hithaeglir. The Lord Elrond has foreseen it, too late for us to interfere, and the dragon was too great a threat for such a small force to handle. His Majesty the King has been gravely wounded and he will have to remain in our care for the time being. He has not yet awoken but rest assured, he will recover. As for your soldiers, you have my heartfelt condolences. Lord Feren, beside your husband, is the only survivor of the group. You may wish to come at once, but I beg you, please reconsider. Your most important duty and privilege is, and will always be, to serve your kingdom. I wish you courage and strength in these dark times. Celebrían, Lady of Imladris”

The king was wounded, healing in Rivendell, and Anarríma was here. Galion put the letter back on the desk and decided to forgo all decorum, taking the queen’s hands in his. “Your majesty,” he tried carefully, but her gaze remained fixed on the loose thread on the curtains she had been wanting to cut off for the longest time. The queen shrugged off the butler’s hands and rose from her chair, walking slowly towards the window. She reached out, forcing her hands to stop shaking, and carefully ripped the stray thread away, inspecting it briefly before letting it fall to the ground. “I need the addresses of the families of my husband’s guards,” she commanded Galion without turning around, “and let my maids know that I will need help getting dressed.”

Anarríma thought that it would get easier, but it did not. With every house she visited, it just became harder and harder to tell them that their beloved father, brother, or husband had been slain. Every single stop on her tour was the same. The people were happy, albeit a bit confused, as the queen came to visit them. She told them that their loved one had passed into the Halls of Mandos. They cried. They screamed. They begged for it not to be true. And Ana had to fight against the tears every single time. “I am so sorry,” she told them every time, as if it had been her fault, because to her, it felt like it was. She had sworn to protect those people, and she had failed.

Feren’s mother was the last on her list. Galion had suggested the queen should also bring the good news in person, not only the bad ones. She knocked on the door hesitantly. The Lady Alweth had been like a mother to Thranduil. After his own mother had not been able to care for her son, Feren’s mother had taken over, and she would have loved the king like her own son, had King Oropher not forbidden her from seeing him again after the young prince Thranduil had called her Naneth once. Thranduil had never told Anarríma what had happened to his mother and she did not dare to ask him.

The door opened and Alweth emerged, hair tied back, wearing a flour-covered apron. She smiled widely and bowed her head when she saw the queen. “My queen,” she greeted, “please, come in.” Anarríma walked through the door, holding up her hand, indicating for the guards not to follow. “Sit and say your bit,” Feren’s mother commanded and pushed the queen into a comfortable chair by the fire. “Feren is fine,” Anarríma said and she could see Alweth relax instantly. “And Thranduil?” she asked concerned. Ana sighed and let her head fall back. “He lives.” “And the others?”

Anarríma shook her head and let the tears fall freely. “Gone. All of them gone. How can I expect the people to trust me as their queen if I fail to protect them? I cannot do this anymore Alweth.” Alweth dropped a slice of freshly baked cake in front of the queen. “May I speak freely, your majesty?” Ana looked up at her and nodded. Alweth had visited them often after Oropher’s death and she had become very fond of the “little Lady of Loríen”, as she had called her. Alweth sighed deeply and plopped down on a chair next to the queen inelegantly.

“He left you weeks ago, dear. Has anything burned down? No. The kingdom is safe, and if I had to guess, I would say that you are weeks ahead on Thranduil’s paperwork.” “Spit it out Alweth, you did not ask permission to speak freely for nothing,” Ana mumbled. “To be honest, you look awful. The kingdom is fine, but are you? When have you last eaten, or taken a bath, or even slept?” The queen seemed to shrink back in her chair with every accusation. “And what would the king think of such negligence?”

When Anarríma had returned to the palace, Galion noticed that she was looking better. In truth, he had scheduled the visit with Alweth not only so that Anarríma could deliver the news, but he knew that Alweth would insist to take care of the queen. She even managed to smile at him as he arrived to pick up the letters she had written. Two of them. To the Lord and Lady of Imladris, and to Thranduil. The queen seemed to be in somewhat of a better mood, but the content of the letter to Elrond and Celebrían was brutal. Had Elrond not shrugged off the warning from Thranduil as he did, this whole situation could have been avoided.

“My dearest Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond, I thank you for handling the situation as well as can be expected. If only my husband had notified you of his plans earlier, then you could have sent reinforcements and the whole situation could have been avoided. Please arrange for the bodies of our soldiers to be returned to us at your earliest convenience, their families deserve to bury them in their homes. Queen Anarríma of Lasgalen, Lady of the Woodland Realm”

“Thranduil, Your kingdom is still standing, take your time. You idiot. Ana”

Thranduil chuckled when he read the letter, the entire left side of his face stinging so badly that he groaned loudly. Elrond had healed him to the best of his abilities, but the scars would remain forever and he would never regain vision in his left eye. When the king had first seen his reflection, he had smashed the mirror against the wall and refused to eat, drink, sleep and speak. He was angry. Mostly at himself, but also at the whole world. How could he return home like this? How could any child that he might have with his beautiful wife ever look at him and not be afraid of its own father? He was a monster.

Mithrandir had come up with the solution. Elrond had sent for him, hoping that Thranduil could be healed, but there was no healing for the wounds the dragonfire had caused. Mithrandir had taught Thranduil a simple spell that concealed his injuries. It was hard for the king at first, and holding it up caused his head to hurt. He often lost control over it in the beginning, scaring his young nephews one evening, as he read them a bedtime story. The pain would remain, Elrond had told him. It would improve over time, but he would never fully recover. Within weeks, Thranduil had mastered the spell, easily upholding it without having to pay any attention at all. Yet he hesitated to return home.

His best warriors had died. He blamed himself. Anarríma was alone. He had almost made her a widow. What would have become of their realm? Who would have attempted to take the crown from her, with no heir to the throne? The letters kept coming. His wife had been patient until Elrond had told her the truth. Thranduil was fine. Perfectly healthy. Anarríma’s next letter was less friendly. Thranduil would have to return home. He did not wish to face the consequences of his actions and the wrath of his wife. Just the former was bad enough.

Their reunion in public seemed very affectionate. But Ana knew that Thranduil was hiding something. He refused to go to bed with her, telling her he needed to work and not exiting his office for three days. On the third day, Anarríma threatened Feren until he finally told her the truth. Thranduil was still wounded and would never fully heal. She barged into Thranduil’s office that evening. “My darling, what can I do for you?” He smiled at her. She squinted. His smile looked different. “My love, it has been days since your return.” Thranduil turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.

“You refuse to join me in bed. I have been waiting for you,” Ana said seductively, hoping he would take the hint. “My apologies, I have been quite busy.” She huffed a laugh and threw her arms up in defeat. It was hopeless. The queen walked around the king’s desk, took the papers out of his hands and sat on his lap. “My love, I-” “Shut up,” she interrupted him, reaching between them and opening Thranduil’s pants. “Ana,” he warned her. His cock was hard and he groaned as she ran her hand up and down his shaft. Thranduil grabbed her wrists and rose from his chair, pinning her against his desk. Anarríma saw something flicker across his face, apart from the burning rage and desire.

“You can stop pretending now, I know the truth,” she hissed at him. His hold on her wrists was uncomfortably tight. He released her and took a step back, turning around. “And what is the truth, wife?” Wife. He had never said it like that before. “You are hurt. You will never fully recover.” Thranduil stormed out of his office and started pacing up and down in their bedroom instead. “Sit,” he ordered. Anarríma sat down on the bed and he came to a halt in front of her. “Don’t scream.” Thranduil’s face twitched in pain as he partially let the spell fade away.

“Oh Eru,” Ana gasped in shock as she looked upon her husband’s face, the skin slowly disappearing, revealing the deep wounds in his left cheek. Neither of them knew what to say. Anarríma was crying quietly as she inspected the damage. “You must be in so much pain,” she whispered with a shaky voice. She took his hand into his and slowly pulled him onto the bed next to her. “I want us to change sides on the bed,” the king confessed. “Of course, my love. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” He shook his head and sighed deeply before removing the rest of the spell, revealing his eye. “I told you once that I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last before I go to sleep. I will never regain vision in my left eye, so I need you to be on my right side. Always.”

Thranduil carefully laid down, his head on his wife’s lap. “You killed a dragon,” the queen said quietly and began to run her fingers through Thranduil’s hair. She was afraid to touch him, he knew it. “But at what cost, meleth nin?” The tears that ran down Thranduil’s face hurt him, even with the added layer of protection the spell provided. Elrond had told him that he should try not to cry, but how could he? His men were dead and he was not, and he was glad. “I had a thought,” he tried to broach the subject as gently as possible. His wife nodded at him, telling him to go on. “If I had died, what would have happened to you? To our kingdom? I’m certain our people have accepted you as a ruler but we have no heir. Who would carry on our legacy after you? You could not have remarried after my death.”

He looked up at his wife as she processed his words. He pressed a soft kiss against her stomach over the thin fabric of her nightgown before sitting up. “We will not leave this room until you are pregnant,” he ordered. Anarríma swallowed. “Yes, my king,” she answered him shakily. “That’s my good girl. Now spread your legs, I want to taste you.” She gasped, thinking about all the times she had wrapped her legs around his head. “But what if I hurt you?” When she looked into Thranduil’s eyes, Anarríma fought the urge to back away from him. She had never seen him so full of desire before. “I must simply tie you up so you can’t move,” he stated plainly as if it were the only logical choice.

Anarríma gasped when she felt the silk restraints being pulled tightly around her wrists, thighs and ankles. She could not move in the slightest, however hard she tried. He had pushed her nightgown up to her waist, happily noting that his queen was not wearing any underwear. “You remember our safeword, my love?” Thranduil asked before settling down between Ana’s thighs. She nodded. “Yes.” The king wasted no more time. The queen moaned loudly as she felt his mouth close around her clit and suck it harshly. She had been untouched for months at this point.

Thranduil began thrusting his fingers into his wife hard and fast as he pleasured her with his mouth. When her moans and whimpers became louder and more frequent, and her breathing quickened, he stopped. He chuckled at her sounds of protest and rose from the bed, taking his time to undress, before returning to the bed, slowly stroking his cock. The king removed the restraints and almost ripped his wife’s nightgown as he took it off of her. He pulled her against his naked body in a tight embrace, pushing his hand between them and resting it on her belly. “You will look so good when you are round with our child,” he whispered in her ear, “now get on all fours and spread your legs so I can take you.”

Anarríma obeyed. She desired nothing more than to be fucked by the king until his seed was dripping down her thighs. He took his time, approaching her slowly. The queen inhaled sharply when she felt his hard cock against her entrance. “Please,” she begged him. “Please, what?” The queen took a deep breath in. “Please fuck me, my king. I want you to fill me with your seed.” Thranduil laughed. It sounded cruel. “Your wish is my command, my queen.” Thranduil groaned loudly as he thrust his cock into her wet cunt. He had missed her so much. His pace was brutal and the prospect of impregnating his wife spurred the king on even more.

She gasped as she felt one of his hands against her chest, pulling her up against him, as the other hand found her clit. It did not take long for Anarríma to reach her climax and as she gasped and moaned loudly, legs shaking, unable to control her body, she felt Thranduil’s cock go soft inside her. He held her still for a while, both of them breathing rapidly, as he kissed her shoulders. Ana tried to free herself from his grasp, assuming that it was done, but Thranduil’s arms held her back. “Once more, just to make sure,” he whispered into her ear.

Once more turned into approximately ten more times. Anarríma was sure she would be sore for days after Thranduil had fucked her so thoroughly. He had taken her in every position imaginable, moaning the filthiest words into her ear as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of her, filling her with his seed again and again and again, before they finally collapsed on the mattress. The spell was gone and Thranduil’s scars were clearly visible to her. The queen did not mind. He was still hers. She could feel it inside her body already. Elves knew almost immediately when they were pregnant. Anarríma smiled at Thranduil joyfully. She took his hand and put it over her stomach. “We did it.”

Thranduil smiled as he kissed his wife’s forehead. “You earned it now,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the lips more lovingly than she had ever done before. “By the way, what did Elrond do to that dragon carcass?” she asked casually, as if they had not just spent more hours fucking than most elves did in an entire decade. Thranduil shrugged. “I suppose he burnt it. But Feren saved some of the scales from its stomach. They shine as bright as the stars. I am currently having them made into a crown.” She smiled as she curled up against his side. “All hail our dragon-slaying king,” the queen proclaimed. Thranduil gently cupped her cheek and tilted her head up. “It is for you, my queen.”

Anarríma smiled hesitantly and kissed Thranduil’s neck, before laying her head on his chest. She could not hear his heartbeat from this side. But she did not mind, at least he had returned to her alive. With a crown of dragon scales for her to wear. Thranduil had Galion give him a report of what had happened during his absence. Anarríma was the queen he needed. She was his bravest warrior. He drifted off to sleep, exhausted but happy, as Ana remained awake. The treasure of a dragon was cursed. Was it wise to wear its scales atop her head? A fluttering feeling in her stomach reminded her again that she was pregnant. As if the child had wanted to snap her out of those negative thoughts.

She knew that this child would be her sunshine, that one little green leaf that remained, even when all the other leaves turned brown. “Legolas,” she whispered, as she put one of her hands over her stomach, on top of Thranduil’s. This child would be her ray of light. And times were about to get dark for Lasgalen.

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[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Malleus Maleficarum

Masterlist

"She was so scared. I couldn't help; I couldn't do anything to stop it. And I've talked to the police, and I've talked to the medical examiner and no one can explain it." Mr Dutton said to me as Dean and Sam search around the house. "Well that's why they put the call in to us, Mr. Dutton." I said to him.

"But the CDC, that's disease control right? What do you think; it's some kind of virus?" he asked me, confused. "We're not ruling out anything yet." I said. "Mr. Dutton, did Janet have any enemies?"

"I'm sorry?" he said, confused. "Anyone that might have a reason to hurt her?" I asked him. "Wait, what are you saying? That somebody poisoned her?" Mr Dutton asked, slightly panicked. "I'm just saying we have to cover every base here." I said. "Well, I mean, what kind of poison? You think a person could have done this?" Mr Dutton asked.

"Would anyone want to?" I asked, curiously. "What?! No, no, there's just no one that could've--" Mr Dutton started to say but stops as Sam and Dean open the bathroom door. "Mr. Dutton?" I said and he looks over at me and shakes his head. 

"Uh, everyone loved Janet." He said and I look over at the boys and they nod at me, letting me know they were done. "Okay. Thank you very much; I think we've got everything we need. We'll get out of your way now." I said to Mr Dutton and the three of us began to walk out.

We walked out of the house and the rain poured down on us as we made it over to the Impala. "That guys seem a little evasive to you?" I asked the boys. "Don't know I was under a sink, pulling this out." Sam said as he takes a hex bag out of his pocket and hands it to me as we stop. I take the bag from Sam and open it.

"Hex bag." I grumbled. "Awww gross." Dean said, disgusted. "Yeah, there are bird bones, rabbit's teeth. This cloth is probably cut from something Janet Dutton owned." Sam said as Dean and I look back at the house for a second and turn back. I hand the bag to Sam and we start walking towards the Impala again.

"So, we're thinking witch?" I asked. "Uh, yeah, and not some new age wicked water douser either. This is old world black magic guys, I mean, warts and all." Sam said as we get into the car. "I hate witches." Dean exclaims, making Sam and I chuckle.

"They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere." said Dean. "Pretty much." Sam said. "It's creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary." Dean said. "Yeah, well someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton." I said.

"Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag. So what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy blair bitch in the woods." Dean suggests. "No it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman that's the problem Dean, they're human, they're like everyone else." Sam said.

"Great, how do we find 'em?" Dean asked, annoyed. "This wasn't random; someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive-" I said then Dean finishes the sentence for me. "We find the murderer." he said.

"Yeah." Sam and I said, in unison, then Dean starts the Impala and pulls away from the curb, driving off in the rain.

Throughout the day, we followed Paul to see if there were any hints of witches near him or if he was somehow involved with his wife's death. At first everything seemed normal, nothing out of place, but then at one point he was sitting in his car, eating. It was a few minutes after sitting in his car, the door opens and he crawls out, coughing. The boys and I run over to him and we see that he was coughing up maggots.

"Check the car!" Dean yells at me and Sam. We began to search under the dashboard and steering column as Dean tries to help Paul. "Guys!" Dean yells just as I found it. "Got it!" I said as I get up and remove the hex bag while Dean pulls Paul up from the pavement. "Come on." Dean said and I light the hex bag on fire and drop it to the ground as it glows with blue and green flames

Moments later, Paul recovers from choking and leans back against his car. "You okay?" Sam asked him. "What the hell is happening to me?!" Paul asked, panicked. "Someone murdered your wife and now they're trying to kill you, that's what's happening to you." Dean said, firmly. "That's impossible! There's no way-" Paul exclaims but I speak up.

"If we hadn't have been following you, you'd be a doornail right now." I said and he looks up at me with worry. "Now who wants you dead?" I asked him.

"I-uh..." Paul stammers but Dean speaks up. "Come on think." He said. "There's a woman-uh..." Paul stammers. "A woman, okay?" Dean mutters. "An affair--a mistake, she was un-balanced, she was blackmailing me and I put an end to it a week ago." Paul replied.

"What's her name?" Sam asked him. "What could she have to do with--?" Paul asked but Dean talks over him.

"Paul, what is her name?" he asked and Paul looks between us.

Later, Dean picks the lock and we enter Amanda's house, our guns drawn. We enter the room and I switch on the light, only to find Amanda's lifeless on the table covered in blood. "That's a curveball." Dean said as I let out a sigh. "Yeah." Sam mutters and we approach Amanda's body.

Dean lifts her right arm with the barrel of his gun then looks at the other as well. "Three per wrist, vertical. She wasn't foolin' around." Dean points out as I put my gun in the back of my jeans and bend down to look at the scattered remnant of the altar, holding my nose to the smell of the burnt rotten food.

"Yeah, looks like she was working some heavyweight evil here." I said. "Yup." the boys said as Dean turns around nearly running into the hanging body of a rabbit. "Oh God! Freakin' witches! Seriously guys, come on!" Dean yells as Sam and I look at the rabbit.

"Guess we know where she got the rabbit's teeth from." Sam said. "Well, Paul sure knows how to pick 'em, huh? It's like Fatal Attraction all over again." I said. "Yeah." Sam mutters. "And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?! The poor little guy." Dean said, upset. 

"You know what I don't get, boys? If she was so bent on revenge, why do this?" I asked them. "Well, she got Janet Dutton, thought she finished off Paul, decided to cap herself and make it a spurned lovers hat-trick." Dean replied. "Maybe." I muttered as I start to look under the glass table that Amanda is on.

"I mean, this doesn't exactly look like the TV room of a bright and stable person, you know?" Dean said. "No, but then..." I said as I reach around and pull out another hex bag that was tucked under the table and stand up tossing it to boys, Sam catches it. "There's this." I said and Dean looks over his brother's arm to see the hex bag.

"Another hex bag?" Sam said, shocked. 

"Come on!" Dean shouts as Sam opens the bag to find similar contents of the bag we found in Janet's bathroom and he tosses it on the table while Dean reaches for his phone. "Looks like we got a hit, huh? A little witch on witch violence?" Dean said. "I guess." I said, shrugging, as Dean dials the phone and hold it up to his ear.

"I'd like to report a dead body, 309 Mayfair Circle. My name? Yeah, sure my name is..." Dean said and he clicks the phone shut, cutting himself off.

"Why are witches ganking each other?" Dean asked us. "I don't know, but I think maybe we got a coven on our hands." I said and the boys share a worried look.

"You must have a green thumb." Sam said to this woman after we walked up to her driveway while she was turning the soil of her garden. "Excuse me?" She asked as she turned to us. "Getting these herbs to grow out of season like this, quite impressive. I'm sorry; I should have introduced myself first." Sam said and he reaches on the pocket of his suit jacket and takes out a badge. "I'm uh, Detective Bachman, this is Detective Turner and Detective Thornton." Sam introduced as Dean and I take our badges out of our jacket pockets and flash it at her.

"Hi-ya." Dean greets.

"Afternoon." I said, smiling.

"We're following up on Amanda Burns' death, going around the neighborhood and talking to neighbors and stuff like that." Sam said to her and she looks between us, nervously. "But didn't she- I mean she killed herself right?" She said. "Maybe, maybe." Sam said.

"We heard you were friends with the deceased right?" I asked her. "Yeah, I guess so." She replies. "Did you have any idea about her practices?" Dean asked her. "I'm sorry, what kind of practices?" She asked. 

"Well see, her house was littered with satanic paraphernalia." I said. "A regular Black Sabbath." Dean added. "No, the- but she was an Episcopalian." The woman said. "Well, then we're pretty sure she was using the wrong bible." Dean said then a couple of footsteps come up to us and we turn and see a couple of women coming up to us.

"Elizabeth, you alright?" the dark haired woman said. "I'm fine uh Renee, these are Detectives. They say Amanda was- she was practicing-" Elizabeth stammers then her friend, Renee, turns to us. "I'm sorry Detectives; you can tell that Elizabeth is a little bit upset." She said, a bit rudely honestly. "Of course, Miss...?" Dean said.

"Mrs. Renee Van Allen. Would you like me to spell it for you?" she sneered at him and I narrow my eyes a bit at her. "We'll get by, thanks." I snapped and she turns to me. "This Amanda business has been hard for Liz, for all of us." She said then her friend speaks. "Yeah, I mean, you think you know a person."

"Well, I guess we all have secrets, don't we?" Dean said as we stare between the three women. "Well, thanks, um, we'll be in touch." Sam said after a few moments of silence. "Have a nice day." I said and the women tell us goodbye.

"Well, I'm already sold on that Elizabeth chick? Did you see that victory garden of hers? Belladonna, wolfs bane, mandrake, not to mention that little flinch she threw when we mentioned the occult." Dean said as we drive down a foggy country road. "Well, she's definitely had a good run lately, gone up a few tax brackets; won almost too many raffles. Kinda thing a little black magic always helps with." Sam said as he reads over some files. "Yeah." Dean mutters.

"I don't think she's alone either, look like Mrs. Renee Van Allen has won almost every craft contest she has entered in the past three months." said Sam. "Yeah, a regular Martha Stewart, huh?" I joked. "Except for the devil worship, I'm thinking that was the coven back there we met minus one member." Dean said and I shrugged.

"Amanda was clearly going off the reservation, what do you think they killed her to keep up appearances?" Sam asked. "Seems like an appearance kind of crowd, don't you think?" Dean asked. "Yeah." mutters Sam.

"If they killed the nut-job should we uh, thank them or what?" I asked. "They're working black magic too, (y/n), they need to be stopped." Sam said. "stopped like stopped?" Dean asked as he and I look over at Sam, a bit shocked. Sam gives us a look that says of course.

"They're human, Sam." Dean said. "They're murderers." Sam said. Dean and I look at Sam for a second, with doubt, and then resign ourselves. "Burn witch, burn." I remarked as Dean continues to drive when the Impala stutters and starts to choke up.

"What the hell?" Dean said, confused. The head lights of the Impala flicker on and then back on again as it slowly comes to a stop in front of a blonde woman sanding in the middle of the road.

Sam gets out of the car first and Dean and I follow. "Ruby." Sam said. "Sam, listen to me, there's no time." She said. "For what? What are you talking about?" Sam asked her. "You have to get out of town." She warns.

"So this is Ruby, huh?" Dean asked then he raises the colt and aims it at her, cocking it. "Never had the pleasure." Dean said. "Dean!" Sam shouts at him. "I was hoping you'd show up again." Dean growls.

"Point that thing somewhere else." Ruby said after rolling her eyes. "Hahahaha, right." Dean chuckles as I placed a hand on his arm. Ruby ignores him then turns to Sam. "Sam please, go, get in the car and don't look back." She begs. "Why? I don't understand." Sam said.

"Hey, hot stuff, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks." Dean said. "I'm not talking about witches, you jackass, witches are whores. I'm talking about who they serve." She said and the boys and I look confused for a second, but then it dawns on me.

"Demons, they get their power from demons." I said and Ruby nods. "Yeah, and there's one here, now." She said. "Oh, what, you mean besides you?" Dean asked but Ruby ignores him. 

"Sam, it knows you and your friend here are in town and it's gonna come after you two and it's way more than you can handle." Ruby said as she gestures to me. "Me?!" I said, confused. "Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this crap!" Dean yells at Sam and Ruby turns to Sam. "Put a leash on your brother Sam, if you wanna keep him." She ordered. 

"Dean, look, just chill out." Sam pleads as I turn to him. "No, no! She's messing with your head, God knows why, that's who they are!" Dean yells. "Dean, honey, calm down!" I said.

"I'm telling you the truth." Ruby said, firmly. "And I'm telling you to shut up bitch." Dean growls. "I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!" Ruby asked, angrily. "Oh, I don't know maybe because he's my brother. And now you're saying my girlfriend is in danger too, you black eyed skank!" Dean shouts.

"Oh, right, right. You care about your brother and girlfriend so much, that's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving them all alone?" Ruby sneered. "Shut up." Dean growls. "At least let me try and save them, since you won't be here to do it anymore." Ruby said. "I said shut up!" Dean yells and he moves to fire the colt at Ruby.

"Dean no!" Sam screams as he pushes Dean's arm away from Ruby as he fires the colt, and Dean tries to fight against Sam's hold and they lock arms. "Boys, stop!" I shouted as I try to fight their hold. Then we look to where Ruby was standing to see that she has vanished.

Dean gives Sam a look of disappointment and goes back to get in the Impala, as Sam looks around in vain for Ruby. I sigh then follow Dean to the car.

Later, at a hotel, Dean walks in first and switches on the light and Sam and I follow right behind him. "What the hell were you thinking?" Dean shouts at Sam. "What?! What the hell was I thinking?" Sam yelled. "She's a demon, Sam, period alright. They want us dead, we want them dead." Dean yells.

"Oh, that's funny; I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? You didn't want her dead." Sam said as I just look between them. "Yeah, well she wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook." Dean argues. "No one's stringing me along. Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous, but like it or not, she is useful." Sam said. "No, we kill her before she kills us." Dean growls.

"Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?" Sam asked. "Whatever works." Dean grumbles and I sighed. "Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives." Sam said and Dean turns away from us and goes to the sink turning on the water.

"Look, we have to start looking at the big picture Dean, start thinking in strategies and- and moves ahead." I said as Dean splashes water on his face and Sam nods. "She's right. It's not so simple, we're not- we're not just hunting anymore, we're at war." Sam said as Dean turns off the water and looks at Sam in the mirror above the sink, grabs a towel to dry off his face and turns back around to us.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked Sam. "Uh, why are you always asking me that?" Sam asked as he sits on the foot of one of the beds in the room, and Dean moves back toward Sam. "Because you're taking advice from a demon for starters, and by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people, it used to eat you up inside." Dean explains. "He's got a point, Sam." I said.

"Yeah, and what has that gotten me?" Sam asked. "Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do okay? We're supposed to drive in the friggin' car and friggin' argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that crap." Dean yells. "Wait, so- so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?" Sam asked, confused.

"No, I'm not mad, I'm- I'm- I'm worried, Sam." Dean said as he moves and sits down on the foot of the other bed in the room. "I'm worried about you too, Sam." I said and Sam looks at me. "Because you're not acting like yourself." I  added. "Yeah, you guys are right, I'm not. I don't have a choice." Sam said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked him as Dean looks up at him. Sam sighs then looks at Dean. "Look, Dean, you're leaving right? And (y/n) and I gotta stay here in this craphole of a world, alone. So the way I see it, if I'm gonna make it, if I'm gonna fight this war after you're gone, then I gotta change." Sam replied and I noticed Dean has been looking increasingly uncomfortable during Sam's last speech, and is now clutching his stomach in discomfort and leaning forward slightly.

"Change into what?" he asked. "Into you, I gotta be more like you." Sam said and Dean tightens his face in pain, and leans further over still clutching his stomach and side with his left hand. "Dean!" I said, worried, as I go over to him.

"What's going on with you?" Sam asked as  Dean moves around in pain still clutching his stomach, and he can barely force words out. "I don't know. Oh- guys something's wrong- bunch of knives inside of me-" he groans then Sam moves off the bed and kneels in front of Dean, who is now leaning all the way forward with his head almost between his legs.

"Son of a bitch-" Dean groans and my eyes widen and I turn to Sam. "The coven, it's gotta be the coven." I said and he gets up and rush into the bathroom, opening the cupboards below the sink looking for the hex bag as Dean groans in pain and lies back on the bed, his face still twisted in pain. "Hang on, baby." I said as Sam pulls things out of the cupboard throwing them aside.

Dean leans back forward falling to his knees in front of the foot of the bed, spitting out blood, choking and sputtering. Then I get up and start to look around the room for the hex bag but couldn't find anything. Sam and I pull off the covers to the bed tearing back the sheets and I slice the mattress open with my knife but still cannot find the hex bag

"Dean, we can't find it." I said, worried, as Dean falls over sideways and looks weak and hurt and still in pain. "No." Sam mutters. As Dean continues to cough blood more weakly now, Sam rummages through his bag and pulls out the colt and opens it to make sure there are bullets in it.

"Sam, what are you doing?" I asked him as Sam gets up and moves toward the door. "Sam." I called out but Sam leaves closing the door behind him. "Sam!" Dean and I shout but he was gone.

Dean was leaning over a pool of blood he has spit out gasping and coughing blood as I try to think of what to do. Suddenly, there were quick footsteps outside and the door is kicked open and Ruby steps in. I pull out my knife, get into a stance and step in front of Dean. "You wanna kill me? Get in line bitch." Dean sneers.

Ruby ignores him and looks at me. "Do you want to keep him alive?" She asked me as I look at her. Then I look at Dean. "(Y/n)..." he groans and I look back at Ruby then step aside for her. "Better not make me regret this." I growled as Ruby goes over to Dean and pulls him up by the collar tossing him on the bed. She leans over him and forces his mouth open with her left hand as Dean tries to push her away.

Ruby sprays a black liquid into his mouth from a bag at her side with her right hand while Dean still struggles under her hold. Ruby stands up as Dean chokes on the liquid and spits some back out. "Stop calling me bitch." Ruby growls and Dean starts to look better and I go over to him and check him over then clean the blood and black liquid off of his face.

"Next time you point that gun at me, I'm not gonna just disappear, understand?" Ruby said as she tosses a sawed off shotgun over to me as Dean was back to sitting on the foot of the bed. "You saved my life." Dean said to her. "Don't mention it." Ruby said. 

"What was that stuff? God, it was ass, it tasted like ass." Dean grumbles. "It's called witchcraft shortbus." Ruby replied as she turns and walks out of the room closing the door behind her and leaving us. "You're the shortbus...shortbus." Dean grumbles and I shake my head. "Come on, we got to go after Sam." I said to him and we start to head out.

We make it to Elizabeth's house and run in with our shotgun drawn and see Sam was held up against the wall by an invisible force. And a woman with short dark hair was standing in from him. We draw our guns at her but she turns around easily and throws us over the sofa. We get up, but she pins us to the wall behind us.

"Three for one, lovely." she said, smiling. "Wait." Ruby shouts as she walks in with her hands raised in surrender. "Please, I just came to talk." She said as she puts her hands down. "You made it out of the gate, impressive. That was a bitch of a fight, wasn't it?" The woman sneered. "Doors outta hell only open for so long." Ruby said.

"What do you want, Ruby?" the woman asked. "I've been lost without you, take me back. That's why I led the Winchesters and (l/n) here." Ruby said and Dean looks angry, and mouths I told you so to Sam while I sigh and roll my eyes.

"They're for you, as a gift." Ruby said to her. "Really?" The woman asked. "Let me serve you again, I've wanted it, I've wanted you for so long." Ruby said as she walks closer to her. "You were one of my best." The woman said as her and  Ruby look at each other, until Ruby pulls her knife out and tries to stab her, but the demon catches it in mid-air.

"But then again, you always were a lying whore." she said and the knife is thrown sideways out of their hands across the wood floor. The two fight for a bit until the demon throws Ruby into the TV, but Ruby gets up and kicks her and goes to run past her, and the woman clotheslines Ruby causing her to fall flat on her back.

She pulls Ruby up and throws her into a bookcase and gets a fireplace poker from the stand on the hearth, looking at Elizabeth who was cowering from, before the woman walks back to Ruby with the poker in her hand.

"You're really telling me you threw in your chips with Abbott and Costello here?" the woman asked, nodding towards us, as Ruby tries to get up, and the demon hits her across the face with the fireplace poker. Elizabeth then runs out of the room.

"Come on, get up." the demon growls while Ruby is panting and not moving, with blood coming out of her nose. "I said get up!" she yells as she tosses the poker aside and crouches over Ruby grabbing her by the jacket and pulling her up. "We've been here before, haven't we?" She chuckles to herself and looks over at Sam.

"She didn't tell you?" She asked then she turns back to Ruby and continues. "Pretty mortifying I guess. She was one of mine. I turned her out a long, long time ago. Ruby here was a witch. Of course that was when you were human."

The three of us look at this surprised even though we are still both pinned to pur respective walls. The demon throws Ruby back down onto the debris of the bookcase she crashed through and stands up. "Didn't want your friends to know that all those centuries back you sold yourself to me? Embarrassing I guess, but don't worry love, no secrets where you're heading remember?" She said and she begins to chant and black smoke rises out of Ruby's mouth curling and hovering inches above her mouth.

But then she begins to cough.

As she coughs harder, Dean and I were dropped from the wall and fall forward. Sam also falls from the wall and drops to the floor as I look up and see the demon brings her hand up to her mouth. She coughs up a handful of long pins into her hand, her mouth bleeding in the process. She looks at the pins and raises her right hand and clenched it into a fist.

Dean then comes up behind her and stabs her in the back repeatedly with Ruby's discarded knife. The woman dies as well as the demon that was inside of her and she falls to the floor. Dean looks at Ruby and goes to help me and Sam up and they move toward the door and stop to look at Ruby.

"Go." Ruby said as she looks at us slightly embarrassed and wipes the blood away from her mouth. "I'll clean up this mess. Dean and I start to walk toward the door, helping Sam on his way. "Come on." I said but we stop and look back at Ruby one more time. Ruby turns her eyes black and glares at us. "Go." She orders and we walk out the door.

Dean and I were walking outside of the hotel, together, as the lights flicker, we look around, and then back to where we originally was looking and see Ruby standing there in the shadows of the hotel parking lot. "So the devil may care after all, is that what we're supposed to believe?" Dean asked her as we walk up to her. "I don't believe in the devil." She replied.

"Wacky night." I remarked then I look at her. "So let me get this straight, you were human once, you died, you went to hell, you became a..." I started to say and she nods. "Yeah." she said and she turns to leave.

"How long ago?" Dean asked her. "Back when the plague was big." Ruby reply as she turns back to us. "So all of 'em, every damn demon, they were all human once." I said. "Every one I've ever met." Ruby said.

"Well, they sure don't act like it." Dean remarks. "Most of them have forgotten what it means, or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to hell, Dean. That's what hell is, forgetting what you are." She said. "Philosophy lesson from the demon, I'll pass thanks." Dean growls. "Its not philosophy, it's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit, agonies you can't even imagine." She said. 

"No, I saw Hellraiser, I get the gist." Dean said. "Actually they got that pretty close, except for all the custom leather." Ruby said. Dean and I look at her thoughtful and Ruby stops her departure, and turns back to us.

"The answer is yes by the way." she said as she looks at Dean. "I'm sorry?" Dean said, confused. "Yes, the same thing will happen to you. It might take centuries, but sooner or later hell will burn away your humanity. Every hell bound soul, every one turns into something else. Turns you into us, so yeah, yeah you can count on it." She said.

"There's no way of saving him from the pit is there?" I asked her. "No." she replied and I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Then why'd you tell Sam you could?" Dean asked her. "So he would talk to me, you Winchesters can be pretty bigoted. Same thing for you, (l/n). I needed something to help him get past the-"

"The demon thing? It's pretty hard to get past." Dean growls. "Look at you, tryin' to be all stoic. My God it's heartbreaking." Ruby said. 

"Why are you telling us all this?" I asked, a bit annoyed. "I need your help." she said. "Help with what?" Dean and I said, confused. "With Sam. The way you stuck that demon tonight, Dean, it was pretty tough. Sam's almost there, but not quite, you two need to help me get him ready, for life without you, Dean; to fight this war with you, (y/n)." Ruby said and she turns and walks away again.

"Ruby, why do you want us to win?" Dean asked her and Ruby turns back around to face us. "Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them, I- I don't know why, I wish I was, but I'm not. I remember what its like." she replied. "What what's like?" I asked. "Being human." She replied and Dean looks down lost in his thoughts.

I give him a worried look and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me and places his band over mine then we look up to see Ruby has disappeared leaving us alone in the parking lot.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

[oneatlatime]

The Waterbending Master

Finally! Only took the whole season to find one.

This one apparently also has commentary. I'll leave it off for now.

After countless episodes without, we finally have another hybrid animal. Behold:

A koala Sea-otter? That makes noises like a Raven. Alright.

Sokka saying "I'm not one to complain" is a) pretty damning evidence of his amount of self-awareness b) self-deprecating sarcasm c) a funny line that I'm reading too deeply into

Why is Appa flying so low anyway?

Subtle signs that these guys are way too used to relying on bending: -no railings -no alternate propulsion source (seriously, not even an oar?) -no emergency supplies in case a trip runs long (I don't even see an emergency sandwich, and come on guys, it's not like waterbending controls the weather)

Random pinball bumper style ice stabbies does seem like a good defense though.

Not so subtle exposition dump from Zhao the asshole. Avatar writers are usually better at integrating catch-up dialogue. Looks like Aang will be arriving just in time to defend the Water tribe from the invasion that, ironically, he summoned. Talk about self-inflicted problems. Do you think if Aang had found a waterbending teacher somewhere else, the Fire Nation would have left the water tribe alone for another hundred years? Aang's been learning on the run; they could have picked up a single waterbender and hightailed it back to some cave in the earth kingdom to learn there. Or the water tribe could have sent a waterbender out to find the gaang as soon as rumours of the avatar reached them. See? This was avoidable.

Always love me some sea-bison.

They have bending doors like Omashu. Actually is this a door or a lock? I think the water level is changing.

Is this a hybrid animal? The yak thing, not the two legger.

Last time you got a hero's welcome, Suki's village burnt down. Foreshadowing?

How often does this lady see sea-bisons? She just passed by one and didn't even bat an eye. Is there a secret sea-bison colony that's spent the last 100 years hiding from the fire nation in the north pole?

Music Night! Need a better lyricist.

What's going on here? Did they roast a giant turtle thing and now they're cooling it to serve by dunking it in water? Did they feel the need for a steam effect for the guy's speech so they heated up a giant thingy and dunked it in water? Is it a weird boat thing? It looks like it has a face. I bet it's a ritual object.

Are these pot stacks the water tribe version of Totem Poles?

Oh nuh uh. Nope. 16 is way too young to marry.

This girl is so into him I can feel it through the screen, the dvd player, and the 15+ years since this aired.

Even the head guy's like "yeah, he's an asshole, What can you do?" Let's put this asshole and Zhao the asshole in a room together. They can out-asshole each other. Should be fun.

Remember back in episode three when I said that Zuko needed to learn how to lie? This is why.

Nevermind, we don't need to put Zhao and Paku in a room together to out-asshole each other. Paku wins. As far as I've seen, bending is not gender specific, either in who gets it or how it's taught/used. What kind of idiot would tell someone born with the ability to wield an incredible weapon that, actually, they aren't allowed to? How did this attitude get instilled in the first place? Why didn't the first guy who ever said this get slashed to death by ice stabbies thrown by the ten nearest female benders? Are these northern water tribe people so unbothered by the war that they can afford to sideline 50% of their forces? More than sideline, render incapable of defending themselves or others? Obviously this tribe is far too privileged if they can afford this attitude. And also far too bored. I guess hiding behind that giant ice wall for 100 years left them so understimulated that they turned on themselves.

Bad attitude? Fucking bad attitude!?! There's only one guy in this episode with a bad attitude and it isn't Katara. Zhao looks downright pleasant compared to this Paku guy.

Question for Paku: why would the Northern Water Tribe's rules apply to a Southern Water Tribe member?

My god these two are so cute. Sokka could propose they disembowel whale carcasses for their activity and the princess would say yes.

So the parrot lizard did survive the fall over the waterfall.

They're little tiny children. Katara, who has spent her whole life wanting to learn to bend to fight, has literally been shoved back into the igloo with a bunch of babies to learn lady-bending (no offence to the babies). How how HOW is she so calm right now? If I were in her situation, I think I'd be so angry I'd be ugly crying. And also plotting how to murder that Paku guy.

WHAT.

Paku the asshole is apparently a proponent of the tell don't show philosophy of teaching. The Tell-while-doing-unspeakable-things-to-my-lunch don't show philosophy.

Unexpected backstory. This lady must have been pretty close to Gran Gran if she recognises a carving she presumably wore for maybe a few months about 50 years ago or more. Also this lady is shockingly dumb if she can't see why Gran Gran left this misogynistic hellhole, but I guess it can be hard to see it while you're in it.

Nitpick time: How does the teacher recognise this? Isn't this just the water tribe symbol? Probably the most common symbol in the whole north pole?

Nosferatu Zuko. Nosferzuko. Zukoratu? Iroh's pause here was so long that I checked in case I had muted by accident. And how does your crew being taken by Zhao the asshole make your crew traitors Zuko? Orders are orders.

So we're adding asassinating royals to our list of reasons Zhao is an asshole. I think he's won the title back from Paku.

Fuck this port I guess.

Zuko's dead. Huh. Bye then. Gotta say I don't get why he's so big in the fandom.

This princess sure does send some mixed messages. At least she didn't ghost him.

"Master Poophead." My God. It's perfect. Why didn't I think of that?

Aang passing on what he learns to Katara. Why didn't I think of that either? My plan was to get Katara to launch unprovoked attacks on Paku's students and study how they defend themselves until she can copy / surpass them. Mostly so I could watch Katara beat the crap out of sexists.

Die mad about it you troglodyte. Disrespect? How nice it must be to have enough of your culture left that it can be disrespected. And you're going to deny the avatar training, thus dooming the whole world to death via fire nation, because you're butthurt? Freakin manbaby.

YES! YES! BEAT HIS ASS! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!!!!!!

"I know. I don't care." + "I'm not doing it for you." = I'm officially in love with Katara. I took a while to warm up to her, I admit the first few episodes were a little rough, but this seals the deal.

This screenshot sparks joy. Last episode Aang bitchslapped a fire nation guy with air. This episode it's Katara's turn with water. The Firelord Uber-Bitchslapped Zuko with fire a few years ago. All I need is an earth bitchslap and my collection will be complete. Avatar: master of all four bitchslaps. Also this wouldn't have worked to goad Paku into fighting if he was half as mature as he thinks he is. Although he gets points for being harder to goad than Zhao in the Deserter.

In an episode where the A plot is Katara, the B plot is Aang, the C plot is Zuko, and the D plot is Sokka's love life, the writers still manage to fulfill the Beat up Sokka quota. Good job guys.

If only she'd aimed a couple of inches to the left. This show already includes a kid getting his face burned off. Surely a Poophead being separated from his nose is ok?

That's twice now she's lost her necklace. If the carving has lasted 50+ years, surely it's earned a metal chain rather than a hair ribbon?

Gran Gran! Bullet dodged! Excellent call!

That's a lot less beat up than I was expecting. And Iroh has never once given the impression that he isn't quietly ride or die for Zuko, so why would Zuko not expect Iroh to help him? Because Zuko isn't terribly perceptive? Because the writers needed a way to deliver yet more exposition?

I did notice that the healing lady specified that Gran gran was in an arranged marriage but Poophead was talking about love. Again, why was Gran Gran leaving a mystery?

Underrated moment of wisdom from Aang here. He gets why the princess is upset and he's twelve! But I'd bet good money that the idiot on the right has no clue what's going on.

Princess ran so far away that it's night time now. This episode is not subtle anywhere, so I figured that the princess being engaged was the cause of this whole blowing hot and cold thing. Despite being 16 and fictional, Sokka handles mixed signals and rejection with 10000% more maturity and kindness than many unfortunately non-fictional grown men I've met. Kudos to Sokka for being honest and respectful.

Even redeemed, Poophead is still an asshole.

Well that's a problem.

Fire Nation ships would be a lot more intimidating if they didn't look like shoes.

Final Thoughts

This episode was a lot of exposition, a lot of set up, and even some catch up. And it was not done as gracefully as this show usually does it. More than once the dialogue between characters felt like two actors lecturing the audience rather than the characters we know.

This episode also had twice the concentration of assholes. A Zhao episode I can deal with. An episode with a one shot asshole where Zhao doesn't appear? I could also deal with. But TWO grade A assholes in ONE episode? No. Too much.

My whole-hearted congratulations to Gran Gran for seeing Poophead for what he was, and refusing to put up with it. Leaving his ass didn't make him get the message. 50+ years alone didn't make him get the message. The granddaughter that ought to have been his being so disgusted by his conduct that she attempts to cut his face off didn't make him get the message. There was no way that this idiot was going to change. So congrats to Gran Gran for making an excellent call, leaving his ass to freeze, and getting two most excellent grandchildren instead.

I also have to applaud Sokka and Katara for not being bitter about the Northern Water Tribe. I can't help but notice the spectacular architecture, complete with embellishments and unnecessary non-structural doodads. Let's do a quick comparison (ignore the ship):

Left has one waterbender. Right has all the waterbenders. We know that Northerners can travel south thanks to Gran Gran. The North couldn't have sent one sneaky waterbender to at least make the south a ship-proof wall? That chief guy has some audacity calling Katara and Sokka their brother and sister or whatever when they've evidently left the south to rot for a century. And I know the Fire Nation, the War, bla bla, but you guys are so bored behind your walls that you're cannibalising your own capabilities based on gender just for fun.

RANT INCOMING

Since I'm on the topic, can we talk about how STOOOPID it is to separate your combatants from your medics? Here's a secret about combat medics: they're both. They learn the basics of combat, and they learn the basics of emergency medicine (And a LOT of other stuff besides). Basic training includes basic first aid for EVERYONE.

Because here's the thing. People who get hurt beating the shit out of other people are usually hurt in an environment where beating the shit out of people occurs. If they are injured enough that they can't get themselves out of the 'beating the shit out of other people' zone, then unless they can treat themselves on the spot or their fellow soldiers can administer first aid or get them out, they die.

Alternatively, if they can't get themselves out of the 'beating the shit out of other people' zone, then medics have to be sent in. A medic who doesn't know how to fight who gets sent into the zone will - guess what? - get the shit beaten out of them. Now you're two men down at present, and who knows how many more you're going to lose over the next few days because you're down a medic. So unless every single waterbending fighter in the Northern water tribe is going to go into combat with a waterbending healer literally attached to them, there will be mountains of unnecessary losses and avoidable injuries.

Now let's look at this from the other angle. What happens if the enemy breaches your defences (because all your defenders are merrily bleeding out from wounds their bending could heal if only they'd learned how) and then makes their way to your combat hospitals? Which are full of soldiers who are too injured to fight and healers who don't know how to defend themselves? Apart from the whole living surrounded by their element thing, waterbenders' greatest advantage in a fight appears (to me) be to be their miraculous healing powers. Katara completely healed her burnt hands to the point where there wasn't even scar tissue and she had no training at all. A skill that can erase burns (the thing firebenders give you) negates the fire nation's greatest weapon - their fire. Any fire nation general who's not an idiot would therefore target waterbending healers, maybe even over waterbending fighters. So any fire nation commander would absolutely put 'capture field hospitals' as one of their top priorities. This is a kids' cartoon, so let's ignore historical precedent as to what happens to nurses caught in field hospitals behind enemy lines and say that the fire nation would defeat the waterbending healers.

Let's paint a quick picture here: in the background, a field full of waterbending fighters sidelined by treatable injury. In the middle ground, an inexorably advancing wall of firebenders. In the foreground, a field hospital full of defenseless waterbending healers. Just peachy isn't it?

How fucking UNSTOPPABLE would a bender able to shrug off a fireball to the face then turn around and take out a firebending platoon be? Get one hundred - no fifty - benders who can both heal and fight, have them advance in two rows: Front row fights, switches with back row when they're injured, gets healed up, rotates back up to front row as a replacement. Functionally unstoppable barring the need to eat and sleep (so long as they bring their own water). The Northern Water Tribe had decades to develop that. Unlike the south, they had the time, the resources, and apparently so little going on that they took up sexism to pass the time. The wasted opportunity here burns. See kids? Sexism hurts the sexists too.

This northern attitude is just dumb. It's illogical. It's stupid. I'd call it a ham-fisted unsubtle after school special of a plotline if it weren't a fictionalised version of something that's literally baked into to many cultures worldwide, past and present.

RANT CONCLUDED

What else can I say about this episode? Aang and Sokka had like three lines each, but they were very in character. Sokka and the princess are cute together. Zuko and Iroh had a good dynamic when they weren't acting in service to exposition. This whole episode really feels like part one of a two parter.

I think something might have been off with the narrative weighting of this episode. There was an honest to god assassination attempt and I forgot.

While the shot of Paku looking put out that the ice disk landed so close to his face was funny, I would have preferred it if Katara had gotten in one hit beyond her bitchslap. Just one. His ego needed the beating which it got via the necklace thing, but I would have liked to see actual beating too.

If I had seen this episode as a child I absolutely would have lost my mind over Katara getting to beat up a sexist. I'd bet good money that this episode did lots of good for the self-esteem of little girls who saw it.

Katara's plot line is like the plot of the Waterbending Scroll episode, but in a positive light. In that episode her selfishness regarding bending got them in trouble; in this one it helped. Seen in that light, the fact that it's the necklace rather than Katara's skill that gets through to Paku is a bit undermining, but if "magical girl has such impressive skills that the sexist dinosaur throws away decades of sexism for the chance to be her teacher" had been the plot instead, I'd probably be complaining about cliches instead.

All in all, a bit clunky, a lot of set up, and too many assholes and frustrating idiocy for it to go on my rewatch list. Feminist beat downs are good for the soul, but I'm not sure they outweigh Poopheads.

[the-present-is-a-gift-au]

Chapter 36: In Which Twig Is Put Back Together

I told them everything. And I did it crying harder than I thought was mortally possible, Twig scratched onto the pages of a hardcover journal. I blabbed everything and I did it while dribbling all over them both. I think they were more grossed out by the dribbling part than the ‘me indirectly killing an entire bunker of people’ part. I tried the same garbage as always to argue my point that it was my fault, and Celebi looked ready to slap me. I think she honestly might have if Dusknoir didn't grab her midair and walk her away in his hand. It's a good thing he did, because I started crying even harder when Grovyle said something like he's glad I survived the fire and Kip gave me the saddest look ever. He started crying too. I don't think anyone should see two people bawling their eyes out and clinging to each other like we were. It was kind of gross. If Dusknoir and Celebi stayed to watch, I might have died of shame. Grovyle being there was hard enough. 

The Future Trio stayed over for a while longer at Kip's place. There was a lot of talking that happened, and I honestly don't remember a lot of it. I should have written it down as it happened. Basically it was just people talking circles about how they couldn't believe I thought they hated me and how I meant a lot to them. I think I fell asleep mid-sentence at one point because I was so worn out from the crying. I'm never crying again. The one time during the hug was okay— it was fitting. But Celebi gave me an English dictionary before they all packed up and left, and I didn't even realize I was crying until she was grabbing for tissues. That felt pretty ridiculous. It's just a book. But it almost felt like she’d given me a drink of water the night I left my bunker behind. Dunno how to say it in a normal way, but it helped me feel better. 

It's a real one. She found a real Oxford Language Dictionary. It's missing pages and dogeared to heck and back, but Arceus, this thing is like my baby. I keep taking it off the shelf just to hold it in my hands. I'm sure she had to have pulled some strings with Dialga to bring something like this back from the past or future or whatever, but she kept saying it wasn't any problem to get. Judging by the look Grovyle gave her, it was a big problem to get, but I'm glad she went through it to give it to me. There’s even etymology included for a lot of the words in it. Pronunciations and everything. It's gold. 

What else to say… When Dusknoir said to try keeping a journal, I didn't think it would be so hard to decide what to write! As always, his ideas are annoying and weirdly effective. It does feel like I'm not as frazzled now that I'm writing regularly. What else to include, though… 

Kip asked me if I wanted to move back in with him. I tried to, but I actually got homesick for Verdant Village after a while. We decided to just keep a room open for each other at each of our places so that we can crash at either house whenever we want to. He loves the library in Verdant Village whenever he comes over. I'm pretty sure the Swadloon that runs it has a crush on him, but I don't think he knows. I'm eager to see how long it takes for him to realize it. 

I finally took up Gardevoir on her offers to have me over for dinner. Lyra never fails to show off some new toy or trinket to me whenever I come visit. At first I thought that she just wanted to talk to someone new about her things, but it clicked for me the other day that she wanted to talk to me in particular about them. That… um. It was weird. Nice, but really weird. She's a good kid. 

I wonder if Manaphy is old enough to visit Treasure Town by now… I need to figure out how to contact Walrein. It's hard to send letters underwater, I think, but I'll figure something out. 

She set the journal aside and stretched her arms and back, rolling her shoulders as she stood up from the writing desk Kip had begged her to buy. It was more than worth the investment. She was never writing using the floor as a table again. Her entry for the day written, she stepped out into the warm sunlight trickling between the leaves overhead and started her usual routines. She chopped firewood, she brought water in from the spigot at the edge of her property to wash the dishes from last night, she went to the market and got some peppers that seemed like something fun to try cooking with. It was her day off between running her shop and going dungeon delving, so she decided to go for a walk like usual to kill time before she'd need to meet up with Gallade for Lyra's exploration lessons. 

The hiking trails were well-kept in Verdant Village, sometimes to the point of being better maintained than the main roads that people traveled through town with. Twig had discovered a number of real hidden gems since she'd moved back in, and she made use of them as often as possible. 

Oddly enough, apparently Darkrai frequented the trail she was on right then as well. 

She hadn't seen him since the day she bore her soul to everyone she'd been keeping secrets from. He'd vanished somewhere between their argument and the hug that sent her spiraling head first into all the heartbreak she'd been refusing to acknowledge, and he hadn't shown his face in the months after. Celebi kept in touch with him via telepathy and responded to Twig's occasional request for an update on where the heck is this guy and what the heck is he doing by saying that he was doing some traveling and thinking. Twig could believe the thinking bit— Darkrai was calculating and cautious, and Ark was analytical and prone to deliberation— but really? Traveling? It seemed strange to imagine the Legend as being a globetrotter all of a sudden. But then again, he had taken in all the sights on the way to Cresselia’s mountain with such awe and enthusiasm that it was easier to imagine him enjoying that sort of thing than she thought it should be. 

He was supposed to be traveling. He was supposed to be on some sort of quest of soul-searching and pondering. But here he was, several yards off the path, hidden in the foliage and tucked within the shadows. 

“Dude,” Twig eloquently began, “I can see you.”

There was a moment of hesitation before he rose from the shadows, plainly bewildered by her ability to pick him out amongst the dappled shade of the trail. 

She sighed. “You're still you–shaped when you do that. You mess up the rest of the shadows around you. And you're… I dunno how to put it, your shadow is noisy, I guess. If that even makes sense.” 

He hummed a low note. 

“I don't think I ever thanked you for what you did. Um. I appreciate it. Or at least I do now.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you have to thank me for?”

“Ark, I'm not stupid. It was pretty obvious looking back on things that you waited until I was in earshot of the gang to start really getting under my skin with what you asked me. If you hadn't, and if they hadn't overheard me chewing you out for it, I probably wouldn't have said anything to anyone about…” She waved a hand. “It's because you did that that I've been doing better, even if it's indirectly.”

“I see.”

“So, uh… How you been?” 

“Well enough,” he answered, and did not elaborate. 

She frowned. “Cool. Have you seen anything neat on your travels?”

“Many things.” 

“Many, huh? Stuff like…?”

“Nothing leaps to mind.”

He's way less chatty now. Weird. “When…” She leaned against a tree opposite to him and fidgeted with her hands, trying to summon the courage to ask him a question that had been eating away at her for months. “When did your memories come back?”

He gave her a wary look. “Why this interest?”

“I've had some other stuff come back for me while you were gone. I wanted to ask so I could get an idea of what's triggering their returns. It seems random at times.” 

Darkrai looked away for a moment, hackles raising. “It was… on the expedition we embarked on. You took a hit intended for myself. I recalled a young human doing the same for a grovyle, and somehow understood that it was you in the memory, though that was only the first to return.”

“The first—? You really only remembered that one snippet?”

“It was in bits and pieces that the entirety of my memory returned; a gradual process. Your rejection of my request to join Team Venture was when everything fell into place and I understood what the scattered recollections meant.”

That gave her pause. “You knew then? And you didn't say anything until I totally healed up from my leg getting broken?”

“It was… difficult to reconcile the perceptions I had of you. On the one hand, you were an adversarial nuisance who foiled my every effort to achieve anything. On the other, you had showed me a care I had not received in living memory and given me a new perspective.”

Huh. Celebi wasn't kidding about me changing his mind. Wonder how I managed that. “I can get that. It took me a bit to get used to the idea of you being so different when Cresselia first met you.”

He gave her a vicious glare, cold and poisonous. 

“Calm down. I'm not going to let anything slip about your past, especially when you haven't blabbed about mine. Thanks for that, by the way. Dunno if I could've handled Dark Crater if you had said anything back then.”

His glare twitched, venomousness flickering as it gave out into something softer, though schooled by an uneasy sternness. “My failure to blab did not come from a place of kindness at that point. It was leverage I didn't intend to give up. Surely you can grasp that.”

“I can. Doesn't change the fact you didn't say anything before I did.”

Silence. Leaves brushed together in quiet whispers as the wind passed through the treetops. The air was heavy around them. Twig could smell rain on its way. 

“I'm sorry,” he finally said, and Twig realized she hadn't been able to pick out the mournful crease of his brow or the barely noticeable desperation in his posture when she first met him in Mount Travail all that time ago. Before, he was practically unreadable to her. Now she was able to see the nervous twitch in his fingers, the hesitancy in his volume. He’d always seemed so closed-off in her mind’s eye, but he had swiftly become an open book, given time. 

She blinked, taken aback by his words. The shame in them, the disgust with himself— it was obvious he wasn't apologizing only for holding her past as leverage, and it was an apology he didn't expect to be accepted. 

“Hey.” She punched him in the arm, earning a startled grunt. “You got somewhere to stay?”

He squinted at her. “No.”

“I've got a bunch of spare rooms if you're down.” 

“If I'm—?” His eyes widened, then narrowed. “You're making fun of me.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I…” He tilted his head slightly, looking like he was trying to pick out a seed of sarcasm he was convinced lay in her words. “If you're certain it is well with you.”

She nodded as a sense of heaviness lifted from her. Somehow, a weight she'd been carrying was taken away by those words. “I'm gonna finish my hike. Let's walk and talk; Celebi made it sound like you saw every corner of the globe and I want to hear the highlights.”

She started off down the path,  Darkrai falling into her wake as she passed. “Globes don't have corners. Not having corners is the entire purpose of a globe.” He sighed. “I suppose I could enlighten you. There was a number of locations you’d likely have found interesting. One in particular had a population that prided themselves on preserving a number of human words and phrases in their daily language…”

Twig enjoyed going for walks alone. It turned out she like to go for walks with company even more. 

***

Life was surprisingly mundane despite Twig having a Legend for a roommate. Darkrai insisted that Twig fill her house up with a more typical amount of furnishings, and Twig asked him what exactly she should fill the empty rooms with. He was at a loss and didn't answer. She had her suspicions that he hadn't been in many homes before, but didn't push him on the subject. She eventually figured out she'd been living almost exclusively out of her living room and that the numerous guest rooms in the back of the house were actually a study, a bedroom, and a pair of guest rooms, and that she should probably populate them with the proper furniture accordingly. Given time, Gardevoir no longer looked like she was going to have a conniption whenever she visited, and Twig was actually kind of proud of the decor she put together. 

It was during the evening as she looked over a bookcase she'd arranged a few books and keepsakes on, and she thought that she liked how she'd done it, that it occurred to her that this was the first time she could remember feeling proud of herself without any strings attached. She just liked how she'd angled a potted plant next to a stack of books. That was all. There was no baggage of doing it to make up for her being worthless or an awful, burdensome person— she'd simply done it for her own sake, and she liked what she'd done. That felt… weird. It felt weird, and scary in a number of ways. But she didn't run from it. She doubled down on her newfound pleasure in filling her home with pretty things. 

It was dumb to take so much joy in something so stupid. She didn't even have any system she used to decorate— she just stuck things where they looked nice with no rhyme or reason or even color palette to keep the baubles cohesive in their looks. It was dumb. But it was something that made her happy. It wasn't her usual kind of happy, either. This wasn't a flashbang of cheerfulness that faded fast and left her empty— it was quiet and warmed her bones even in the dead of night when she fought herself to get over her anxiety and insomnia and just sleep. 

It was easier to fight her insomnia hearing someone else moving about the house at night. Ark was quiet, but the muffled thud of a cabinet closing or a door creaking open as he went from room to room helped her feel like she could give up on her desperate need to be awake and aware at all times. She hadn't thought that sharing a home with him would ever be reassuring, but here she was— she'd woken up from a nightmare of her mind’s own making, another memory that the lunar feather hanging on her wall couldn't dissuade when it was busy canceling out Darkrai's aura already— gasping for breath and finally catching it when she heard the Legend getting himself a drink from the next room over. 

Her memories hadn't come back to her any more than they already had— it was still just those handfuls of images, of the days leading up to how she left her bunker to burn and now one nighttime vignette of Grovyle soothing her as a kid as well, that haunted her sleeping and waking hours. She wondered why her memories hadn't returned to her completely by now, especially when Darkrai's had despite him having amnesia for so much less time. Sometimes she wondered if maybe they'd never come back. But it was becoming more common these days for her to think that it wouldn’t be surprising if they were just dormant and waiting for a safe time to come back into the light. Given time, she was increasingly sure her past was bound to return to her in full, for better or for worse. 

She looked up from her journal. She wasn't writing a real entry at the moment, just flipping through old ones and adding a date here or there where she'd forgotten to include them. Ark was sat at the dining table, one of the heavier books he'd added to her collection sitting untouched before him as he instead pored over a thin book of fairy tales. It had been strange to get used to Darkrai and Ark being truly the same, but she supposed he had to get used to her being herself as well, so they were fairly even on that front. And besides— he still held a tambour and needle in the same way. 

She guessed not much had changed at all, in the end. He was still himself, whatever that meant, and she was still whoever Twig was. She still struggled to wrap her head around people loving her, but she was starting to see that there were some things about her worth caring about. There was still healing to do. There was so much of it that Twig found herself intimidated by recovery most days. There was so much healing to do ahead, but in the end, things had changed, just a little. She had some hope now. The past was still an enigma, the future was uncertain, but between the two sources of so much grief and anxiety lay something she was finally seeing as precious and lovely. The present was an excellent gift to receive, after all.  

She intended to cherish it.

[kyra-writes-too-much]

Boiling Rage - Part 2

GUESS WHO FINALLY POSTED PT 2??? Call it a Valentine’s Day gift lol

(i know i’m so late i’m SORRY. school and softball and theater are killing me 😅 we’re supposed to have a play next month but we’re so behind pls forgive me)

ok so part 1 stuck mostly to the canon storyline but this part does not. umm… enjoy

tw: descriptions of injuries (nothing major tho)

— — —

Sokka frowns. “He’s kind of in a cooler right now?”

“He’s where?” 

“The coolers are a sort of… container that firebenders are put in. They’re insulated, and kept too cold to use bending. The warden came after him for some reason, but I don’t know why!”

Your eyes are wide as Sokka explains, and at the end, something clicks. Mai. 

“That little… okay. Okay, let’s get Zuko, we can figure out the escape plan together.”

Sokka shakes his head. “We can’t. He’s under guard. But I did find someone else that you might like to see…”

“Who?” You’re upset, but can’t go bursting into the cooler by yourself. 

“Suki. She was arrested, but she’s here!”

“Suki’s here?! Really?”

Suki was the leader of the Kyoshi warriors, and your best friend. You haven’t seen her since Axula attacked you all in the forest, when you had been the only one to escape. 

“Yeah! Zuko and I saw her in the yard, right before he was taken away. I went to visit her, and we were trying to come up with an escape plan.”

“Okay, that’s actually good news. But I want to go find Zuko, before…”

“Before what?” Sokka prompts. 

“Before Mai does. If I know her at all, she’ll be here soon… and she’ll be mad. At me, mostly, but also at Zuko.” 

“We have to get rid of the guards first… if you can cause a distraction, I can get him out.”

You grin. “That won’t be a problem.”

— — —

You and Sokka are quiet as you approach the four guards, trying not to attract too much attention. Neither of you have a weapon, but the guards appear unarmed as well. You’ll just have to be wary of fire. 

“Excuse me! The warden sent us. It’s your turn to have dinner,” Sokka lies. 

One of the guards looks both of you up and down. “We were ordered to keep at least four guards on this post at a time. Two of us will remain here with you.”

You had expected a problem like this. “Of course, sir.” Sokka gives you a dubious look, but you have a plan. As soon as two of the guards saunter off, you give the other two guards a smile, then realize that they can’t see it through the helmet. 

“Hi! I don’t think I’ve seen either of you around before,” you say brightly. 

“Oh. I’m usually in the prison yard,” one of them, a younger-sounding guy, says. 

“And I’m new here,” says the other, a middle aged woman.

“Well, it’s good to meet you guys,” Sokka says, going along with what you’re doing. 

“Yeah! Hey, even though you’re new, you’ve tried the fruit tarts in the food court right?” you ask, addressing the woman. 

“Fruit tarts? No… why?”

“They’re incredible! You have to go grab one before they’re gone,” Sokka replies enthusiastically. 

“Fruit tarts? I didn’t know there were fruit tarts here,” the other guard says longingly.

“Really? How? You guys should get them now, they usually run out fast,” you tell them. 

“Yeah, we can watch the cooler for a while,” Sokka assures. 

“You know what? That sounds amazing. We owe you,” the guy says to you and Sokka. He and the woman walk away down the corridor, debating on the best type of fruit tart.

“Enjoy!” you call after them. 

“That was genius,” Sokka tells you when they’re out of sight. 

“I know, right? Ok, how do you open this thing?”

Sokka spins a key ring around his finger. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.”

You grin at the Water Tribe boy as he twists the key in the lock and slides the cooler door open. 

“Zuko!” you greet your boyfriend. “Oh, what happened to you?!”

Zuko is huddled on the ground, trying to keep warm. A dark violet bruise has formed around his right eye, and dried blood splatter is visible on his clothes. 

“I got punched in the face. I’m f-fine, Y/N,” he says, but not very convincingly. 

“Okay, I hate to break up the reunion, but we need to get you out of here,” Sokka interrupts. 

Zuko grimaces. “I don’t know if you can,” he sighs, shifting to reveal one of his ankles shackled to the floor. 

“Sokka, give me the keys,” you order. He complies, and you try to open the lock with each of the keys. When none of them work, you panic slightly, going through all of them again. “Why aren’t they working?”

“The warden probably has the key,” Sokka realizes. 

“You know what? You’re right. Both of you stay here. I’ll be as quick as I can,” you tell them. 

“Y/N, are you c-crazy? Don’t risk going after the warden for me. I’ll b-be okay,” Zuko insists. He looks absolutely exhausted, and is shivering. 

“Yeah, sure. Don’t lie to me, Zu. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“…okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Sokka nods at you. “Good luck. Be careful.”

“Am I not always?” you call over your shoulder. 

“No!” both of them reply as you leave. 

— — — 

You (kind of) know where you’re going, so you make it to the warden’s office without getting too lost. 

Hearing footsteps from around a corner, you take a breath and try to act natural. The warden steps into your line of vision. 

You can see the keys in his pocket, barely sticking out. Your fingers reach out, and you barely catch the key ring with your pinkie. Closing your fingers around the keys, you smile under your helmet, and start your way back. 

— — —

Part three will be the final part!!!

[feverinfeveroutfic]

Tijuana sunrise | kinktober 2024 | day viii.: “espresso”

pairing: chuck billy x chuck schuldiner x alex skolnick

prompt: stripping

word count: 4503

song: “follow me down” by the pretty reckless

San Francisco always grew so cold at night during the autumn, and I always dreamed of curling up next to someone else on those particularly foggy nights. And yet, this was the busiest time of year, not just for me but for all of us who did what we did once the curtain came down and no one else was paying any attention to us. I never told my parents where I went at night, especially whenever Chuck and Eric entered the picture, but I never told Eric where I went when practice had been postponed.

I was the virtuoso guitar player by day and at night, I walked out to the streets and let my colors fly. I was the boy with the number “304” inscribed in Hebrew on a dog tag around my neck because a star would put me back into my own bedroom like some loser.

I walked alone on the side of the street with a black leather vest and the low-slung jeans on underneath my flannel sweater, and my hands tucked into my pockets. Even with the warmth of the flannel around my body, I still shivered from the cold winds coming in from the bay waters.

I didn’t want to be put back to the room, and yet every time I was met with the feeling of cold on my skin, I yearned for the warmth of a blanket and a soft bed. I could only hope that Chuck had a nice warm bed at his place once he came to pick me up for the night.

I reached the corner and glanced about the deserted street.

He told me he was coming for me with Sting, which he had named his motorcycle, and he was going to take me to what he had called “the special place.” He never specified as to where the place was, or what it even was to me, but I was eager to witness it for myself. We had all night, and we had about sixty dollars between the two of us. Sixty dollars and a bag of pot and a few brewskies and we were looking at quite the party.

I had been practicing my moves when no one was looking, namely on how to shed the leather vest from my body at a slow pace and how to drop my pants without it seeming forced. It took me some time to master, especially when I believed that a little sway to my hips could help the mood of it all, and especially when I didn’t really know how to dance very well, either. In fact, I fully expected him to laugh at me and toss coins at me like I was some kind of monkey there for his entertainment.

I shook my head at that, and I patted the side of my face.

“What the hell am I thinking,” I muttered to myself. “This is Chuck I’m talking about. He gets up on stage with a bottle of beer in hand.”

I shook my head again, and that time I adjusted the lapels of my jacket. It was there I heard the roar of a motorcycle engine a few blocks over, and my spine straightened up from the mere sound of it. A bright light rounded the corner off to my left: it seemed all the more ghostly with the veil of fog all around the Bay Area. He rolled up to the curb on that big black Harley, wrapped in black leather from his head and shoulders down to his feet. His long espresso-colored hair spread behind him in such flyaway fashion, as if he had been caught up in a windstorm.

“I was wondering where you were,” he confessed to me.

“Same place as always,” I told him with a shrug of my shoulders and a run of my fingers through my black curls. “Anyways, you got a helmet for me?”

He handed me the dark red one perched on the seat right behind him, and I placed it upon my head and strapped it under my chin. I climbed aboard Sting and I put my hands on his hips: the leather of his jacket was enough to get me in the mood just on its own. My feet up over the exhaust pipe, and he fired it up again. We rode off into the darkness, off to what he called “the special place.”

His long dark hair streamed back from his head on either side of my face, but I put my face into the back of his head as if I lay down in a pillow. I swore that it felt as though I had a vibrator between my legs, especially as we rounded corners and made our way to the main artery into the middle of town. I had no idea as to where this would be as I knew Berkeley well enough, and thus, I was curious as to whether it was clear on the other side of town in some alleyway that I had never hit before or something else.

We rounded a corner, which beckoned me to slide my arms around Chuck’s waist. My hands rode up to his chest, and I thought of linking onto his arms like that of a monkey. I was the monkey on his back, at least at any moment going around a corner.

Within time, civilization dropped away from us and we found ourselves in the hills that overlooked the outskirts of the bay. It was difficult to tell as to where we were going with the darkness all around us, just so long as we had a place of comfort, a warm place to lay our heads after our rendezvous and help ourselves to some early morning glory coffee.

I could feel us ascending into the hills, whereby the clouds broke and I spotted the lights of the city by the bay behind us. Sting’s engine was far too loud so I could only communicate to him by feeling his chest and shoulders, that is until he finally pulled over at the vista point at the crest of the hill.

Chuck rested his feet on the ground and peered out to the city below us.

“Where are we going, by the way?” I finally asked him.

“The special place,” he promptly replied.

“Yes, but… where, exactly?”

“Just around this corner here,” he answered. “I’m waiting for the third member of our party to join us.”

“Who’s the third member of our party?”

As soon as I asked that, a pair of headlights rolled up behind us, and we both peered over our shoulders to the black car coming up behind us.

“From now on, call me Chief,” he told me as I adjusted the strap under my chin.

“Well, if I call you Chief, could you call me the Gray Ghost?” I asked him, and I couldn’t resist the smirk on my face all the while.

“You have to earn that,” he said with a little wag of his finger at me. “Remember, I’m the one in charge.”

So he said, anyway. If anything, I was the one who kept this whole shebang under wraps from the rest of the world, and I was the one who wanted it with him. I was the one who walked the streets, and yet he never told me where we were going. I also had my fears and my doubts about all of this, especially when I wasn’t very good at all of this, either.

The car behind us flashed its lights at us, and Chief raised his arm and made a gesture for them to go ahead of us. I held onto his waist again as he fired up Sting once again. We followed the car further up the hill into the trees: I peered out to the view below once again, and it felt as though I was flying. We kept going until I spotted what appeared to be someone’s house nestled back in the trees. The sole light came from a candle in the top two windows on the second floor.

If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that he brought me up to a haunted house.

The car ahead of us gingerly pulled into the driveway, whereby I spotted something odd plastered on the garage door, something that made me think of the skull tattoos that the five of us each had on our arms, all the way down to the crown on the crown. Chief and I pulled up to the curb, and the driver’s side door swung open. In the dim light, I noticed the little mop of curls about the head and the thin sweater wrapped around his slender body—

“Chuck!” I called out with a wave to him. Now it made sense as to why Chuck started calling himself Chief. I could feel a headache coming on by merely thinking about it.

In the dim light, I saw him show me a little grin: I always thought of him as a soulmate to me, especially as we both had our roots in New York City and we both had the curly hair and buck teeth.

Chief sauntered up to the front step while Chuck and I met each other at the edge of the driveway, and we linked fingers together.

“I can’t believe we’re meeting like this,” he confessed to me in that gentle voice. He always shrieked so hard and so loudly and yet he always spoke with such finesse, like he was just a guy. He was just a guy, and yet we were in fact meeting again like that there at that house. “Whatever happens, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” he promised me. “Do you know what’s going to happen?”

“I don’t, no,” I told him. “I have a feeling there’s a sex dungeon in here or something. This quaint, unassuming little house in the hills… yeah, there’s definitely something here.”

“Well, still… whatever what happens here, I won’t let something bad happen to you. From what he’s told me, he wants your flannel in particular.”

“Why?” I asked him, baffled.

“No idea. Something to do with wanting to be warm and be close to your essence without actually being inside of you. But I’d keep it on, if I were you.” He locked fingers with again, and then he patted me on the small of my back. I wondered as to why he said that to me as the front door swung open. Gingerly, we followed Chief into the dark front foyer of the house. 

Chuck and I stood in the doorway as if we awaited our fate.

“This must be the place,” he muttered right into my ear, to which I nodded at him. The butterflies whirred about in my stomach as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, but not until Chief flicked on the overhead light. I pinched my eyes shut and let the light cast down over me like a dousing of cold water. I finally opened my eyes and peeked out to the foyer: the shaggy black carpet with glitter embedded within the roots, the creamy white walls around us, the kisses of powder and royal blue here and there around the floor and the stairwell before us. I swallowed again, and I wished for a drink of water, especially when Chief gestured for us to come in closer to the hallway on the other side of the stairs.

I could tell Chuck was nervous as we padded into the back room under the stairs, this warmly lit nook that smelled of incense and pepper with more of that sparkly black carpet and a corduroy chaise lounge on the far side. A series of white candles lined the walls around us: there was something so primeval about it, especially as Chief took his seat on the chaise and showed us a small white metal box with a black ribbon over the top.

He opened it, and he took out something short and bronze and shaped like an arrowhead. But it was about the size of my palm. I swallowed and turned to Chuck, who looked even more nervous than he did a few minutes before then.

“I want one of you,” Chief started, “to take off your clothes and make a pig out of yourselves in front of me.”

We glanced at one another, and then back at him.

“Well, who’s going to decide that?” I asked him, and I pressed my hands to my hips at that. “Because I ain’t going to strip without a catch.” He looked on at my arms and my chest: he was after my flannel, alright. And I knew he wanted to feel me whenever he wanted, but like the nickname, he was going to have to earn it.

“One of you has to shove this into the other’s ass, and I’ll take care of your mouth for you.”

Chuck then swallowed down his nerves, and he gingerly took the plug. He turned to me, to which I raised my eyebrows at him. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my pants, but I wasn’t going to take off my flannel, especially when it was so soft.

He then handed the plug to me, much to my surprise.

I raised my eyebrows at him, and he nodded at me. He then pointed at his mouth.

“Allow me,” I offered him, and I stuck the plug into his open mouth, as far as I could without making him gag.

Chuck dropped his pants and his shorts as well, and he fell onto his hands and knees right in front of Chief and what appeared to be a bright neon green dildo in one hand.

Chuck then spat out the dildo and gazed up at him. “Okay, I want you to take that and shove it up my ass.”

Chief gaped at him.

“What! I’m not shoving this up your ass.”

“You’re going to shove it up my ass because I told you to shove it there. Now shove the damned thing up my ass!”

I lingered back as Chuck returned the plug to his mouth, and Chief crammed the dildo up Chuck’s ass. He made a loud noise in his throat from the feeling, and then he swatted his hand at me. I assumed that was my cue, and thus, I ran back out of the room and into the hallway.

“I’m like an alien tonight,” I called out as I ran up the stairs. “An alien and a UFO ready to take you with me back to my planet.”

He wasn’t taking the flannel from me, no way in hell on earth. I kept the flannel plastered to my body as I took two steps at a time up to the very top, but Chief was hot on my tail. I bowed into the room at the very end of the corridor and I snapped the door shut. My heart pounding, I sank down to the floor with my back to the wall, and I kept the flannel close to my chest as if I just took something precious from a safe.

“Alex! Alex, open the door, you little rat bastard!” He pushed on the door but I wasn’t going to give up that easy. The man liked it rough and I was going to give it to him rough and strong, a punch of espresso straight to the face.

“You think you’re the boss—I’m the one who brought you here in the first place,” I declared.

“Oh, just for that, I should break down this door right now!” he exclaimed, but again, I wasn’t going to give it up that easy. I leapt forward to the other side of the room. I kept the flannel close to me still, and I kept my vest on as well. He burst into the room and lunged for my legs. I fell to the floor, right onto my side. He grabbed at the flannel.

“Why do you want my flannel?” I demanded.

“Let me see you,” he growled. “Let me see you!”

Somehow, I found the grit with me, and yet at the same time, it almost felt like I was engaging in a tickle fight with my older brother. 

I gazed into his eyes and spotted the twinkle within.

I licked my lips and put my hands under his waist, and with all my might, I pushed him off of me. He stumbled onto the floor next to the door, to which I clambered up to my feet and lingered back to the bookshelf on the side of the room. I held back with the flannel still wrapped around my body. He never opened a single button despite being on top of me.

It was then I realized he held back there on the base boards. I could see the look of infernal lust in his eye. My heart hammered in my chest, and I knew that that was more than enough for me. I was one step away from having a full-on hard-on, and thus, all I had to do was act on it. I swallowed again, and I really needed a drink of water at that point, but it would have to wait for the time being.

“You will see me when I say you get to see me,” I commanded to him in a voice that felt as though it came straight from my bones. I let the flannel hang open from my body, one button at a time so he could make out the sprigs of curled dark hair peppered over my chest. His luminous eyes watched me from the base boards, and especially once I let the flannel fall away from my body: it draped around my elbows as if I wore a cape. I could hear Chuck coughing in the room downstairs and I knew that he spat out the dildo in his mouth, but that was the least of my concerns right then.

I let the flannel fall to the floor, all around my bare feet.

I brought my hands up to my curls, and I let them twine around my fingers at the roots. I closed my eyes as I let my pounding heart lead the way. I parted my lips and tilted my head back a little bit just to show off my throat.

I let my fingers roll through my curls all the way down to their coarse ends, and I let my hair fall down onto my arms, so light and so soft in comparison to my firm, toned muscles: my gray streak fell onto the side of my face.

I clasped my hands to my head, and I gently slid my fingers down the sides of my face to my neck. I had no idea my skin was that soft, but it felt as though I was caressing down handmade silk. I turned my head to the side and spread my legs apart so he could see the inside of my thighs. 

I stood as tall as I could so he could see every inch of me. I arched my back a little bit so he could see more of my lower belly and the insides of my thighs.

I brought my hands down to my collar bones and my shoulders. I crossed my arms over my chest so I could feel my shoulders and my upper arms, and I slid my hands down my arms to my elbows: I could feel my stomach hanging out a little bit from the feeling.

I then moved my hands to my chest just to feel my own chest hair, and then I turned my head to the other side. 

I could feel myself rising. Rising and ready to come. I was breathing harder. I was breathing harder and my chest rose and fell about as fast as it would if I ran a little sprint.

I swallowed again, and that time, I opened my eyes and bowed my head. I flashed him a smoldering gaze, and much to my amusement and surprise, I could see him clutching at himself. He, too, was breathing harder, and he opened his legs to show off the crotch of his jeans to me.

Chief was turning to jelly by the mere sight of me.

And thus, I kept on going, and I wanted to tease him a little bit, too. I did strip for him and Chuck after all.

Slowly, I curled my fingers into my chest hair. I showed him my tongue as well as a brief wrinkle to my nose, all to show him a brief snarl. I was a dirty dog, a dirty dog all the way down to the tags around my neck.

I ran my fingers down onto my nipples, and I could feel myself rising up a little more. Rising up and firming up, my first real hard-on in quite some time and I wasn’t about ten miles high, either.

I could feel the indentations of my ribs under my fingertips, to which I flexed my fingers with the passing strokes. I showed him my tongue again, that time as I locked eyes with him. I ran my tongue so slowly along the top of my lip, from one corner to the other. To taste him. To have him taste me.

I curled my fingers in and caressed myself down from the center of my chest, once more to the small curls of dark hair over my skin down onto my stomach and my lower belly. I had the softest skin in the world right there, and I even held still with both hands right over my belly button. I knew he liked that little vest I wore into the house, and I was going to make him want me wear it even more. But again, I wasn’t going to let him down easy.

My fingers crawled down my belly, all the way down to my hipbones as if I was pushing off a pair of pants. I gave my hips a little cock off to the side so he could make out the shape of my body. All I was missing was the Jimi Hendrix to add to the feeling.

I brought my hands back to the base of my ribcage again, and that time I flexed my fingers as I ran them down my soft smooth belly again.

I let him look at my soft skin there, so like porcelain, so like the petals of a rose.

I set one hand on my hip, and I let my other hand slither down my belly a third time, that time down the center towards my crotch; I let my fingers fan out once I reached my belly button. I brought my fingers together right over my crotch and slid the side of my hand over my firm, full dick.

I then ran my hands down the slightly full shape of my hips at such a slow pace.

Chief clasped at the crown of his espresso-colored curls as a rich blush crossed his face: even with his dark skin, he turned as red as a cherry tomato.

I reached behind me to feel my own ass and the backs of my thighs. The rounded shape of my own ass and the softness of my thighs, to which I stooped over and dug my fingertips into my skin a bit. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to show him my chest and my neck. I turned to the side a bit so he could see what I was doing. He could see the full shape of my ass from the side, and I thought about turning all the way so he could see all of my ass.

He showed me his tongue, and he reached down to take off his pants, but again, I was in charge.

I turned to the side a little more. I flexed my fingers into the back of my ass.

Chief was about to take off his pants to start jerking off, but then I lunged for him. I pushed him down onto his side, right next to the base boards, and I pinned him down with my hands and one knee.

I was firmer than him, so there was no way he could win this.

My curls dangled down over his chest; my gray streak lined the side of my face like a little plume of a cloud. The dog tag jingled and hung down towards his chest. I nudged a lock of hair out from his face so I could look into those eyes, now big and dark. I showed him my tongue again, to which I followed it up with a little chuckle.

“Do you wanna touch me?” I whispered to him. He glanced down at my oncoming erection, and without a second thought as I presumed, he ran his fingers down the front of my dick. But before he could touch my head, he broke free of my grip and rolled over onto his stomach. He dropped his pants for me, and I knew what that meant.

“As hard as you can,” he grunted out.

I held onto his shoulders from behind and thrust as hard as I could right into his ass. He let out a loud growl, much like his growls interspersed with his straight singing. I was made of iron. I was made of iron and there was no way I could be broken. Not until I got hit with a diamond.

The head of my dick hit him hard in the ass, as hard as I could, and he let out a loud yelp, followed by a low moan.

“Harder,” he commanded. “Harder! As hard as you can, damn it!”

I growled out myself as I railed him as hard as I could again, and fourth time, and a fifth time, that is until his elbows gave out and he landed on his side with more low moans emerging from his throat.

I could feel my muscles twitching, and I fell onto the carpet next to him, completely out of breath. Even though I went in hard on him, I could feel I was only just warm in the face. He had only a few beads of sweat under his eyes.

“Fuck…” was all I could muster out, and I let out a low whistle as I strove to catch my breath.

“You did good tonight, buddy,” Chief sputtered out, and he laughed a little bit. “Or, should I say, the Gray Ghost.” He then reached over and gently patted my belly.

“You wanna go and get Chuck?” I asked him.

“May as well. We’ll have some coffee with him tomorrow.”

“Some espresso…” I grunted out as I sat upright on the floor.