#this only is barely the half of the fic hahah

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 LOST IN THE DARK (THEN I FOUND YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: with a blizzard rocking yokohama, you find yourself seeking refuge in nakahara chuuya's apartment because, somehow, his building is the only one that has working generators... yet you find yourself becoming a bit suspicious (and concerned) when you realize the one person you expected to be there isn't. so you decide to go looking for him yourself, forcing chuuya to come along, and you end up maybe biting off more than you could chew.

wordcount: 8.2k; sfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i don't think any other warnings necessary but lmk if i've missed any

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ughhhhhhh i was not going to post today BUT 1) i remembered that it was ghostienon's birthday yesterday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!) and 2) sophie said she was sad so i forced myself out of bed to edit and format. i hope you guys enjoy the background to how reader and dazai started living with each other ;) i love being able to write them as stupid teens HAHAH if u guys can't tell. we also get some hints as to mori's opinion on her and dazai's growing relatioship in this installment, though that will have its own dedicated fic <.<

“God, it’s fucking cold.” Chuuya shivers, tucked beneath a blanket in his apartment, scowling out the tall windows looking over the city. “When will this storm end? I swear it's never ending."

A blizzard has been tearing through the entire Kanagawa prefecture the past two days, and right now, Yokohama is taking the full force of it, has been since three am. The harsh winds knocked the power out hours ago, and none of the building’s generators are working. The easternmost building, the one where you live, was the first to go, so you dragged yourself all the way across to the westernmost building to force your way into Chuuya’s apartment, the only building that’s power was still holding strong by the time you made your decision.

Evidently, you were not the only one that had that idea. Ozaki Kouyou sits primly in a bundle of furs as she reads through mission reports from her subordinates, Hirotsu Ryuro flips through files on an upcoming mission for the Black Lizards, and the Colonel is berating one of his subordinates over a walkie-talkie in the corner of the room. You and Chuuya are huddled on the couch with each other, trying to keep each other warm as you wait for the worst of this to pass.

“Says you,” you say bitterly, burrowed in three of his blankets as you glare at him. “You’re like a furnace, I think I’m going to freeze to death.”

The power in his building had gone out an hour ago, and being on one of the upper floors, his apartment became chilly quickly. Chuuya scowls at you and his hand darts out to press against the back of your neck. You shriek and give him an accusing look at the feeling of his icy fingers against your bare skin, slapping his hand away hard. He snorts, looking thoroughly smug at his actions and you have half a mind to beat him to death with a pillow.

“Better than being out on the streets, hm, boy?” Kouyou says idly, glancing up from her papers, raising her eyebrows.

You watch as Chuuya’s gaze flickers down to the ground, a guilty expression crossing his face. You don’t know much about what happened last year that led to Chuuya joining the Port Mafia—you do know that evidently he’d been monikered ‘King of the Sheep,’ a small organization of teenagers that had stupidly taken to trying to siphon off territory from the Mafia, and he’d been exiled by his kingdom of orphans courtesy of Dazai. You think maybe he’s probably wondering if they’re still out there, trying to wait out this storm in whatever back alleys they can find.

You nudge your shoulder against his, trying to draw him out of his thoughts, and he gives you a tight smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

At least you guys don’t have to worry about any attacks until the storm passes. 

The Dragon’s Head Conflict has been raging for a month now, you came back to Yokohama at the start of it and it's only continued to escalate with each passing day. There are so many foreign organizations trying to get footholds in Yokohama for the money that started this conflict, the entire city has become a bloody battlefield. You’ve hardly slept the past few weeks trying to work with Mori to figure out a game plan for handling Strain, the biggest threat of this conflict by far, but it’s hard when the Mafia’s warehouses and ports are getting assaulted day after day. 

Chuuya’s been taking on the brunt of the attacks, single-handedly pushing them back, but you know he’s getting tired. You see the exhaustion on his face and the bags beneath his eyes—the storm, as awful as it is, is bringing him a break that he very much needs. And Dazai-

“Dazai.”

You sit up straight, blankets tumbling off of you as your eyes widen. Instantly, you can feel all of the eyes in this room on you.

“What about that bastard?” Chuuya asks irritably.

“Where is he?” you demand. You haven’t seen him since the storm started, don’t know where he is; you don’t even know what building he lives in. You figured that he would have wormed his way into Chuuya’s apartment too when he realized his building lasted the longest with power, but you didn’t even think anything of it until now just because of how cold you were. “Where does he even live, actually?”

A month you’ve been in Yokohama and you’ve never been to Dazai’s apartment. You spend a lot of time with Chuuya up in his, and Dazai usually pops in too whenever you’re there; they come up to yours once in a blue moon. But you’ve never been to his.

“Out in some shipping container in the yards in southern Naka-ku,” Hirotsu answers your question and you turn to look at him, appalled.

“What?” you ask bluntly. “A shipping container?”

“The Boss offered him a nice apartment in the central building,” Kouyou hums. “He refused many times.”

“I wouldn’t want to live in the same building as Mori either,” you say snippily. “He’s out there now? In this storm?”

Kouyou lifts her shoulders in an elegant shrug, raising her eyebrows as she finally looks up at you, there’s something chilly in her eyes that you don’t like as she studies you. Chuuya doesn’t meet your eyes when you give him a pressing look.

“Those containers aren’t insulated,” you continue. “He’ll freeze to death.”

Kouyou scoffs. “That boy won’t be killed by something as mundane as the cold,” she says dismissively. “He will be fine.”

You give her a dismayed look. You’re not too close with Dazai, you’ve only known him for a month, and in that time, you haven’t really had the opportunity to spend much time with him besides the occasional invasion of Chuuya’s apartment. The two of you always seem to have missions scheduled at opposite times of each other—whenever you’re free, he’s gone and whenever you’re gone, he’s free. Sometimes, you think Mori does it on purpose, but you don’t know why.

“It’s blizzarding out there,” you argue. “He’s stick and bones in an uninsulated piece of metal that’s probably buried in snow. We can’t just leave him out there.”

“Leave him be,” Kouyou says sharply, and you’re almost taken aback by her tone, giving her a cool look. “Don’t involve yourself with that boy.”

You draw back at the sternness—you and Kouyou have been on good terms, so you don’t really know where this is coming from, and it pisses you off a bit, but that might just be because you’re cold and already irritable.

“Excuse me?” you gape, looking between her and Chuuya, noticing how Chuuya immediately averts his gaze from you. “Chuuya?” 

“You heard me, girl,” Kouyou tells you firmly. “Keep away from him.”

“Why?” You’re half convinced you’re not hearing her correctly because what does that even mean. Your voice rises as you become more incensed. “What do you even mean? Chuuya hangs with him all the time-”

“Mori has forced the two of them into a partnership,” Kouyou interrupts. “Chuuya has no choice in the matter. You-”

You bristle, about to rise to your feet, but before you can say anything, Hirotsu speaks up: “Kouyou-san is right, hime. The Boss has that boy on a tight leash for a reason, he does not like anything trying to interfere with it. Even you. Especially you.”

Chuuya gives you a look from the corner of his eye. “The Boss is weird about him,” he agrees quietly, but he does seem distinctly uncomfortable, like a part of him wants to go out searching for Dazai. “You’ve had to have noticed.”

Of course, you have. It’s impossible to miss the way Mori hangs over him. He has Dazai shadow him everywhere he goes, never far out of sight. He’s harsher with Dazai than he was even with you back when he first took you in years ago, has impossibly high expectations and refuses to accept failure from him. You think maybe it’s part of the reason why he’s always so careful to ensure that you’re on missions at opposite times—Dazai has shown interest in you since your arrival in Yokohama, becoming giddy like a kid whenever he runs into you, and Mori already warned you not to distract him.

You rise to your feet, shaking your head. “I’m not leaving him out there to freeze.”

“Girl,” Kouyou says, voice tight, finally looking up from her reports again to give you a stern look. “I won’t say it again-”

“Or what?” you ask coolly. “What is he going to do to me? I’ve known Mori longer than any of you. I know what he’ll do if he doesn’t like what I’m doing, it’s not worth leaving Dazai out there alone, especially in this weather.”

You toss off the blankets and storm over to where you’d hung your jacket up, looking back at Chuuya over your shoulder. “Are you coming?” you ask, annoyed. 

Chuuya glances between you and Kouyou nervously before sighing and tossing his own blankets off. “Whatever. You’re bringing him to your apartment. I don’t want his shitty ass here.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t know why the fuck I agreed to this,” Chuuya spits out complaints as the two of you trudge off the road through knee deep snow to the slope leading down to the shipping yards. “You’re insane. Dazai would not do this for you.”

“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to be in this situation,” you scowl, tossing Chuuya a dirty look before your eyes trail across the shipping yard. “Do you know which container is his? They all look the same.”

“That red one out there, I think,” Chuuya says, pointing out across the shipping yard to one of the few containers not falling apart. You grimace, it’s all the way out in the center of the yard in the deepest parts of the snow. Chuuya sees your displeasure and rolls his eyes. “Come here.”

You yelp when he grabs your arm and yanks you closer to him. The Tainted Sorrow is an ability you’ve become well acquainted with over the past few weeks, but it’s still jarring to feel it wash over you so suddenly. Chuuya gives you a sharp smile when he feels your grip on his arm tighten as he uses his ability to launch the two of you in the air; your stomach lurches at the sudden feeling of weightlessness that spreads through you.

It takes a total of maybe five seconds for him to get the two of you in front of Dazai’s supposed shipping container, and you shiver when the two of you land in the knee deep snow, casting him a dirty look when he keeps himself floating right above it.

“Asshole,” you mutter, ignoring his smug look as you trudge forward to the door of the shipping container. “Dazai! Dazai, are you in there?”

Your voice strains as you shout over the howling wind, grimacing and blinking rapidly at the snow pelting your face. You get no response from inside the container and you give Chuuya a scowl.

“Are you sure this is the right container?” you demand as your fingers enclose around the bitterly cold metal handle.

Chuuya shrugs. “I’m pretty sure.”

“I can’t stand you,” you snap as you try and fail to yank open the container, the deep snow preventing it from budging even an inch.

“Here, move,” Chuuya says, coming to stand next to you, finally dropping down into the snow as he nudges you out of the way to use his ability to pull open the heavy, jammed door.

You squint as you look into the dark container—it’s mostly empty and you’re about to turn on Chuuya for having the wrong one before you notice a chair and a desk in the far back corner. The snow spills into the container as soon as Chuuya gets the door open and you yelp as you slide in, nearly slipping to the floor. 

Chuuya snorts. 

You glare at him, but you have more pressing matters to attend to.

“Dazai,” you call again, frowning when you don’t see him in the container, wondering if you came all the way out here for nothing. Chuuya would kill you. “Do you see him?”

“I’m gonna kill you if we came all the way out here for nothing,” Chuuya says, voicing your thoughts. You wince as he jumps down to stand next to you. “Maybe he went over to those other friends of his? That low ranking guy?”

Maybe, you think, taking a few steps further into the container, eyes straining in the dark to try to make sure he’s not there before facing Chuuya’s wrath and leaving. Just as you’re about to give up, you spot a lump covered by a thin blanket in the corner of the container and you frown. You think at first it’s a pile of dirty clothes until you draw a bit closer and see that it’s moving, a slow and steady rise and fall that could only be Dazai huddled beneath it.

“Dazai?” you repeat again, making your way over to the corner of the container and kneeling next to the lump. Chuuya trails a few steps behind you slowly, pausing when you reach out to snatch the blanket off of the lump. “Jesus, Dazai…”

He’s sleeping beneath the blanket—sleeping or just straight up unconscious, you’re not sure. He looks small curled into a ball in the corner of the container, his skin and lips are paler than usual, breath concerningly slow. You reach out to press your hand against his cheek, feeling how cold and clammy his skin is.

“And you wanted to leave him out here,” you hiss at Chuuya, shooting him an accusing look. To his credit, he does look guilty as he looks down at Dazai, brows twisted and lips curled down, an unreadable look in his bicolored eyes. “Help me get him up.”

Dazai is lighter than you expected—he’s tall and gangly but there’s so little meat to his bones that you can almost lift him up on your own but it’s just awkward because of his height. Chuuya grabs his feet, you grab under his arms; his body is limp, like you’re carrying a corpse and not a living, breathing human being.

“Chuuya, hold on, I’m gonna put him down,” you say before the two of you get to the entrance of his shipping container.

Chuuya grunts as the two of you lower him to the ground, giving you a questioning look. You ignore it, pulling off your thick fur coat and wrapping it around Dazai, trying to warm him up even just a little because you fear that if you bring him out in his thin button-up and slacks, he’s just going to get even more sick. 

“You’re gonna freeze,” Chuuya says with a sigh, shaking his head. He pulls off his own jacket and tosses it at you. “I run hot anyway. Take it.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, shrugging it over your shoulders and then looking back down at Dazai. “Ready?” 

“Yup,” Chuuya agrees, leaning down to grab Dazai’s feet again.

You grimace as the harsh and bitter winds immediately sting your face, a shiver running down your body. You glance over at Chuuya, whose face is already becoming red with the cold, he looks distinctly uncomfortable although he’s trying to hide it, and you feel a bit guilty. You look to the side, all the way across the shipping container yard up the hill to the road the two of you had come from, all of it covered in several feet of snow.

You realize, a bit dreadfully, that Chuuya will not be able to use his ability while carrying Dazai and you give him an agonized look.

Chuuya looks just as harrowed.

“This is going to suck.”

“Give me your blankets,” Chuuya demands, shivering violently once the two of you get Dazai up to your apartment. 

Luckily, the backup generators had come back on while the two of you were out so you didn’t have to walk up literally nearly forty stories to get to your apartment. The heat is still off though, so it’s freezing and you really need to change into something warmer, but you’re more concerned with the boy curled up beneath your covers, still breathing but still also concerningly slow.

“He’s not looking too good,” you say quietly, reaching out to pull the blankets tighter around him. You brush your fingers across his cheekbone, trying to see if he’ll stir at all, but he remains frighteningly still. “Do you think maybe I should call Mori?”

You don’t want to call Mori and you’re pretty sure Dazai wouldn’t want you to call Mori, but you think that if he doesn’t move or show some kind of life in the next ten minutes, you’re going to have to. As much as you don’t want to get the man involved, you want Dazai to die in your bed even less. You sigh as you take a seat at his bedside, pulling out your phone to try to figure out what exactly you should do if he’s hypothermic.

“Yo, I asked for blankets,” Chuuya says irritably, rifling around your clothes closet for blankets. “Where are they?”

“Downstairs,” you say dismissively, “I thought you weren’t staying.”

Chuuya’s shoulders slump as he scowls at you. “Only long enough for you to figure out if he’s gonna live,” he mutters and then storms downstairs to find blankets as you finally find a website that will load so you can figure out what to do with Dazai.

Be gentle. When helping someone with hypothermia, handle them gently. Only move the person as much as is necessary. Don't massage or rub the person. Vigorous or jarring movements may trigger cardiac arrest.

Move the person out of the cold. Move the person to a warm, dry location if possible. If moving is not possible, shield the person from the cold and wind as much as possible. The person should be kept in a flat position if possible.

Remove wet clothing. If the person is wearing wet clothing, remove it. Cut away clothing if necessary to avoid too much movement.

Cover the person with blankets. Use layers of dry blankets or coats to warm the person. Cover the person's head, leaving only the face exposed.

Monitor breathing. A person with severe hypothermia may appear unconscious, with no clear signs of a pulse or breathing. If the person's breathing has stopped or appears dangerously low or shallow, begin CPR right away if you're trained.

Supply warm beverages. If the affected person is alert and able to swallow, give the person a warm, sweet, nonalcoholic, noncaffeinated drink. Warm drinks can help warm the body.

Well, you think, he’s not conscious for a warm drink and Chuuya changed him into a warm pair of your thick sweatshirts and sweatpants. He’s piled under the blankets in your room and he didn’t go into cardiac arrest from the two of you jostling him out of the shipping yard and into your apartment, so you think the only thing really left for you to do is make sure he keeps breathing.

You can do that.

You turn your attention back to Dazai, chewing the inside of your cheek as you look down at him. You shift into a cross-legged position, hesitantly reaching out to touch his cheek. His skin is cold under your touch but your breath hitches when he finally moves on his own; you almost draw your hand back like you’ve been burned when you see his lashes flutter, but you don’t. Your lips part when he unconsciously leans into your touch, a soft puff of air escaping his lips as he shifts into a more comfortable position, pressing his face into your hand. 

You’re only snapped back to reality when Chuuya walks back into your bedroom, your fluffy blanket from the couch downstairs pulled entirely around him. He gives you a judgmental look, eyes drawing from where you’d very inconspicuously yanked your hand back into your lap before looking back up to your face and your cheeks heats up.

“I was checking his temperature,” you hiss, lying through your teeth. “Don’t look at me like that when you look like an egg.”

“Yeah, okay.” Chuuya rolls his eyes as he waddles over to you, sitting on the bed next to you as the two of you look over Dazai. “How is he?”

“Alive,” you say with a shrug. “There’s nothing else to really do but make sure he keeps breathing. Give him warm water to drink when he wakes up. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” he replies awkwardly. “I’ll stay for a bit. Don’t want to go back so Ane-san can scold me anyway…”

You think it’s more that he feels guilty over wanting to leave Dazai out there while he was suffering but you don’t shatter the facade he’s putting up because if he feels bad, it’ll be easier for you to make him do the things you don’t want to do while he’s here.

“Yeah, she’ll probably be mad,” you agree, glancing down at Dazai again, some of your tension easing when you see that his chest is rising and falling a bit more steadily and much more deeply now. “I’m not happy with her.”

“Why?” Chuuya asks.

“What do you mean why?” you ask. “You know why.”

“She was just trying to look out for you,” Chuuya says with a frown. “She’s right, the Boss gets weird about Dazai. I mean, I’m sure you’ve seen it yourself but you haven’t been here the past year. I always thought it was weird that he never introduced Dazai to the Flags like he did for me but… I just don’t think he likes it when people get close to Dazai.”

It is weird, you won’t deny that, but it’s not worth leaving him out there to die. Plus… you remember the day you first met him, his excitement at having someone else his age around, his disappointment when he thought you didn’t like him… he’s just a boy, a lonely one at that, and Mori is cruel for trying to keep him isolated.

“I don’t care what Mori wants,” you say tightly. 

It’s a lie—the thought of doing something that pisses him off chills you to the bone. Your throat spasms as your mind is drawn back to the warzone he found you in; the way he’d give you small smiles and pats on the head all the while telling you that if you couldn’t get a hold of your ability, he’d send you back where you came from. The thought is cold and haunting, a constant reminder that if you can’t prove your worth to him he’ll discard you like a useless tool, but…

Your gaze drifts back over to Dazai, still shivering from where tucked underneath your blankets, but he looks much more comfortable. Much more at peace. You think again of the way he was so happy to meet you. The way he was so bothered by the thought of you not liking him. The way he constantly tries to seek you out even though Mori ensures that the two of you have opposite mission schedules. The way he so instinctively leaned into your touch. 

But maybe just this once you’ll do what you want regardless of Mori’s wishes.

Chuuya gives you a heavy side eye before shaking his head. “Wanna play cards?”

“... Yeah, sure.”

The first time Dazai wakes up, he’s not even coherent.

He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, doesn't know who you are, and is panicked over something. Chuuya had left hours ago once the two of you were mostly certain that Dazai wouldn’t suddenly die, going back to his apartment to face the wrath of Kouyou for disobeying her. You’re starting to doze off when you feel him jerk up next to you; he thrashes under the covers as he tries to free himself, nearly knocking you off of the bed.

“Dazai,” you gasp, startled. You shift around to try to get him to calm down and nearly end up with a fist to the face. “Jesus, Dazai, chill.”

You grab his hand and try to pin him down to the bed but it only ends with him thrashing harder, eyes wild, more panicked. You let go of his wrist and he scrambles away, tripping off the bed and onto the floor, yanking the blankets with him. You curse as you follow after him, kneeling on the floor next to him as he scuttles back into the corner like a frightened animal.

He looks… terrible, actually. His skin is pale and clammy, you think he must have developed a fever from the cold. He looks half delirious, his visible eye is glazed over and full of fear and your throat tightens as you lift your hands to try to show you mean no harm. Dazai doesn’t calm down, kicks his feet out when you try to get close and you sigh before stopping a few feet away from him.

“Dazai, calm down, it’s just me,” you say quietly. 

When he finally starts to calm down, you shift forward to place your hands on his ankles, stopping him from kicking out again if something sets him off. When he doesn’t immediately start thrashing under your touch, you take it as an okay to come closer. Scooting against the floor, you come to sit next to him, pressing your shoulder against his. Dazai instantly is leaning into you, body exhausted, head falling against your shoulder.

“We have to get you back up on the bed,” you tell him but you feel him weakly shake his head from where it’s resting on your shoulder. “We have to, Dazai. You can't stay on the floor.”

“Why are you here?” he croaks out. “... Why am I here? Is this your apartment?”

“You were going to freeze to death out there,” you tell him. “I-”

“But why? Why do you care? I don’t-no one cares so why…” Dazai doesn’t even finish the question, tongue loosened in his half-delirious state. He sounds distressed but more than that he sounds confused, like he can’t understand why you would go out of your way for him. Him.

“C’mon, Dazai, back in bed,” is all you say, voice quiet as you shift into a kneeling position, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him stumble back to his feet.

He’s light, but his limbs are awkwardly long so you stumble a bit when he leans his full body weight onto you, nearly tripping over one of his legs as you help him onto the bed. As soon as you get him situated, you reach back over onto the floor to grab the blankets he’d pulled off the bed and tuck him back under them.

His eye tracks you—big and black and empty as you leave his side to grab the chamomile tea you’d brewed when he finally started stirring thirty minutes ago. It’s not as hot now but it’s warm enough.

You sit at his side, shoulder pressed to his and back against the headboard as you lift the mug to his lips. He stares down at the mug for a moment, making no move to drink it, but then he lets his head fall on your shoulder again, pressing his lips to the rim of the mug.

You tilt the mug back, using your other hand to keep his head steady, watching as he takes a few sips before stubbornly turning his head away, pressing his face into your shoulder so that you can’t force him to drink anymore.

“You should take a few more sips,” you tell him quietly. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“No,” he says, voice muffled against your shirt. It’s only when he hears you put the mug back down does he finally lift his face. He still looks entirely out of it, but his gaze still somehow manages to take upon a more accusing look. “Why am I here?”

“I told you why,” you frown, side-eyeing him.

“Why am I really here? Did Mori tell you to come check on me? I don’t need-”

“I came because I wanted to,” you say as you become increasingly more irritated. “I’m not Mori’s lapdog. I do what I want.”

Dazai stares at you, more withdrawn now and an uncertain look in his eye. “But why?” he asks, a bit quieter this time like he can’t possibly fathom why someone would come for him because they wanted to. You almost want to reach down and grab his hand but you refrain. Instead, you knock the side of your head gently against his.

“I told you back when we met that I wanted to know you. Wanted to be your friend,” you say, honestly.

“You didn’t say that,” Dazai accuses, averting his gaze. “That you wanted to be my friend. You didn’t say that.”

“It was kind of implied,” you reply, rolling your eyes and that add a bit more quietly, “I do. I do want to be your friend. And friends look out for each other.”

Dazai’s entire expression shifts at your words, expression crumbling. Just as suddenly as his expression changes, he throws himself back into a laying position, turning away from you and lifting the covers up above his head to hide himself from you. You stare at him, unsure of how to take his reaction—a rejection? Or maybe he’s just flustered? He murmurs something that you can’t hear because it’s smothered by the layers of blankets on top of him.

“Huh?”

“I said that I’m allowing you to be my friend,” Dazai raises his voice, pitched and wobbly, like he’s trying to make it come across more snooty than it actually does. As if it’s a bother for you to want to be his friend. It’s almost funny but you can’t help the way you roll your eyes again. “Be grateful.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you say sarcastically, “for gracing me with this most honored title.”

You hear him sniffle and then sneeze beneath the lump of blankets. “It is an honored title. You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes. Again. But you don’t respond this time, resigning to just leaning back against the headboard and grab the book you were starting before you’d started dozing off. You think maybe he might be right—it is an honored title. Dazai doesn’t have many friends, doesn’t let people get too close and certainly doesn’t let them think they mean anything to him. He’s very selective with the people he chooses to associate with.

“The next time you wake up, as your friend, I’m forcing you to eat some soup.”

You hear him grumble but you think he must be too tired to protest because he doesn’t even get any words out before you notice that his breath has evened out beneath the blankets. You sigh and pull them down a bit so that he doesn’t accidentally smother himself to death in his sleep, ignoring the small smile that twitches to your lips as you turn your attention back to your book.

The second time Dazai wakes up, he’s much more alert and entirely more difficult.

“You need to eat something,” you hiss, trying to wrangle Dazai up out of bed. “And you need to drink something, you’ve sweat so much that my sheets are soaked through. You’re going to be dehydrated and then you’re going to feel worse.”

“Go away,” Dazai shrieks, nearly smacking you in the face as he tries to push you away. “Go away, I don’t want your help, just let me go back to the shipping container to die. I don’t-”

“Oh, would you just shut up?” you hiss, taking the pillow he was laying on and whacking him over the head with it hard. Dazai flops back on the bed hard, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. You raise the pillow again threateningly. “Get up and eat soup or I’ll hit you again.”

“You just whacked me with a pillow while I’m dying of fever,” Dazai says, voice riddled with shock. “I can’t believe you just-”

“Eat the soup,” you demand, winding back your arms again as you prepare to hit him again. 

Dazai gives the pillow a wary look before sitting up and scooching across the bed to the nightstand, staring at the now lukewarm soup with a contemplative expression. “Do you eat or drink soup? It’s liquid, isn’t it? Wouldn’t I be drinking the soup?” 

You stare at him flatly. “There’s carrots in it. You’re eating the carrots, so you’re eating the soup.”

Dazai’s face twists in disgust as soon as the c-word leaves your lips and you know you’ve made a mistake. Everything happens in a split second—you see him look at you from the corner of his eye, you see his gaze dart to the door, and you see his body tense as he prepares to make a break for it.

He doesn’t get more than an inch before you’re bringing the pillow back down on his head, sending him sprawling back down against the mattress with a loud ‘oof.’

“You can’t just beat me until I eat the soup,” Dazai protests loudly, disgruntled as he looks around trying to figure out if he can try to make another break for it, casting the pillow a wary look. Luckily, even if he is more coherent now, his brain and body are still sluggish from the fever. “You can’t.”

“Watch me,” you say, and just for good measure, you whack him with it again.

“Stop! I didn’t even move that time,” he cries out. “Now you’re hitting me just to hit me!” 

“You’re not eating it fast enough.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair!”

Dazai bristles like an irritated cat as he stares at you, but his shoulders slump as he drags himself back over to the nightstand. You’re almost insulted, honestly, considering you spent an hour trying to figure out how to cook it properly for him, but you simmer down when he lifts the spoon from the bowl.

He blinks suddenly, eyes wide and owlish. “This spoon is large.”

You stare at him. “It’s a soup spoon,” you say flatly. 

“Can I keep it?” he asks, twisting it around to look at it more carefully.

“No, Dazai, you can’t keep my spoon.”

Dazai pouts at you but then lets out a heavy, disappointed sigh as he gives the soup one last wary look before taking his first spoonful of soup. For a split second, you watch with bated breath to see his reaction to it, but then his face lights up as he spoons up another mouthful of the soup. You pretend that you’re not entirely pleased and smug that he likes the soup you made him, but you can’t help yourself from making a snide comment.

“So after all of that, you like it,” you say dryly. 

Dazai scowls. “I’m just hungry,” he disagrees, but his cheeks are flushed pink. “That’s all.”

“Sure,” you agree blandly.

“It’s true.”

You don’t say anything else after that, staring at the wall as Dazai scarfs down the entire bowl of soup because whenever you look at him, he stops mid-spoonful and waits for you to look away again. You think he’s ridiculous and want to roll your eyes, but you also can’t help the fondness that blooms in you as you pull your knees to your chest and wait for him to finish.

It’s not long before you hear the spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl. When you look over at him, you see the frown on his face as he looks down at the bowl—as if he hadn’t realized that he’d finished all of the soup already. You nudge his shoulder with yours, drawing his attention away from the empty bowl. 

“There’s more in the pot if you want it,” you offer, watching as a conflicted expression crosses his face as he looks back down at the bowl. “It’s gonna go to waste if you don’t. I ate earlier.”

Finally, Dazai mutters, “Only because you’re forcing me.”

You give him a flat look but don’t say anything else, taking the bowl from him and making your wait out of the bedroom to the kitchen. It’s been a little over a day since you first got him in your apartment. It’s dark again, the moon high in the sky and stars glittering prettily—you pause at the towering windows in your living room to look up at the sky and you find yourself thinking of Dazai. 

Or, of his eyes that is.

When you hear people talk about Dazai, they mostly talk about his mass of terrifying feats. They talk about how he’s sixteen and already in command of one of the Port Mafia’s most elite combat squads, they talk about how he’s sixteen and rivaling the Colonel’s success rate on operations, they talk about how he’s on track to be the next promoted executive whenever there’s another opening. They talk about how his blood is blacker than anyone else in the upper echelon, they talk about how he was born to be one of them. You can never tell if they’re scared of him or if they admire him—probably both, and you think they’re probably more scared than anything. 

They also talk about his eyes. Eye. Whatever. Too dark, too emotionless, too dull. Soulless, hollow, creepy. They’re uncomfortable meeting his gaze—they say he’s inhuman, that only a demon could have eyes so hauntingly empty. 

You think they’re wrong, they remind you more of the night sky than anything else.

You love the stars. 

You sigh as you walk over to the kitchen and pour the rest of the soup into the bowl. You heat it back up in the microwave for a few seconds before bringing it back over to the spare bedroom where Dazai is staying. You think you’ve probably not been gone for more than two minutes, but by the time you’re back, Dazai is curled up beneath the covers again, dozing off. 

He doesn’t notice you enter the room and you watch him for a moment, tilting your head to the side as take note of the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his lashes flutter as his eyes droop shut. There’s still sweat beaded on his forehead, a faint flush over his cheeks that proves the fever is still running him down—you find your lips curving up, you think he’s much more pleasant when he doesn’t speak. 

He only jerks back awake when you take a few steps closer to him, eyes wild with panic as if he was surprised by your presence. He doesn’t seem to recognize you for a moment but when he does, he visibly relaxes, brows furrowing in confusion as if he didn’t realize he’d started falling asleep.

“You can sleep if you’re tired,” you say as you place the soup down on the nightstand and take a seat on the edge of the bed next to him. “I can heat up the soup later.”

Dazai stares at you with an unreadable expression, he looks like he wants to ask you something or say something but his lips remain sealed shut. After a few moments, he sits up silently and shifts into a sitting position. Your shoulders brush and his thigh is pressed against yours as he starts to eat the soup carefully again, slower this time.

Too slow, you realize almost a second too late when Dazai’s head lolls to the side and he nearly drops a whole spoonful of soup onto the bed. Luckily, you’re quick enough to grab the bowl and catch the spoon and soup before it hits the sheets. His head drops on your shoulder and that fondness in your chest starts to spread again. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai so at peace before, and yes, it might be because he’s half dead with exhaustion, but you think it’s a welcome difference from the tight expressions you’ve seen from him when you happen to cross paths with him at headquarters. When he’s not Dazai Osamu, but the Demon Prodigy, the Black Wraith, cold and distant, intimidating and cruel, not a sixteen-year-old boy who dislikes carrots and has a fascination with soup spoons. You think back to his refusal to believe that you were helping him of your own free will and you can’t help but frown a bit.

You let him lay on your shoulder for a second longer than necessary before shifting him back into a lying position and tucking him beneath the comforter. You sigh as you take a seat next to him, back against the headboard as you pull out your phone to shoot a text to Chuuya so you can let him know that Dazai is doing better.

You yawn as you think to yourself that you’ll stay a bit longer—watch over Dazai to make sure he doesn’t get worse again before heading back up to your own room… but you find yourself sinking into the mattress, a bit too sleepy and a bit too comfortable…

Dazai feels better the next time he wakes up. 

He yawns as he shifts in bed to nuzzle into the thick blankets and soft pillows. He feels warm, comfortable, surrounded by a familiar and pleasant scent that leaves his defenses dangerously low. A bit alarmed by how at ease he feels, Dazai’s eyes fly open, trying to figure out where the fuck he is and why the fuck he feels so good.

He tries to sit up, but there’s a weight pressed against his side that makes him pause, so he turns his head to the side slowly, unsure of what he’s going to find. He freezes when he sees you propped up against the headboard next to him, fast asleep, neck turned at an uncomfortable angle.

“Friends look out for each other.”

At once, the past day or so comes back to him—most of it is a fog but he vividly remembers him waking up a few hours ago and you whacking him around with pillows until he got some soup in him. He finds his lips curling up into an amused smile as he looks down at you, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest that makes him feel almost… Dazai doesn’t dare to admit it. He’s never had someone take care of him like that before.

He sighs as he reaches out to shift you into a more comfortable position. Carefully, laying you down against the mattress and placing your head on the pillow where his had been resting. He pulls the covers over you and watches as you let out a sleepy hum of appreciation, rubbing your face against the pillow before settling back down into a deep sleep.

His hands drop back down to his lap and he stares at you for a moment, wondering if you meant what you said, wondering if you were telling the truth when you told him Mori hadn’t been the one to send you to check on him, wondering if maybe… 

Wondering if maybe you really did want to be his friend. 

Dazai doesn’t have many friends. He has Oda, but he pretty much forced himself into Oda’s life by almost dying on his doorstep—literally—so he doesn’t think that really counts. Chuuya… well, he pretty much coerces Chuuya into hanging out with him by antagonizing him into video game challenges, so he doesn’t think that really counts either. 

Dazai might not have any friends, actually. 

He decidedly doesn’t like the emotion spreading through him now. It's light and airy and it clings to his black heart dangerously. It blooms in a way that nothing should be able to bloom in the dark. It’s too… feels too close to hope and Dazai knows better than anyone that hope is a dangerous, dangerous emotion—one that he shouldn’t allow to take root in him unless he wants to be hurt in ways that he’s tried to carefully guard himself from.

He should leave.

He should leave now. 

He’s feeling better, there’s no reason for him to stay now that he can move around and think but…

But this bed is so much more comfortable than the floor of his shipping container… The sheets and comforter are warmer than the thin and ripped blanket he uses to cover himself at night… The pillows are so much softer than the clothes he props behind his head as a pillow. Dazai has never slept so well in his entire life—the nights that he is able to sleep are restless and plagued with faces he’d rather forget and voices that haunt him. This is the first time in… well, forever, that he’s been able to sleep peacefully, that he actually feels rested when he wakes up in the morning. The thought of going back to that metal box almost makes his body itch with discomfort. 

He’s just so warm and so comfortable and you smell so nice… and Dazai... for the first time in his life, he feels content.

As soon as Dazai is awake, he feels his eyes drooping back shut just as quickly, breath evening out again as he drifts back to sleep.

“So he’s just… living with you now?” Chuuya asks, baffled.

“I mean, I guess so,” you shrug helplessly. “He just… never left after we brought him there that day.”

Never left and brought his few belongings into the spare room he’d been staying in when he was sick, but you don’t add that part. Honestly, you don’t mind that Dazai has usurped your spare room—your apartment is too big for just you to be living in, you don’t mind the company after spending two years alone in Kyoto and Dazai is fun to be around despite the awful movie he picked on Friday and his terrible taste in food. 

Plus, you think it’s a bit of a much deserved, subtle rebellion from Mori, who has seemed to do everything in his power to make sure that the two of you never have time to interact with each other. You’re still not quite sure why he seems to be against the idea of you and Dazai becoming friends—probably something to do with a future plan of his, or maybe he really is just worried that you’ll distract Dazai from the carefully constructed path Mori has set him down—but you’ve decided that you like Dazai and you want to be his friend whether Mori likes it or not… which is saying a lot, considering you don’t think you’ve ever wanted something more than you want to impress Mori.

He’s not happy with you—you can tell by the disapproving stares and the disappointed comments that make you want to curl in on yourself, and you have a feeling that as soon as this conflict is over with, he’s going to send you right back to Kyoto, but that’s an issue for you to deal with in the future. 

For now, you’ll enjoy not being alone. Not having to watch your back and sleep with one eye open. Having people to rely on. 

Having friends. 

“And you didn’t tell him to get the fuck out?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you do that?” Chuuya demands. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“He lived in a shipping container, Chuuya,” you defend yourself, “and I have a spare bedroom, it’s not a big deal.”

Chuuya stares at you for a moment, gaze sharp and accusatory, and then his expression shifts into one of disgust. “No.”

“Excuse me?” you demand, baffled.

“No. No, no, no. No.” Chuuya shakes his head, taking a step away from you. “You need to see a goddamn shrink. There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Something wrong with me? What are you even talking about?” 

Chuuya doesn’t even respond, looking severely disturbed as he storms off in the opposite direction, leaving you standing there, perplexed and slightly insulted. 

“What’s the pipsqueak crying about this time? Is it his height or his terrible taste in clothes?” A familiar voice mocks from behind you. 

You brighten a bit at Dazai’s voice, feeling him hanging over your shoulder as he looks over to where Chuuya had left. His cheek brushes yours from how close he is—he has no concept of personal space, you’ve realized in the past few days he’s decided to make himself at home in your apartment, but you don’t really mind.

“Couldn’t tell you,” you answer. “Just ran off mid-conversation.”

Dazai clicks his tongue. “Stupid slug is always getting emotional about something,” he says. “Whatever. More popcorn for me. I finished my assignment early. Movie?”

“You’re not picking this one.”

“What? My movie was great.”

“Hah! If you say so.”

“I do say so, and I have another that you’re gonna looooove.”

“You will literally have to tie me down and clamp my eyes open to make me watch another movie of yours, Dazai.”

“...”

“... Stop looking at me like that.”

“...”

“Dazai!”

[lovebugism]

hm maybe for blurb you mentioned, some nervous reader about a storm/ reader being shy about having storm insecurities w/Steve?? it’s storming pretty bad where I am so that’s what made me think of it lol

hi, lovely! i also have a pretty bad fear of storms so this is a very self-indulgent fic hahah tw for mentions of parental abuse, not heavily described — the one where steve protects you from a big, bad storm (hurt/comfort, 1.7k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

You’ve always been scared of storms. Maybe thunder most of all.

Thunder was loud, and it shook the walls whenever there was enough force behind it. Sort of like the voices of your parents when they were upset — which they were pretty often. At you, most of the time. 

You hear a crash! rumble in a black sky, and it makes you feel like a child again. You usually did whenever you were frightened. And being a child again was more terrifying than any storm.

Steve knows you hate when the weather gets bad. 

Not because you’ve ever told him as much, but because you shake whenever it rains too hard, trembling like a leaf on one of the trees outside. You tense when it thunders, squeeze your eyes shut when it lightnings.

He doesn’t know how much it really terrifies you — he can’t because you don’t let him see it — but he knows the fear is there.

It’s why it hurts him so bad to leave you when the sky grows dark. 

Gray clouds hang heavy, and the smell of rain swirls in the whipping wind. The wet, earthy scent is so potent that it seeps in through your closed window. Thunder rolls softly in the distance — the promise of a soon storm. 

Steve doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he has to. He opens at Family Video tomorrow morning, and he doesn’t have any clothes at your place. You live pretty far away from town, too. He’d have to wake up before sunrise to swing by his house to get ready. 

You know this. So for his sake and yours, you pretend you’re not as scared as you really feel.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Steve presses.

He stands just over you, right beside the bed you’re curled up on. He shoves his feet into his already-tied sneakers and looks for any reason not to leave. He peers down at you with glittering honey eyes that swim with concern, bushy brows pinched in a puppy-like worry. 

You muster a wavering smile up at him, half of your face shoved into your pillow. “I’m okay, Stevie. I know you need to go.”

“But I can stay if you—”

“I’m fine,” you assure in a dramatic drawl. “You should go before it gets bad, okay? I don’t want you driving in the rain.”

You meant it. The last bit mostly, though maybe not the first one as much.

You’re just scared of being a burden. It was your fear that made you a bad daughter. You don’t want Steve to hate you the same way your parents did. 

“Okay...” Steve concedes, though his distantly perturbed look only slightly ebbs. “I’ll call you when I get home, yeah? I’ll stay on the phone with you all night. Won’t even make fun of you for snoring, either.”

He says it just to make you smile.

You do, but just barely.

“Okay,” you hum quietly, almost inaudibly, in response.

Steve bends at the waist to press a kiss to your mouth. He rests a wide palm on your arm as you lift your head from the pillow to meet him halfway. Your lips lock with his pink ones in a chaste kiss goodbye. 

Thunder rumbles overhead — a loud clap that shakes the walls of your bedroom.

Steve knew it was coming. He saw the lightning streak purple in the sky just before he kissed you, so it doesn’t scare him as much as it does you. He feels you jolt against his mouth when you tense at the sudden boom. It feels like he’s holding a rock in his hand.

He pulls away from you a few inches, gazing upon your scrunched face and squeezed-shut eyes with his own look of distant horror. His honey-colored stare floods with concern all over again.

His hand on your arm clutches you more intently, a warm reminder that he’s there — much closer than the wretched thunder.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you promise though the words sound stiff in your mouth. You haven’t relaxed yet. Or opened your eyes. You’re scared of what you’ll see when you do — Steve’s worried face or your mother’s angry one.

“Are you sure?” he presses like he always does. 

He knows many of your responses are automated, like you’ve been coded to shrug him off along with all the fears you keep hidden. It takes a bit of prying for you to be honest sometimes. You can’t open up unless you’re really sure he wants you to.

“Yeah,” you nod, then huff. The sigh tumbles from your mouth in a trembling exhale — distant laughter mixed with distant terror. “That was just… That was really loud.”

“Yeah. It was, huh?”

“I’m good, okay? I’m sorry, I—” You cut yourself off when you open your eyes, finding Steve toeing off the sneakers he only just shoved on. Your brows furrow as your gaze flits up to his. “What are you doing?”

The boy clicks his mouth against his teeth. His sock-clad feet melt into your carpeted floor. “I think I’m gonna stay, actually. As long as you don’t wanna kick me out, that is—”

“No, don’t,” you whine. Not because you don’t want him to stay (because, truth be told, you were praying that he would), but you don’t want him to feel like he has to. “It’s just gonna make you late to work tomorrow.”

Steve shrugs. “Screw work. I don’t care.”

“No, Steve!” you protest. You scooch over to make room for him on your bed, anyway. His larger frame takes up the majority of your mattress. You curl into him despite your fussing. Your legs entwine with his fuzzier ones, your cold feet knocking with his sock-clad toes. You melt into him while you complain, “You can go, okay? I’m fine! Really!”

“Too late,” he dissents as he bounces his shoulder, slightly jostling your cheek resting there. “I’m already comfortable.”

You sigh and tuck your face into his chest. His musky cologne clings desperately to his cotton t-shirt — vanilla and rose and sandalwood. Your left-hand curls into the fabric as you clutch onto him. 

“I just don’t wanna you to think I’m a baby or something,” you confess and rub your burning cheek against his clothed chest. “You don’t have to stay—”

“Stop,” Steve coos. His chest rumbles with the softly spoken word as his fingers rise to your hair. The tips of them massage gently at your scalp. “It’s okay, babe. I promise. I don’t think you’re a baby for being scared of storms, okay?”

“You don’t?” you murmur with a soft pout scrunching your features.

“No way,” he scoffs, the answer obvious to him. “I mean, it’s actually a pretty normal thing to be scared about, babe.”

Your heart stops for a moment — just a blink of a second that makes you feel like you can’t breathe. Your fears have never been validated before now. You were never taken seriously, only punished. They called you weak for letting something so insignificant have so much control over you. 

It made it almost impossible for you to take yourself and your problems seriously. You eventually ended up punishing yourself for them — just like your parents did. All those words they spat at you turned into thoughts that lingered like dark shadows in the back of your head. 

Steve’s turning all that into sunlight, and he doesn’t even know it.

Your chin brushes against the fabric of his shirt when you turn to look at him. You’ve got a slight furrow to your brows that he meets with a lopsided smile. The boy sits propped up against your pillows, his hair wild and his eyes soft.

“You think so?” you murmur.

“Oh. Totally,” he snorts in a laugh. He tilts his head to his shoulder as his brows shoot up. “I mean, it’s more normal than having a deathly fear of quicksand.”

Your brows pinch further. The frown between them deepens when your face contorts in confusion. “Are you implying you’re scared of quicksand?” you mutter with a curious inflection.

His eyes widen at your lack of understanding. “Babe. There is nothing more terrifying than drowning in the ground, okay? And, like, once you’re in it, there’s no getting out! You’re totally stuck!”

You purse your lips to hide the wide smile threatening to take over. Your giggle gets trapped in your throat.

Steve keeps on rambling — one hand cradling the back of your head as the other flails wildly in explanation. “Sometimes, I’ll have these nightmares where I’m, like, getting home from work or something, and I step out of my car, and I’m like, ‘who the hell replaced my driveway with quicksand?’”

Your previously concealed laugh sputters from your mouth like rays of sunshine.

“Don’t laugh!” Steve chuckles, feigning offense, though his soft touch on you never wavers. “I’m being serious!”

“I know you are,” you hum affectionately. “That’s why it’s so funny.”

“Rude,” he grouses with a playful pout. The corners of his pretty pink lips turn downwards, and his bushy brows pinch softly together. Despite his dreadfully sculpted features, he’s still so soft — like a puppy or melted ice cream. You can’t help but take awe in him.

You rise from where you lay against his chest, shifting against your mattress until your face is level with his. The two of you share a single pillow despite its impracticality — noses inches apart, breaths entwining, eyes crossing at the proximity.

You keep one hand beneath your head as your other rises to his face. The scruff of his jaw tickles your fingers as your thumb brushes the warm apple of his cheek. His honeyed gaze dances between both of yours, sparkling with an adoration you don’t feel deserving of. 

“I’m sorry,” you concede with pretty eyes and a gentle smile. “I promise to protect you from any quicksand we happen to stumble upon.”

“And I promise to protect you from all the storms,” he swears with a similar softness that makes you melt.

His eyes turn golden when he smiles at you — the exact color of sunshine. You bask in the flaxen rays, safe and warm. You forget to be scared of the rain.

[iinryer]

Failed threesome?

- @try-set-me-on-fire

HAHAH oh the failed threesome fic, my white whale… the concept started out as a joke but then i wrote like six thousand fucking words about it and realized I actually had a lot I wanted to say!! the idea was some time in a nebulous early s5 where buck and taylor stayed weird friends and never got together, but eddie and ana decide to try something out (threesome). they ask buck, he agrees, they go through the motions of planning, and then ana and eddie break up like, the night before. the rest of the fic is them dealing with the fallout of I know, in great detail, everything you would have let me do to you. and having several crises and breakdowns about it lol. they fight a lot <3 it’s fun <3

the current conundrum is whether or not i want to drag it into a post-s6 timeline and have it be marisol instead, i kind of want a scene i wrote between buck and taylor to be buck an kameron. because i like her and it would be funny chchdhdh BUT i haven’t decided anything yet. i do love this fic. it’s kind of insane but it’s very special to me. here’s the opening scene:

—

“He asked you what?!”

This conversation was a mistake. This friendship was a mistake. His whole life was a mistake.

“It’s not even a big deal—,” Buck tries feebly.

Taylor’s jaw drops cartoonishly before she bursts into near-hysterical laughter. Barely managing to get out, “Buckley. You are quite possibly the stupidest motherfucker alive,”

He’s decided that he hates having friends, actually.

He throws the pillow he’s been strangling with white knuckles for the past few minutes at her head, where she sits a few feet away from him on his living room sofa. It half-hits and is half-caught as she wheezes, tears in her eyes, and throws it back at him.

Taylor had come over to his loft for their whenever-we’re-free wine and bitch night and immediately clocked that he had something on his mind. And he did. A very big something. And luckily for Taylor, the nosiest asshole he’s ever met, she’s probably the only person he could imagine telling about it without dying of mortification. She doesn’t bullshit him either, which he thinks he might need right now.

Or, at least, he thought he did, before she started laughing at him.

Buck makes a half-hearted attempt at suffocating himself with the newly returned pillow, groaning into it dramatically.

“God, no— wait,” Taylor gets out, breath hitching as she tries to compose herself around the bubbling giggles, “He— You’re telling me that he invited you to have a threesome?”

“Not in so many words,” Buck whines, muffled into the pillow, “and technically, it was his girlfriend inviting me,” he levers himself back upright, letting his head fall against the back of the sofa, “but yeah. Yeah he did,”

The exact words used were ‘You can tell me to fuck off if this is… uh, way off base, but Ana was wondering if I’d—well, we’d talked about—we want to invite you into bed. With us. Sometime. If that’s something that would interest you,’ expression stoic, gaze anywhere but Buck. His whole face had turned deeply red under the neon lights of the bar where they were grabbing a drink, and Buck would have been delighted by the sight of it if he hadn’t been using all of his brain power not to choke on his beer, ‘we talked about… new things. To do. And she knows I trust you. Obviously. So. Yeah,’

And he had the audacity to shrug afterwards. Like the entire concept didn’t entirely rearrange Buck’s brains.

[fizzingwizard]

are you ready xD for some self-indulgent screenshots of the house Moomin builds in my snufmin ficlet from some months ago, A Promise of Snow, which I tried my best to reproduce in the Sims

Some game-related limitations: I just couldn't make the house as small as it should be. It really should be more square than rectangular. The light wood is Snufkin's "alcove" (which is an addition, not an alcove xP) and it should be half that size. And the upper floor should be just a dormer, not a whole floor, but my sims needed space upstairs.

The porch was meant to stretch all the way across, but I didn't like how it looked. In sims if your house is too boxy it ends up looking stupid. Same reason why it's more cluttered. Overall I like how th build came out though. I was so patient, waiting for my game to hit autumn before I took pics hahah.

Interior and extras under the cut.

The inside of the alcove. I love, love love love the window. Just imagine sleepy Snufkin curled up in this bare, cold room under the window...

Entry to the main house. Little rustic dining table. Homemade, hand-painted furniture. Moominmamma's influence in the kitchen. Mouse hole caused some theatrics in game lol

Through the archway into the living room. This is pretty much just how I imagined. The piano, though, is a game-only touch. Gotta give your sims things to do or they play video games on their phones aaaall day, even if you gave them the "hates video-gaming" trait. Lovely fireplace, although it's too grand, but none of the smaller ones really had the right vibe.

And a delicious looking autumnal spread - party food? :3

The ending scene when it starts to snow ^^- I just love the lighting and wish my computer could handle Sims at higher graphics settings...

Some extras!

Bedroom - in my idea for the fic, the bed is a pull-out couch and upstairs is just a small attic with not much in it. But in game things take more space and I definitely didn't want the murphy bed. So I made a bedroom upstairs and based it on how I decorated Moomintroll's room in my Moominhouse build.

Piano nook because it may have nothing to do with the story but it is so pretty.

Picnic! Idea that I stole after salivating over plantsimsgirl builds

Of course the house is by the sea. It's meant to be kind of high up on a hill, with a bit of a winding walk down to the shore and some trees in the way. But I love this lot in Windenburg and it's really too small to do a lot of terrain editing, so we just imagine.

And a sweet November evening moment of snufmin <3

I had a lot of fun building this instead of you know doing other more important things xP But you can't imagine the difficulty I had shooing neighbors away. (Because this is a generic lot, not residential/rental, so the public can just come in.) I didn't want a fence because snufmin!!! so I had to keep putting dressers in front of the doors when I took photos to keep people out hahaha

[jackienautism]

hi again!! been a couple days with no update, time got away from me hahah. i've been playing a lot with my brother, playing a bit on my VW playthrough (although i think i'm like. really in it today and will probably play a lot more on my own). i also finally let myself start looking for fic and fanart and stuff a couple of days ago. so happy to say that linhardt finally clicked for me and i really like him now. i liked him before, and he's still somehow my least favorite eagle but. as i've definitely mentioned before i love all of them.

YEAH. idk it really just feels... wrong to pair ingrid with any guy romantically? idk beyond the fact that she is a lesbian To Me (for reasons similar to posts you've rbed and made) even if she weren't it's just like... uniquely nightmarish. especially considering i think the only options i had recruited on that run were. felix and sylvain. and while in spite of myself sylvain really grew on me, and felix is. idk he's fine. like i said her ending up with either of them is kinda.... the worst lol. i didn't even get to the b support with her and felix bc i ended up googling around and seeing general opinions on some potential paired endings i could've gotten on my last run and made the choice to keep ingrid single and intentionally kept her away from both of them lest i got their ending on accident lmao.

hmmm i definitely got the petra and bernie supports as well as the dorothea and bernie supports last playthrough! those two in particular i really wished had an a support. bernie and dorothea especially, their supports were some of my favorites! i only got one with ingrid and dorothea, and i think only one with bernie and ingrid? i know there were a handful with edelgard that i only got to b but that actually had an a support (which i'll def get on my next CF playthrough, if my brother doesn't get them. and probably if he does lol). definitely bernie i only got to b with her, and i think maybe the same with dorothea??? but that might be wrong. i would check but my brother is playing rn LMAO. marianne didn't really have like... any supports with girls who i had on that playthrough which was soooo annoying. i got lysithea after the timeskip but barely used her so i dont think i even got their c support that playthrough?

yeah i would love to recruit hilda but like. the desire to side with edie outweighs my desire to recruit her, especially since i just.... like all the eagles more on average than the lions and like hearing them talk during the story DFSKKF plus you don't have to kill hilda or claude who i also really like. i'll def try that with dedue because i do actually really like him despite like. barely interacting with him so far.

yeah by character perspective i do mean leveling from what like.. makes sense for their character to me! and for battle stuff, before i really knew how supports worked i would like put certain characters together bc i was like "oh this character probably likes being around this one" or "this one feels safer if another character is in front of them, and this one is probably more inclined to pick up on that and get in front of them" so that's how i usually try to play my battles lol. which works out pretty well in terms of supports, i'm just a little more conscious of that now.

update on my brother's playthrough!! he's recruited over half of the lions which is kind of funny to me like. okay dedue and dimitri are unrecruitable but LMFAO im picturing class for the blue lions now that it's just those two and ashe. he's also recruited some of the deer as well (marianne, lysithea and ignatz i think? and he's planning on recruiting leonie too lmao). win for both of us..... he likes bernie now!!!!! we haven't reached the timeskip yet but i think some of her b supports got her to grow on him. i have a feeling he's gonna side with edie, but the biggest thing that might stop him is that he REALLY likes hilda and wants to recruit her. but i think the fact that he likes edie might outweigh that?? here's hoping at least! he also really likes annette a lot. i made him make a tierlist and his favorites right now are annette, petra, edelgard, hilda, lysithea, and caspar, in that order.

this is getting SO long but. as for my playthrough! i finally decided who exactly i wanted to recruit (and recruited them all today!). i decided to get three from each other house, and ended up with caspar, petra and dorothea from the eagles, and sylvain, annette, and ashe from the lions. i was going to get mercedes but after watching my brother get their b support i thought to myself. wouldn't it just be awful if they got that b support and i only recruited one of them. and so that's my plan! i think i'm gonna do the opposite on my next CF playthrough and just get mercedes. i'm really undecided on which paired endings i'm going to get, because i'm enjoying so many of the supports.... almost everyone i have has multiple supports that i'm actually interested in with characters i really like this playthrough! which is great! last playthrough i barely had any interesting ones with marianne. now i've got a team that's basically evenly split by original house, which is really fun (i've been going with my six out of house recruits, hilda, marianne and claude, and byleth, and i've been really enjoying it).

i know i said i really wanted the dorothea and petra paired ending (and i still do), but i'm considering s ranking dorothea myself this playthrough? although i might save that for my next CF run, or if i ever choose to go through with silver snow. i don't really know how all of the paired endings turn out, and i haven't gotten super far into the supports, but i'm liking caspar and ashe's supports so far, and i liked hilda and caspar's first support. if i choose to s support dorothea, i might go with caspar and petra again though? although i've also heard her supports with ashe and claude are good. but if i don't s support dorothea, i'll probably s support claude.... and i might pair him and hilda if i don't?? i'm liking their dynamic so far. although i'm ALSO liking hilda and marianne's supports. i really like annette and lysithea's supports, but sadly those only go to b... once again a loss for a supports between girls everywhere.... sylvain is gonna end up alone this time around for sure because while i do want to get his supports with dorothea again because i enjoyed them, i have like. multiple preferred endings for her lol. and i think the only other person he can get to a with that i have recruited is. byleth. who i also have other options for lol. lorenz is gonna end up alone because i don't like him lol and i don't want a character. raphael and ignatz... idk i like them and so far their most interesting support to me is with each other! so that's probably the route i'm gonna go. although i am enjoying a lot of raphael's supports in general so he's kind of my wildcard rn. as for annette, there are three characters i like who she could potentially get paired endings with? but i haven't seen enough of their supports (or any in some cases) to like. have a solid plan yet. i could probably keep going on but this is already SO long omg!!! basically the point is. i like so many of these characters now and i'm enjoying a lot of the dynamics! hope you're having a good one :)

HIII SO SO SORRY FOR TAKING A WHILE TO RESPOND. I KEPT PUTTING IT OFF AND FORGETTING THAT IT WAS IN MY INBOX 😭😭 SO VERY SORRY AGAIN thats still so awesome that you get to play w/ your brother.... its sooo fun watching others play the game, especially if its a route you're particularly fond of. AND OOOO LOOKING FOR ANY SPECIFIC FICS OR FANART IN PARTICULAR? OR JUST GENERAL FE3H STUFF? either way, have fun w/ that!!! theres sooo much awesome stuff out there. AND YIPPEEE WIN FOR LINHARDT ENJOYERS!!!!!!!! GLAD THAT HES FINALLY CLICKED FOR YOUUUU hes just an autistic dude w/ chronic fatigue and i love him. hes my boy, lvoe him lots

NO FOR REAL!!!!! IM RLY GLAD THAT YOU AGREE AND THA TIM NOT BEING DRAMATIC OR W/E 😭 there's just... theres no way that girl DOESN'T like girls. its just. its so There yk. esp her being like 32234 feet inthe closet. i dont know her endings w/ either felix or sylvain but .... yeah. i dont think i could do either for personal reasons kfkdgg unless, like you said, i get it by chance. YEAH fair enough, in regards to ingrid and felix. their b support is jus t... idk. i know felix is an asshole like thats his whole thing but god. the shit he says to ingrid really infuriates me. i totally agree that it was better to leave ingrid single. the only way to get their endings is if you get their A supports i believe. the only time its random is if you have Multiple A supports from the same character. i could be wrong though

OH THEY DONT HAVE A SUPPORTS? i didnt realize that. i still think that its a waste of time if characters that can support dont have an A one........ its just dumb imo. esp if their C + B supports are rly good and fun, its just. grrrr it makes me so mad. theyall deserve supports post timeskip!!!!! good luck getting the rest of the supports w/ edie! i know off the top of my head that both bernadetta and dorothea have A supports w/ her, which is cool. and yeah ): i dont believe marianne has many supports w/ girls outside the golden deer? IF she even has any? but yeah. i know she has an A support w/ hilda but ofc you cant recruit hilda in CF. lysithea and marianne's supports are ok i guess, they couldve been a looot better. im actually currently writing a fic for like a mock A support between the 2 fdkndfg you said you spared lysithea during the bridge of myrrdin (?) battle right? makes sense why you didnt hav emuch time to get her supports

YEAAH fair enough, i def feel the same dfgndf in terms of wanting to side w/ edie more than anything else. the black eagles are so <3 theyre so fun. i totally agree w/ you there, i love listening to their conversations dgnjfdg they r very silly. andmm righr thats true. i totally forgot you could spare hilda, pretty sure my brother had marianne kill her 😭😭😭 and i like how you can spare claude as well. and yeah :D good luck w/ dedue!!! hopefully my memory serves me right

makes sense! esp since i know the characters do have a like canon path they go down in terms of classes, which im sure you already knew, but if you ever need ideas / inspiration id def check that out! and OOOO THATS A VERY INTERESTING WAY OF GOING ABT BATTLING.... i like that a lot! and like you said im sure thaat helped a bit w/ getting certain supports. thats def not a bad idea . plus its such a cute thing fr ): to think abt what the character would want and feel safer w/.... you are so cool for real

YEAAAAH it is really funny to think abt what the other classrooms look like dkffdg esp after recruiting like their entire class. must be so sad for them </3 happy that hes recruiting a bunch of the characters though... does he know that hes gonna have to most likely fight them in the later half of the game? or is he doing it just cause he likes them? either way, good for him. OOOO ANOTHER WIN FOR BERNIE ENJOYERS YAAAY makes sense that watching more of the supports helped her grow on him... since thats usually where you get the bulk of their personalities and development. I HOPE THATHIS LOVE FOR EDIE OUTWEIGHS THAT.... if it doesnt though i totally understand, he would prob enjoy azure moon since he'll be abl eto recruit hilda, but he also prob wouldnt like going against edelgard so hm. OOO ANNETTE HUH? def a good choice. thank you for making him make a tier list jdfgdg always interested in other ppl's faves. AND LYSITHEA!!!!! YIPPPEEE

NO WORRIES ON IT GETTIGN LONG!!!! I RLY ENJOY READING YOUR THOUGHTS! glad you were able to decide on how youre gonna recruit :D atleast that stress is gone for now. and whose b support did you get w/ mercedes? i assume all three of them? ashe sylvain and annette? regardless, YOURE SOOOO EVIL (lighthearted) FOR ONLY PURPOSELY RECRUITING ONE OF THEM FDKGDFG but then that means more angst and pain and angst an dpain can be super good. esp in this game. mercedes my beloved<3 makes sense that you just get her your next CF playthrough! and so even then you get to separate her from her blue lions (specifically annette) and ): pain. and yeaah it can be pretty difficult to choose which endings you wanna go with. i ended up just getting to A between all the golden deer and letting the game decide for me jfdgnjgd that way you get to enjoy all the supports without feeling pressure to choose just one A support :] but i also understand wanting to pick out the ending youd rather see more... so good luck deciding! and im glad that youve really been enjoying the supports! the supports are usually sooo much fun... and you get to learn more abt the characters which is just awesome. i assunme you mean youve been going out into battle w/ those characters right? thats so epic... have fun w/ them!!!!

THATS WHAY I DID DURING VERDANT WIND!!!!! I S SUPPORTED DOROTHEA AND OUHHHG I LOVE HER SO MUCH..... S supporting claude is ofc also a good choice.. good luck decided on what you wanna do! i suppose once you have that figured out everything else should fall into place in terms of endings and whatnot. i still gotta get those supports you mentioned... glad to hear that youve been enjoying them so far though! i cant say mcuh abt petras supports w/ ashe or claude unfortunately. ive only got petras c support w/ claude and i thought it was funny. but i know that almost all of ashes supports are very sweet, sinc ehes a very sweet guy. a claude and hilda pairing makes sense! their dynamic is certainly interesting fdjgndfg plus i think they complement each other well. hilda and mariannes supports are very good... since you get to see another side of marianne that you dont rly see anywhere else. in terms of clumsiness and whatnot! I HEARD LYSITHEA AND ANNETTE'S ONLG GO TO B!!!!! WHY DOES THIS GAME HATE THE GIRLIES SO MUCH!!!!!!! RIP<//3 yeah far enough for sylvain fdndfgg esp if youu have better ending plans for both dorothea and byleth. YEAH LMAO. LOWKEY FUCK LORENZ but you didnt hear that from me. the only support chain i didnt get of his (of the golden deer) is w/ claude.... and i wont lie going through his supports made me like him a TINY bitmore, but still, hes just. euugh. to me yk. raphael and ignatz def have good supports! i def liked them a lot, i esp enjoyed ignatz and marianne's. once again, good luck figuring out your paired ending plans!!!! i know its been a bit since you sent this in, but still! wish you the best of luck! dont stress yourself too much though :]

STILL SUPER HAPPY THAT YOUVE BEEN ENJOYING THE GAME AND THE CHARACTERS AND THE DYNAMICS SO MUCH HEHE GLAD THAT ME POSTING ABT IT GOT YOU TO GET THEGAME.... HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY AND WEEK!!! HOPE TO TALK TO YOU SOON

[justlookatthosesausages]

“Lift the Spirit” :: a fluff/angst post-Frozen 2 Elsamaren fanfic

Chapter 5: Cause I’m not alone anymore

Nokk was still waiting at the place Elsa had told them to wait. They turned their head to the call of the Snow Queen. It was remarkably stealthy; Elsa didn’t even have to whistle to get their attention, she simply used her mental bond, and the Water Spirit obeyed. 

The blonde ran along the trees, increasing her race even, and the magical horse galloped to join her side, catching up with her rhythm. They ran sideways in the Moon light for a few seconds, Elsa’s gaze still on the horizon to where the Northuldra camp was, and she didn’t even need to look at Nokk for the next step. She rose her left hand and jumped on their back from the flank, her legs hovering their barrel as she seemed to float during her twirl. Her hand still on their crest, she sat bareback as usual and sent a silent order to the Water Spirit, asking them to dash to the Sami village. 

Nokk nodded energetically, and ran to where the others had been waiting. When Elsa arrived in a barely perceptible trot in the camp, several people startled of surprise. 

Except for Anna, who had been expecting her venue and staring at where she had come from. The redhead came closer, holding a torch like several Northuldra. 

“He’s on the shore.” Informed Elsa, staying on Nokk. “I saw him plan how he’s going to cross the Dark Sea. He’s distracted. It’s now or never if we want to have the element of surprise.” 

Anna, Honeymaren, Eydis, Kristoff and Ryder nodded. The Snow Queen outstretched a hand for her sister to help her jump behind her, which she did in a swift motion. 

Kristoff went on Rask’s back, and helped Eydis to get behind her. Finally, Honeymaren and Ryder rode the fastest reindeer of the herd. 

“Everyone, get to your positions.” Ordered the Northuldra leader. “You know what you have to do. Stand guard and don’t let anyone or anything approach. I have confidence in you all.” 

“May Ahtohallan be with you.” Bowed Jongu. He was in charge of the camp while she was gone, and would not disappoint her. His eyes were fierce at the light of his torch. 

They all exchanged words of support, then galloped up North. 

Elsa was leading, with Anna holding her waist tight. The blonde couldn’t tell if she was doing that due to the surreal speed of Nokk and the possibility of falling, to the roughness of Anna’s armor, or to her undeniable mix of stress and excitement. 

The Snow Queen patted her hand. She wondered if she could feel it because she had reinforced leather gloves, but when she felt the redhead tilt on the side, she smiled in success. 

“Everything will be okay, Anna.” 

The Queen didn’t answer, for bad fortune, and simply cuddled closer to her elder. She couldn’t lose her. Not after all that their family had been through. 

Elsa passed a hand along Nokk’s neck while they were heading to the Dark Sea shore. She could feel how nervous the Water Spirit was as well. Even Gale and Bruni, who were protecting the camp, and the Giants, who were patrolling in the land, were exhaling stress, and she could feel it kilometers away. 

“It will be alright, dear friends.” She sent as a mental answer, and their mood calmed down a bit. 

Nevertheless, she was upset that the Spirits couldn’t participate to the fight. She had thought of begging Ahtohallan to use their magic against Victor, but she knew that the laws of Nature were immutable. Magical Spirits had been brought to the world to protect and help, not to attack opposite dark forces. However, as the Fifth Spirit, Elsa was allowed to intervene; just as, sadly, the previous Fifth Spirit could make his own choices concerning Niks’ penalty. The Bridge existed to forge a path between humans and magic, and Elsa’s role now was to stop Victor’s evil ends and prevent him from taking control of Ahtohallan. Her instinct of guardian of the magical source made her flare, ironically in an ice cold way. The glacier had helped her to fully accept and love herself, and she would never let anyone destroy it. 

On that thought, she slammed her heels on Nokk’s sides to go faster, and the Spirit complied with an excited neigh, sharing her feelings. 

=======

“What, you thought you could ambush me?” 

They all widened their eyes in surprise from the big shore rocks they had been hiding behind. 

“This whole shore is covered with pebbles. Only an idiot would not hear you arriving.” Sighed dramatically Victor Eiglatson. 

He turned his attention from the Dark Sea to them, his tangled and dirty hair floating in the wind. Elsa couldn’t help but think, after she saw his deep pain and sorrow at the death of his wife, that he never fully recovered from it, and it would explain his messy appearance and his simple outfit. 

In opposite to the armors or reinforced leather they were wearing, Victor looked weak, feeble. He only had a dark purple cape with a hood, and a vest and pants that looked like the Arendelle army uniform. It was worn-out, but not in the same way than the ones of the guards that had been trapped for years in the Forest like Mattias; he clearly didn’t take care of it, not minding that it had stains at some parts. 

Revulsed, she still answered his invitation when he lifted his chin in a provocative ‘quit your hiding spot if you dare’ gesture. 

Anna grabbed her elder’s arm when she saw her walk around the rock calmly. “What are you doing?!” 

“He wants a fight. I’ll give him a fight.” 

Honeymaren stared at her, but eventually agreed. She stood up from the low rock where she had been hiding with Eydis. 

“She’s right. You want to confront us, don’t you, Victor?” 

The man didn’t get affected by her threatening tone. He preferred to choose sarcasm against her gritted teeth. 

“Well, well, well. I am even blessed by the presence of the Northuldra leader, uhm? How ironic.” 

Elsa frowned and clenched her fists. 

“You know, it’s actually even better.” Admitted the man. “It makes this fight even more meaningful.” 

He cracked his fingers, a habit that Kristoff hated to see, so it’s what made him stand. As if they were mentally connected, Anna rose at the same time on Elsa’s side, like a protective shadow. When she saw her mother stand, Eydis copied the move. She even glanced at Victor with a fierce stare, gripping her mace, to show that even if she was the youngest opponent, it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t make him live hell. Ryder was the last one to stand, but that didn’t make the whole thing less impressive. All together, they walked around the rocks and formed a line, all drawing their weapons in synchronized moves. 

With the whistling wind and the bright Moon light, it made their stance even more epic than it already was. 

“Waow, the whole family is here. How touching.” Commented Victor on a flat tone, not impressed. 

Then, he realized that the shining armors and the magic pieces of Elsa’s outfit weren’t the only thing to gleam in the bright light. He saw, with eyes getting wider and wider, that everyone without exception had custom-made additions to their weapons. Elsa had been way faster at upgrading her assaults than he thought. He tried to hide a nervous gulp, but Honeymaren, with her acute huntress sight, smirked at his state. 

Elsa also saw that he wasn’t expecting that level of preparation. She blinked in realization that Victor had nothing of a great strategist. Only anger and sorrow fueled his actions. So she decided to lower her ice spear. 

She took a few steps forward, her crafted sandals screeching on the pebbles. Anna and Honeymaren exchanged a look, not wanting to lower their weapons like her and wondering what she was doing. 

“Victor, this is your last chance to surrender.” 

“Great, because I never intend to.” Replied the man with deep anger. 

Elsa perceived it, and calmed down the situation. 

“I know why you acted like that lately.” 

“You know nothing about me.” 

“I’ve seen memories of you and the Fifth Spirit in Ahtohallan. I know what happened. I’ve seen it all. Your past… Your pain...” 

She explained everything, and his face distorted when she finished her story. 

“Listen, Victor… I know that you hate me.” 

The man’s face turned into a terrible wince. “That’s a very simple way to phrase it. I despise you. I loathe you.” 

Anna intervened. “No, it’s not true! You hate the previous Fifth Spirit. My sister is different!” 

“I don’t care who’s the person with Ahtohallan’s magic, the Fifth Spirit is still an abomination!” Blurted Victor, yelling on the same tone than the redhead. “There should be no human allowed to have such powers!!”

“You have powers too.” Remarked Kristoff. 

“But I don’t use them to kill people.” 

Elsa gasped, outraged. “You killed two innocent Northuldra!” 

The man shrugged slightly. “That was collateral damage.” 

Honeymaren startled of rage and stepped forward. “IT WAS A FATHER AND HIS SON!!” 

Elsa restrained her by grabbing her arm. She also truly wanted to hurt Victor for his words, but they had to remain calm. The man noticed their anger.

“Nothing you will say will change my mind. Your powers will be mine, Ahtohallan will be mine, and The Fifth Spirit will pay for what it has done to me!” Blurted Victor. 

Anna gripped her sword hard with her two hands, pointing at him threateningly. 

“They’re not a ‘it’, they’re a person!” She blurted with even more verve. “And her name is ELSA!!” 

He looked scowled, yet it seemed like disgust. 

“I refuse to put a name on that being who’s nothing less than a murderer!” 

“For the last time, the previous Fifth Spirit was! Not Elsa!! You’ve got it all wrong!” Yelled Anna. 

Victor was done getting scolded. He flipped his hands, volutes of black goo appearing around his fingers and floating there, just like cold smoke around Elsa’s fingers when she loaded her magic. 

“I’m not coming back on my decision. I will rip the powers out of her body!” 

He had pointed at Elsa with an angry index finger, and it perspired with evil power. Honeymaren instinctively placed herself in front of her. The blonde internally sighed at the behavior of her sister and the reaction of her wife. This was going worse and worse and wouldn’t end well. She could feel the magic pulsating in the air at the man’s anger, so she stared into his eyes. 

“Victor, wait. If you do that, you’ll become the very thing you hated.” 

Elsa’s wise words crossed the night, and everyone looked at her. Even Victor got stunned and remained silent. She got a point, but he chose to ignore her. 

“I doubt of it. I will finally avenge my beloved wife!!” 

The blonde rose calming hands. “And I get it. Believe me, I really do. However, revenge isn’t the solution…” 

“ENOUGH!!” 

Anna was astonished by his persistence. 

“You will rip her powers, even if it means that she will probably die?” She winced. 

“I don’t care.” 

He had stated that in a cold, frigid voice. Eydis gasped at the tone. Kristoff widened his eyes. Anna and Honeymaren were outraged . Elsa… Remained silent. 

“You’re a cruel man with a heart of stone!” Shouted the Queen with a shocked wince, speaking from her guts. 

“I’m bringing justice!” Replied Victor on a strong tone. “I’m doing what needs to be done! She’s a monster!!” 

While they gasped, Elsa walked around Honeymaren and stepped forward, to everyone’s surprise. 

“I used to think I was.” She said. 

Her voice had been calm, deep, sincere. 

“There was a time when I would call myself a monster…” Muttered the Snow Queen. “But I have changed. And one thing is for sure, now… You’ll be way more of a monster that I’ll ever be if you continue to focus on vengeance.” 

“You changed?” Repeated Victor. “What makes you think you’re not still a monster, as you have the same powers than when you called yourself that?” 

Elsa sighed, a bit emotionally. “Because since, I have been guided to a new light. A new perspective. Since then, I have been helped by love. And learned that people actually loved me all along.” 

She paused her powerful speed to turn to Anna and Honeymaren, who were looking at her with touched smiles. “And they still love me every day.” 

“You think that love solves everything?” Frowned Victor. 

“Yes. I do.”

“BULLSHIT! Bring my wife back, then!” Bawled the man. 

Elsa did a move, but not the expected one. She melted her spear, and the two women behind them gasped in warning noises. 

The blonde rose her hand as a dismiss, assuring them that everything was alright. Kristoff remained rational; Elsa could craft a new spear any time she would want, and faster than it would take to say the word. So she wasn’t really putting herself in danger. She was being wise and showed Victor her true intentions. 

The man looked at her with a squint, surprised of her attitude. 

“Does loving yourself better make you lower your guard?” He snorted.

Elsa nodded softly. “Yes. Because I have changed, and you can too.” 

His facial features, which had calmed down a bit, returned to a twisted frown. 

“How dare you TALK about change when you took my WIFE!!” 

Dark energy emanated from him, making splashes of black slime spurt from his hands and all around his foot stomp. The dark pebbles of the shore got stained by it at the pale light of the Moon. 

“Once again, I didn’t.” Reminded Elsa with a calm voice, which was remarkable for the situation, because Victor’s sudden burst had brought everyone else to clench on their weapons and get ready to aim at him. 

“You seem really certain to be innocent.” He grunted. 

“That’s because I am.” 

She stared at him with intensity. “And I intend to be fair. This is the last fight we have. After that, you will face justice and pay for your crimes.” Warned Elsa. 

“Well, there’s at least one thing we agree on, Fifth Spirit.” He replied, his fists clenched. “This indeed will be our one and only face-to-face.” 

He looked around, now pensive. 

“I got to say, it’s a nice place to have it. If I had to pick, I would have hesitated between here and the entrance of the Forest.”

“The Elemental Stones?” Frowned Anna. 

“Yes. That. They would look great as battle ruins, wouldn’t they? Once they get destroyed with my vengeance.” 

“How dare you.” Muttered Honeymaren, who had chosen to stay silent until now, but couldn’t bear his arrogance any longer. “This is a sacred place. My ancestors built those stones.” 

“They have been made to honor Nature.” Specified Kristoff. “What do they have to do with your revenge over the Fifth Spirit?” 

“Well, this is a game-changing fight. You know my plan now, right? So you know that I want to destroy Ahtohallan and everything that the Fifth Spirit stands once and for all. What would be the point of worshipping the Nature Spirits when the person who’s supposed to bring the balance with the human world kill humans?” 

Anna clenched her jaw. “You know that your wife had it coming. She did crimes. The Fifth Spirit warned her, and yet she continued to do it.” 

Elsa turned to her with a deadly stare. The redhead understood that she had been a bit too far, and retracted a bit. However, she did not regret her words. 

The Snow Queen turned to the enemy again, focused and determined. “You will not touch a single inch of Ahtohallan as long as I stand.” 

Victor looked at her with a cruel smirk. “See, that can be arranged.” 

He flipped his arms up and two big spurts of pitch black goo jolted from it. 

Each one splitted in eight parts, and in a record time, a group of sixteen creatures emerged, forming from the slime. They all were taller than the humans, with muscular arms and solid blades as hands. As always, they had head shapes but no faces, which made the creepy atmosphere of the night even more scarier, added to the fact that they were more numerous than Elsa’s allies. 

“GO!” Shouted Victor as an order, and the monster ran to them unsteadily, their big feet splashing on the shore. 

Elsa hurried to go in front of her family and place herself first, as the first creature was jumping to slam its blade on them. With a yelping grunt, Elsa raised a giant ice stalagmite, as sharp as a razor, and it pierced right through the living thing. It tried to touch her despite being impaled, but with another yell, she pushed the stalagmite away in a new blue beam, and it jolted in the air, slamming two other monsters in one go. 

Honeymaren blinked as Elsa then crafted her ice spear back, and attacked a fourth monster that was making its way to them. She stabbed it right in the thigh, then grunted as she heavily twirled on herself with both hands on the shaft. She dragged the creature with her, and send it fly in the air with a powerful swing to slam another one. 

The Northuldra leader exchanged a stunned look with Anna, who was astonished as well. 

Did they… Even need to come to this fight? Was Elsa going to take care of everything on herself with her usual badassery? 

The blonde panted, twirling her spear, and turned to her loved ones with a huff. 

“No one harms my family.” 

Honeymaren smirked. 

“Leave some for the lowly people, my love.” 

Elsa smiled. 

A grunt on her right side took them out of their reverie. A monster was attacking Eydis and Kristoff, and they were trying to repel it. The Snow Queen frowned and was about to help them. 

Anna gave her a sign. “Wait, some are coming right at us. Let’s take care of them first.” 

The redhead ran to the monsters, her golden armor shining in the Moonlight, and slayed one in a swift move; she beheaded a second one with a brilliant twirl, her second hand on the pommel of her unique sword for faster actions. 

Honeymaren aimed at the ones on her side with quick and effective arrows. When one of them was threatening to charge at her, Elsa ran and slammed her foot on the ground, a wall of ice emerging and letting the monster splash on it with a dumb move. She rounded her creation, and while the dizzy thing tried to retrieve its form and balance, she planted it with her spear against the wall. It vanished like any the others once it got killed, and the blonde had a smirk, twirling the spear around happily. 

She saw at the corner of her eye - and almost instinctively - that a monster was about to attack Anna from behind. She focused in a frown, tossed her spear up in the air and lifted her arm to catch it with her fingers up, holding it javelin-style. She aimed, gathered momentum and threw her spear across the shore. It whistled in the air and hit the creature right in the head. With the force of the blow, it vanished before it would even fall on the pebbles. Anna finished slaying her own enemy with style, then turned around at the sound of the spear falling on the pebbles. 

She blinked in confusion, picked up the weapon, then looked at her sister in the distance. 

‘Did you just?’ She seemed to say with her amazed eyes. 

‘Saved your life? Yep.’ Seemed to answer Elsa with a grin and a shrug. 

‘Awesome’, replied Anna, and this time it was obvious because she really said that word out loud and it was easy to read it on her lips. 

Elsa outstretched her hand and the spear in Anna’s hand seemed to vibrate, like it was struggling to get out of her grasp. She unfolded her fingers, and the spear flew in the air to arrive in Elsa’s palm, then the Snow Queen made it twirl expertly, ready to attack new creatures. 

“Show-off.” Scoffed Anna. 

Elsa went to help Ryder and Eydis. They had a lot of talent and she admitted after a while that she only was there as mere support. She took that opportunity to observe the battlefield around her. 

Honeymaren and Kristoff now were taking care of Victor, the blond facing him with his axe blows while her wife aimed at him with her arrows. Only, he was crafting monsters faster than light, and they took all of the blows for him. With a smirk, he made every monster die and vanish instead of actually fighting back. 

Elsa found that utterly shameful. How could a person fitted with magic powers and able to create living beings sacrifice them like pawns, or meatshields? She frowned with disgust, not liking Victor’s ways at all. He was a disgrace to magic, and she felt the same emotion than when she had discovered her grandfather’s aversion for the Northuldra. 

Fueled by her anger, she melted her spear then threw an ice blow at him to freeze his legs, but he sensed her magic arriving so he dodged aside. Thankfully, it didn’t touch Honeymaren who was in the trajectory, because she had an excellent sight and saw the accidental blue glow arrive to her. She jumped aside to get away from it as it crashed on the shore and formed a giant snowflake trap, and meanwhile, didn’t lose time by drawing another arrow. 

Elsa was about to charge a second ice blow, and then was struck by a flashing image of the previous Fifth Spirit who had inflicted the same move to Victor when he was younger during the famous attack that haunted her. She clenched her fist, holding on her promise that she would never act like the old Northuldra leader. 

She crafted her spear again and chose to go to battle in her own style. 

She went to help Eydis with the remaining creatures that she somehow was taking care of by herself, Anna busy helping Ryder stand up after he fell during an attack. With a smile, Elsa admired her niece twirling her powerful and heavy mace around, exploding the monsters’ heads between two rolls. She was sparkling at the light of the Moon in her silver armor, and the Snow Queen was really proud of her. In a combined attack of sword and spear, Anna and her killed the last monster that Victor had created, and smiled at each other, panting. 

They finally got rid of his creatures, but everyone knew that he would create new ones without breaking a sweat. At least, Elsa was able to do so, and she was the only person they could compare him to. Might as well be careful and expect that he was as talented as her. Indeed, he had gotten rid of Kristoff and Honeymaren, and seemed ready to craft new monsters. He groaned as he lifted his palms again. 

“Block his hands!” Yelled Elsa, pointing at him. “If we block his arms, he won’t be able to make those monsters anymore!” 

Anna nodded. Her elder knew well what she was talking about. Hers and victor’s magic may be very different, it had one thing in common: their living creations were crafted with their hands.

Kristoff, who was the closest to Victor after he and Honeymaren had fallen down, frowned in determination as he jumped up, then lifted his arms to hit him. He flipped his axe in the air, aiming not with the blade side but with the hammer one, and slammed down to where his shoulder was. At such a speed and with Elsa’s unbreakable ice, he would at least dislocate it, thought Ryder, who had run to join the King’s side. However, Victor had army experience, and avoided his blow. 

“That wasn’t a really impressive attack.” Puffed the enemy with sarcasm. 

“But a really useful diversion.” Said a smiling voice behind him. 

He didn’t finish twirling around that a massive blunt weapon descended upon his arm. Victor groaned in pain when Eydis’ mace slammed him. He immediately wanted to lift his arm to push away the weapon, but Eydis’ move had been close to perfection and he couldn’t do much with the angle he now had after her blow. He tried to detached his arm from the blades and spikes, but it was impossible; first, because the fabric of his sleeve had been stuck in it, and second, because Eydis was really great at maintaining the mace in place. He tried to push her with the force of his arm, but she grinned as she easily kept him still to where he was, holding the mace with both hands. 

He blinked in astonishment. How could such a little girl have as much strength? He then realized that with the parents she had, it wasn’t surprising. He had made a grave mistake to undervalue her. Victor yelled in frustration, and was about to punch her with his other fist, but he got stuck. 

“What…?”

He turned to his other side, and came face to face with a grinning Ryder. 

“Surprise, monstermaker.” 

Victor gritted his teeth at the sight of Ryder’s staff effectively restraining her elbow and preventing him from making any move. 

He tried to get out of his trap, but it made things worse; the Northuldra had anticipated any possible parade and knew how to hold him still as well. Victor then realized that Ryder’s parade had in fact blocked his right hand. He muttered a line of insults. Seriously? The two younger opponents were the ones disabling him? Eydis smirked as she saw Victor’s despair in his eyes thanks to how close she was. With a grunt, she pushed even stronger on her mace. The Northuldra also pressed harder with his staff. Both him and Eydis couldn’t help smirking at Victor’s struggle. 

Elsa observed the scene and admitted that it was a funny situation too. She had joked earlier in the day how Ryder might be the one who would strike the final blow on Victor, because there was no way one would expect someone with the weakest weapon and the less protection to be a threat. Turned out that she was quite right. 

In fact, not even her could have predicted what was about to follow. 

Ryder changed his grip on his staff to hold the man in place, looking at the splashes of his magic on the ground. 

“You know, there’s something else that is black and that I’d love you to discover.” Grinned Ryder. 

Victor raised a surprised eyebrow at his sudden confidence. 

“Meet explosive powder.” 

The leather pouch he had at his waist, and that the old man thought was simply holding provisions, suddenly flipped upside down and opened when Ryder pulled on a string attached to it. 

Victor’s attention got brought to it and he looked down, giving exactly the intended time for the Northuldra to jump back. 

The mysterious dark powder had fell in a stack on Victor’s right boot, and he frowned as he tried to understand why Ryder had poured ground pepper on his feet. 

“EYDIS!! NOW!!” Yelled the Northuldra. 

Victor jolted his head up, and only then he noticed that the fiery princess had jumped back too. With a grin and a grunt, she lifted her mace to her vambrace covering her forearm. She turned it skillfully so that an iron blade and not an ice one would rasp against the metal part of the armor, and aimed at the stack of powder. With a scratch, a spark flew straight through the air, and Victor saw it fall with wide and terrorized eyes right in the stack of powder. 

The explosion blow was spectacular. In a deafening bang, it made Victor jolt in the air, and Ryder and Eydis got blown away for a few meters despite their safety distances. Thankfully, they fell on their backs like they had planned, loudly but without damage thanks to the pads they had placed on their outfits just for that purpose. 

One could not say the same for Victor, who got injured at the foot, and now grunted as he had trouble standing up without limping. 

Elsa blinked at what had just happened. 

“What the… Did you know they would do that?” She asked her wife, and she saw her happy smirk. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Honeymaren reached for a new arrow in her quiver, and gave her a sarcastic stare. “Well, you were busy being nerdy in Ahtohallan when we built our strategy.” 

The blonde was about to react, but she rose a hand. “Now is not the time to get teasy. Look, he’s about to blow again.” 

Indeed, Victor was clenching his fists and staring at the too-happy family of warriors facing him. 

“Okay, now I’m mad. You’ll face my wrath.” 

He was enraging. And just to make him even more angry, as he stepped forward to personally punch Ryder, an arrow planted right in front of him. 

“Make one more step and the next one goes in your knee.” Menaced Honeymaren with a cold voice. 

He looked up with a grumble and saw that she was aiming at him, her next ice arrow at the ready. During his years in the army, he had always despised archery. 

“A bow… The weapon of cowards.” 

Eydis huffed. “Says the one who uses magic from a distance!” 

“Also, with the skills that it requires to be efficient at hunting, I wouldn’t say that’s is a pathetic weapon.” Remarked Anna. 

“Yeah, my aim is quite good.” Said Honeymaren, still with her threatening eyes, but smiling internally at the words of her sister-in-law. 

She remembered a day some years ago when she had tried to teach the Queen how to use a bow. But the redhead lacked of patience and was more of the ‘attack first’ type of person. 

“Oooh, I’m so scared.” Eye-rolled Victor. 

Elsa was impressed by his assurance. This being said, he had no idea how scary a pissed-of Honeymaren could get. 

The man walked forward, and in a whistle, another arrow planted among the pebbles in front of his feet. He stopped with a grumble. 

“Yes, it will indeed start to get… Very annoying.” 

He stared at the Northuldra, and swiftly moved his right hand. A sharpened solid splurt of dark magic rose from the shore in less than a second and pierced right through Honeymaren’s hand, which she used to draw arrows. In a loud scream, she dropped her weapon and bent with a painful wince. She was bleeding abundantly. 

“MAREN!” Screamed Anna, rushing at her side. 

She grunted that she was fine, but it was an obvious lie. 

Ryder exploded of rage. “YOU BASTARD!” 

“Using big words now, ain’t we?” Puffed Victor. “Actually, you know what? This wasn’t big enough. That didn’t deserve a ‘bastard’ yet. I’m gonna hurt her more.” 

Elsa barged in between him and her wife and stared at him like her eyes came from the core of arctic glaciers itself. 

“Don’t even dare to move your hands at her one more time.” 

Ironically, she was raising glowing blue ones in his direction, and the air around them had fallen of many degrees. 

Honeymaren’s heart filled so much love that it was like all the pain and spilled blood didn’t exist anymore. She smiled at her wife’s intervention, adorable and badass at the same time. 

When Victor took a careful stop, Elsa looked behind her, still pointing at him. 

“Are you okay, Honey?” 

“Y-yeah, I think I can get over it. But you’re gonna have to do without me from now on.” 

Elsa gave a sad look to her lover’s twisted face. Ryder urged to rip a part of his tunic to craft a makeshift bandage. It stopped the bleeding for now, but would need closer inspection. 

To Victor’s ears, however, Honeymaren’s last sentence sounded like music. Yes. Incapacitate each and every ally of the Fifth Spirit so they couldn’t use their weapons. That was a clever follow-up. 

He barely flicked his wrist and a spurt of goo splashed away from his palm right towards Anna. Elsa’s eyes widened and she immediately rose a giant ice shield with a slam of the foot. 

The slime splashed on the surface, and she groaned as she turned to him again. 

“Stop that at once!!” 

Anna twirled her sword in a menacing ‘woosh’. “Oh, if he doesn’t stop it, I will make him stop. I hate surprise attacks. You’re the coward one!” 

“Coward?” Repeated Victor with a slight evil giggle. “You talked about skill earlier. Don’t you think it’s skilled that I can reach to spots… That I don’t even see?” 

He flicked his wrist again, and Anna tried to understand what he meant. Suddenly, the pebbles on her right moved in a creak sound, and dark slime gushed from the ground to splash at her arm, right at the interstice between the elbow and forearms parts of her armor. She let out a scream and a hiss at the burning pain that seized her suddenly, and dropped her sword. 

Elsa twirled around. What?? He had aimed at her even though she was standing behind her blurred ice shield? And so precisely that it went through the flaws of an armor? 

The Snow Queen started to panic as she admitted that Victor had the experience of battle, and knew exactly what to do from now on. 

“No...” She muttered, but it was too late. 

She twirled to Kristoff and Eydis, who had been standing side by side. The King had turned his head at Anna’s scream, wondering what just happened. 

“Kristoff! Watch out!!” Warned the blonde. 

It was a mistake to call him. He looked at her, wondering what the danger was, and Victor smirked. With a jolt of the wrist, he sent another spurt of dark magic to him, and it hit him at the head. 

“KRISTOFF!!” 

Anna, who had been inspecting her wound, caught up on the scene too late. Elsa, who thought until now that she had the advantage of speed, was frightened to discover that Victor was as talented as her; in a few seconds, he had harmed three persons. 

Elsa jumped over her ice shield, enlarged it without looking at it, and hurried to her brother-in-law. 

“I’m fine.” He assured, but then he grunted when he felt the pulsating pain on her skull. “I’ve got a… You know.” Maybe that a regular person would have died from such a magic blow, but he was fine. Only, he started to feel dizzy, and went on his knees, his hand preventing him from falling on the pebbles entirely. 

“Papa!” 

Elsa saw Eydis crouch next to him, but also felt at the same time magic flow through the air. Victor’s next target was her niece. Pitch black goo went to the spot between her shoulder and her neck, where she only wore a coat of mail. Elsa turned still in terror. So he had noticed every single flaw of their outfits. 

The young princess fell forward with a cry. 

“Her too?!” Yelled Ryder, like this was the last straw. “How dare you hurt a CHILD?!” 

He started to run to Victor, screaming a war shout, and the man just cackled. 

“Ryder!! NO!!” Panicked Elsa. 

Victor was faster at injuring Ryder than it would take her to raise a wall in front of him to prevent any step further. 

A slime dart splashed to his knee, and he fell with a moan to the ground. 

“NO!” Whined the blonde, seeing the worst happening, and continuing to happen. 

They were all wincing in pain and clenching their eyes shut at the horrible sensation that the dark magic made as it burnt their skin in a unique way. 

Victor laughed like a maniac. 

“You fools! You’re all like preys to me. Tiny, little, weak preys. This is just too easy when one has been practicing for years.” 

He wiggled his fingers in a ‘buh-bye’ gesture, and it both was sarcastic and meaningful. Elsa quickly understood that he was getting in the final part of his plan. Now it was only her facing him, and he knew very well that she would never dare to give him injuries like the one he struck. 

Elsa gulped. All of her allies on the battlefield were wounded, and she couldn’t even take the time to heal them; Victor now was getting all of her attention. 

“This is over, Fifth Spirit. You’ll face justice.” 

“No! This isn’t justice! This is pure and abominable cruelty!!” Blurted Honeymaren, still in pain, and accusing him through gritted teeth. 

“Shut up, Northuldra. Or I pierce your second hand. It won’t be hard.” 

Elsa frowned with rage. “Don’t talk to my wife like that.” 

She stepped forward, detaching from the others to come closer to him. Anna admired how brave and independent she was to step forward. Honeymaren didn’t like much how it made her go away from her. 

Victor raised an eyebrow as she walked for long seconds and now was away from her peers, halfway between them and him. 

“You think you can threaten me? I have weakened your family. I’m able to rip your magic out of you anytime. You’re not in a position of strength.” 

The blonde clenched her jaw. She indeed wasn’t, but had the tiny hope that he didn’t notice. Only, even if he didn’t have a strategist mind, Victor was far from dumb. He was determined, which made him a fearsome enemy. 

“That’s what makes it unfair!” Underlined Elsa. “You have this ability to rip magic out of others, and I don’t.” 

“Because you don’t want to find about this ability.” Scoffed the man. “While you were busy being lame and weak, I studied this art. But being in harmony with Nature is more important, I guess.” 

Elsa’s heart clench at that double judgement. He had demeaned both her magic skills and her job. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve…” She hissed. 

He sighed. “Yes, a very little patience. Now I am done waiting. This delay has gone on too long.” 

He twirled his fingers, but instead of making dark slike appear there like the Snow Queen thought he would do, he seemed to gather his magic. 

Elsa quickly rose her hands in a dismissing gesture. “Victor, no. Hold on. Remember what I said: if you do that, you’ll become the very thing you hated.” 

“Don’t try to influence me!!” Yelled the man. 

“I’m only saying the truth!!” Swore Elsa. “I’ve done many mistakes in my life to advise you on that, trust me!!” 

“STOP IT!” He groaned, his fists now exuding strong energy. “I’m putting an end to the Fifth Spirit’s existence, right here and right now!” 

Elsa’s eyes widened at his brisk move, realizing he was genuinely about to do the magic pullout. She rose her arms even higher, in an imploring gesture. 

“This magic is who I am, Victor…” Confessed Elsa. 

Her sentence was so emotional that it placed them in the silence of the night for a moment. Honeymaren widened her eyes.  

“It’s part of her identity! If she loses her magic, she loses a part of herself!” She insisted. “You can’t do that!” 

“Oh, I assure you that I can.” 

He started to move his arms in a combination of moves that he had never done before, and Anna widened her eyes. She really didn’t want to see him try. 

“We have to kill him before he does it!” She yelled to her elder, desperate.

“No, no…” 

The Fifth Spirit refused to come to such an act. 

“We can’t do that!” She yelled back to Anna behind her. 

“Elsa!” Scolded Honeymaren, agreeing with her sister-in-law. “If we don’t do it now, it will be too late!!” 

The two women had been alternating their panicked gazes between the blonde and the enemy, who kept making those unique moves that really heightened the urgency. 

“ELSA!” Called their voices behind her. 

“Let me think!!” Shouted Elsa back, her closed fists trembling. 

Her breathing sped up. What to do? What to do? Victor was gathering his magic. Whatever he was preparing wasn’t bluff. The danger was genuine. 

Honeymaren didn’t like this at all. All of her instinct was screaming that this wouldn’t end well. Anna now understood why she got a bad feeling when they had come to the shore on Nokk. This was it. This was the end. 

They had lost. 

Victor retracted his fists back, his hands pouring with magic. The Snow Queen knew this posture way too well. He was about to blow a very powerful magic move. He locked his eyes with her.

“No, Victor, wait…” Begged Elsa. 

“Too late. I’ve been waiting for this moment longer than you’ve been alive.” 

He gave her a cruel look, and launched his arms forward, his palms open. Widening her eyes was the last thing Elsa could do. 

She suddenly spasmed, like she got seized by a giant invisible hand that just squeezed her whole body. Her eyes turned up and she revulsed, her breathing lost in a strangling noise, and she fainted, falling to the pebbles in a sinister sound. “ELSA!” Yelled Honeymaren. 

“NO!!” Screamed Anna. 

They both ran like hell to the unconscious body of their loved one, but Victor kept aiming and continued his process. 

A light suddenly emanated from every pore of Elsa’s skin, flashing suddenly, and the two women stopped running in a gasp, wincing as she suddenly became entirely bright white. In any other context, Honeymaren would have felt like she was blessed by the sight of an angel. But now, she screamed in anguish. 

“NOOOO!!” 

She ran to take her lover in her arms, when suddenly a shock wave blew from Elsa’s body, and she got blasted away, rejected in the pebbles violently in a backward roll. Kristoff stopped her and prevented her from a whiplash. Stunned, she tried to stand up as soon as possible to try again, determined and oblivious. Although, the wind started to rise, and became incredibly strong, making it even impossible to approach within a twenty-meter radius. 

It was like one of Gale’s tornados had been combined with the most powerful light Honeymaren had ever seen. Anna felt like she was staring directly into a lighthouse. Everyone experienced that moment differently, but all agree on one point: magic was exploding through the air, filling every possible spot. It even felt like it went everywhere and sneaked in every place; Eydis felt like it was going through her hair like rain, and Kristoff felt like it was going into his eyes like the heat of flames would do in a giant fire. 

It was intense and unstoppable. Soon they were projected even further from Elsa because the gust of magical energy started to fortify around her. Victor focused even more on the process, his arms outstretched, unreachable from where he was. The magic process started to lift the Spirit’s body from the shore, and it floated above the pebbles, soon reaching three meters high. 

“Elsa!!” Screamed Anna behind her arms, placed to avoid getting blinded by the magic beam. 

It was obvious that her sister couldn’t reply, completely unconscious. With the wind, she wouldn’t have been able to hear her anyway. 

The Snow Queen’s body flipped like a lifeless doll on a horizontal plan, and looked like she was suspended by an invisible thread that was attached to her navel. Perfectly balanced, her head, arms and legs were hanging in the air, with only her core raising to the sky. 

Then the light started to detach from her. It was no longer a figure of speech; everything that made Elsa magical was leaving her body. It elevated in swirls, packing in one spot and one sphere, and it slowly hovered to Victor. 

Elsa’s family members gasped as they guessed what it meant. The man laughed out loud in a sinister cackle, and suddenly widened his arms, his head up, like he was on top of the world. 

The bright white sphere jolted through the air and went right to his body in a second, like it had been pumped, or dragged with the force of the universe. It entered his navel, and he startled at the sensation, then laughed even more. His body shone the same way, but it faded as the magic sank into his core. 

Then, the second the light stopped emanating, Elsa’s body fell to the ground, and the magic gust disappeared. 

It was like time had suddenly stopped, and yet it hadn’t. In fact, it felt unfair that it hadn’t actually stopped. Elsa’s body had dropped to the ground, motionless, and yet the waves kept rolling, and yet the wind kept blowing, and yet the entire world didn’t come to a halt to watch the Snow Queen fall. 

A feeling of unfairness added itself to the mountain of emotions that piled in Anna’s heart. At the top, reigned terror. 

“ELSA!!” 

She ran to her elder’s still body, and kneeled heavily next to her. 

“No, gods, no…” 

She checked her state, shook her arms, yelled her name again and again… But nothing happened. Elsa didn’t respond, her face and muscles limp. 

Honeymaren dropped heavily next to her, her weapon also left behind. All that mattered now was Elsa, Elsa, Elsa. 

Their hearts squeezed with the same intensity, yet not the same reasons: Anna was terrorised, and Honeymaren devastated. 

‘No, not again… This can’t be happening… This can’t be real… This is one of those nightmares… Please, no, for the love of gods, please don’t make me go through this again. Please don’t make me live that once more. I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. I lied each time I said I was when someone asked about that night. I’m not strong enough. I can’t face that again. Please, Elsa, wake up... ‘ Thought Anna, and tears fell heavily on her cheeks as she winced. 

‘Don’t go, Elsa, please, love of my life, please don’t leave me. I’m begging you. I’m begging the sky, I’m begging Ahtohallan, I’m begging all of Nature from the tiniest speck of dust to the tallest mountain of the world. Please, snømus, please… Open your eyes… Open your beautiful and mighty eyes… I can’t live without you. You’re my light, and I can already feel the colors of the world disappearing if you’re not here to shed light on them. Please, Elsa, wake up…’ Thought Honeymaren, her shoulders trembling, and she rubbed her eyes violently to see Elsa’s face clearly. 

But even if the blonde’s face was as graceful as usual, she did not respond. How could she be so stunning in that final moment? 

The Northuldra leader looked down at her left hand where she was holding the one of her wife. A shiver passed along her back as she looked at her ice ring. The object which held the highest importance in her life now made her feel a mix of disgust and anger. 

Her lover’s magic now was in possession of this horrible man. Everything that made Elsa who she is got stolen from her. The ring she had at her finger was now linked to the core of this monster. 

Honeymaren’s teeth gritted as she frowned, roamed with rage, and she dropped Elsa’s hand to search for her knife at her waist. She suddenly stood up, and all the calm and level-headed behavior that normally forged her personality got swept away, as powerfully as the wind in her hair. 

“YOU VILE AND SICKENING SON OF A--” 

“MAREN!” 

A strong hand held her by the crook of her elbow, and she got stopped in her run. 

“LET ME GO!” She yelled with all she could, tears falling on her face. She didn’t need to focus and erase them to know that Anna was the one who was stopping her. 

She could feel how strong yet trembling the hand was. She could feel how equally devastated the redhead was by a simple touch. Victor had harmed a wife, but he had also harmed a sister. 

When she turned to Anna, she was unable to see yet heard the sobs that agitated the Queen, who was reduced to a trembling younger sibling. 

“D-don’t become like h-him.” She begged, her voice hitched with sorrow. 

The Northuldra fell next to her, and the two women held their hands as they looked at Elsa again. The others had approached and were flabbergasted, unable to believe what was happening. 

Kristoff looked around frantically as he realized an odd detail. Nothing made out of magic ice had melted. Ice arrows were still scattered around, the ice blade of Anna’s sword was intact, and the raised shields that Elsa had made here and there were still present. More importantly, the blonde was inert on the pebbles, but her outfit hadn’t changed a bit. 

“Wait… I don’t get it… If her magic’s gone, then why are her clothes still in this state?” Muttered Kristoff. 

Eydis frowned as she thought fast. 

“The process rips her magic… So it transported it... Her magic went somewhere… But where?” 

Victor cackled evily from where he was standing. 

He flicked his right wrist, and wiggled his fingers. Snowflakes popped out of his palm. “Found it.” 

Eydis gasped. He had succeeded. 

The snowflakes twirled around his hand, and he looked at it with a satisfied expression.

“I gotta say, the sensation is quite interesting.” Commented Victor, wiggling his body as he felt the ice and snow course in his veins. 

The brunette was simply disgusted by his behavior. She couldn’t help imagining that it was like Elsa’s soul and essence was in him, and he was squirming in pleasure. It made her feel like she was watching him ravish her wife. She forced herself to focus on Elsa instead of him, holding her beloved in her arms even closer. 

“Say, is it me, or the air of the night warmed up a bit?” He asked in a playful tone. He then snapped as he understood - and his mastering of the magic wasn’t quite perfect yet, so it sparkled some snowflakes around - “Wait, I get it. It’s because of the ice and snow, right? The bender isn’t bothered by cold. That’s why I feel like there’s no more of that fresh sea breeze.” 

Honeymaren suddenly noticed something. She was too busy being heartbroken until now to see it. 

“That’s why Elsa’s body is shivering now…” She murmured, feeling the skin under her hands. 

Anna looked down at her sister’s body in alarm. Elsa was unconscious, but her body was still alive; and now it was struggling to stay so, trembling and spasming. 

“Oh my gods, because she’s wearing ice but isn’t immune to it anymore!” Gasped the redhead, suddenly struck by the horrible situation.

They all gasped. Honeymaren’s brain worked faster than light and she immediately took off a leather layer of her outfit to cover her trembling wife with it. Kristoff hurried to come closer and fell on his knees, making the pebbles creak. 

“No, no, that won’t be enough, we have to take her out of her clothes, now!” 

If Honeymaren didn’t know the King’s personality and his ice harvester experience, she would think that he was trying to bare her wife. Thankfully, it was obvious that he ordered to act urgently and do emergency procedures, just like when one of his harvesters peers had fallen through the ice of a frozen lake. 

They nodded and started to take off her crafted custom-made ice armor… And realized two seconds later that they couldn’t. All of them had tried to tug on a different part, but it was impossible to take it off Elsa’s skin. 

“I can’t detach her poleyn.” Complained Eydis with a weak and disappointed voice. “Doesn’t it have a fastening strap?”

“Where is the outline of it?” Frowned Ryder, confused. 

“There’s none.” Said Anna and Honeymaren in one low voice. 

Kristoff gulped. “She crafted it flawlessly. Each part of the armor has been tailor-made with her magic, so there’s no joint… And only her can melt them.”  

They all widened their eyes at the finding. 

“Wait… Maybe… That her ice against her ice…” Blabbered the blond man, searching for ideas as he panted in panic. He stumbled trying to get up to fetch his axe where he had dropped it, so Eydis went to it for him. She picked the axe with emotion, looking at the beautiful detailed blade. This creation probably was the last one that she will have seen her aunt make… With a sob, she gave it to his father, and he slid the blade of the axe along a piece of armor over Elsa’s chest, right above her heart, the spot they really needed to take care of first. But it didn’t do anything. Despite Kristoff’s long and strong efforts, neither the blade or the flexible plate of thick magic got scratched. His cheeks red, he was out of breath, and dropped the axe down. He gave Honeymaren the saddest eyes she had ever seen on the King’s face. 

Honeymaren gasped. “No. Nonono, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening…” 

She hovered her lover’s twitching body and rubbed as much skin as possible, at each and every spot that wasn’t covered with those ice armor parts that they all started to hate. 

“Please get warm, p-please get warm…” She mumbled, hiccups cutting her sentence because her throat tightened. Her heavy tears fell and splashed on Elsa’s pale and unconscious face. 

Ryder was devastated to observe that all colors had left the Snow Queen’s cheeks, and even her normally pink lips had turned white. But it wasn’t the beautiful snow white color that the tribe associated to the Fifth Spirit’s unique aura; it was the white of death. Elsa’s heart was slowing down and would soon stop. 

Anna clenched her teeth as her tears fell over and over. She held Elsa’s cold hand in hers and twirled to Victor. 

“PLEASE!” She implored, her voice distorted by terror. “Please do something!! Please melt it, melt the ice, or she’ll die of hypothermia!!” 

The man didn’t move an inch. 

“DO SOMETHING!!” Yelled the Queen with all the force in her lungs, or rather what remained, after she cried and screamed so much. 

She turned to clench Elsa’s arms as her elder’s body trembled from the cold and Honeymaren’s rubs, and she could feel that it didn’t change anything. Elsa’s skin was simply the coldest she had ever felt. Even during bad days when the blonde was feeling down, it hadn’t reached such a low temperature. 

“We need to try a cardiac massage.” Suggested Honeymaren, with a tone overfilled with the acknowledgement that it was useless, but she refused not to make an attempt. 

Anna gave her way so she could place herself above Elsa’s chest and along her arm, even though she knew that it was pointless as well. Indeed, when the brunette tried to start pumping up and down with her overlapped hands, she got blocked by the incredibly solid matter of the ice armor. She tried, tried and tried, with all the rage and despair she had in her soul, but it didn’t even shatter. 

She violently screamed and punched the pebbles on the shore next to her knees repeatedly. Ryder gave her a sad look and was about to put a hand on her shoulder, but Honeymaren tossed it away and bent to kiss her wife. She had meant to combine mouth-to-mouth with the cardiac massage, but the second her lips touch Elsa’s, she startled and cried at the sensation of how desperately cold they were. With trembling shoulders, she pulled back, and clenched the ice shoulder-pieces. 

She sobbed at the idea that Elsa was about to die in two minutes or so, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. Her heart would stop beating, her stunning energy that guided Honeymaren day and night would stop existing, her beautiful smile would never reappear on her face, and her deep azure blue eyes would never land on her again with her unique sly and quiet balance, her unique sarcastic and wise temperament. No, Elsa’s eyes would forever stay close like they were now, and her body would remain cold. And it wasn’t the gentle cold that made her who she were, that was her distinctive feature, her peculiarity that drove Honeymaren crazy in love everytime she would roam her hands along her face and body, or when they got even more intimate. This time, it was the end. It was the final cold. In a while, before the Moon even finished its course in the sky, Elsa’s last heartbeat would echo on the shore, and her soul abandon her on the dark pebbles. 

“No… Elsa… Please… Please, I’m begging you…” 

She had a wince and gritted her teeth as new tears fell abundantly from her face, falling on the cold matter of her outfit, that Elsa could no longer control. 

Anna was crying her eyes out as well, her shoulders trembling next to her, holding her sister’s arms and face as she could despite her shaking. 

Both could not see Elsa’s face anymore, because their sight was blur with tears. 

Behind Honeymaren, Ryder had crouched and was putting a hand on the brunette’s shoulder, trying to be a strong brother who would help her go through this, but he was unable to find the strength he was looking for. His hand turned into a clenching fist, holding the leather piece on Honeymaren’s shoulder and trembling as he cried as well. 

Kristoff was so shocked that tears couldn’t even come to his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was living, his head feeling like in the worst nightmare. Instinctively, he lifted his eyes to his wife, searching in Anna’s face an indication that this was all a joke. But when he saw the absolute wreck that the redhead had become, her eyes and nose running a flood of tears, his heart got split in half just as powerfully as if a sword had sliced it. A physical shock to his chest suddenly took him out of his devastated reverie; he looked down and saw that Eydis had launched herself in his lap and was curling against him, her arms around his armor. He couldn’t see her face, but there was no need. Her tiny silver spaulders were shaking in sorrow and he could feel her gloved fingers dugged in his back. The top of her dutch braids was shivering as she had her forehead against him. With all the might he could assemble, he bent down and kissed his daughter’s head, passing a hand along her locks to calm her. 

However, he knew that no one in the family, no one among them five, would ever get over what had just happen, and what was about to happen. 

Victor stared at the scene with a mute expression. He was silent during all of his sobbing. He was intrigued. 

But what he didn’t understand wasn’t the behavior they had around Elsa’s body. What he didn’t understand was the feeling he was having. 

What was this sensation? Was it… Sadness? No, it couldn’t be. Why would he feel sad for the Fifth Spirit’s death? He had everything he needed! He got her powers, he now was unstoppable, she would soon die and he could even depart for Ahtohallan right now. His plan was complete. His revenge was triumphant. He was the victorious one. 

Then, how come he didn’t move? Why couldn’t he go? What was stopping him? 

Victor was paralysed by this sensation. He even wanted to grunt at this unknown thing stopping him, but he didn’t find the strength to do so. Then it hit him; he was compassionate. 

‘What the hell…’ He thought. ‘Why am I having pity for those losers? I am the victorious one. I won. I avenged Niks.’ 

He stared at the trembling family once again. 

‘Then why am I feeling sadness? Is it sadness? Or is it… Something else? Is it… Worse?’ 

He couldn’t move, still trying to pinpoint this sensation. 

He was in denial. He refused to admit that Elsa and the Fifth Spirit he had met were two different persons, with different lives, and who made different choices. They didn’t have the same personalities, they didn’t have the same intentions. Yet he rejected the idea that he couldn’t avenge Niks by hurting her. 

He was angry. Fueled by rage. Each of his attacks until now had been with the mental image of his wife in mind. She would pay for all his suffering. 

He was bargaining. A life for a life. That was the plan. Once the Fifth Spirit magic becomes his, this vendetta will be fair. That murderer will have what they deserved. 

He was depressed. Those last years had been horrible to him, and took him down mentally and physically. Every time he closed his eyes at night, he thought of his wife. There was no way to dismiss it. 

But he wasn’t accepting. He never accepted that Niks died. All he ever wanted for so many years since her death was to avenge her. It was what fueled his life, what dictated his acts, what made him go forward in life. 

Then why were they all kneeled on the shore around her still body? Why didn’t then want to kill him? Why didn’t they react the same way than he did? 

The Queen had stopped the Northuldra leader to prevent her from giving in to temptation. But this was long ago now. The Northuldra wasn’t held by the monarch anymore. She could totally stand up and run to him and grab her dagger to cut his throat. She could even simply run and punch him in the face. But she didn’t why. Why didn’t she? None of them was retained by the other. Why was none of them avenging her, for heaven’s sake? If he were them, he would already have taken advantage of the enemy’s presence at the scene-- Yet that was it. He wasn’t them. 

They weren’t murderers. They didn’t have crime in their list of solutions. They didn’t plan to kill him. In fact, he realized, they would never plan to kill him, even after the Fifth Spirit’s death. 

“Elsa.” Said the echo of the Queen’s voice in his mind. “Her name is Elsa.” 

Victor was struck by the vision of this family. They never considered murder. That simply wasn’t who they were. They were peaceful, they were pacifists. None of them even had their heads turned to him. He could even attack them by surprise and stab them all with ice impalements like his wife had been killed, and yet they wouldn’t even mind. ‘Let it be so’, they would surely say. 

His knees buckled. 

When he slammed the pebbles, the noise attracted Anna’s attention, and she turned weakly to him. She rubbed her eyes to stop seeing blur and watched Victor. Her eyes widened when she saw that he was seated on his heels, his shoulder slumped, his hands on the ground along his thighs like a disjointed puppet. 

His hands, of a power yet phenomenal, that could snap the whole Forest out of existence if he intended to. On the ground. 

She blinked in confusion. Was he… Was he devastated? What had happened? 

“Victor?” 

The redhead surprised herself at her own voice. Her subconscious seemed to have been the one calling for his name, because she didn’t even remember her brain forming the question. Her tone had been calm, soft, gentle even. She was about to ask ‘Are you okay?’, but forbid herself to pronounce those words, repelled by her own intentions. Was she feeling bad for him now? Wait, what?? 

Because he looked so sad. He looked like his wife had just died a second time in front of his eyes. It was like… 

Gears clipped together in Anna’s brain. 

He had realized that he was inflicting the same thing that the previous Fifth Spirit had inflicted on him. 

“She was right…” He muttered, so far and nearly imperceptibly that Anna almost didn’t hear. “I have become the very thing I hate…” 

They exchanged a gaze, Victor’s eyes now locking with her. 

“Wait… Are you about to…” 

He nodded, and stepped forward. The Northuldra leader’s protective instinct made her protect her lover’s body with an almost predatory snarl. 

Victor rose innocent hands, stepping slower. 

“STAY BACK!” Shrieked the brunette. 

“No, Honeymaren, wait!!” 

“What?!” She blurted, annoyed that Anna prevented her from doing what she wanted. 

“He’ll give her magic back.” 

The Northuldra leader blinked. The others did as well. 

“What did you just say?” 

“He’s bringing her back to life. He’s giving her magic back.” 

Kristoff looked at his wife sadly. “Anna, surely you’re delirious. He only wants to finish the job--” 

“Trust me.” 

“What, you have faith in him now?”

“I can tell that he has changed. I can feel it in my guts.” 

“...What?”

“Why is he gesturing us to move aside, then?” Groaned Ryder, watching his moves. 

“He needs space to do it, just like when he… Just like when he ripped it off her. We have to stand back.” 

Honeymaren’s chestnut eyes turned to fire. “I am not leaving her side.” 

“Maren, I swear that it’s the most difficult thing to do for me as well right now. But I’m begging you. I’m begging you all.” She said on a higher voice, addressing to her family. “Let’s get out of the way. Elsa will be fine. I know she will. I promise.” 

They all seemed suspicious, but slowly changed their minds. Her daughter lifted her small face to her, still covered with tears. 

“P… Pinky promise?” 

Anna looked down at Eydis, and smiled as widely as she could while she held her chin up. “Pinky promise.” 

It took a while, but they finally all stepped away from Elsa’s unconscious body. Victor respected the time it took them to take the distance he indicated, and they moved reluctantly because it was even larger than they thought. He stayed silent until they were all in good positions and he was certain that they wouldn’t get hurt. 

“That will be enough.” 

They turned to him. 

“You don’t need to go further. You’re out of the radius now, it’s fine.” 

Honeymaren blinked in astonishment. He truly cared? She could see it in his features, she could hear it in his voice. He wasn’t tricking them. He genuinely cared about their health. She was stunned by the change in his behavior. Did he come to his senses? 

“Cover your eyes.” He advised. 

They all obeyed, except for Honeymaren, who was staring right at him. He opened his mouth to repeat, but she struck her sentence faster. 

“I am not leaving my eyes out of you.” 

He had a sigh and a sad smile. “Alright.” 

She kept staring at him while he did the same moves with his arms than what he did earlier, only this time on reverse. He focused deeply on what he was doing, joining his hands just in front of his navel. Briskly, he parted them and even jolted his arms open, both outstretched on each side, forming a cross with his body. A bright light parted from him and went in a straight line right to Elsa’s body. It was dazzling and blinding, but Honeymaren didn’t care. She willingly accepted to lose her sight to make sure that Victor was bringing Elsa’s magic back to her. 

Somehow, the light of the transfer this time seemed even brighter than before. Eydis moaned in pain at the light and winced as she stepped back. Ryder placed a hand above her face to protect her as he was also looking away to avoid burning his eyes. 

The process was longer than when he ripped Elsa’s magic in the first place, and Anna interpreted from it that it was always more difficult to return what was stolen. Just like it was harder to fix a vase after breaking it than when one bumped it off the table. 

It took a long time, and the redhead eventually closed her eyes in impatience, clenching them shut. When suddenly, the light stopped. She blinked as she looked around them. The shore had been plunged in the dark of night again, the Moon calmly shedding light on them. 

As she tried to understand where everyone was standing because her eyes had trouble switching from the high brightness to the dark of night, she heard a loud gasp from the ground. 

Elsa gasped like she had been underwater for years and finally had reached the surface. She then breathed in pants as her heart picked up to its normal place and her blood rushed in her veins through her whole body. Her organs felt like they were on fire, and her limbs were both dizzy and buzzing with a sensation of pins and needles. Spasming, her palms slammed the pebbles and her fingers clenched on them. She continued to gasp and sat up in utter confusion of what had just happened. 

“ELSA!!” 

The familiar voice echoed in the night, and she blinked as she tried to find where her wife was possibly standing. Suddenly, fast noises of a run on the pebbles came closer and closer to her. She barely had the time to turn to where it was from when something very hard and very wet tackled her body and slid along her cheek. She recognized who it was by the way she cried, and the natural scent of her skin and hair combined with the familiar smell of the leather of her outfit.   

Elsa’s brain didn’t fully grasp why she was holding her so warmly, but she instinctively wrap her arms around her as she caught her breath. Honeymaren abruptly pulled back to hold Elsa’s face and look at her with a tearful grin. She lovingly sighed, then slammed her lips on hers. The Snow Queen widened her eyes at the deep and powerful kiss. It was full of emotion, and intense in every way. However, Elsa couldn’t enjoy it much. She already had troubles breathing, so a kiss wasn’t really the smartest move. Unwillingly, she pushed away Honeymaren’s shoulders to detach her from her face. After a big gasp, she gave her a regretful wince, then coughed as she tried to retrieve oxygen. 

“Sorry… Just... “ She gestured to her mouth, struggling to make words. “Need air...” 

Honeymaren had a wet chuckle and sniffed as she nodded. “Yeah. I understand. I’m the one who’s sorry for jumping on you like that. Take your time.” 

Elsa breathed as much as she could, when suddenly something else ripped out some of the air she had managed to put in her lungs; the brisk and powerful hug that held her from behind, with arms tightly crossing her chest, was unmistakable. 

“Anna?” She said in a croak voice, blinking. 

What happened? Was she okay? Victor had aimed at her, she got hurt, she fell, but it actually didn’t to anything? Were they this glad because it didn’t work? 

The redhead sobbed of happiness next to her ear. Elsa’s eyes widened at the familiar sound. Last time she had heard that kind of sobbing...

Hold on a minute, how long was she unconscious? 

“Hey, hey… I’m okay…” She muttered, assembling all her forces to reassure her little sister, and she stroked her hair as she felt her face on her shoulder. 

As a response, Anna clenched harder in her embrace, but thankfully her arms had gone higher, so Elsa was able to breathe normally. 

She stared in silence as Kristoff and Eydis ran to her and gave her blessed and incredibly relieved smiles, and Ryder fell to his knees next to her niece to sob loudly in happiness. 

What the heck had happened? How much time had passed? 

She looked around, a bit blocked by Honeymaren in her lap and Anna holding her still with her strong hug, to check the Moon and the tide and try to understand how long she had been taken away from them. 

When Elsa scanned the shore, her eyes landed on a man figure, and they widened when she saw that it was Victor. However, her expression changed when she saw his posture, and that’s why she didn’t recognize him immediately. He had one knee down and the other up, and he was struggling to stand up. That posture was familiar: Elsa was in the same state when she used a lot of her magic in one go and started to feel drowsy from it. What did Victor just do? Why was no one keeping an eye on him? 

“Guys… Look out…” Warned Elsa, nudging the people around her so they could turn towards the enemy. 

Anna crouched next to her and she could finally see her face. Her young sister looked at Victor, but to Elsa’s biggest surprise, she was neither frowning or worried; she was smiling? In… Gratitude? 

Surely she was delirious. The Snow Queen turned to her wife, and was stunned to see the same expression on Honeymaren’s face. 

The redhead turned and gave a squeeze to her shoulder. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Elsa blinked. “Uh… Good. Great.” 

Honeymaren smiled. “Can you feel your powers?” 

She frowned, clueless of what those questions were leading to. She looked down at her hands, folding then unfolding her fingers. She felt magic coursing through her veins, like usual. She pushed magic through her fingertips, and made some snowflakes fly around. 

“Yeah, I think so-- Wait a minute.” 

Her eyes widened, and Honeymaren grinned. 

Anna’s hand passed along her back. “He saved your life. He gave your magic back.” 

Quiet in disbelief, she joined them as they all looked over to where Victor was now standing, limping a bit because of his injured ankle. He didn’t dare to look at them, but finally did after a few seconds, noticing that all eyes were on him. His gaze met Elsa’s, and their eyes locked for a moment. She inspected him, dubious. Victor looked sorry, and sincere. The blonde blabbered in astonishment. 

“You… You did? You retrieved the magic, despite everything?”

“You were right.” He smiled sadly. “Killing you would have made me become the very thing I hate. And it wouldn’t have made me better than him. Revenge would never have. It doesn’t heal. Healing comes with love. So I reversed the transfert. You deserve it better than me.”

He stayed there, defeated and still, ready to receive his sentence. 

Anna slowly stood up, and smiled at him. 

“Thank you.” 

[pynkhues]

Because of the marriage talk, if you feel okay sharing, can we get a sneak peak of the wedding fic for Brio if you’re still writing it? No pressure obviously, I just wanted some fluff hahah!!

This is still a little rough, anon, but have a snippet :-)

-

“Y’know, we could,” Rio drawls, his voice low and easy as Beth undoes the clip on her necklace, pulling the thing off and dropping it into the open drawer of her jewelry box.

“Could what?”

In her head, she’s thinking about tomorrow. About dropping the kids at Judith’s and picking Annie up from her Cog Test for her EMT course (god, she can’t believe her sister’s almost finished it), about the books she has to check before Mick comes round to the office to pick up the drop and the cookies she promised to make for Emma’s ballet class post-recital party on Friday. The usual chaos, she thinks, stepping one foot onto the sock of the other to pull the garment off as her fingers start on the buttons of her blouse.

“Get married.”

Her ankle rolls. Twists suddenly sideways in her sock as she loses her balance, and her hand flies up to grip the edge of the dresser. She takes a breath, tries to still her suddenly fast beating heart.

“Ha ha,” she says, glancing back at him, catching a glimpse of him sprawled in their bed. She keeps her tone light, airy, over the thrum of the central heating. “Very funny.”

“You think I’m kiddin’?” he asks her, and Beth looks back properly now, her feet flat on the ground again, her eyes a little wide, surprised when Rio suddenly sits up properly in bed, rolls his shoulders back. He wets his lips. “You think I ain’t thought about it?”

“I - - ” she flails out a hand. “I don’t know.”

She sees it – the very second his expression closes, and her heart slows, but not in a pleasant way. Like it’s been pulled back somehow, like she has. She’s gotten better at reading his looks, and he knows it, so this shut off is a shut out, he doesn’t want her to know what he’s feeling, thinking, so she glances at the floor instead. Sees her sock half off, and steps on it again, pulling it off properly, her bare toes curling instantly in the carpet, and no, okay. She knew he thought about it. Knew he was comfortable enough with the prospect to joke about it, for his sisters to coo, even for Ruby to raise an eyebrow when he’d asked, out of the blue at Harry’s birthday party, about Stan and Ruby’s wedding.

Her gaze flicks back at him, and he’s not looking at her now, rather he’s staring at the floor too, hand rubbing at the back of his neck, up over the base of his skull, like he’s chewing over his next words, and then he says:

“Yeah so, I kinda thought you figured that’s where we were headin’ too, darlin’.”

Had she?

Her thumb finds the wood grain of the dresser, presses in, her stomach feels full, her chest, like something’s stretching inside of her, pushing out, and she hadn’t thought about it, only because she hadn’t let herself, just like she hadn’t thought about moving in with him, sharing a room with him, sharing their families, sharing their lives. She hadn’t thought about any of it really, she’d just plowed forwards, taking everything she’d been given and feeling something close to holy in it, because Beth had been raised on have not’s not on have’s, and she’s still getting used to feeling full instead of starving, feeling this sated, this whole. Is still counting down the days until the fire in her chest she feels when she’s with him is snuffed out, until it’s doused, is so fixed on holding onto the now, on keeping him here, with her in the present, how can she think about keeping him forever?

Beth’s still learning how to let herself want things.

So how could she possibly have let herself want that?

[inotanzen]

any headcanons for inotanzens height difference?? based on your fic it looks like zenitsu is the shortest which i absolutely love <3

ah you mean one of the things i have thought about down to who grew how fast and when? :’) it’s fine, it’s fine i don’t have a problem nope!

zenitsu is definitely shortest but like in the kind of way that makes ino only barely able to say he’s taller. they’re like an inch and a half apart and ino acts like it’s five (at least until tan shows up LMFAO little shit.)

i think zen was taller for a while when they were younger because he was an early bloomer but then just. stopped hahah (he also has the least muscle mass in modern au, he’d be a video game nerd weirdo and u can’t convince me otherwise.)

ino grew at a pretty average speed, it took him a while to pass zen which is also probably why he acts like a little shit lol dude packs on muscle like it’s his job, no matter the universe tho so sometimes it makes him look taller than he is.

tanji has just always been above average for his height so when he was sort of a late bloomer they joked for a bit about him being a tree or whatever but then he just kept growing. now he’s nearly three inches above zen, one above ino and really it’s not a joke anymore, they just think he’s an adonis. :’)

and i think he’d pack on muscle mass decently well even in modern au just from doing the heavy lifting at whatever job he has, even if the job doesn’t technically require it lol he just helps people with heavy stuff a lot.

[triplexdoublex]

Hiiiii ..first of all i love your writing.. you're incredibly talented

Second i have a request.. it's pure angst ..okay so I'm thinking maybe MGK wants to take a break from his relationship with yn because he thinks that he's still in love with his ex. Then he goes to tell the boys after a few days and the boys convince him that the ex is manipulating him and that he's in love with yn. He goes to tell her but she's nowhere to be found .. he waits for her for months (doesn't sleep with anyone else and starts therapy maybe) she comes back after a few months to get some stuff from the house and she finds all the boys there with colson and he apologizes in front of them and tells her that they can recover from this (she's wearing a hoodie) she takes off her hoodie .. she's standing there in her bra only with her chest full of hickeys and she's like can we recover from this tho? Turns out she was traveling through Europe and sleeping around because she thinks that it's over between her and colson (bare in mind he cheated on her before with that same ex and she forgives him..so she basically doesn't want to be his second choice and wants to end things permanently) but idk how they still get back together in the end and they do indeed recover from all of that

I'm sorry i know this is so long but i couldn't help myself hahah

If you don't like to write about it i fully understand girl

Thank you! I don’t usually take detailed requests but I’m thinking with one of the new songs on the new album being called “Make Up Sex” this just might work… but I wanna hear the song first before I decide, plus I still have a heap of half done fics on Google docs I’m working on right now, so we’ll see.

[imnotwolverine]

Signs

Geralt of Rivia x reader (smutty fic)

Word count: 2.371

Disclaimer: Witcher signs and some kind of smut

Author’s note: I’ve been reading a bunch of snippets from Andrzej Sapkowski’s Witcher books and one of them described a meeting between Eskel and Triss. Triss was taken aback when he touched her, because his Witcher skin triggered “pleasant, but piercing vibrations”. WELP. I don’t know about you, but; count me horny, girls.

Go to Signs part 2 or read Signs part 3

--

Simmering eyes. That’s how you’d describe them.

Throughout the night they had made sure to land at least a dozen times on your form as you drank and danced with your fellow townsfolk, the beast now defeated and your lives saved. But it had not been a knight in shining armour that had fended off the beast. No. It had been him, a weary man in tattered boiled leather armour, his face studious and ..simmering.

It fascinated you.

Between the dances you’d steal glances at the peculiar stranger, the flames of a fire that roared in the middle of the square dancing over his face as his large hand thumbed over his cup of mead. With those peculiar eyes he watched some flirty wenches, their giggles bouncing off the buildings that surrounded the square, some young men trying to steal their attention for the night. But, what these wenches seemed to forget was that there was probably only one who could TRULY show them a good night.

Him.

That is..if the stories were true. Weren’t Witchers known for their outstanding stamina..and..eh..*aherm*.. virility?

The very idea of what could be hiding beneath that worn leather armour made your legs tingle and cheeks grow hot, the song you were dancing to ending and your partner thankfully not noticing the sudden heat that crossed your face. ‘Thank you.’ You mumbled at him before turning on your heel, wishing to step out to refresh yourself but finding yet another suitor before you.

Him.

Like in a blur he offered you a gracious greeting bow, white hair slipping over his wide shoulders before he rose to full height again, his frame towering a good foot above you. There was not really a question in whether or not you’d accept this dance, his feet already stepping closer, pushing you back into the dancing circle as a new tune was struck.

He hadn’t danced with anyone else yet, so you couldn’t help but feel both confused and flattered at once, more heat rising to your cheeks as you finally managed to take a good close look at the Witcher. And dare you say..he was a rather pleasant specimen to look at. High cheekbones, strong jawline. And those eyes. Those eyes!

‘I was about to cool down for a bit.’ You smiled sheepishly, receiving a wolfish grin from him. ‘Well I am just warming up.’

His voice was deep and honey, rumbling through his chest like a summer thunder. Delightfully so. You couldn’t help but become putty before he even inched close enough to start the dance, the rest of the crowd already twirling and laughing around you. It was as if the late summer air had grown more thick and the fires burned more brightly when the White wolf raised his arms in a dancing stance, your arms quick to follow suit and interlace fingers with his. And how. You weren’t sure if it was the mead in your blood or the heat of his touch, but like little sparkles, a strong force emitted from his being. It buzzed from his skin.

Like magic.

Then again. Witchers did indeed use some type of magic. So perhaps..just maybe..maybe he..You looked back up in his eyes, mirth shining there as he gripped you more tightly, an arm sneaking around your lower back before pulling you incredibly close. You didn’t know this man’s name. Where he was from. Or if he even WAS a man to begin with. But here you were. Noses nearly touching, eyes melting into one another as his feet started manoeuvring you with effortless grace through the crowd.

He hadn’t looked like much of a dancer, but apparently he was one for pleasant surprises. Light feet did not once mislead, even now you could feel the heat and alcohol happily buzzing through your foggy brain. It was like you were floating, the thick crowd around you forgotten as you looked up, studying the Witcher. His countenance seemed far less reserved now you were so close to him. In fact, he seemed to have fun. A sparkle hid in the severity of his tight jaw, focused eyes, fingers tracing some deliberate circles over your back as you moved.

‘What is it you see?’ He grumbled again, eyes flicking back to meet yours, sending with it yet another shivery tremble through your nervous thighs. Oh, what was it with this man that made you so weak at the knees? Quickly recomposing yourself you laughed, the sound tinkling above the joyous banter of the crowd. ‘Oh Witcher. I guess I.. see you.’ You winked and leaned a little more into the arm he kept snuggly held around your back, trusting him to support you.

‘You are not afraid.’ He stated, as if nearly surprised, golden eyes studying you as you looked ahead to see where you were going - he was steering you to the outer ring of the dancing crowd, where the couples danced more slowly. Less erratically. But thereby offering opportunity to talk. And be more acutely aware of those sparks that seemed to dance on the Witcher’s skin.

A strange feeling indeed.

‘Curious, mostly.’ You smiled.

‘About what?’

‘You.’ You said, shrugging nonchalantly. Was that the alcohol talking? You were glad that you were old enough to have built a life of your own, your parents never having to hear about this..whorish..act on your behalf. Dance with a monster? Speak the tongues of seduction? Were you insane?!

‘And why is that?’ He enjoyed it.

Another jolt washed through you. Was he..was he doing that on purpose? You eyed where your hands were connected, his grip tight and warm around your proffered palm. You couldn’t see anything, but..

*spark*

HE WAS DOING IT AGAIN.

‘Ho-how..?’ You breathed, blinking as you obviously felt something. Not only in your hand. Also..*aherm*..eh..down between your thighs. The Witcher laughed, hands pulling you even closer, nose now brushing close to the shell of your ear. ‘I can smell you.’ He whispered huskily, the timber of his voice making yet another shiver run over your skin.

Alright, whether or not you were a whore. He was intriguing. You had to give him that. And the alcohol in your veins was definitely not helping, your lips curling up, all on their own accord. ‘Hahah..and what is it you are smelling good lord?’ - ‘Hmm. I’m afraid I am no lord, milady.’

‘Well I am not a “milady”, sir.’

‘And I am no “sir” either…wren.’

‘Wren?’ You shook your head in amusement. ‘I am no bird..wolf. You see, I cannot fly.’ You managed to escape his arms, fluttering your arms playfully at your sides as you slipped into the more wildly dancing inner circle, leaving the Witcher behind. The Witcher’s grin grew, nose sniffing the air to follow your scent.

‘I’ll make you.’

—

You knew he was not far behind. With fast feet you sped through the crowd, moving closer and closer to the fire that centred the village square. The heat was blazing here, making the dancing sweat on your muscles loosen again, small droplets gathering in the back of your neck. Looking around carefully you couldn’t see him. All you saw was a few hundred people minding their own business; drinking, dancing, making merry. And quite naughtily so. Your eye fell on a pair that was no longer moving in the crowd, feet halted and hands tugging at half-undone clothes, fingers roaming where they probably shouldn’t in public. The woman’s stays were leaving little to the imagination, her voluptuous chest near spilling out as the man duck down to lick the deep crevice between.

‘You fly not far.’ Him again, dark voice humming in your ear. You jolted up, wishing to flee again, but this time there was no room, no way, the fire blocking one side and his large chest the other. ‘I told you I can’t…-’ You turned to protest, but lost your train of thought as he pressed his nose back up against yours, nudging it. He was so close and the fire was so hot in your spine that you could literally feel yourself melt, feet not managing to get away even if you wanted to.

The wolfish grin returned and with half an eye the Witcher also peered at the naughty couple a few meters ahead, their tongues now dancing. You couldn’t help but steal the moment yourself to just stare at him, the close flames now brightening up his whole face until no hair or scar could be missed. He WAS handsome to a fault. Even the small scar just above his eyebrow seemed to only enhance his looks, those simmering honeyed eyes now turning back to you as his thumb brushed up over your cheek, feeling the slight stick of sweat there before he gripped your jaw.

His fingertips sparked again with that energy, that magic, a cold shiver running down your spine despite the heat of fire and flesh around you. It awoke that barely cooled down slick between your thighs, your legs awkwardly wishing to squeeze and rub together to alleviate the frustration that was steadily building there. And the Witcher..he didn’t seem to miss your condition, lips tugging up in a smile as he leaned even closer, lips now nearly touching yours, fingers cupped your face in two large hands, tipping your head back for easy access.

And you allowed it. Whore! Whore!

‘Little wren.’ The Witcher broke through your thoughts, fang-like teeth appearing behind his silky lips. His smile was strange. But you couldn’t care, your eyes already lost in those burning orbs of gold. This man could do anything with you as he seemed fit, that much was clear as you didn’t protest one bit, body mush beneath his tingling fingertips.

*SPARK*

You gasped as that same energy surged more strongly through his finger pads, shooting straight down your spine and out your nerve endings. Making that coil inside your stomach twist and twirl.

His smile grew.

Slowly one of his hands dipped lower, travelling a slow and tantalising path down your neck, thumb finding the top of your stays, just hidden beneath your simple blue cotton dress. More sparks buzzed as four more fingers joined his thumb, a full hand now placed on your bosom, your breath choking in its confines. ‘Please.’ You begged - though you were not sure what for, his lips still awfully close to yours. He did, however. A silent gasp glued to your lips as he dipped down, lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, placing a gentle kiss there. The combination of wild electricity, a two-day old beard and soft plushy lips was almost worth flying for. Almost.

With trembling legs you quivered beneath his touch, the hand that had rested on your bosom quick to swoop around your lower back again, pressing you impossible close as his lips nibbled on, finding the line of your jaw, cheekbone, his breath hot on your already heated skin. Even his lips seemed to elicit power. Small, but piercing little vibrations running through your nerve endings at every brush of his silky touch.

Again, it felt like you were floating, though this time the dance was different. It was..not dancing at all. Was this flying, then? Your legs could no longer stand as your eyes rolled closed, body giving in to the pleasure that sparked in your loins. How could he do that without even touching you down there? Lolling your head back for a moment his lips took the opportunity to travel down your neck, nipping and nudging you further to the frayed edge of reason. But you needed more before you could truly fall - or fly. Opening your eyes you were met with those simmering yellow orbs again, his lips and hands not hesitating to give you what you needed. It was like he could read your mind, the hand on your lower back travelling lower, pressing your hip into the curve of his arousal, hot and throbbing beneath his breeches.

And sending off an energy that broke your lips apart again.

‘Oh my..’ You breathed, your parted lips an invitation he couldn’t refuse, his kiss now finally placed where it was needed. Sweet, honey..sparkles, his tongue brushing hot and velvety inside, sending more energy through your limp limbs until all you could do was give in. Give in to his hard softness. His sweet tanginess. His..Wait, tanginess? Blood? You only noticed now that he had bit down on your lip, tongue soothing back over the small nip. But could you care? Not as of right now. With a groaning moan you bit back, his upper lip caught between your teeth as the hand on your bum now rubbed you more fiercely against his clothed erection, the many layers between you only causing more friction. More…

ARGH

It was like there were a hundred hands caressing your skin, tingling and tickling and loving and..OH SWEET MERCY! His lips retook the reigns, forcing your lips apart again as his tongue delved deeper into you, sending with it the last of HIS mercy, your whole body now convulsing in his tight grip.

Flying.

It took a good long moment to realise that the dance had ended and people were changing partners again, making it a perfect moment to escape. But it wouldn’t be alone. Your legs wobbled dangerously - as if drunk - the Witcher now leading you back to the outer edge of the square, his arm strong as steel around your trembling physique. Once you were back in the calm, he turned, thumb brushing over your swollen lips, finding a little blood there. ‘Ai. A wounded bird.’ He studied the small gash that he had made in your lip, but all you could do was smile, the spark of his touch numbing all pain.

‘Better kiss me to make it better.’

‘Hmm.’ He smiled, then slowly shook his head once. ‘No.’

‘No?’ You felt hurt by his sudden refusal. Was he just going to discard you after..after…?!

‘I know something else to do. But not here…’ He leaned in closer, nose sniffing in your scent - and your arousal - again.

‘..little wren.’

--

Go to Signs part 2 >

--

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[sparxwrites]

@manoessay​ replied to your post:

This post activated my brain harder than most so even though you arent gonna make a fanfic i will add, Dream testing how many times you can bring a person back on quackity once he gets out.

(i absolutely fully got possessed by this idea, and then wrote this self-indulgent and weirdly experimental fic feverishly at like 1am last night. this is... probably not what you were imagining, but it’s what fell out of my brain, so! enjoy? written to “innocence” by madeon.)

cw moderately graphic torture / gore, mental breakdown, mind games, temporary character death

[ao3]

-

“How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The words flash hot through his skull, but don’t translate into meaning. Don’t translate into anything other than noise. The floor is cold beneath his palms. Russet-brown flakes up beneath his nails when he claws at it, chest heaving, lungs trying to remember how breathing works.

His first inhale gurgles, wetly, makes him jerk on his belly like a worm on a hook. His throat is raw from disuse, from screaming, from the sword that had sliced through his trachea like a knife through so much butter. When he tries to speak, the only thing that comes out is blood.

It goes like this, every time Dream drags him back from Limbo: his ears full of a high ringing, his lungs not working, his body numb. The link between flesh and brain is faulty, sparking wrong – like the battered neurons take a few precious minutes of life to rewire back together fully. It fixes itself a little less each time, the link; he’s permanently numb down most of his left side, now. The fingers on his right hand are going insensate in terrifying inches.

“How many times?”

Crooked mask, ragged voice, cracked porcelain smile. Dream looks better than Quackity feels, but not much – crouched low on a stone floor that’s caked in layer after layer of old blood, watching Quackity like a bug under a magnifying glass. His hair’s a greasy mess, his mask dirty-white and chipped, his clothes spattered with weeks of gore. With Quackity’s gore.

There’s blood dripping out from beneath the mask, though, fresh and hot. His hands shake. The knuckles clenched around the hilt of his sword are white, the skin beneath his fingernails faintly purple-blue.

The eyes behind the mask are just a little too green.

“Can you even hear me?” There’s a giddy slur to the edge of Dream’s words, the manic lilt of a man high off the same shit that’s melting his brain out through his nose. That feeling was familiar to Quackity, in another life. “Quackity. Hey, Quackity. Anyone in there?” He laughs, short and cruel and batshit crazy. His eyes are the colour of battery acid. “Have I finally broken you?”

There’s no response – because Quackity’s still trying to remember how his lungs work, remember what ribs are, remember how to do things that aren’t screaming and curling in on himself and rocking – and the amusement in his voice turns angry, sour. “I said tell me how many times, Quackity.”

Dream stands, unsteady, swaying as he does and leaning heavily on the sword for balance. His hands are still shaking. The blood’s stopped dripping, but there’s a sickly tinge to it, and when he wipes at his chin with the back of one hand it leaves a smear that’s more brown than red.

There’s a flicker of something, as his knuckles touch the half-inch of exposed face – dirty white light, bridging the gap between skin in a static-shock flash. There and then gone, blink-and-you���ll-miss-it.

The eyes behind the mask glow a little brighter. A little greener. A little less human.

The point of Dream’s sword sinks into Quackity’s shoulder, splits open an old scar. Quackity’s covered in them, now, more scar than skin. More ruined than not. He spasms, chokes, bleeds wet and red and fresh over the dried blood that carpets the floor. The noise he makes is animal, leg-in-a-bear-trap high and thin and dying. Barely alive five minutes, and he’s bleeding out again already. It’s almost funny.

Dream laughs, and leans on the pommel of the sword. It pushes in another inch.

“Month!” manages Quackity, forcing the word out through the wetness in his lungs, through the broken-bone grind of his throat. If he weren’t so many shattered parts, pasted back together by unholy power and Dream’s capricious whims, it might have been a howl. As it is, he barely has the energy to sob, the words raw and hoarse and threadbare. “A month, a month– thirty– haha, thirty-six days in, in, in Limbo, fuck, please, please–”

There’s wet on his cheeks. Tears? Blood? Worse? He can’t tell any more. He can’t even feel the left side of his face.

He grabs for Dream’s boots, presses his forehead against them, gasps for air that doesn’t seem to bring any relief from the cold ache in his lungs. One of his hands finds an ankle, a strip of bare skin between shoe and pant leg. Dream’s skin is fever-hot, sickly, bottled lightning gone past its sell-by date.

The shock of the contact knocks him silent for a second, though. They won’t touch him, in Limbo, the ghosts – or can’t, or both, can’t and won’t. Because they’re bastards, because they hate him, because he isn’t one of them. They can’t-won’t touch him, can’t see him, won’t see him, won’t speak to him– and he’s left, alone, in a room full of the faded impressions of people he once knew, once loved, once was loved by. A room full of people who do not see him, and do not touch him, and do not hear him when he talks.

(When he screams, when he swears at them, when he tries to claw their eyes out with unsteady hands that don’t make contact– when he begs, when he pleads, when he wheedles and bribes and bargains to deaf ears– when he wraps arms around himself, when he rocks himself back and forth until the blood rushes in his ears, when he whispers to himself until his voice fades to nothing, and tries to pretend it is the same thing as being loved and held and comforted–)

“Please, don’t– hahah, don’t kill me, fuck– please, look, look, hurt me, please, hurt me– anything, anything, I don’t–” He doesn’t have the breath for this. Doesn’t have the energy. Doesn’t even really have the words any more, after screaming for thirty-six fucking days straight, after talking to himself for so long his vocal cords wore out and left him mouthing silence in a desperate attempt to keep himself company. “Don’t, don’t send me– not, don’t send me back, please, fuck, anything, ha, haha, don’t, don’t–”

“I said I’d make you beg for death,” says Dream, amused, bored, manic. “Not torture. Not that I’m complaining. It’s just kind of funny. Don’t you think? I think it’s funny.”

He pushes the sword in, another inch. Quackity sobs, desperate and pathetic, and feels no shame for it. Presses his face to Dream’s boot, clings to his ankle like a lifeline, and feels no shame for it. Shame was beaten out of him, bled out of him, several lifetimes ago. “But that’s not what I asked, though. How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The sword in his shoulder twists, and Quackity screams. Something severs with a pop, and then another, and then another, until the joint is little more than a hot ball of pain and wet meat, grated bone. Until he can no longer scream, gasping desperately through the pain, weeping like a child. Another twist, and something else severs, something vital, a second’s resistance before a give and a spray of warm blood.

He bleeds out between one sob and the next, tumbling into darkness, the golden net of the respawn reaching up to catch him as he falls.

He wakes up three feet away, sprawled out on the filthy bed that occupies one corner of his cell, still sobbing. The respawn clings to him like a second skin, like weights around his ankles, frightening and familiar all at once. It fades slowly, reluctantly; slower each time he dies, he thinks. Like it’s getting used to holding him. Like it doesn’t want to let him go.

It’s only barely gone by the time Dream crosses the space between them, two short steps, no time for him to flinch, no time for him to hide–

Dream grabs him by the wrist, wrenches his body up from the bed, and slots the sword neatly through the front of his throat. The broad, well-used scar carved across it parts for the blade like an old friend, swallows it whole – and Quackity dies for the second time in as many minutes, choking on his own blood.

The respawn catches him. Drags him down into darkness. Drags him back up to the surface of reality, deposits him back onto a bed now sodden with crimson. He’s shaking. He should be used to it, but he’s shaking so hard his teeth clack together, so hard he’s not sure it will ever stop.

Dream drags him off the bed, back onto the floor. Back onto the filth, the layers and layers of dried gore, a carpet constructed from every time he’s been slaughtered like an animal in this tiny, lightless cell.

“Dream,” he begs, quietly. “Dream, Dream–”

Even to his ears, it sounds more like a prayer than a plea.

“It’s a simple question, Quackity. How many times have you died now? Properly died. How many times have I brought you back? I just want a number. Just a number.” The mask obscures Dream’s mouth, but his grin is audible. His eyes are so bright, they hurt to look at. “How many times have I proven to you that I’m a god?”

Quackity tries to curl in on himself, but Dream is in the way, one boot by his shoulder and the other pinning his wrist to the floor beneath its toe. He’s not surprised. Dream is everywhere, always, omnipresent. His free hand seeks out Dream’s ankle onces more, curls around that curdled-lightning skin, desperate and needy. It grounds him, touching the only real person in his whole entire world, and he hates himself for it.

“…T- ten?” he tries, and knows as he says it that it’s wrong. The panic rises like the respawn, choking him. He can’t breathe. “Ten, ten times– maybe eleven– fuck, fuck, Dream, please–”

The sword-tip finds his back, finds the space between his fourth and fifth rib. Finds the ropy scar there, beneath the rags, soft from re-use – like a zipper, easy to pry open right down to his weak, wet heart.

“Good guess,” says Dream, quietly. “Closer than before. But still not right. You need a little longer to think about it, I guess. But– hey, you know what? I’ll be nice, and give you a hint.” He pauses, and Quackity’s world stands still. “You’re guessing too low.”

He pushes the sword down. It slips between Quackity’s ribs like an old lover, lodges in the crusted filth and stone below, pins him still against the floor. His heart beats once, twice, a butterfly-flutter around the diamond skewered through it. His body convulses. He falls still.

The blood from his mouth dyes the toes of Dream’s boots crimson, as the light leaves his eyes.

He wakes in Limbo, on his knees, in a room full of people – full of impressions of people, like the ghosts of a faded photograph. He sees them all there, their backs to him, as they move amongst one another, as they talk amongst one another. Tubbo, and Schlatt, and Fundy, and Wilbur, and–

Sapnap, who looks right through him. Karl, whose eyes skate over him. They hold each other’s hands. The rings on their fourth fingers gleam weakly in the strange, nebulous light of the afterlife. They do not hear him when he says their names, ragged and desperate, like a plea. Like a prayer.

And then they, too, turn their back on him. And Quackity – still raw, still bloody, still skewered open right through his butterfly heart – screams and screams and screams.

[doodleimprovement]

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask - Alternate Ending

Or: “The extremely self indulgent 7 page fic were Nell gets to be more helpful and has some actual characterization” 

Yeahhhh this isn’t canon to the fic, but I wanted to write it because I can, at LAST give ya’ll Nell’s backstory for how they came to live in Subcon in the CSAU

Per usual, the “Coffee Shop AU” belongs to the ever wonderful @doodledrawsthings

Also, note: Both MJ and Nell use “they/them” pronouns, with MJ being “He/They” and Nell being “She/They” To keep things from getting too confusing, Nell will be “They” and MJ will be “He” 

Enjoy! 

--

Nell was honestly a bit surprised when MJ came to their home the morning after Halloween, sheepishly stating that the mask seemed ... stuck.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Huh.. Come on in then. I’ll get some tea going and see about helping you out, hm?”

He walked into their house, taking a moment to actually look about the place- as he didn’t get much of a chance before- and took a seat in their small living room.

The ambiance of the outside followed inside, with the walls painted chestnut brown with warm yet bright pops of color on the windowsill and the various picture frames full of people he didn’t know. The curtain over the wide window was patterned with little pumpkins, which he found cute, and hanging from a few ceiling hooks were what Clover would call “Low-maintenance” plants. The dark colors match well with the room, making it feel a bit comfier than it otherwise might.

The couch he sat on was across from an armchair, and both were colored a warm orange, with an espresso-colored coffee table. On said table were some envelopes and a copy of “Better Homes and Gardens”

Huh, he didn’t peg them as a reader of those types of magazines. Then again, Clover was the one that knew Nell, not him.

They came back with two mugs - one was purple with the “Snatcher” face on it, and the other had a little grumpy ghost on it, with “I’m spooky before my coffee” written above the drawing.

They handed him the Snatcher mug

“Can I ask where you get all of this Snatcher merch?”

“My best friend is an Etsy fiend. Despite him living all the way in Nyakoto, he ships me Snatcher merch whenever he finds something fun. He’s a real character” they chuckled.

“Huh” MJ acknowledged as Nell walked around the coffee table and sat next to him

“Do you feel the mask?”

He nodded, his hand up at the edge, right where he felt it “When I pull, it just… doesn’t move”

“Hm..” they sipped. “When you try to take it off, how does it feel?”

“Like… it’s like a thousand little… things? Pulling at my face, I think?” MJ pulled up their mug and sipped the tea.

“Like… string? Thread?”

MJ nodded. “I think that's the right word, thread”

Nell puts down the mug as MJ takes another sip. “Let me see” they scooted closer to him, and he put his mug down and turned his head.

Their hands seemed to glow green as they raised it “There we go…” They muttered, hand immediately finding the mask’s edge, and seeing what he was talking about “... Huh, the threads… well, that's the right word. They’re… criss-crossed…”

Before he could ask if they could remove them, he felt a slight burning at the edge of his face and jumped

“Ah!”

“Sorry, sorry, but, that did work… Though, it means you might be here a while” they admit “I’ll need you to stay still, okay?”

“Oh.. okay”

It was... Not Okay.

A few minutes into Nell’s attempt at getting the mask off, they let out a huff.

“You can’t keep squirming”

“I- I’m sorry” He muttered “It's just, you know, hard to stay still”

“I understand that, but I don’t want to mess this up. I’d like to see your actual eyes” They muttered.

“I know, it just.. Weird feeling” He tried to explain.

“Moon” They pressed, but sighed “... You seem still enough when I’m talking to you, need a distraction?”

“I mean, I guess…?”

Nell sighed “Hm… How about I tell you how I came to live in Subcon? That’s a long-ass story”

“Oh uh, if you’re okay with sharing!” MJ tried to be polite. He knew that even Clover wasn’t completely sure why Nell came to live in the town, she just knew that “something happened” back at the coast where they were from.

“Nah. It’s been 5 years. That’s more than long enough” The nurse stayed focused on the magic threads, their magic seeming to thrum in his ears- sounding almost like the hum of a fan in the dead heat of summer..

There was a pause, before they took in a breath.

“When I was 19, I took a job in Nyakoto, and left my hometown as fast as the train could take me. I had a scholarship to a little nursing school there, and before my 21st birthday, I’d gotten a nice, decent paying job as an ER nurse for a hospital in the East Side” They started “The hospitals were all interconnected, so I ended up meeting different doctors and nurses while I worked, and sometimes was called to assist in other hospitals.

“I was.. 25, when I met him” They recalled, something in their voice seeming heavy. “We’ll call him Chris

“He was in residency at a hospital down in the Wesservale neighborhood. We met at a medical appreciation gala… He had something about him I couldn't place. . . A charisma, almost. A kindness. He seemed so eager for the future, so excited for what the next day might bring him. I’d never been like that. His optimism drew me in.

“We started dating the year after. Like with most relationships, everything seemed great. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, all of that stuff. He even went with me to pride stuff, which was pretty cool at the time.”

“Pride?” MJ chimed in. Nell couldn’t hide a chuckle.

“Yes. You’ve heard of the Nyakoto Annual Pride Bonanza, haven’t you? One of the biggest in the country”

“I have, yes”

“Good. Back to the story” Nell redirected “When I was 27, about a year and a half into the relationship, I realized, quite unhappily, that we weren’t actually very different, and didn’t really get along as well as we thought.. It's not that we argued, but.. We didn’t really… talk. I never spoke to him about my problems, I didn’t feel like I could, and that really made me realize that we weren’t actually all that comfortable around each other. So, when he came over to my place that night for dinner, I spoke to him, and tried to tell him that we weren’t compatible, and that I thought perhaps we’d be better off as friends.

“He convinced me that we just needed work, going on and on about all these plans he had for us. Trips, dates, things to look forward to, always looking toward the future, Chris did”

Nell paused again

“.. I really should have noticed how little he cared about happiness in the present.” They commented “Not a traditional red flag, but it was a warning nonetheless”

“Well, I mean, that’s not so bad”

“In a way, no” Nell replied “But when you think about the future so much, you forget the present, you forget to live, and your past just.. Ends up a horrible haze. Even the happy stuff is hard to recall”

MJ hadn’t thought of it like that

“But hindsight is 2020, and in the moment, I believed him. I wanted to believe those bright dreams of the future, and I let go of the fact that I did not even like to talk to him very much.

“... I tried to break up with him 4 more times in the 8 years we were together.”

Okay, MJ hadn’t been expecting that much time passing.

“By the time I was 34, we were living together, but barely seeing each other. From the outside it must have seemed perfect to everyone else. I think only Daph knew about my.. Issues, with Chris. I still never talked to him about anything that wasn’t the future, or how the day was, or.. Just, absolute nonsense.

“One night, after one more attempt to break up, I’d gone to bed defeated, and woke up at 3 in the morning while he was on the night shift in Wesservale.. I came to this… realization

“If I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d marry him…. and I’d …. I’d be stuck. He’d have me, and I’d be stuck for the rest of my life..

“So I grabbed everything I had in the apartment, sent a resignation email to the East side hospital I still worked at, left him a note telling him I was leaving, took my car and just… started driving”

“.. Did he call you?”

“I blocked his number.” They answered curtly. “Drove for days until I came across Subcon.”

MJ didn’t comment.

“I stayed at the Alpine Motel for a few nights, and when I was at the diner, overheard that there was an open position for the school nurse at the elementary” They continued. “I applied for it, and 3 months later cashed in my savings to put a down payment on this little place” They made a motion with their hand briefly “The rest is history”

“Well… If it's any consolation, I think that's a good reason to get out of the city”

Nell couldn’t hold back a laugh. There was something a little… sad, in it, but the laugh was genuine.

“Yeah, then again, every reason is a good one to get out of the city” They commented, and MJ had only just realized that their hands were now on the other side of his face. Nell worked quickly, it seemed. “Hm.. okay. On the count of three, I'm going to try to take it off, alright?”

“Oh, uh, wow, okay!” He replied eagerly, closing his eyes.

“One…” They slowly started, both hands on either side, their nails right at the edge of the mask.

“Three!”

MJ startled as Nell pulled, and a cold, sharp feeling spread over his body before it abruptly ended. When he opened his eyes. He looked at Nell, who had, in their hands, that damned mask.

His hands went up to his face, and he let out a relieved laugh as he felt his skin, glasses and hair “hah! Hahah! I’m human again! No more magic!” He raised his hands and leaned back on the couch “Sweet relief”

Nell let out a chuckle, putting the mask down gently “Finish your tea, I’m gonna grab you a damp towel. You have… paint? On your face”

His brow was furrowed, but he reached for the still-warm mug anyway as Nell got up and went down a short hallway.

He took the few moments that Nell was done to think over the story he’d been told, the exhaustion in the nurse’s voice as she told it. Was he really the first one to learn? It gave him a weird feeling right in his chest.

When Nell returned, she offered a small, damp towel… that had the “Snatcher” smile on it

“... How many of these do you have?” He almost laughed again, and they just answered with an amused smile and grabbed their own coffee cup.

MJ cleaned his face, seeing a candy-red color coming off on the purple towel. “Hm..”

“What?”

“Well uh, the color looks like the magic strings I was able to summon”

Nell Blinked “... Well uh, bring that up with Tim when he’s back in town. That’s a little out of my wheelhouse”

“Noted”

The two fell into silence, sipping their warm drinks and giving them some time to unwind

“Will you need a ride home?” they asked him, putting their mug down.

He hadn’t actually thought of that.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine”

They raised an eyebrow at him

“You live 20 minutes away and Luka isn’t here to … fly you home, per se” They laid out “I’ve got a car, I’ll drive you home”

He turned a little red to the ears “Oh.. Thank you”

“No problem, Moon” They smiled back at him. “I’m going to change real quick, then we’ll leave”

And with that, they left back into the short hallway, to what Moon assumed was their bedroom.

Nell returned a few minutes later, dressed in a loose blouse and skirt that went down to their ankles, a far cry from the tank top and sweatpants that he’d seen them in before. He supposed that it was more so not wanting to go out in Pajamas than anything else. She picked up the mask, wrapping it in a handkerchief before holding it out to him

“It’s chosen you. You have to keep it”

He just nodded, and gingerly took the troublesome thing into his hands.

The two got in their truck (Nell owned a truck??) and drove into town.

MJ took in a breath as they turned onto a main street, passing The Horizon. “So uh, Nell..”

“Hm?”

“About your uh, the story you told me.. I won’t tell anyone”

“I don’t mind if you do” they answered, eyes on the road

“What, really?”

“Like I said before. Five years feels long enough”

MJ’s brow furrowed “I’m still not going to say anything.. That’s a personal story. It’s not mine to tell”

Nell glanced over at him with an unreadable expression, before moving to turn on the radio. Lo-fi started, and it seemed they were right in the middle of a Billie Eilish song.

“.. Thank you” They ended up responding as the song picked up

”I know supposedly I'm lonely now.

Know I’m supposed to be unhappy without someone.

But aren’t I someone?” 

MJ didn’t say much of anything else once until they got to his apartment building

“Thank you, Nell. For everything”

“Don’t mention it” They gave him a small, but sincere smile “Get some rest, hm? The bags under your eyes are aging you”

MJ just laughed “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Mx. Buonacci”

The nurse gave him a lazy salute with a soft smile, before the window rolled up, and they drove off

Exhaling, he looked down at the covered mask, wrapped in a…. Snatcher-patterned handkerchief.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

[saeyoungs-sunflower]

Strike a Chord (Gavin x MC)

Summary: Gavin learns to face the music.

Prompt: First time they saw each other cry.

Notes: This was part of @belovedstill ‘s New Fandom February event :) so it’s my first fic for MLQC and my fav Gavvy boi (just in time lol) <33 The prompt was also provided by @stehkotori ‘s collaborative writing event ‘Our Firsts’! (Both from discord). Also, do yourself a favour and PLEASE go check out these lovely ladies’ blogs, they are extremely talented and hardworking and I weep a little thinking about it hahah, I promise you won’t regret it!!!💛

Word count: ~2000

(Psst, if you wanna have an idea of what the piece MC plays in this sounds like, I imagined something like this: youtube / spotify) 

***

Another day, another pair of knuckles striking another face, painting another cheekbone red, another eye stained purple.

Gavin stepped out of the teacher’s office, clicking the door shut and sighing as he dragged his feet away. He studied his red and bloodied knuckles as he wandered through the hallways, grimacing as he ran his fingers along a particularly nasty cut.

There was a slight tremor in his hand, the effect of the pure adrenaline that had coursed through his body finally catching up with him. He heavily fell against a locker for a moment, surveying the golden-dipped leaves that whirled around the tattered bench across the path from him. The inevitable crash hit him, like waves against rocks on the shore. He should be going back to class now, he thought, and he almost entertained the idea until piano music began to fill the hollow hallway. The ethereal echo sang to him, calling for him in his temporary haze. A siren in a sea storm.

His budding curiosity got the better of him as his unsteady legs carried him towards the music. It wasn’t unusual to hear students practising during school hours, yet it often wasn’t as pleasant on the ear as it was now.

Gavin wandered past each practise room, only offering a quick glance into each one. All were empty except for one, and his stomach flipped as he did a double take.

It was her. Of course. How had that not been his first thought when the music started playing? Only her music had the power to captivate him so completely.

Rose brushed his cheeks as he found himself staring, yet he was physically incapable of breaking the gaze that focussed in on her hands, as long but delicate fingers danced tenderly across the keys.

It took Gavin a minute longer than it maybe should have to pick up on the subtle glisten that rolled down her cheek and the occasional jerk of her shoulders. She was crying, and the tears continued to run with every second that Gavin remained on the other side of the glass, helpless.

Except he wasn’t, not really. He could walk in there right now and comfort her. It would take no more than ten steps and he would be there for her, just like she was for him the last time she played. How could it be that something which had saved him before was now tormenting her?

Gavin pondered as reached for the door handle, the cool metal against his palm bringing a prominent reality to what he was about to do, and he started to question himself. Whether she would really want him in a vulnerable moment like this, whether he would actually be able to comfort her in the way she needs.

In a rare moment of weakness, Gavin decided he didn’t want to know.

So he walked away from her song, heavy with guilt but heavier with doubt. He would watch over her, like he silently promised her he would, but it was better for both of them this way. He didn’t need to be personally involved to look out for her, and she needn’t bother herself with him.

After all, she was a girl whose hands left subtle fingerprints on keys, whilst his left bruises on skin.

***

She defeatedly slid down the wall and swiped the back of her hand against her brow, wiping away the sweat from her efforts.

Gavin followed close behind, three boxes stacked high in his arms and not even a glisten on his face. His eyes tracked down to find hers, a chuckle escaping his lips at the state he found her in, “Done already? We’ve not even brought up the kitchen stuff.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Gavin couldn’t help but laugh again when she completely sank to the floor, her hand pathetically waving an imaginary white flag in mock surrender. He placed the boxes down, “Okay, I hear you. We’ll take a break before we bring up the rest.”

“You always know what to say to make my heart flutter, Officer.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, but the curving of his lips followed swiftly after. He managed to pull her up to her feet, wrapping her arms around his waist before moving the damp wisps of hair out of her face, “Actually, I have something to show you.”

“Oh?”

He smiled, “Mhm. Come on, let’s have a look round.”

He laced his fingers with hers as they wandered through each room, mentally placing each piece of furniture. The vase that she had bought from the market on one of their first dates would look best on the windowsill, and the lucky elephant figurine that Minor got them as a housewarming gift would beautifully compliment the books on the shelf, standing proudly above the fireplace. The pair couldn’t restrain the smiles that crept up their faces or the occasional squeeze of their intertwined hands. Little pieces of them started to fill the space before they were even out of the boxes, their future unfolding before them.

Gavin stopped her before the conservatory, the curtains drawn and the door locked.

She raised an eyebrow, “Gavin?”

He said nothing, he simply unlocked the door and led her into the bright room. Her eyes took a second to adjust, but when they did her jaw fell slack, her eyes widening.

Standing there splendidly in the centre of the room was a sleek grand piano. There was not a fingerprint or smudge to be seen on its surface, completely untainted, as if it had always been there. Untouched, waiting patiently for her melody.

She looked to Gavin then, unable to formulate words as tears pricked her eyes. She stumbled over a few words of disbelief before Gavin chuckled, taking mercy on the girl, “Somebody owed me a favour, managed to settle on this. Isn’t she a beauty?”

She nodded, her smile reaching her eyes as she lunged towards Gavin, practically leaping into his arms. He caught her, he always did. Enveloping her in his arms, he held her closer, nuzzling into her neck as she spewed her gratitudes.

“Anything for you,” he said, pulling back and looking into her eyes before pressing his lips against her forehead, “Play me something?”

She nodded enthusiastically, plonking herself onto the seat. Gavin slid up next to her, noticing the instant shift in her energy as she admired the keys. She became serene, focussed, pondering over what song she should play for him. With the slight curve of her lips and a glint in her eye, her fingers began to move.

Within the first few seconds, Gavin felt his heart drop.

It was the song.

Not the song that had saved him all those years ago; not the one that had pushed him over the edge, but the one that he heard as he fell for the second time -- fell deeper in love with her. The first real snippet of her that he got; the first time he wanted to hold her, protect her from whatever caused her tears to run. It showed her vulnerability, an intimate moment formed between them unbeknownst to her.

He was so lost in her song that he only registered the tear long after it had fallen. One perfect drop, sliding down his cheekbone to lay rest at the point of his chin, before falling into his shirt. He tried to blink away the remaining moisture in his eyes, but only when he saw the glisten of droplets on her eyelashes did he stop himself.

Here she was, emotionally bare before him, unguarded and unafraid. A piece of music so personal played so freely, for him. The simple idea that he was trusted enough, that she felt safe enough, to be this vulnerable with him and let him into this sanctuary she had created made his eyes burn more, but now he didn’t care. They were on a path to a deeper, more vulnerable place in their relationship with this song, and he would meet her half way.

When her fingers seized, they finally looked at each other, sparkling pool staring into sparkling pool. There was a tender, warm silence shared between them before they erupted in giggles, palms wiping away the aftermath of their shared emotion.

She softly brushed the hair that obstructed the gold of his eyes and cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze to fall on hers, “I know why I’m crying, but what’s got you all upset, hm? You never let me see you cry.”

Gavin placed his hand over hers, leaning into her touch, “I’ll only tell you if you go first.”

She told him it was a song her grandfather had composed - for her. It told the story of her childhood, her growing up. She would often hear snippets of it when she visited, always in the background, the soundtrack of her youth. The first time she heard it in full was after he had passed, having left her the score to do with what she pleased. The first time she had heard it in full, was the same time Gavin had heard it in full. Completely unknowingly, by chance, an act of fate.

He could hear it now. The piece was absolutely riddled with her. Everything she was, and everything she became. This song, it was her.

Perhaps that was what pulled him in all those years ago in the barren school hallway. In fact, he was certain that was it. That song was what tied the knot in the rope they held between them, pulling him to shore every time he drifted away.

It was the second time he had been saved by her song, and he was saved every moment after.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve heard this song before? The day you played it in the music room?” he asked, her eyes widening at his confession. He continued, “I saw you, and nearly came in but...I was too much of a coward to go to you. I should have-”

He stopped when she threw her arms around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck and taking in his clean, fresh scent. He was so silly sometimes.

“You know, after I finished playing that day, I felt a huge wave of relief and...comfort. I thought it must have been the release from all the crying, but from that day I couldn’t help but feel that someone was watching out for me, protecting me. I assumed it was my grandfather looking down, but that never felt right. It didn’t feel like him,” she pulled back, meeting his eyes once again, “But I know now. It was you, wasn’t it? You didn’t need to come in, I felt it. I knew you were there, and that was the greatest comfort I have ever felt. You have a way of doing that, you know,” she rested her head on his shoulder, “Making people feel safe.”

Gavin could hardly keep it together, but he held on long enough to wrap an arm over her and pull her close, planting a long kiss on the top of her head. He focussed on the feeling of her against him, reminding himself that she was there, that he had truly found his way back to her. That, after all his years of doubt and bitter regret, he had never actually failed her.

That was his new favourite song. Not because it saved him, but because it saved her -- saving them.

***

Thank you so much for reading!! Have a lovely day <33

[roach-circus]

Two Of Us - Platonic!Freddie x Reader

I’m so excited for this to be released! This is my first fic, the fluffiest, no smut. Word count is about 1.35k. Warnings-wise, I would just say that there’s a fair bit of angst, and that’s about it. If there is anything I missed, PLEASE let me know, and I am quite sorry. I have to thank and credit several writers dearly, @rhapsodyrecs read through this and gave me some fabulous feedback, even though it wasn’t a BoRhap fic. Thank you, love! And wow, I also definitely have to thank/credit @ineloqueent, she read through this as well, gave me some great suggestions, and helped me with several awful grammar issues. I cannot thank either of you enough, it really means a lot to me, especially for my first writing, I appreciate deeply the amount of support you both have given me. (Ok, slight-sappiness over now.) Although I don’t have a ton of followers, if anyone has any constructive criticism, further ideas/feedback, etc, please let me know if possible!♥️♥️

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The sun is far below the horizon when you arrive home. What that usually brings light to everyone on this earth is nowhere to be found.

As you trudge through the doorway of the flat you share with your best friend, Freddie, all you feel is stress and the overbearing weight of everything crumbling around you. You take your time, slowly removing your shoes and raincoat, before washing your hands and drying them on a decorative towel with cats on it. The towel makes you smile, with the picture of the carefree kittens prancing around in a field.

Swiftly moving to the pantry, you snag some chips, a box of mini-cupcakes, and select a bottle of pop from the counter. From there, you make a slow trek to your bed.

You place the treats on a plush chair and step over to your record shelf, pulling out “Let It Be” by the Beatles, and carefully placing it onto the player. Relief washing over you, you sit back in the chair and close your eyes as dialogue from “Two Of Us” pipes up from the record player beside you.

Although you are able to enjoy just sitting and relaxing, you feel nothing but dread for the day to come. It isn’t easy working in an office job, but it is especially difficult as a female in the 1970s with an office job. Your boss has no idea how to act around women, and your coworkers will never stop trying to find ways to get you to help them with their work. It’s also just very bleak, entering the same off-white building every day, doing essentially the same work until who knows when. You wish you could live like your roommate, passionate about your work and creating beautiful music for people to praise and appreciate. You wish you weren’t simply stuck watching him and his best friends touring and meeting new people, having the time of their lives. You want that.

By “I Me Mine,” you’re practically crying, not seeing a point in holding it back. But before you can, you hear the few greatly upbeat lines of,

“I me me mine!

I me me mine!

I me me mine!

I me me mine!”

And you see your roommate, in purple fuzzy socks with cat ears, slide through the doorway to your room and crash into the back of your bed, giggling madly.

“How are you doing?” he asks nonchalantly as a giggle escapes you as well. The floorboards creak slightly as Freddie gets back on his feet. You want to tell him about everything, but you have trouble finding the words. All you can do in the moment is to look at the worn-down wooden planks of the floor, and half-mumble, “I’m having a bit of a hard time right now, Fred.”

You want to tell him about how much you resent your current occupation, but you can’t get it out. Instead, you chose to trudge over to your bed and sit near the backboard, and Freddie follows suit. You hold back your tears as he lifts his arm to place it around your shoulders,

“Do you want to talk about it?”

God, you do. But as soon as you open your mouth to speak, all that comes out is a sob. One, after the other, after the next. It was inevitable, but you don’t like for people to see you cry. It shows vulnerability, and that can be a dangerous thing. Freddie doesn’t look like he’s completely sure what to do, but he knows he needs to comfort you. He sits up and gives you the biggest, most sincere hug imaginable, and you couldn’t be more grateful for having someone in your life as much as you are right now.

You sit in silence for a few seconds, before Freddie says,

“Y/N, I’m deeply sorry, dear. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do to help out?”

“I don’t think so. would you just stay with me, maybe?”

You aren’t sure if he’ll agree to this, so you mentally cross your fingers, hoping he will agree to. He’s one of the most supportive and sweet people you know, and his kindness is exactly what you need right now.

“Of course, darling. But, even if it’s just for tonight, I’m going to need you to feel better.”

“Oh god, Fred, you’re ga-”

But before you can get the words out, he attacks your sides and begins tickling you:

“AH! FREDDIE,” you cried, sputtering with laughter. “N-HA! HA! OH, YOU BITC-HAHAH!”

He tickled you until you were worn out from giggling, and only then did he sigh, and sit back satisfied with his work. “I can’t believe you would-hic!-betray me!” you feigned offense.

Your eventual rebuttal is the only thing you know he has a weak spot for: head scratches. When you place your hand on the back of his head and begin to run your fingers through his hair, he legitimately starts to purr.

“Awww, little kitty Fred!”

“Oh, fuck you Y/N,” he says jokingly.

A few years ago, you had discovered how much he liked for his hair to be petted. He would claim how much he resented it then a few minutes later would barely try to hide how much he enjoys it. It had made him feel better after several frustrating days at the studio, and never fails to do so now. And in all honesty, you feel better too, at least for the moment. Freddie has always been there to encourage you and sympathize through difficult times, and it truly means the world to you.

Freddie leans back, sliding into a half-resting position, and you mirror his position. Still in comfort-mode, he raises his arm up so that you can rest your head against his chest. The things Freddie is comfortable with when it comes to friends amuses you a bit, but you aren’t at all complaining. Sure, he has plenty of established boundaries, but those boundaries seem to recede a little when he knows a friend is in need of support.

He strokes your hair, a habit of comfort for both him and you. You’re grateful that you’re close enough with your roommate that you can comfort him or be comforted by him.

“You know,” you say, “I really love you, Fred. Thank you.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he replies, still playing with your hair. “You’ve always been with me through my troubles. we stick together.” He musses your hair again. And I love you too, darling.”

You sit in contented silence, while the record plays “The Long And Winding Road”.

“The wild and windy night

That the rain washed away

Has left a pool of tears

Crying for the day

Why leave me standing here?

Let me know the way.”

A peaceful song, it is, albeit with some sad undertones, but focusing on the melody kept you from reliving your dispirited thoughts of earlier. All you can think about now is the radiating warmth and peace of Freddie, and that is really all you felt like focusing on anyway.

You lean back into him and he wraps his arm around you. you could feel your eyelids lower, and you know that it is time to close them fully and try to get some sleep.

Feeling Freddie start to play with your hair again, you reopen your eyes and look to your side to find a little braid coming off of your head. Freddie notices your glance and responds, “Your hair is fun to mess with, love. It’s very soft. I think I’d start stealing your shampoo.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” you tell him. “I know you already are, Fred.”

You release a small laugh, and he does too.

Your eyes slip shut once more, and this time, Freddie’s do as well. As you return to that feeling of warmth and fluffiness, you sigh happily. Freddie takes that as a sign that he was successful in making you feel better. And he’s right. He always makes you feel better.

[baekdaedream]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let’s get to know the person behind the blog!❤️

Feli! 💕

Three random facts... hm...

1. So, I never thought I’d get into a group other than EXO, but here we are, SuperM got me a bit interested in the other members, and gosh while watching the SMTown concert livestream, Ten just. Had me completely captivated from the beginning of Riot and so eventually I looked into WayV and here we are, I’ve got their songs from itunes and the physical copy of Take Over The Moon on the way because it’s so pretty, and I have watched their reality shows and am fond of them. Now, while I doubt it’ll get to the same level as my like, EXO stanning? (Not as if there’s levels of being a fan but, how much I feel the want to do as a fan ?) Where I collect all the albums (and some pcs) and have gone to many concerts, I think I’m getting to a nice casual/moderate level of being a fan of them. They have a new album coming up soon I think and I look forward to it 😊 and I do think it would be nice to see them in concert someday but, don’t think I’d do an SM Global Package for it since it’s so expensive like. Only for EXO I do that hahah. So let’s hope WayV gets to have an NA tour like NCT 127 did? (Okay but maybe... maybe... if I have plans to go to China one day with a friend then if there’s a WayV concert I will go!)

2. I played the clarinet for six years, from the start of middle school to the end of high school like June 2015, but haven’t played it since. I would’ve said haven’t touched it since, but months and months ago when my twin was over last (before the covid cases and restrictions went up again) we’d taken out our clarinets since she found her old one(?) downstairs and like, taken a look at the quality of them hahah. She has a plethora of instruments (okay maybe not that many but), her and her boyfriend did a jazz program in university together it was very cute. While she continued with music (she can play all four saxophones, I did alto sax for a year and that was it), I.. did not. I still have a keyboard in my room though, since I did a term of piano in high school, but ahh the effort of going back to it... sometimes I listen to instrumental soundstracks and such while I write, and feel like playing again, but honestly... I get too tired from work to be able to write or study or play much 😞 but hey maybe soon I’ll start again! My twin got me the little piece thing so I can connect my headphones to it while I play which is great!

3. I did university for only a year, for writing, but gosh it completely drained me of my motivation to write (so my two stories, which I’ve been working on one for maybe over a decade now, the other for maybe over half a decade, are only very slowly barely growing, and are at 47.2k and 44.3k respectively. It’s kinda sad. Gosh I’ve been reading this fic lately, 20/40 chapters are complete, and it’s at like 400k?? Wow wish I could write that much. One day maybe I’ll get there. I just can’t force it. I’ve got to let it like, heal and grow on it’s own). The only thing that felt useful from that year of university was the Japanese course I took for a term, which is only three months, but it was like intense, so I almost failed, and couldn’t get into the next level hahah. It made me able to retain some of it, but the problem was I just couldn’t memorize the katakana oops. One day perhaps I’ll get back into studying it. I’m also interested in studying Korean and Mandarin, I have some TTMIK textbooks and workbooks, five levels, but only got to level two 😣 sometimes the motivation just leaves and takes a long time to come back. I studied Mandarin on duolingo daily during the three months of lockdown when I got to just be home all the time though, so that was nice! I would love to like, be fluent in more languages, and just. Learn more. Once I get the three I mentioned down (who knows how long that will take), I’ll probably find another to learn! I think it would be really cool to know multiple languages. WayV kinda is inspiring more to get to that point, since they know so many! Honestly though it would possibly be easier for me to get to learning them if I knew other people who speak the languages..

This got long but I hope there’s three random facts in there somewhere at least hahah. I hope you have a nice day/night Feli~!

[teamfreehoodies]

Top Five Fics of 2020

a look back to may

Tagged by the lovely

@drowningbydegrees

(your blog is GORGEOUS by the way!!!!) 

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1. the heart electric (beats in a half-time measure)

So I posted this yesterday, but the reception has been INCREDIBLE, like people are so excited for this and I’m so happy! I woke up this morning to 6 comments just about this one fic and it’s been the quickest jump to over 80 kudos of any fic I’ve ever posted (admittedly, i’ve only posted 8 fics, but still haha) I’m so excited to see how this one keeps growing!

I’m personally in love with this fic because I’ve always wanted to try a 5+1 fic, and this fic like, literally poured out of me, it was the smoothest writing experience of any fic I’ve written to date and I love that I really feel as if my technical skills have noticeably improved here. 

2. if i loved you (could you stay?) 

i’m proud of this one for several reasons, so lets start with the small and go big haha

First: that’s an original title, not based on a song or poem (and it was the first one of those I came up with myself! the heart electric is also mostly original (minus the quick body electric reference, but I digress) so I’m proud of it for that.

Second: I wrote it for quick fic so it was all completed in under 24 hours which i a goddamn miracle for me because I usually take f o r e v e r to write haha

Third: I have made multiple readers cry with this one, which I consider something of a personal badge of honor I won’t lie. (if you read it, and cry, pls do let me know I am l i v i n g for those kind of comments hahah)

3. the prairie is vast (the train is quicker)

This Fic! This FIC!!! this fic is the entire reason I have friends at all in this fandom or that I’ve written so much for it! Kim @buffskierights invited me to join the ItJ project and suddenly I was regularly interacting with these absolutely AMAZING FUNNY SPECTACULAR SUPPORTIVE CREATIVE people whom I love dearly, and it’s been through their support that any of the rest of my fics got created! 

Also listen, cowgirlskier owns my entire fucking soul okay, I love her, I love her, I love her, and I cannot wait to get back to writing her in the rdr2!au I am (slowly) putting together. 

4. Go Get Your Mage 

So this one came to me as a tumblr prompt???? the anon who left it was so unexpected that literally when I opened it my brain just went yes... Yes.... YESSS!!! and I wrote all of it in a barely coherent tumblr answer that is... stil? floating somewhere on my blog actually. I cleaned it up and posted it to Ao3 where, since its a rarepair and femslash at that, it’s holding its own even with the traditionally lower reception that those two demographics get. I love it with my whole heart still, and I accept more femslash and/or Yennfri prompts because I am so bad at coming up with ideas for them on my own (I’ve got terminal Jaskier!stan disease, I have imprinted on the bard, and he is my emotional support character so 90% of my ideas are for him) but if you’d like to see more of the ladies (like i know I would) please please please send some prompts to my askbox!

5. if you could let me inside your heart (would i be enough?) 

I have a naming style okay, it’s me I’m that bitch with the all lowercase titles that are far too long lol I admit it! nah but seriously I’m pretty pleased with this one too. I wrote it for geraskefer week because I really love the ot3 of it all. It’s soft, it’s tender, it’s angsty: this fic has it all. It’s also the home of the first kiss scene i ever wrote and I’m still thinking about it honestly. This has been a year for stretching myself as a writer (to wit, I’ve written smut??? for the first time???  who am i?????) 

But this was soft and tender and i had fun writing it which is all you really need out of fic for fandom purposes right?

tagging @ghostinthelibrarywrites @buffskierights & @storm-and-starlight 

(you guys can tag the rest haha, take it from here!)