#trust me you will Not remember these squabbles what you will remember is what you loved and if youre lucky thats a lot of memories

[dayurno]

my advice for anyone whos growing more and more frustrated with the state of aftg and fandom at large is that arguing is fun but you need to be happy. ok. you need to. its hard when bad faith takes are dropped to your doorstep but you need to be happy and enjoy yourself and have fun or there's no point in anything at all ever. ok. fandom is not real and nothing is worth more than your enjoyment. i love you please make sure to have fun and reach out to a friend today. for me

[envy-of-the-apple]

How about apocalypse!au with yan gojo and a foreigner reader who is going on a vacation/business trip when the outbreak happen?

kinda sick of apocalypse aus soooo yakuza!au instead so basically i changed this entire request im rlly sorry

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Stop Crying

(Warnings: Yandere, kidnapping, dark content, noncon touching, human trafficking)

You promised yourself you'd stay safe during your trip to Japan.

You took all the precautions. You traveled with friends you trusted. You kept your phone on. You didn't accept any drinks from anyone you didn't know. You checked in with your folks back home every night.

And yet, nothing stopped it.

It was clearly a basement. No windows. Dark, with the exception of the flickering light on the ceiling. The thin cot and scrap of a blanket did nothing to protect you from the cold.

Your phone was gone. So was your bag. Except for the clothes on your back, they took everything. You can still remember the fear you felt when those men grabbed you, hauling you into the back of a truck. No matter how hard you screamed and kicked and hollered, they didn't let go. You remembered you bit one of them. He just swore in Japanese before backhanding you. It throbbed for hours before you eventually just passed out.

And now you were here. In a basement.

You were probably going to die. You heard the underground was rampant in Japan. They were going to cut you up, sell off your organs for thousands. If they were merciful, maybe the most your body would face would just be getting thrown overseas. If you were lucky, your rotting corpse would be found. If you were one of God's favorites, you'd be recognizable enough to notify your family. At least then, they'd have something to grieve over. The pieces that was left.

The door creaks. You jump, curled in the musty corner. You hear voices. Two. Maybe three. All male, speaking in fast Japanese. They all descend the steps, and your heartbeat picks up faster than before.

One was a stout man with a nervous sort of prattle. From his tone, you could tell he was trying to appease the other two. The other two were tall, heads nearly brushing the ceiling. One was wearing traditional clothing. Long black hair, graceful movements.

The other wore circular sunglasses. He was too young to have natural white hair. He must dye it. While the other two linger behind, he's the one who strides towards you.

You panic, pressing yourself into the wall, hoping to just disappear, melt into the background. Your fear doesn't deter him. He grabs your chin turning your face one way, and then the other. His hold tightens, even when you try to escape. He seems to be fixated on one side of your face. The slap must have left a bruise.

That seems to anger him. He snaps something over to the other two. The man in traditional garments doesn't look very impressed, while the other hurriedly titters. Maybe they were planning on selling you, that's why seeing you blemish-free would be such a deterrent to their plans.

Eventually, the man directs his attention back to you. You think he'd speaking to you. You aren't sure. You don't know where you are. You don't know who these people are. You don't know what they want to do to you.

You're scared. You're so so scared.

When you start to cry, the man gets even more aggravated. He lets you go with a scoff, before walking back to his group. They squabble a bit more, before the shorter of the three reluctantly makes his way over to you.

"The Six Eyes wants to know your name," he says, accent thick.

You stare at him. Helpless and confused.

"The Six Eyes...?" You repeat and then your eyes flick over to the white-haired man. Standing tall and still, like a beautiful statue.

You don't know what's in it to lie. They have your wallet, your ID, your passport probably. You mumble out your name in defeat. The Six Eyes hums in approval.

"I have money." You blurt out. "A lot of it. If-if you let me go. I'll give you whatever you want. My-my family will pay any price."

He translates. When he's done, the other two laugh. It's loud and scratches the inside your chest. You duck away, feeling the tears again.

"The Six Eyes said he's paid too much for you to entertain that possibility." The translator says. Your heart drops.

"Paid for me.." You repeat. No no no no. "What does that even mean?"

The man stares at you with sympathy. You don't want it, you want to throw it back on his face, but you can barely move from your spot.

"He will take good care of you." he tries to console. "I heard the Six Eyes treats his things very well."

You don't want to hear it. You fall into hysterics. You want to go home. You want to go back to your country. You want to go home.

A long hand grabs your chin, instantly quieting you. Unlike his firm grip earlier, this one is nearly painful. You're certain he'd crush your bones if he wanted to. You quiet anyway. That seems to satisfy him now. He mutters something to the translator.

"The Six Eyes is telling you not to scream anymore. He finds it aggravating." The translator says.

The Six Eyes turns to the translator knowingly. The man shuffles with his feet, before reluctantly clearing his throat.

"You...belong to the Six Eyes now."

The Six Eyes grins, filled with white glistening teeth.

"Don't disappoint him. "

[miabebe]

Reverse Trope Series - Too Many Beds (Teaser)

You shared 25 years of your life with Seunghceol, what was another 4 nights right?

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x reader

Word Count - 488 for the teaser ( The full fic is around 11k, give or take? It was supposed to be below 2K, I fucked up)

Genre - Enemies to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots and I love making them pine hehe

Warnings - none for the teaser, maybe an reference to Seungcheol's dick

Estimated posting date - 6th July, 5pm KST (I don't have a taglist but I am happy to tag if anyone wants? Just drop comment or send an ask/message :)

Edit - It's out! Read here :)

“Absolutely not.” 

“No way in hell.” 

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“I’m not sharing a room with him.” 

“I don’t wish to even breathe in her vicinity.” 

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.” 

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you sweetheart.” 

“That was a fact darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her confused eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So the two of you are dating?” 

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back. 

“No!” 

“No!” 

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday that date her-” 

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. How about I give you something to better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that puny thing-” 

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.” 

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.” 

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking aback all three of its inhabitants. From the corner of your eye you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder.

Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out.

Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in one hand each, leading the way to your despair of the night. 

[augustinewrites]

listening to the amurta darshan’s faculty argue over budgets is positively mind-numbing, and alhaitham can feel his brain cells dying off with each agonizing minute that ticks by. 

this is only his second meeting as the acting grand sage, but he’s already looking forward to retiring. he’s been mapping out his retirement plan for the last ten minutes, actually. he’ll move to liyue, build a house on a very, very high mountaintop, and spend his days reading from sunrise to sunset—

“acting grand sage, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

listening to petty squabbles between old men in his capacity as the scribe is one thing, but having to direct the squabbles is wholly another. 

he sits up, doing his best to shake the stupor from his mind before quickly glancing down at the notes his assistant places in front of him. 

“naphis,” he says, genuinely surprised. “you intend to relinquish your position as sage?” 

alhaitham isn’t truly listening when amurta’s (now former) sage produces an explanation. the next step is to find a solution. find a new sage. naphis’ long-winded soliloquy about ‘ushering in the new generation’ and ‘starting anew’ were simply redundant. 

he tunes back into the conversation when naphis says, “i’d like to recommend a former student of mine. tighnari.” 

alhaitham knows tighnari. would even go as far as to say he likes him. “of the avidya forest watchers, yes,” he murmurs. “i will reach out.”

he glances over at you when you shift in your seat, glancing at him with that look in your eyes. the one that tells him you have something you want to say. 

but then one of the faculty members begins a highly dramaticized account of an lab incident in pardis dhyai that “demands” the proper allocation of funds, and he sighs, realizing this will have to be addressed another time.

_____

the next few days are busy, as the shift of power within the akademiya demands near the entirety of his attention. that, combined with his reluctance to bring work home, lead him to follow up with you a week after the amurta faculty meeting. 

“what were you going to tell me?”

“hm?” you roll onto your side to face him, eyes barely open, considering it’s two in the morning. “when?”

he feels bad for waking you, knowing you’re exhausted from a twelve hour shift at the bimarstan. but he’d been penning his letter to tighnari earlier, and couldn’t stop pondering what you’d wanted to tell him last week.

“at the meeting,” he clarifies. “you were giving me…a look.”

“i give you lots of looks,” you yawn, nudging your face further into your pillow. “you are quite handsome.”

“don’t be cute,” he mutters, hoping the darkness of the room hides his blush. “you were looking at me like you knew something i didn’t.”

you blink a few times as the memory comes back. “which time? i give you that look multiple times a day, darling.”

normally, he finds your sass to be quite a turn on. just not when it’s directed at him. “the first time.”

“when you were talking about research grants?”

“not that time,” he frowns. “but— what do you know about that?”

“nothing,” you say much too quickly, but then you lean over, cupping his chin and looking him in the eye. “but when someone so, so pretty and extremely smart submits a grant application…”

“i will set up a private channel just for your submissions,” he promises.

“i was actually talking about kaveh, but that is very much appreciated. we do need new stethoscopes.” you pat his cheek a little harder than necessary, smiling.

“wait, kaveh?” he asks. “really?”

“oh yes,” you nod. “he was talking about an affordable housing project the other night. if the akademiya could spare the funds, he could even move into one of said houses himself…”

“finally admitting you want him to leave?” 

“haitham, he used that last of that face cream i bought in fontaine and keeps moving our furniture around. i don’t just want him to leave, i need him to leave. remember when he organized your bookshelves by colour?”

oh, he remembers, trust him. “i’ll have amani pull his application for review first thing tomorrow.” 

“a most wise decision,” you hum, about to roll back around when he gently grips your arm.

 “we’re not done. i was talking about when i mentioned reaching out to tighnari.”

“oh, that look,” you blink. “he won’t accept the position.” 

his brows raise in surprise, because who in their right mind would deny the role of sage? “and you know this how?”

“because we’re friends,” you tell him matter-of-factly. “and i know he’s made a commitment to lead the forest watchers. he’s doing good work there, along withconducting his research. i doubt he’d want to be saddled with a desk job on top of that. let alone one with the akademiya.”

“okay,” he shrugs. if you say he doesn’t want the job, then he doesn’t want the job. there’s no need to delve further into the specifics. “you know the amurta faculty better than i do. who should i ask?”

this time you send him a flat look, pulling away from him and taking the duvet with you. “haitham, i’ve entertained your poor attempt at pillow talk thus far, but if you wish to continue discussing this so bad, why don’t you go find amani? i’m sure she’d love to spend the night with you.” 

he rolls his eyes, trying and failing to reclaim the duvet. “jealousy is quite the unbecoming trait, you know.” 

“go to sleep, acting grand sage.”

alhaitham shuts up, because, well, you’d titled him. that was a warning sign in itself that he’d deprived you of your sleep for long enough. but you don’t protest as he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to the back of your head, still overthinking. his mind won’t rest until he finds a solution. 

“stop overthinking it,” you mutter into your pillow. “you’ll figure something out. you always do.”

you’re right, he realizes. maybe the solution is right in front of him. 

_____

alhaitham is halfway through reading kaveh’s application when he hears your muffled threats to his assistant right outside his door.

“move, amani. or i’ll make you!”

amani has a much better sense of self-preservation than he thought, because it’s not a second later that his office doors burst open, and you let yourself in. 

“when i told you that you’d figure it out, i didn’t mean this!” you exclaim, waving his letter in his face.

he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it in an attempt to placate you, murmuring, “you don’t want to be a sage?” 

“of course i do,” you huff, snatching your hand back. “but— but i’m—”

“the logical choice,” he finishes for you, folding his hands atop his desk. “you obtained two degrees before 25, your thesis on elemental healing techniques is the gold standard, you’re the head of medical and you’re decently versed in botany.” 

“botany?” you repeat incredulously. “so maybe the neighbors are jealous of our garden and tighnari taught me how to use naku weed to make special brownies that one time–”

“they were very good brownies,” he assures you. “and you’re still an excellent candidate.”

you go off again, listing off all the reasons why it shouldn’t be you, but all that alhaitham sees is someone who is brave enough to hold their own in council meetings and even yell at the acting grand sage. you’re perfect.

even you sigh unnecessarily loud, pinching the bridge of your nose. “you’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“i don’t intend to, no.”  

you’re silent for a long minute, clenching your jaw so hard that alhaitham worries for your teeth. 

“i want to make my own hours,” you tell him firmly. “i’m not going to be tied to a desk all day.” 

that was something he could certainly get on board with himself. “fine. anything else?”

“give me the day to think on it,” you shrug, moving to sit on the edge of his desk. alhaitham slides his chair back so your knees fit between his legs. “you really think i can do this?”

“the pros of you being amurta’s sage greatly outweigh the cons, so yes.” 

you fix him with a long-suffering look. “what were the cons?”

alhaitham thought himself an intelligent man, but he very nearly opens his mouth to answer your question before realizing the answer will likely end with him sleeping on the couch tonight. he chooses to keep his mouth shut, earning himself a little kiss before you sign the contract on his desk.

[greenthena]

Why we won't have an Apology Dance in S3--or, why I'm choosing to start WW3

Much as I love the Apology Dance, I have a hunch that neither Crowley nor Aziraphale will perform it in S3. It's such a weird (affectionate) little mating ritual, and I cannot see it without thinking of David Attenborough's "Birds of Paradise" clip from Our Planet. (The little fuckers really get going around the 2:30 mark, if you're interested.)

S2 demonstrates so many of these bizarre little mating rituals. Specifically, I'm thinking about the "Don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions" moment...

...I mean, Goddamn. Someone damn it. Aziraphale is about to climb that demon like a tree.

And the exchange about borrowing the Bentley...

...which is a battle lost before it's even begun because Aziraphale flashes those pretty eyes and Crowley's too smitten to really put up a fight.

Mah point is (dolphins). My point is that every aspect of their interaction, particularly in S2, is a dance, a courting practice, a mating ritual to which only these two weird (affectionate) little birds know the steps.

And the Apology Dance is one of the key steps in this ritual. We know how important it is because Aziraphale has memorized each year when he performed it for Crowley. 1650, 1793, 1941... And Crowley has now reciprocated. But for all the importance of the Apology Dance, we never hear an actual apology. The words, "I'm sorry" are never exchanged between the Ineffables.

Of course, Aziraphale has forgiven Crowley on multiple occasions (have a tissue), but the absolution is never in response to an apology.

Why does this matter, you ask? Because Crowley has never asked to be forgiven. It's one of his self-identifying traits.

And every time Aziraphale offers him forgiveness, it calls into question Crowley's whole identity. I think this is why Crowley initially refuses to do the dance. He doesn't "do the dance," because he doesn't apologize. Because what's the point? If you believe yourself to be beyond forgiveness, why even bother with an apology.

But that's not what's most interesting to me. See, outside of mending his relationship with Aziraphale, I don't think the demon could give a single fuck about forgiveness. On the cosmic level, it's just another carrot dangled by Heaven. The whole concept of forgiveness of sins demonstrates a pretty fucked up power differential. I mean, who gets to decide whether God has forgiven you when She's not even talking?

I think it's fascinating that despite their squabble, Crowley removes his glasses the moment he steps back into the bookshop, performing the Apology Dance in his "naked" face. It suggests that he knows before he even starts that everything is going to be okay. He can approach the situation in a state of vulnerability because he deeply trusts his angel. But the dance, the mating ritual, still has to be completed. It's similar to how Aziraphale knew Crowley would let him drive the Bentley, but they still had to negotiate their way through the motions.

We've called it the Apology Dance, despite the fact that no apology is offered and no forgiveness given. Remember, Aziraphale's response to Crowley's successful completion of the ritual is, "Very nice."

So here's the crux. All these rituals that they perform, the Ineffable dances, if you will, rely on one crucial element. The result of the ritual has to be established before the ritual has begun. They each have to enter the ritual in a state of vulnerability, knowing the outcome will be safe and satisfying. And I think that's why Aziraphale doesn't say, "I forgive you" after Crowley's elegant spin and bow.

Because forgiveness is something Aziraphale only offers the demon when he feels cornered, frightened and unsafe. Think about the two times he's said it. In both cases, the forgiveness was weaponized.

(Apology Dance incoming for this next gif.)

In a very real way, when Aziraphale forgives Crowley, he invalidates his best friend's lived experience. Crowley doesn't want to be forgiven. He wants to be accepted. Loved. Seen.

So as much fun as it is to speculate about who might dance for whom in S3, I truly hope neither angel nor demon apologize to the other. For me, the most meaningful conclusion would be for them to complete their mating ritual not with some dogmatic, pedantic, fucked up power differential where one forgives the other for perceived iniquities. Nah. Fuck that. I want them to accept and love and deeply see one another and fully embrace whatever that means.

Here. Have some tissues.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part two —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 4k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: let me establish some things/characters/relationships ya know.

You dream of that house in Norbury. The one you grew up in. Your mother calls you for lunch. You are caked in dirt, fingers just leaving the soil where they’d searched for bugs and worms. Your sister watches in disgust but now she is pulling your arm.

You follow her, bare feet padding the wood floors. The lunch is on the table - pine needles on a porcelain plate. An empty glass which should be filled with juice. Your stomach howls. You look up to ask your mother for something else.

Right before your eyes, she melts into something grey. Maggots bleed from the corners of her eyes. The irises turn white, staring down at you with hunger even stronger than your own.

“Mom?”

Across the table, your sister melts away, too. Her body is mangled to the point that it tumbles to the kitchen floor.

You wake up just as your mother’s decomposed hands grab your shoulders and her mouth finds the crook of your neck.

Your eyes peel open to find darkness.

Not the house in Norbury, just a sheet of black that covers the cold forest. This has become your new home, and likely, your soon-tomb.

You wipe your eyes.

You lean back against the tree which you have managed to hoist yourself in. Sleep finds you again, but this time, the nightmare arrives when you wake up, once more in the form of a rotten smell and hissed groans.

These ones are real.

By the time you awake at dawn, your joints ache. You barely remember how you got up here, or how you got back up after the man and his daughter left. You sat there next to the broken bow for minutes, hours. Then, something moved you. The last piece of your humanness. It stood you up, forced you to find some pine needles to swallow down since meat was now out of the question, and brought you to this tree branch before the night settled.

The sunrise over the white forest is pretty, you think.

But you hear something. Smell something.

You look down and what your eyes find beneath the tree branch is not pretty in the slightest.

"Are you serious?" your numb lips whisper, now fully awake.

Only a few meters below you stand three Greys.

They must have wandered near the tree during the night, catching a waft of your smell from up above. Their tattered heads are tipped back, pale eyes pointed at you. Mindlessly, their arms squabble up towards the branch. But it's too high for them to reach. One of them, once a young woman your own age, pathetically claws at the tree trunk.

The thing with Greys is that they are terrible climbers. That is something they all share because their infected brains cannot muster enough strategy for it. What they don’t share is how long they have been decomposing, and what kind of physique they started out with. For instance, a Grey with a child's body will be less of a threat than one who was once a thick-boned man. Similarly, a Grey who was recently infected will have more muscle mass than one who has been rotting for years.

If you had your bow, you would be fine. But Skull-Face took this from you. Bitterly, you understand why. Who was he to trust that you wouldn't point it at them the moment they turned their backs?

But now there is no way to kill them.

You will have to figure out something else.

You shift on the branch to get a better look.

One looks bigger than the others. It still has some hair left. The others only have exposed skulls and a few clumps jutting out that resemble black worms. The female clawing the tree looks pretty weak and slow. You could probably outrun her. But even if you are faster, the Greys do not tire. They don't have the need for rest that you do, and even after a night's sleep and some pine needles, you are beyond exhausted.

Fuck. He really should have just killed you.

You want to cry. If you were hydrated, you would.

But instead, you carefully stand up on the branch, hugging the trunk to keep your feet steady. You scan the area. You didn’t make it very far from the pond the man and girl found you near.

What direction did they leave in?

You think you remember but even if you run that way, what sort of protection will you find?

You don’t know, but it seems like the best bet you have. Desperation seals this plan in your brain. First, you need a head start, so without much to lose, you shrug off your coat and wait until the three are close together before dropping it over their heads. It’s enough to disorient them, even for a moment, so you can slip down from the branch, scraping your knees at the bottom, and take off.

The cold bites but the adrenaline warms your muscles. Your body feels heavy despite being so thin, but something drives it. Your legs carry you towards the pond and past it.

But it is not long before they trail behind you with grunts and clambered, uneven footsteps. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know that the biggest one is running the fastest. By the sound, there is likely only a ten-meter gap between you and him, living and undead.

It must only be a few minutes before your stamina nose-dives. So little fuel.

They’re gaining on you.

You whirl past trees and snow.

A camp.

A high fence around a small cabin.

The sight is enough to push you forward, energy spent but your instinct driving you. It must be them. You run and run, but then you stop, a gasp slicing through your lungs when your feet just barely stop in front of a deep trench. It is dug around the perimeter of the camp, wide enough to require a jump.

There is no time to think. In an instant, you decide you'd rather be killed by his knife than turned Grey. Bitten.

So you leap across it.

Your boots just barely land on the other side.

You fall from the impact and there is a sudden intense pain as something sharp under the snow pierces your torso and causes your eyes to roll back, fingertips clawing at the frost. A ringing in your ears.

You make out a flurry of sounds: the pathetic moans as the Greys fall in the pit behind you, someone's heavy footsteps crunching the ground, and then a gritted-out “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Then, blackness.

You wake up to the touch of rough fingertips.

"Should be enough. Hand me the knife, Blue."

Eyelids heavy, you see log-stacked walls that form a small living room. Your body lays on what you believe to be a sofa, the sprung cushions so different than the hard surfaces you’ve slept on for years now. Your coat - Paul's old coat - is long gone. You are left with only your soiled shirt, the fabric hiked up just below your breast.

Seconds later, you are aware of the two other people in the room. A girl with mouse-brown hair stands over your head. She hands something to the behemoth sitting on the stool, who is leaning over to inspect your midriff.

Knife.

He will finally put an end to it all. He should have done so the first time. You clamp your eyes shut and inhale, ready for it again, but the stab to your gut never comes. Instead, a soft hand brushes your forehead and you hear the sound of his knife cut something.

"Hey, it's okay. He just finished the stitches."

"What?" you mouth.

"You may or may not have fallen on one of our caltrops," the girl says apologetically with a scrunch of her nose.

Confused, your head shifts against the cushion to look down. You see it now. The wound. Black sutures unevenly close it up, but still, some blood seeps.

“Don't get comfortable. Fixed it for you, but tomorrow you're out." He shakes his head as he speaks in a growl under his breath. "You have some goddamn nerve, you know. Leading those fucks over here."

"I— I had no other option," you croak, but just these few words take so much energy to push through your teeth, and you lean your head back.

"She made a smart choice," the girl comments quietly. Blue. She nudges her father's shoulder and clears her throat. “Come on, Ghost. Maybe she could—"

"No."

A petulant sigh blows up a piece of her hair. She looks back at you and in your half-aware state, her youthful eyes remind you of your long-dead nephew.

You are not awake for even a minute longer before your eyelids flutter shut again.

Blackness.

The next time you awaken they are sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You lift yourself against the couch with a wince, your hand instantly holding your torso. Your shirt has been tugged back down over the wound, and your brain is a bit more aware than before. You look around again, taking in more of this new environment. 

When was the last time you’d been inside a house?

It's a modest cabin, but far homier than the tents of your old camp. There is a shorn rug on the floor and a small stack of board games: Scrabble, Monopoly, Battleship. Against the wall is a steel fireplace, the ash inside suggesting it was recently used. A lamp on the table casts a soft, yellow glow. You notice the outlines of windows that have been boarded up with planks of pine.

When your eyes finally land on the food they are eating at the table, your stomach hisses.

Ghost has his mask inched up so he can chew on a piece of meat. Blue sits on her knees in the chair, scooping her fingers in a jar of peanut butter. Some of it coats the corners of her mouth. He notices and reaches over to swipe a thumb against her lips. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She swallows a mouthful as her eyes curiously drift across the room. They widen when she sees that you are not only awake but trying to sit up.

“Ghost. She’s awake again.”

His response: wordlessly nudging a small plate and mug in front of the free chair at the table. 

Warily, you swing your feet down, nostrils flaring to rake in the smell of food rather than dead flesh this time. Standing is a difficult task, one that causes the muscles around your wound to spasm. But hunger is stronger than your pain. Desperate. Starved. You don’t have it in you to question the situation, not yet.

The small plate truly is small; it looks like he has given you pitiful scraps of things they didn’t want. Stale crackers. The hard pieces of dried meat from an animal you aren’t sure of. But it’s more than you have had in a week. With just how fast you inhale it, there is no time to wipe the crumbs from your lips. 

Blue is staring wide-eyed when you are done. 

You gulp down the mug of water.

“Shit balls. You really were hungry.”

Ghost pulls his mask back over a stubbled jaw and lets out an irritated groan. “I told you to stop with that. What are you even sayin’?”

“And I told you—“ she shoots him a look, tongue poking out. You sit there with your chest rising and falling slowly, each breath requiring more energy than you have. “ —that I like to be creative with it.”

They are talking to each other as if you are not even there. 

“There is no being creative with it. If you’re gonna swear, do it right, yeah?”

A few more bickers. One voice low and gravelly. A cockney accent. The other voice, soft and pettish. But you don’t care to listen. Rather, your eyes stare at your empty plate and you press the tip of your thumb to the crumbs and lick them off like a scrounging rodent.

The moment Blue is done with the peanut butter, a big boot under the table taps the leg of her chair. 

“Time for bed, kid?”

“Dad—”

“Go on.”

He juts his chin in the direction of a small hallway where you can make out the shape of a few doors in the dim light. One must be her room because, with a sigh, she stands from the table and heads towards it, leaving you alone with him.

He is a man who threatened to kill you, and now a man who has stitched you up and fed you.

Tomorrow you’re out.

Sucking in a breath, you look up at him. “What is your game?”

He narrows his eyes. “That how you say thank you?”

“Thank you for what?” your voice rattles through fragile bones. “Keeping me alive for one more day? You should have left me there to bleed out.”

“I should have.”

“So why didn’t you? Are you fucking evil or what?” Your teeth tighten and the muscles of your face clench. “I have nothing. No one. You know I won’t survive out there. What was the point of this— “ you gesture to the spot where your wound lies under the shirt, then to the plate in front of you, “—and the food? There is no good reason to, right?”

“There is no good reason,” he repeats in a murmur. "Maybe I jus’ pity you. You look like you’re one of ‘em already.”

He leans back in the chair as his eyes drag over you. He is covered head-to-toe. Wearing a long-sleeve black shirt and jeans. The mask is just as intimidating as before, a plastic skull sewed crudely to the black fabric and two faded, white lines painted down the chin of it.

Where you’d been terrified of the sight the first time, you are now angered. Your breath quickens through sore lungs.

“I don’t want your pity. I want you to stop being a coward and fucking kill me already,” you say, waving around a bony hand, “...or fucking help me. Make up your mind, but don’t send me out there again to suffer.”

You continue, quieter, wiping your wet nose.

“You can do it now,” a curl at your lips. “She’s not here to stop you.”

Dark eyes flicker away and stare dully at the cabin wall. He is boarded up like the windows. There is nothing to see except for the growing tension in the muscles under his clothes and the way his hands roll up.

The silence is dizzying. It could be fatal.

But finally, he looks back at you.

He pulls his broad shoulders into an intimidating posture before offering his decision in a growl.

“You will sleep outside," and your heartbeat staggers, "You won’t have any of our medicine. You will get food for yourself once that shit is healed. And—“ his voice lowers into something that makes your frail body shiver, his hand moving to grip the table. “—if you lay a finger on her, your neck will be the next thing I break. Understood?”

Your lips part. They close.

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean back in the chair. With a gargled gasp, you nod.

“Understood.”

Something soft touches your foot that first morning.

It gently rouses you.

"Hey, I heard you're a part of the team now."

A head pokes into the small shed you've been banished to and sunlight filters in. Groaning, you shift against the dusted floorboards. Your body only fits with its knees bent. Ghost gave you a thick blanket to sleep with, but nothing to lay on. Still, this shed is within their fortification.

You are still alive.

Somehow.

The game of survival has spat you out here, at the camp of a father and daughter. The memory of your first encounter takes the form of a phantom welt on your throat. Could you trust that he wouldn’t change his mind?

It’s not like you have a choice.

"Huh?" is all you can say, looking up at the child who you suspect had great influence on the moments leading you here.

"You know... the team."

Blue smiles down at you. The soft touch to your foot ends up moving right by your cheek. A puffy tail tickles the skin.

"What is—?"

"This is Grim," she says cheerily, and reaches down to pick up what you now see is a chocolate rabbit. "He's a good friend of mine."

"You have a pet?" you ask, rubbing your eyes in surprise. The pain in your torso has faded just a bit. Still, your body feels like a corpse. You sit up and the blanket falls to your waist. You miss the couch.

"Not a pet, a friend," she says. "Come on. Get up."

Painfully, you follow her out of the shed. Now that you are not running away from Greys, you can observe their camp better. It is... impressive. Not only is there the fence and trench outside, but within it is more than you ever had at your old camp. Covered in the snow lays a wood planter, which you assume they use to grow crops in the other seasons. Just next to the house is a large wooden hutch housing more rabbits than you have seen in a lifetime.

Blue leads you there, plants a kiss on the top of Grim's head, and slips him back in.

"You have a lot of friends.”

“They aren’t all my friends,” she says. “Only Grim. The others are food.”

Rabbits for food? It's brilliant. They breed like crazy. Having this food supply at their fingertips means they must not hunt as often as you and Paul had to— which means, fewer encounters with the threats outside.

Ghost is smart.

The mere setup of this place is evidence of how well he understands their needs. And with how well-fed Blue appears, they have not yet struggled the way you have.

But their food won’t be for you much longer. With your lack of a bow, you wonder how you’re meant to hunt.

Instead of worrying about it yet, you ask Blue, “Where is your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, Ghost is cleaning up your mess from yesterday.” She gives a shrug. “And he’s shoveling the trench. Doesn’t really work if there’s snow in there.”

“Why do you call him Ghost?”

You take a good look at her.

Her fair skin covers soft cheekbones, the skin of her rosy lips has been chewed a bit at the corner, and her eyes are truly the opposite of his: full and bright. She thinks the question over for a long moment as if it is something she’s never had to prepare an answer for.

Maybe, there has just never been anyone around to ask.

“He used to play outside with me,” she finally says. “He was in the military, you know? And when he was home, we would play this survival game. Pretend to shoot each other. Climb the trees. He had his codename, so I had to have mine.”

Military. That makes sense.

She continues, eyes flickering down to the herd of rabbits as her fingers brush thoughtlessly over the edge of the hatch.

“When things happened, I just remember him telling me that it was like we were playing survival again, except - you know - not a game this time,” her brows furrow, then she shrugs, “He’s called me by my codename ever since and I usually call him by his. Sometimes Dad fits better.”

“So," you say, "what is your real name, then?”

“I’d tell you," she gives a smile that reaches her blue eyes, "...but then I’d have to kill you.”

It is then you notice that Blue carries two knives on her. One strapped to her ankle, and the other tucked in the belt of her trousers.

Breakfast consists of what you now realize is rabbit. Again, your plate is much smaller than theirs. Ghost feeds you like one would feed a stray dog. You thought it might be awkward, sitting at the table with them. Part of the team. Except, not really. You feel more like a pest.

It's not really awkward apart from the fact that Ghost doesn't spare you even a glance. Blue's curiosity fills the space. She asks for your name. She wonders where you came from and why you were alone, her head tilted and her elbows leaning on the table. You explain your story quietly, shifting your gaze to her dad, and do your best to leave out the gritty parts. She listens, and offers a few gentle "sorry's".

"I can't imagine having a sister," she says when you are done. "And I also can't imagine having to watch her die like that."

Ghost stares at her.

You respond anyway, "I never imagined it, either."

After eating, Ghost leaves to fetch the same blanket he'd given you for sleep. Finally, he looks at you. Dark eyes that have the smallest flicker of disgust as they travel over you, causing your throat to dry.

"You smell like shit. Come on."

You learn that bathing for Ghost and Blue means using a small rag and soap made from resin. The cabin has a bathroom, but there is no running water, so instead, there is a bucket of some collected from a nearby creek. Ghost hovers near the bathroom door for a moment, before shaking his head and leaving you.

The cold water stings. Ghost was blunt but not wrong. You smelled like rot. You drag the rag over your skin and the valleys of your ribs, disgusted by what you see, and have a hard time remembering what your body once looked like. Your wound is still puffy against the stitches. Red, screaming. The small, scratched mirror above the sink shows you a ghastly face. You look away. You use the blanket to dry yourself.

Outside, you find Ghost and Blue playing tic-tac-toe in the snow. It's something you used to do with your nephew, only it was usually one-sided because he was always too withdrawn to care. Blue, on the other hand, narrows her eyes in fierce competition and Ghost sits on a tree stump, his elbows on his knees.

“How come you always get to start, huh?”

“Because,” she sings, drawn out, “Youngest goes first.”

“Doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Remember, Ghost?”

“Jesus, kid. Not even a teenager and you’re already usin’ my words against me.”

"Don't say them if you don't want me using them."

"Just go, it's your turn."

This is how those first few days go.

It is mundane. Games, scattered meals, and walks to the creek for water. You don't join them. Ghost ignores you for the most part except to silently offer bits of food and checks to your wound. His rough fingertips never soften, not for you. He finds your old coat on the second day and gives it back with a cold: M’not giving you another if you lose it. It still smells like Greys.

You feel like an intruder, sticking to your shed most of the time. Blue pokes and prods at you curiously. It is as if she doesn’t know how much she is allowed to interact.

On the fourth morning, she greets you again with a soft wake-up call from Grim and, to your relief, an extra piece of meat that she slips into your palm while whispering: Don’t tell Ghost, okay?

And it's on this day, after breakfast, that the two of them decide to leave the camp to go hunting. Ghost is a big guy. Rabbits alone can't keep up the thick sinew of him.

"You're comin' with us," he tells you, wearing a thick SAS jacket for the occasion.

You almost choke. "What?"

"Your stitches are lookin' fine and you're walking alright." His voice is flat, with an edge to it that teeters towards irritation. "You can get your own damn food."

"I don't have anything to hunt with," you remind him.

He tucks Blue's hair behind her ear before asking her to wait outside.

Then, he disappears into a room down the hall, coming back a moment later with a wooden bow in one hand and a military-grade knife in the other. On his back is a rifle, and in a sheath on his tac pants is a handgun.

He sticks the bow in your hand, then the knife in the other. With wide eyes, you look over the carved wood. It is stronger than your old one, whittled down smooth from oak. Along the curve of it, Blue is etched in all capitals.

"She doesn't use it much," he says, before suddenly, the metal tip of his handgun presses into your torso - the wounded side - and he loops his fingers around the back of your neck, pulling you close.

"Don't even think of trying anything," Ghost growls this warning in your ear, digging the end of his gun hard enough to make you whimper as your healing wound cries out. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. I won't."

taglist:

@cool-0-n @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09

[clangenrising]

Month 17 - Greenleaf

As the group approached the city, Sparrowsway did his best to listen to Scorchplume’s advice. She talked on and on about rules to follow while in the city and he tried to remember them all but there were a lot of them. One in particular made it hard to concentrate on any of the others.

“Oh,” Scorchplume said as they were getting close, “and Goldenstar, when we’re in the city, you’ll have to avoid twining tails with me or using pet names or anything of the sort. No one can know we’re involved with each other.” 

“Really?” Goldenstar frowned sadly.

“Why not?” Floodstrike’s frown was more hostile. 

“Because that kind of thing isn’t okay in the city,” said Scorchplume matter of factly.

“What, having mates isn’t allowed?” asked Sparrowsway, puzzled beyond belief. 

“No,” Scorch sighed, seeming irritated with them. “Cats being mates with someone of the same gender. Or cats changing genders for that matter.” 

“What?!” Sparrowsway and Floodstrike said together. Floodstrike was bristling all over. 

“Easy, boys,” Goldenstar said, “Scorch doesn’t make the rules, she’s just telling us what they are.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Floodstrike hissed. “Why under the stars would those things be against the rules?”

“Because it’s unnatural,” huffed Mystique, the first time she’d spoken the entire trip. “Mollies belong with toms, it’s just biology.” Sparrowsway’s fur prickled with unease at the words. He didn’t exactly know what biology was but he didn’t like the way she said it. 

“Is that what your brother told you?” Branchbark growled venomously. Mystique flinched into herself and dropped her gaze and despite the sick feeling in his gut, Sparrowsway felt bad for her. 

“Hey,” Goldenstar shot Branchbark a stern look. “That’s enough out of everyone, alright? There’s no need to get aggressive.”

“Are you hearing the same thing I’m hearing?” Floodstrike protested. 

“I am,” Goldenstar said, “and I don’t like it any more than you do, but we’re here to find Songdust, not bicker. Let’s save our energy for what’s important.” There was a moment of hesitation where she searched everyone’s faces, Scorchplume joining her with a judgmentally quirked brow. Branchbark grit his teeth but nodded. Floodstrike turned his head away with a frustrated huff. Sparrowsway didn’t feel satisfied at all but he saw the wisdom in Goldenstar’s argument and decided to push his distrust down for now. Russetfrond had taught him better than to get caught up in distracting squabbles. 

“Alright,” he said. “How do we find Songdust?” Goldenstar smiled in relief.

“She’s been gone for a long time,” Scorchplume said, turning forward again, “So she’s either dead, imprisoned somehow, or the Folk took her in. We’ll have to ask around to find out which.”

“We can’t just find her scent and follow it?” asked Floodstrike. 

“The city is as big as all four territories,” Scorchplume rolled her eyes, “maybe bigger. That would take forever and it’s definitely rained since she went missing so we wouldn’t even know where to start. You’ll just have to trust that I know what I’m doing and follow my lead.” 

“Okay,” Sparrowsway nodded. 

They passed by a large twoleg nest with a fenced off field full of strange, smelly grazing animals in relative silence. Sparrowsway was still thinking about what Mystique had said, unable to make sense of it. He could tell Floodstrike was doing the same. Scorchplume led them around the nest to a long, wide, gravel path that they followed towards the city for a good, long while under the blazing sun. 

“The scents aren’t as strong as last time,” Branchbark noted, mouth open to taste the air. 

“They were holding battle drills out here,” Scorchplume hummed. “Maybe they’ve stopped.” Mystique’s tail twitched. 

“Let’s hope so,” Goldenstar said. 

“I wish they’d stop hunting in our territory too,” Floodstrike grumbled. 

The city drew nearer and nearer, looming over them, all strange scents and harsh shapes and loud noises. Sparrowsway’s fur started to lift from his pelt just being close to it. He imagined Songdust wandering this place all alone and a mournful frown tugged painfully at the corners of his mouth. The smell of cats grew stronger and where the gravel turned into a thunderpath, there was a strong border marker carrying the scents of many different toms. The group paused for a moment to scent it, uneasy.

Eventually, Goldenstar stepped over the border and the rest of them followed. After another ten or so minutes of walking, they reached the edge of the city proper, where the fences of twoleg nests sat in a mismatched line stretching east and west for ages. Sparrowsway spotted a cat perched on a fence post just before they dropped down, out of sight. 

“They’ve seen us,” Scorchplume muttered. “When you see them, project strength without aggression. We’re not here to fight them.” 

“Got it,” said Branchbark. 

They walked past the first row of nests to find the thunderpath they had been following split perfectly in two and ran parallel to the nests. Sparrowsway shifted his paws uncomfortably on the hot, stone path that ran along the thunderpath like a riverbank. There were barely any trees here and the grass was shorter than he had ever seen a field of grass, leaving no places to hide. 

“This way,” Scorchplume said, starting across the thunderpath. Sparrowsway took a deep breath and followed her. She led the group over a fence and through a pair of gardens then across another thunderpath and so on and so on for several minutes at a time. Every so often, they spotted twoleg kits squealing and playing or stopped to let a monster rush by along the thunderpath. Sparrowsway bristled at every event. His heart pounded like it was going to burst out of his chest. How did any cat bear to live in a place like this?

Then suddenly there weren’t any more fences or gardens, just the thunderbanks and small patches of that same short grass between the thunderpaths and the red stone nests. The monsters only became more frequent, dashing furiously past them only to stop for seemingly no reason before dashing on again. Sometimes, multiple monsters paused behind each other, standing in lines and rumbling as they poured heat from under their shells. 

There were more cats here, many of them with notched ears, lingering around corners and on flimsy looking black structures that clung to the sides of the nests. Sparrowsway even spotted some resting underneath the bellies of sleeping monsters and the sight made his stomach twist in fear. All of the city cats were staring. Some darted off once they spotted the group of Clan cats but most just sat and stared. 

“I can make it from here,” Mystique said as they all paused under a small wooden outcropping by one thunderbank. Sparrowsway, panting in the heat, couldn’t believe his ears. She wanted to go off alone?!

“Are you sure?” he asked, worriedly. 

“Yeah,” the kittypet rolled her eyes and started to step away. “I know how to get to my own house just fine, thank you. I’m a big girl.” Branchbark lashed his tail. 

“Well, alright,” said Goldenstar. “If you’re certain.” 

“I am,” Mystique sighed in exasperation. Starting to stroll away, she called over her shoulder, “Bye, assholes! Let’s never see each other again!” Floodstrike growled under his breath and Branchbark scowled after her but Scorchplume swished her tail to get everyone’s attention. 

“Forget about her,” she said. “We have a mission to take care of. We’re going to cross the road in three… two… one! Go!” Sparrowsway barely managed to draw his focus back in time to join the mad dash across the thunderpath. They raced behind the line of waiting monsters and onto the thunderbank on the other side. Sparrowsway looked back to make sure everyone had made it with them and sighed in relief. 

“How do cats live here?” Floodstrike panted. “This is terrible!” 

“They’re used to it,” Scorch shrugged, barely out of breath. “Come on.” 

She hurried around the corner into a shaded gap between two of the nests and the others slank after her. Sparrowsway, at least, was grateful to be out of the heat and into a relatively sheltered hiding spot. They padded on through the gap, past some large, foul smelling black things, presumably towards another thunderpath. 

“This way,” a voice sounded from behind them and the warriors bristled, turning around. There was some unintelligible whispering from around the corner and then, after a breathless moment, a trio of cats came around the corner. Two of them had notched ears, including the pitch black tom in the lead. 

“Well, look at that,” he said, yellow eyes roving over the group, “they are wild cats.” 

“They’re here with my permission,” Scorch said, pushing her way through the others to stand in front of him. “I am Gingersnap, the exalted-” 

“We know who you are,” said the other notched cat, a calico tabby with heavy scarring on her neck. “You’re Razor’s girl.” 

“I was,” Scorchplume hissed back. “He’s dead now and I’m my own cat.” 

“Rumor has it you’ve gone native,” said the black tom, shifting his weight. Sparrowsway was struggling to follow the conversation. Scorchplume’s posture was stiff despite her casually disdainful expression. 

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” she laughed coldly. 

“Maybe not,” the tom said, “you came to town with a group of wild cats and you smell just like them. That seems like plenty of proof to me.” Scorch was quiet for a moment too long. 

The calico spoke up again. “Where are you leading them?” 

“We’re looking for a Clanmate of ours,” Goldenstar said, stepping up beside Scorchplume. Sparrowsway noticed the way her tail almost reached out for Scorch’s before flicking the other way at the last second. “She went missing here and we’d like to take her home.” 

“So she’s still in the city?” the calico muttered to the third cat, a blue tabby tom covered in dark smudges of grease. 

“Seems so,” he muttered back.

“That’s nice,” said the black tom, “but you’ll need to leave. Wild cats aren’t welcome here.” 

“Watch your tone, Chaff,” Scorchplume bristled, rising on her toes a bit. “You have no right to tell me and my guests what to do.” 

“What, you’re saying these mangy mountain cats are better than we are?” scoffed the leader. He took a step closer, arching his back, and Floodstrike started to growl. 

“I’m saying they will do what I say they will,” Scorch hissed, stepping up, nose to nose with the black cat, “and you will do the same, or else.”

“Or else what?” laughed the tom. “You said so yourself, Razor’s dead.”

“I am still Exalted,” snarled Scorch. Sparrowsway couldn’t help but shiver at the way she spoke.

“Okay, so we won’t touch you,” the black cat pulled back a bit. “Your wild friends are fair game here.” 

“We outnumber you,” Goldenstar growled. “Walk away. This doesn’t have to get violent.” 

“Did you hear that?” the black cat called back to his companions. “The wild cat threatened to kill me!” 

“Guess we don’t have a choice,” the calico smiled, flexing her claws. 

“Listen to her, Jack,” snapped a voice from further down the alleyway. Sparrowsway turned his head to see a tortoiseshell tabby who looked very much like Goldenstar, if a lot older and more grizzled, limping in their direction. She had a scattering of scars across her face and a torn left ear and, judging by her limp, her right hind leg didn’t work quite right. Despite her haggard appearance, the cats they had been speaking to shifted uneasily as she approached. In that way, she almost reminded him of Sagetooth. He stepped to the side to let her pass. 

“Scram before someone kicks your dumb fuckin’ ass,” the she-cat continued as she came to the front of the crowd. 

“Figures you would be a Clan lover, Jo,” growled the tom - Jack she had called him. 

“Figures you’d be dumb enough to pick fights you can’t finish,” glared Jo. “Now run along or I’ll kick your ass myself.” She squared her shoulders and Sparrowsway watched the muscle ripple under her fur. It didn’t seem to be an empty threat. 

Jack seemed to think so as well and with a disgruntled glance at his companions, he turned and headed back the way he had come. The others followed, grumbling to each other. Sparrowsway let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you for that,” Goldenstar said, smiling at the cat who could have easily passed as her grandmother. 

“Eh, it’s no problem,” said Jo with a rugged smile of her own. “Skyraiders are all the fuckin’ same. Lots of talk, no guts.”

“Skyraiders?” Sparrowsway raised his brows. 

“Yeah,” shrugged Jo. “Rudy’s little gang. They call ‘em Skyraiders because Rudy lives on Skyraider Street.” 

“Rudy…” Scorchplume furrowed her brow in thought. “Since when did Rudy have a gang?” 

Jo laughed and started padding back in the direction they had originally been going. “You’ve missed a lot while you’ve been away, miss high and mighty. Come on, I’ll explain everything once your friends are safe.” The patrol looked to Goldenstar for direction. Goldenstar looked to Scorchplume. Scorchplume frowned. 

“I guess it can’t hurt to follow her,” she said. “She’s definitely not Exalted or anything. I doubt she’s leading us into a trap…”

“I think we should trust her,” Goldenstar said, her smile still in place. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“If you say so,” Floodstrike said. They followed after Jo who glanced back with an amused grin. 

“My name’s Jo, by the way,” she said, although it wasn’t necessary. “You are?” 

“Goldenstar. These are my Clanmates, Floodstrike, Sparrowsway, and Branchbark.”

“And your Exalted friend?” Jo quirked one brow knowingly as she glanced at Scorch. 

“Scorch,” she said, casting her gaze up the wall instead of making eye contact. Jo hummed in response and Sparrowsway couldn’t quite place the expression on her face. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” said Jo. “Sorry I didn’t intercept you sooner. My leg ain’t what it used to be.” 

“You were looking for us?” Sparrowsway asked. 

“Oh, yes,” nodded Jo. “A friend of a friend saw you coming in and, well, someone had to get you before those fuckin’ meatheads did.” 

“We appreciate it,” Goldenstar said. “We’re looking for a Clanmate of ours who’s been lost in the city for a few months. She’s a-”

“Yes, yes,” Jo interrupted. “I know Songdust. You’ll see her soon enough.” 

“What?” Branchbark gaped. 

“I told you,” Jo said, “I’ll explain everything once we’re somewhere safe, now get ready, we’ve got to cross the road.” She led them out of the alley towards another thunderpath while everyone exchanged confused but excited glances. Scorchplume chewed her lip, a storm of thoughts behind her eyes, but Goldenstar was smiling ear to ear. 

Sparrowsway couldn’t believe it. They’d already stumbled into a cat who could take them straight to Songdust. It was almost too good to be true! Still, stranger things had happened. Sparrowsway whispered his thanks to StarClan and braced himself for the terrifying sprint between him and his missing Clanmate.

[deathmetalangel]

hi if your taking requests I’d like to request a mid 90s forth-grade x fem skater reader. I could be whatever tbh but she’s like really soft and nice. Idk you could do what ever you think is best <33

IN CHAINS, ENTOMBED (FOURTH GRADE X FEM!READER)

warnings: stevie has mommy issues, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, sad stevie, nothing else really it’s mostly fluff

“from the day you arrived, i’ve remained, by your side, in chains, entombed”

ahhh i just really love fourth grade. i might’ve went overboard a slight bit.

Their friend group was strange, anyone could see that. They varied in ages, most being juniors and seniors with two exceptions. And they drastically varied in personalities. Ray was the oldest and looked out for his friends like siblings, they were all he had. Fuckshit was rowdy and always down for a party to distract himself and stay entertained. Fourth Grade was more aloof, the others called it stupid, but Y/n preferred observant.

Y/n herself was the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, a heart made of gold that shone brightly wherever she went. Ruben was almost condescending at times, he always felt the need to prove himself to Ray and Fuckshit. And Stevie, he spiraled down a dark path for a long time. Until now, he finally returned to the sweet boy they met at first. So eager and just happy to have friends.

They had their squabbles sure, but nothing they’d ever let separate them. The closest out of everyone was easily Y/n and Fourth Grade. She was a senior, about a year older than he was. Yet they’d known each other for years. She’d lived on the nicer side of town, but their dads had been really good friends. Both worked at the DMV, but it’s where their moms worked that changed their living situations. Mrs. L/n was, to be quite honest a spoilt brat of a woman. She was heinous and cruel. Only supported by her husband and her trust fund. Which she spent most of pretty quickly during her college years. But it still kept the family going strong.

Y/n had a surprisingly good work ethic. She didn’t work at Motor like Fuckshit and Ray, but she did work with her uncle at his mechanic shop. It helps to fund her “passion project”. Which is just an old 67’ Mustang Shelby.

Said girl currently sits on the couch in the back of the skate shop, her feet propped up on Fourth Grade’s lap with a book placed in hers. Her beanie is slightly slipping from her head, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “College applications are stupid. They’re all the counselors at school talk about now. I get that they’re important, but I don’t even know If I wanna go to college.” She sighs before shutting the textbook.

Fourth Grade turns to look at her, his usual far off look replaced. She always has his full attention. It doesn’t matter what she’s talking about. He’s gonna listen if she’s the one saying it. “I dunno. You’re smart. College might be good.” Ruben looks at them from the other couch. He was more interested in them than what Fuckshit was rambling about next to him. He liked the way Fourth Grade looked at her. It was, for lack of better words, full of devotion. He never sees that at home.

“Yeah, but where would I even go? All of these colleges are expensive and far away. I wouldn’t wanna leave you or the guys.” Mostly him. “I think I wanna be a mechanic. Sounds stupid huh?” She brushes off her own words.

Fourth Grade shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s stupid.” He mumbles off handedly. Like his words held no weight, what did they mean coming from someone as dumb as him? “I’ve seen your car, you’re good. You should do it.”

Yet his words meant the most to her. “You want to be a director right? You can go to college for that you know. A few colleges with fine arts programs reached out to me too. I think you’d do good.” He never really expected her to remember anything about what he wanted to do. Most of the guys assumed he just didn’t know or was too stupid to care. He pauses, they both think about the cost of it all. “I mean there’s scholarships and stuff. Next year I can help you look into it?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, sweet and genuine. Ruben liked the way she looked at him too. There was no doubt with her, she loved him. Fourth Grade feels himself growing flustered. Y/n tended to do that to him. It was like he was in middle school all over again. She was the one who taught him how to skate. Y/n was so patient and understanding, she still is.

Everyone’s attention is caught by the bell to the front door. It chimes letting them know someone is walking in. The someone was Stevie, the only one missing from the current hang out besides Ray who was helping his mom. He’s a mamas boy, but y/n won’t tell anyone where he’s at. The guys tend to tease. Stevie walks in the shop clearly aggravated. She hadn’t seen him this agitated since last summer.

“Hey Fuckshit can you and Ruben go get some Arizonas and snacks? It’s on me just take this twenty. I don’t feel like going.” She holds out the cash she grabbed from her pocket.

Fuckshit looks up at her and takes the cash. “Hm yeah sure. Only cause you treating ma. I’ll get some different flavors n shit. Come on Ruben let’s bounce.” He clearly didn’t see her true intentions as he walks past Stevie on his way out. Y/n sits up straight as Stevie finally comes over to them on the couch.

“Hey Stevie you okay? It’s just us,” He knew what she meant. Just her and Fourth Grade so he could say whatever he wanted judgment free. He bites down on his lip to stop it from quivering. His nose twitches, she picks up on his tells. Y/n places a gentle hand on Stevie’s arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just sit down, we can talk when you’re ready.”

Fourth Grade watches her tentatively. She was so gentle. Stevie sits down in between the teens before he places his head onto her lap. Y/n looks at Fourth Grade who was watching Stevie carefully. The boy had been through a lot in the time they were friends. He’d grown to care about him a lot. Y/n softly caresses the boys hair. Her best attempt at soothing him.

“My mom she just doesn’t get it anymore. She doesn’t get me anymore. She’s always with some guy, Ian says she used to be like that before I was born. But I thought she’d be better. She’s so preoccupied I never see her. And then she just bugs about stupid shit. I hate her sometimes.” He vents to the pair who don’t pity him, they are just there to console him.

Y/n sighs. “I get it. My moms flighty. Always in her own world. I’ve met your mom, and both times weren’t exactly pleasant or under great circumstances. But, I do think she cares. She loves you, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to feel this way. She isn’t right to put more focus on someone other than you especially when you’re so young. However, she is still entitled to a love life Stevie.” He liked talking to her. She never judged him. Or scolded him. Just let him talk, and would advise him as best she could.

Y/n looks at Fourth Grade, her eyes flicking down to Stevie as if to tell him to say something. He can get that hint at least. “It’s hard for a mom to have a son. My moms weird with me sometimes, it’s different than her having a girl. Ya know? She’s probably just nervous because you’re getting big and growing up.” She smiles at him, his thoughtful answer was more than adequate. He blushes at her smile. She always did encourage him to be smarter than everyone thought he was.

“You and y/n aren’t weird with me. So why is she?” Y/n blushes slightly at the implications of what he was saying. “Y/n you don’t ignore me for Fourth Grade. And you’ve been like in love forever. So why does she ignore me for those guys she’s known for a few months?” Both teens almost were too embarrassed to answer.

Y/n tries to recover as best she can. “We’re a lot closer in age to you than she is Stevie. We know what it’s like to be your age. She doesn’t remember it quite as well. And me and Fourth Grade, we’re not- um. New relationships take more work. There’s a lot more of getting to know each other Stevie. That’s probably why.” She can’t even make eye contact with Fourth Grade who kind of just sits there trying to figure out what she’s saying.

They weren’t dating, but why didn’t she finish her sentence. Was he reading too much into her words? “Can I stay at your house tonight? And maybe Fourth Grade stay over too?”

Y/n smiles softly. She could never say no to Stevie. She gently wipes away a few stray tears from the boys face before responding. “Of course you can stay with me. I’d rather you stay over than be god knows where. And you’d have to ask Fourth Grade if he wants to have a little sleepover.”

Stevie looks up towards Fourth Grade who’s caught slightly off guard. “Can you come too? I like when you’re hanging out with us.”

“Sure kid.” They were really the only ones who actually treated Stevie like a kid. He wasn’t Sunburn the cool skater, he was Stevie the twelve year old. They didn’t infantilize him or belittle him, he was still an equal. But they made sure to remember he was still growing up. He didn’t have to be cool and drink or smoke. He was dorky and that was fine.

Stevie smiles before laying down on Y/n’s lap again. Her fingers gently play with his hair as he starts to fall asleep. Y/n hums a soft lullaby as he does. “He’s a good kid. It’s funny you act more like a mom than a friend to him sometimes.” Fourth Grade whispers while he watches the boy nap.

“I guess it’s just my big sister instincts. And what about you? I swear sometimes he comes to you with his problems more than me or Ray. Fourth Grade I like this girl what do I do? Fourth Grade I need help with a video project for school. Fourth Grade I’m mad at my friend again.” She laughs softly before looking back down at Stevie.

Fourth Grade laughs as well. He did often get tasked with helping Stevie, it was mostly with stuff he didn’t want to ask Y/n about. He cared a lot about what she thought of him. “He’s a bit confused, but he’s only got his mom and his brother. And his brother doesn’t seem like the brotherly type. We’re really the closest he’s got to older siblings. And only three of us are decent influences.” Fuckshit and Ruben were most definitely not good influences. In fact Y/n almost has a heart attack when she finds out Stevie is hanging out with only them.

“You parent him a lot Y/n. And you always manage to get me roped into it.” Fourth Grade chuckles softly. “No wonder he thinks we’re dating.” He mumbles the end. Afraid of the weight of his words.

Y/n pauses. “I mean, we do kind of act coupley. I wouldn’t be surprised if more people thought we were dating. I don’t really care. I’m comfortable around you.” This was her way of putting the ball in his court. Fourth Grade pauses. He looks at her and just thinks. Jesus she had him whipped. Ever since he met her he’s been following her around like a puppy.

Yet, he really didn’t want it any other way. He liked being around her. Y/n was kind, but not ignorant in the slightest. She was intelligent and so fucking sweet. He fell more in love with her little by little, he was entombed by her very being. “You scare off any girls I might get, you know that right?”

She giggles. He wasn’t serious, but he wasn’t lying either. “Like you don’t scare off guys. ‘Don’t talk to her she’s with that tall lanky guy’. I hear pretty well you know.” Fourth Grade smiles.

“I mean if we’re ruining each others chances of ever dating someone, why don’t we just actually date?” Her eyes widen. She hadn’t actually expected him to be so up front. Fourth Grade never said anything this forward. He usually stuttered and rethought his words mid sentence.

She looks into his eyes. She could tell he was being genuine, perhaps that was what compelled his bluntness. “Are you asking me out Fourth Grade?”

He scratches the back of his neck almost awkwardly. “Uh-yeah. I mean. If you wanna.” And there was the Fourth Grade she knew. Y/n smiles before gently kissing his cheek.

“I’d love to.” She smiles before placing her head on his shoulder. Leaning onto him while Stevie napped comfortably in her lap. “I love you, you know. I have since we were kids.”

His face was almost bright red. Fourth Grade swallows hard. “Y-yeah? If I’m being honest you’ve had me since we met. Especially after you taught me to Ollie.”

She smiles at the memory. “I don’t think Fuckshit is coming back with my money.”

Fourth Grade wants to laugh, he quiets himself into a soft chuckle. “Yeah. I don’t think so either. It’s okay though. We can just relax. Just us.”

Y/n mumbles something before slowly dozing off with her head still resting on his shoulder. Fourth Grade looks down at her, still in awe of the girl before him. He’d do anything for her. And he knew she’d do the same. That’s just how she was, the kind of person she was. The person he was so irreparably in love with. And by her side he’d remain.

[honey-words]

what are we? — todoroki shoto x reader

prompt: "i'm sick of playing this game with you." "what game?" "the game where we pretend we don't like each other." college au

word count: 530

“Shoto’s coming.”

“Shit.”

You scrambled to your feet from your previously comfortable position on the armchair, searching desperately for a way out. Tsyuyu just watched you from above her book, eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Tsyuyu, do you know if—” he stopped when he saw you, eyes narrowing. “What’re you doing?”

You crouched down further behind the armchair, as though you could disappear into the bookshelf behind you. “Nothing.”

He paused and you stayed frozen in your position, waiting to see what he’d do. But he ignored you, turning back to Tsyuyu to ask about some homework problem they’d been working on the day before.

They kept talking, Todoroki taking the armchair across from you next to her. Refusing to backdown and abandon your corner of the library, you settled back into your seat and went back to your book, soon becoming lost in it and forgetting he was even there.

Until you realized it was a bit too quiet, even for the library. Tsuyu usually listened to music, and her headphones were a little broken so you could always hear a little bit of it playing. But that familiar muted sound was gone. You put your book down and looked up to meet Todoroki’s gaze. He quickly looked away, back to his own book. But you’d caught him.

“What’re you looking at?” you snapped, face warming.

He didn’t respond.

You huffed, picking your book back up. You considered leaving, but really, he should be the one to leave. This was your corner.

“I’m sick of playing this game with you,” he said. Just as you were getting back into your book. Really, the nerve of this boy.

“What game?” you asked, deciding to humor him.

“The game where we pretend we don't like each other."

You nearly dropped your book. But your recovery was quick.

“Like you? Me?” you covered your smile with your hand.

But Todoroki’s gaze was unwavering. He furrowed his eyebrows a little, as though you were doing something confusing. He was the one being weird—your reaction was perfectly sane.

“Yes.”

You stared back. If this was a challenge you weren’t going to lose.

“And what makes you say that?”

“If you wanted me gone you would’ve gotten rid of me ten minutes ago.”

It’d been ten minutes? Had you really been sitting peacefully with him for that long? Normally you couldn’t go five minutes without squabbling with one another. It drove your friends crazy.

You couldn’t really remember when it had started, only that you weren’t going to be the one to back down.

But this had caught you off guard, and you saw Todoroki’s eyes flicker with amusement as he stared back at you. “Realizing, are we?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you huffed, picking your book up and holding it over your face to hide from his view. Was it warm in here?

“Okay,” Todoroki said. Was he smiling? Why could you hear it in his tone? “Then you won’t mind if I stay?”

“Do what you want,” you replied, waving a hand at him. Still not trusting yourself to put the book down.

“I always do.”

masterlist

[alluringlight]

Alhaitham x Reader

Warnings: NOT pre-established relationship, can be read platonically, Alhaitham is overstimulated and very heavily implied to be neurodivergent, reader is also implied to be ND at the end, fluff or kind of hurt/comfort? it's just haitham getting overstimulated by everyone at the Akademiya and reader stepping in to give him a reprieve, also no (Y/N) or [Name] used you're just referred to as 'you' so it is gender neutral

WC: 1191

Anyone could tell that the Acting Grand Sage was uncomfortable. Or at least, that was your reasoning as to why you stepped in. You didn’t know Alhaitham that well, having only dealt with him through paperwork and never actually having met him face to face before, so you were a bit nervous about being presumptuous…but with how uncomfortable he seemed, you put aside your pride and told yourself you were simply helping out a regular colleague. 

As for his part, Alhaitham was having a disastrous day. His soundproof earpieces were broken, courtesy of a drunken squabble with his roommate the previous night, and everyone in the Akademiya was getting on his nerves. The voices of hopeful scholars and researchers seeking funding had been drilling into his brain since early in the morning, and he had a pounding headache, not to mention how bad his ears hurt since everything was so loud. He had forgotten just how sensitive they were, having taken his peaceful existence with his earpieces for granted. Once more, he had been stopped by a researcher, on his way back to his office, so now he stood in the hall, pretending he had any interest in the person in front of him. Internally, he just wanted to bang his head into the wall; he knew he was being irrational, which made him feel even worse since logic and rationale were his own slice of divinity. 

“Excuse me, so sorry to interrupt,” You sidled up to the two, immediately capturing the attention of the researcher that you cut off, you gave him an apologetic look as you continued speaking. “I’m going to have to steal the Acting Grand Sage from you; we’ve got an emergency meeting that you’re going to make him late for.” 

“What?! We’re having an important conversation, I’m sure you can wait just a few minutes. You can’t just demand his presence.” The researcher was getting on your nerves, sure you were lying, but he didn’t know that, yet he was still being so rude to you. 

“Look, I know and I apologize, but this meeting was tabled last week due to scheduling conflicts and today’s the only day this week we’ve managed to squeeze in the time.” You tried to give the guy an apologetic smile, but he was getting on your nerves enough that it was a bit hard to muster up. 

The guy scoffed, “Surely, since this meeting was tabled in the first place it can wait a few minutes.” 

Your smile dropped and you eyed him, giving him an unimpressed look. “I didn’t want to do this, but I will pull rank so to speak if you won’t let this go. As most situations are, this one has only gotten worse as it’s been put off, so I’d appreciate it if you let it go. I’m sure if you write up your request and send it through the proper channels it’ll get to the Acting Grand Sage all the same, if you want you can put the request in my office’s mailbox and I’ll deliver it to him myself.” 

The researcher seemed to shrink in on himself a bit, and you knew you assumed correctly, he was needling Alhaitham now since whatever request he had couldn’t go through the regular channels, or it had already been shot down. As he stuttered over himself apologizing for delaying your meeting, you gave him another easy smile. 

Alhaitham watched the exchange patiently, he didn’t want to interfere as he didn’t want to talk and in general he didn’t know you that well, but he knew you had worked with the matra before on a couple of plagiarism cases; he distinctly remembered Cyno mentioning you in relation to a recent case. Since the General Mahamatra himself trusted you, Alhaitham followed you, although begrudgingly as he really just wanted to make an excuse to leave early. In all honesty, he had no idea what meeting you were talking about, but he could care less if it at least got him away from that incessant guy. 

You easily detached the Sage from the researcher, once again waving at him in apology as you tried to look like you were rushing off to do something important. You didn’t say anything at all to Alhaitham as the two of you quickly walked to your own office. It was cozy, with a small two-seater couch in addition to the large desk that was laden with your work. You said nothing as you closed the door and then made quick work of shutting the curtains and turning on the small desk lamp, leaving the small sofa in semi darkness. 

“Uh…I should have some…?” You spoke mostly to yourself, as you were slightly nervous at having the Acting Grand Sage in your office, but you dutifully dug around in your desk until you came upon your own ear defenders. “Here, they’re probably not as comfortable as your earpieces, and they aren’t completely soundproof, but they should work. No one will bother you in here and you’re welcome to lay down if you want. I’m just going to be working on paperwork, but if you need background noise you’re welcome to root through my spin crystals to find one to play.” You didn’t give it much else thought, and settled into your desk chair, easily finding a rhythm as you started scribbling through your work. 

Alhaitham stood there for a long second before he snapped himself out of his stupor, sliding the headphones on and settling onto the couch, propping his head up with an arm and closing his eyes to give them a rest. 

His immediate thought was that you wanted something from him, and consequently wanted him in your debt, but as he glanced at you through squinted eyes, he discarded this notion. The fact that you weren’t paying any attention to him gave him relief, you weren’t analyzing him to make sure he was grateful, and he was finally getting his first reprieve of the day. Although he was very much caught off guard by your kindness, it was much appreciated. 

Alhaitham couldn’t help by briefly think of why this kindness was unusual to him; as a child growing up, acting more adult than boy, not being able to stand loud conversations, not being able to tolerate eating soups or bread that was soggy, he was called a difficult child by those who looked after him - his teacher, his neighbor, but never his grandmother. She always retained a kindness, simply saying his brain worked in a different way than her own, so of course he had different ways of acting and different ways of thinking. 

Alhaitham couldn’t help but also come to the hypothesis that you too were different like him; how else would you have spotted him shutting down whereas everyone else saw his normal, stoic exterior? How else would you have been able to help? Or give him peace and quiet for once when everyone seemed to clamor for his approval today? It made him appreciate your quiet presence, diligently scanning through papers and signing as needed, all the more. 

[grifff17]

Audiodrama Sunday 04/28/24

So much stuff this week! I think this is going to be my longest writeup yet!

@camlannpod what the fuck? Trying to avoid spoilers, but the ending of that episode was wild. The sound design for the last scene was so good. Also “You're good with an axe, right?” was brutal, I audibly said "oof". Only 1 more episode in the season, hopefully they get funding for a second one.

The first episode of @wanderersjournalpod came out this week. This was a promising start to a new show, I'm excited to see where it goes from here. The setting feels very mystical, I can't wait to learn more about the world.

@worldsbeyondpod was so tense. Suvi and Ame had the most awkward conversation in existence. This story has so much nuance, neither of them are clearly in the right, though I feel inclined to take Ame's side due to the "Geas + Alter Memory" double espionage scheme. Meanwhile Ursulon discovers that Orima of the Reaching Green is a short queen and gets a cool horse.

I'm now up to date with @lostterminal. Season 15 was great. I love Nia, and Daphne and Raffi were really interesting new characters. Also, the dragon was terrifying. This show doesn't usually have very much action, so the confrontation with it really stood out. The description of the automatic turret going "click, click" as it locked on to Maddie was so intimidating.

@worldgonewrongpod I loved this episode. The storytelling felt so natural and real, like someone telling me a story about a weird road trip they went on. I think I said this about the last episode too, but this was my favorite episode yet. It also sets up the backstory which was never really explained as to why Jamie and Malik are separated at all.

In @midstpodcast we finally had a nicer episode. No horrible fucked up Weep/Trust stuff happening, just Lark reunited with Zeila and Sherman. However, there's so much tension between these characters. I was surprised that Lark forgave Sherman for selling her out. Something to remember is that Lark and Sherman had been hooking up before everything went to shit, which was mentioned once and I think really changes their relationship.

New @keepitsteadypod! This is the first new episode of this show since I started doing these. This was a really cute episode. For how popular fake dating is as a trope in fandom spaces, you don't see a lot of it in audiodramas.

Fun episode of Mission Rejected this week. It was cool to see Bowden go from "vain actor" to "badass spy" when the stakes ramped up. We don't get to see him take charge very often, it was neat for him to be a competent leader. I wonder if the gang lying to Zelda(who definitely saw through it) and Chet(who probably didn't) is foreshadowing for more of a conflict with the new Secretary of Defense later in the season. Also I loved the squabbling gay couple running an illegal mining operation as the villains of the week.

@breakerwhiskey episode 200 wow. A letter from Harry! We learned that Harry has been listening to most of Whiskey's broadcasts, which recontextualizes a lot of the previous episodes. Also, the end was heartbreaking.

I started season 2 of @longcatmedia's Mockery Manor! I'm 2 episodes in and really like it so far. JJ and Bettie are employed in different parks, JJ is on the run from an organized crime ring, and Bettie became a monk? Also, it's clear that neither Hilda nor Jenkins stole the shipment, neither of them have motive. But I don't know who else would have motive either. Lots of mysteries this season.

Spout Lore had a great planning episode. I'm excited for the "saving Highspear" arc, the Highspear is so cool as a concept. A reverse Tower of Babel, that lets the whole world talk with each other. A literal monument to wizard hubris, which feels destined to fall. However I doubt it will, because, as the players mentioned, it would be really annoying from a storytelling perspective if everyone suddenly spoke different languages. This has actually made me realize I really want a story set shortly after some sort of "fall of the Tower of Babel", where communication is a struggle, but that's just because I think linguistics is cool. Anyways, the buffet talk had me rolling.

What a great week! However, it did not help my queue, which continues to grow instead of get smaller. I'll reach the end of it one day.

[wovenstarlight]

How would you define how Yoohyun feels about Yerim? Since obviously his opinion of her has improved since they first met, but I don't know if he actually likes her

HMMM i don't know that Yoohyun is actually like physically capable of liking anyone besides Yoojin! i'm kidding but also only slightly. like if you remember what Irin says in chapter 287, it goes "AN INSANE PROPORTION OF YOOHYUN'S THOUGHTS ARE ABOUT YOU [YOOJIN] COMPARED TO THOUGHTS ABOUT ANYONE ELSE I PROMISE", so if you're including his feelings towards Yoojin as a comparison point, it's going to skew the chart to unreasonable levels, and it'd look like the answer is No, Yoohyun doesn't care about Yerim at all

HOWEVER. if you EXCLUDE Yoojin from the chart then Yerim actually ends up being one of the two people Yoohyun likes most! with the other being Peace. from 287, in Irin's words, 80% of Yoohyun's thoughts that aren't about Yoojin are instead about Yerim and Peace. of course, that's exclusively based on the fact that Yerim and Peace both also like Yoojin the most. Yoohyun cares about other people in proportion to how much they care about his hyung, single-minded little idiot that he is /affectionate.

BUT THAT ASIDE! i think he does care about Yerim in a couple different respects. one is that he trusts her in a way that's different from people like Seok Simyeong or Kim Sunghan—you'll notice that in chapter 239, he explicitly designates her (and Peace) as the first two people he actually recognizes as part of "his world", which is a position not even his closest guild members have enjoyed, despite him clearly trusting them to do their jobs well and look after Yoohyun himself to some degree. he trusts her to look after Yoojin, which is probably the deepest level of belief he can hold in someone other than his hyung. and for the same reason—that she cares above all for Yoojin and his happiness and his safety, and can back up that care with the ability to protect him—i do think he likes her!

Yoohyun also cares about Yerim's wellbeing (again, in relation to Yoojin! in that he knows Yoojin will be sad if Yerim isn't okay. this is something a lot of people who care about Yoojin are aware of and account for: that they can take care of him indirectly by looking after the other people he loves. you see it with Sung Hyunjae lending Yerim his flame-resistant coat in chapter 126, and Yoo Myeongwoo making sure Yoohyun has the best equipment in chapter 240, both for Yoojin's sake). she's not only important to Yoojin himself, from which Yoohyun derives some level of actual care, but also one of Yoohyun's guild members and technically part of his family, which adds a sense of duty and responsibility for her into the mix. remember when he blew Gakuto through a pillar because he called Yerim a bitch in chapter 215 with the whole That's My Guild Member You Motherfucker attitude... i thought that was pretty funny of him. and like. when Yoojin was straight up dead for a while there in 240, the only thing stopping Yoohyun from following him into death on the spot was the thought that he had to make sure Yerim (and Peace and the others) knew. so that they could actually grieve him instead of just never knowing what had happened to him. he cares about them!!! he does!!! it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack compared to his love for Yoojin but he does!!!!!

of course i do also think that Yoohyun finds her incredibly annoying. they're constantly squabbling, this isn't a far-fetched guess, they fight to the point that chopsticks somehow end up embedded in the dining room wall and yoojin has to scold them to quit it in chapter 171. yerim's constantly on the verge of calling him ugly. that one time early on in chapter 48 when she was like WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME and he trotted out a whole bullet point numbered list without missing a beat. i bet he still has a list now, just with different reasons on it. but like. that's just normal siblings innit. you care about each other a whole fucking lot but you would also sell them to satan for one corn chip or however that goes.

TL;DR: yoohyun likes her but he'd probably die before he said that in as many words. not out of unwillingness or anything, just because it wouldn't occur to him to. yerim knows without him needing to say it, after all.

(where's my evidence for that, you ask. well! spoiler excerpt from chapter 331 from Yerim's POV about how Yoohyun has acknowledged and accepted her below the cut)

However, she couldn’t help the presence of anxiety in her relationship with Han Yoojin. It was love that all but dropped out of the sky one day. The claim that it was because she was an S-rank Awakened person wasn’t enough. What was more, Han Yoojin was crowded with exceptional people at his side. Han Yoojin clearly cared for Bak Yerim, but it was difficult for Bak Yerim to think she was special to him. Couldn’t it be that what she’d suddenly gained might suddenly disappear? The one who quelled that anxiety she tried to ignore was none other than Han Yoohyun. Han Yoohyun had hated Bak Yerim. Because his hyung liked her. Han Yoohyun had accepted Bak Yerim. Because she liked his hyung. Han Yoohyun had acknowledged Bak Yerim. Because she had the ability to protect his hyung. It was a relationship entirely based on Han Yoojin, but if anything, Bak Yerim was relieved and happy because of that. This was Han Yoohyun, who Han Yoojin was everything to, who was beyond difficult when it came to things relating to him. That harsh guy had accepted Bak Yerim standing by his hyung’s side.

points at them. Yerim feels accepted and cared for by Yoohyun

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 13- To A Brand New Day, A Brand New Start

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: just over 2.1k

Warnings: AU typical events/threats/violence, still dealing with emotional issues caused by previous actions

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

Sam

“Samuel. Let’s talk.” Hazel shoots a dirty glance towards Daniel, as if he were so far beneath them that he wasn’t worthy of their conversation. “Alone.”

“He’s not tied up anymore, what if he runs.”

Narrowing her eyes at the other man, Hazel’s tone is deadly as she stares Daniel down. “He won’t try if he knows what’s good for him. Besides, we’re keeping him in our eyesight.” Without another word, she gets up and starts across the clearing, stopping about 15 feet from the others, her eyes locked on Daniel.

Sam lets out a heavy sigh, turning his attention to Daniel momentarily. “Just, please don’t run. We’ll find you, and we’ll kill you. I don’t want to have to kill you.” Before he has a chance to respond, Sam’s gone, wanting to get whatever conversation Hazel had decided needed to happen right then out of the way. “What?”

“Do you really believe him? About killing two Careers and only walking away with one cut and some broken bones?”

“I think an eight-inch gash across his stomach and a shattered shoulder blade are a little more than ‘one cut and some broken bones’, Hazel. Besides, you remember how much blood was on him, there’s no way all of it was from his own injuries alone.”

“But it was Vanil.”

“And?” Sam lets his frustration show in his voice, not caring if she knew just how annoyed he was with her as he steals a glance back at Daniel only to see him staring back already. “They got the same scores in training. And you knew Vanil, he was arrogant, I bet Daniel caught him off guard when he was blinded by his pride or something.”

“So you’re just going to trust him immediately? He could be playing us; Vanil could still be out there.”

“The fallen tribute announcement will be soon. If Vanil and Neptune aren’t included in it, I’ll kill him.” As if The Garden was listening in on their conversation, the national anthem blares over the speakers as a bright light appears in the sky. Time to find out if he’s a liar. Glancing between the sky and Daniel, Sam and Hazel walk back to him, joining him by his side as all three train their eyes on the darkness above them.

Just as Daniel had said, Vanil’s face lights up the night. Holy shit. He wasn’t lying. Neptune too, just as he had said. Daphne comes next, causing Sam to rip his eyes to Daniel, still sitting on the ground. That’s why he’s alone. She was killed. Probably by Vanil. That’s why he killed him. Sam can’t meet Daniel’s eyes as the sky goes black once more, the other man’s stare fixed on the river rock below him, the glint of tears reflecting the moonlight.

“So, you were telling the truth.” Hazel’s voice carries no hint of emotion as she looks down at him with an equally blank expression.

Daniel keeps his eyes on the ground, moving a rock around with the toe of his boot distractedly. “Why would I lie?”

“To make yourself seem stronger than you are. To make us spare you for longer.”

Silence falls between the group as their conversation dies, not knowing how else to proceed with their newly formed alliance. Finally, Sam can’t take it anymore, breaking the now awkward quiet of the night as he plops down onto the ground roughly five feet from Daniel. “Well, now that we have that out of the way, what’s next?”

“Sleep for me.” Hazel joins them on the ground, distancing herself slightly as she grabs Sam’s bag to use as a pillow, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible. “We can plan what’s next tomorrow.”

“Or we could do it now.” Sam snaps, his frustration with her only growing as the days went on.

Before Hazel can snap back, Daniel looks up slightly, his voice quiet yet firm as if he didn’t want to be included in their squabble. “I know a place in the arena where we can cook any meat we catch.”

“Ok and where are we getting meat, 7?”

Daniel’s jaw clenches at the name, his teeth grinding together while he explains as if he were speaking to a child. “I can hunt game here tomorrow morning with the bow, then we can make our way over.”

“No way we’re giving you any weapons, let alone a bow and arrow.”

“Do you want to starve?” Both Hazel and Daniel are taken aback by Sam’s apparent defense of Daniel as he stares daggers at Hazel. “I’m serious, do you want to starve?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it’s settled. Daniel gets the bow tomorrow so we can get food. You’ve already proven you have terrible aim with it, and I’m sure I’m not much better. He’s the strongest option, end of story.”

Anger flashes across Hazel’s face as she looks between them, her struggle to decide whether to fight them on the subject clear on her face. “Fine. Wake me to change watch shifts.” With that, she lays down with her back to them, clearly wanting to ignore the two others as she settles in for sleep.

With Hazel silent, Sam turns his attention to Daniel, trying not to focus on the fact that he was already looking directly at him. “If you’re tired, I can take the first watch.”

“As if.” Daniel scoffs. “You really think I’d let my guard down around you two? You could easily kill me in my sleep.”

“Fine!” Sam sees Hazel stir at the volume of his voice, knowing she probably wasn’t already asleep, but still dropping his voice so as not to create any more issues between them. “Sleep, don’t sleep, I don’t care. But either way, you better be functioning well enough to be helpful tomorrow.”

“Worry about your own goddamn self.”

Samuel ignores the comment as he turns slightly away from him, not wanting to start yet another fight as he focuses on the lake. This is going to be a long fucking night.

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

Sam couldn’t take it anymore. It had been at least three hours since Hazel had gone to sleep, and Daniel apparently couldn’t keep his eyes off him. He had been able to see the other man glaring at him constantly out of the corner of his eye, but every time he shot a glance over to him, Daniel seemed to be instantly interested with the rock below him or the trees surrounding the clearing, barely visible in the darkness of the night. “Do you have something to say to me?”

“No.”

“Then keep your eyes to yourself.” Daniel does as he says, fixing his eyes firmly on the ground again. After a few moments, Sam thinks that he was finally done glaring at him, that is until he catches him taking “sneaky” glances up once more. “Ok, what the fuck is your problem?!”

“I don’t have a fucking problem.”

“You don’t get to say that when you’ve been looking at me like you want to rip my head off for the last few hours. You don’t have to like me but at least pretend to be fine being within ten feet of me. Seriously, what’s your deal?”

“Oh, what’s my deal?” Daniel snaps back, mocking Sam as his rage surfaces. “Excuse me for still being angry at you.”

“For what?! Literally, what have I done to you?! You’re the one who started this shit, what with the stunt you pulled in group training.”

“You wasted food to get here! You are so privileged that you don’t even realize how entitled it has made you! My sister and I almost starved, along with so many other families in my district and here you are boasting that you took out unnecessary food rations to get into the games!” Silence falls between the men as Daniel finishes his rant, his breaths labored and heavy in his rage as he waits, expecting Sam to yell back.

“I didn’t waste the rations.” His voice is small, quiet as he steals glances over at Hazel to make sure she was still asleep.

“What?”

“I said, I didn’t waste the extra rations. In my district there’s this older woman who used to be my neighbor, she would babysit me and my siblings sometimes. She’s too old to work anymore and her children are all grown and have- they’ve forgotten about her. Yeah, the district provides her with some food, but it isn’t much at times. I gave them to her, all of it.”

Sam sees confusion plaster itself across his face, his mind obviously reeling at the confession as he tries to piece together his next question. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? You’ve made it sound like you wasted it all this time.”

“I never said I wasted it. It’s not my fault if that’s what you automatically assumed.” Tearing his eyes away from Daniel’s stare, Sam focuses on his hands in his lap, picking at his cuticles as he suddenly becomes bashful. “If I had come right out and said I had given them to her, sure there’s a chance people would see it as ‘kindhearted charity’, but there’s a far higher chance I would have been seen as weak. I couldn’t- I can’t seem weak in here. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Good. So don’t decide you hate me before you even know me. I’m more than just a Career, I’ll have you know.”

“Fine.” Daniel’s tone is firm, but not clipped or upset, as if he was admitting his mistake. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep my assumptions from affecting how I treat you, if you do the same for me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Silence falls between them once more, and although unsaid words still hung heavy in the air between them, there was less anger behind it. “Since I told you that, and I haven’t told anyone that, you tell me something.”

“What do you want to know?” Sam can hear the hesitation in his voice, knowing he was toeing a sensitive line and hoping his question wouldn’t push him over the edge.

 “What happened to Daphne? Was it Vanil?” Finally looking back up at him, Sam can see the question strike him like a knife to the chest, pain flashing behind Daniel’s eyes. Shit, I went too far, too soon. He’ll shut down and hate me again. Or yell and wake Hazel up, and then she’ll get pissy.

“Yes. No, not technically. But yes.” Daniel’s voice is quiet as tears brew at his lash line, shame settling onto his face as he avoids Sam’s eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Vanil he- he broke her neck, severed her spinal cord.” Daniel’s voice breaks as he wipes his eyes roughly. “She was paralyzed below the neck and- and I’ve seen shit like that happen to people in my district; logging accidents and all. I knew she had no control over her lungs anymore- her body wasn’t breathing for her and without immediate medical attention it’s- it’s always fatal. I thought I was doing her a kindness- ending it quickly instead of leaving her to die a slow death.”

Oh- Sam shifts in his seat, not knowing what to say to his confession until he finally finds the words, his voice gentle and quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s the games.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have had to do that.” Daniel finally meets his eyes at the words, as if he had not expected such kindness from Sam. “That must have been hard for you to do, even if it is the games.”

Daniel only nods slightly, wiping the last of his tears as he once again avoids Sam’s gaze. “I bet you think I’m weak now, crying over a tribute dying and all.”

“No. I can only imagine how much she meant to you; it takes incredible strength to do something like that. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” The only sound that can be heard is the quiet chirp of the crickets hidden in the grasses and underbrush around them and the waterfall pouring into the lake across the clearing, both men grappling with their new understanding of the other.

“Listen, you should get some sleep. I can keep watch, I promise I won’t try to kill you.”

Daniel considers the offer for a moment, still looking slightly worried about the threat until Sam sees his eyelids droop, a yawn escaping him. “Fine. Thank you, Samuel.”

Sam doesn’t say anything as he watches Daniel settle down, trying to get as comfortable on the ground as he could with his shoulder and stomach still aching. Maybe he isn’t everything I thought he was.

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

Taglist: @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @sanguinebats @cheersdannyx2 @musicislove3389 @holdingup-fallingsky @freyjalw @Maddie-Rae

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Anon, tumblr ate your ask - because of course it did - but I will try to remember what you asked/rewrite my answer.

You said you were confused by the references to the "kennels" and how Misae was born and raised, IIRC? Let me know if this misses anything as far as what you wanted to know:

So, basically, there are four sets of "kennels" around Bill's compound, spread out over a few square miles of land mostly deeply isolated and hidden in the woods. The residence they show the government or people they don't trust is at the front of the compound, close to the road. The others are hidden some ways back with no paved road to them.

The kennel furthest away by itself is the "early life" group, which is all the newborns and pups up through one year of age. It forces everyone in it to stay semi-permanently in wolf form so that the young grow faster during that early stage. There are a couple adults kept in there to provide care but never the same adults as the ones who gave birth. Those adults are removed from the young very quickly to cut off that emotional connection. Or to try, anyway.

There's a kennel for expectant mothers, as well, also separated from everyone else. It's a little more comfortable than most but only a couple of people are ever in there at a time. And they are subjected to blood tests and experimentation daily as part of Bill's mission to fully train, cure, or kill werewolves entirely. You have to understand biology to understand the organism, right?

The other two kennels just group everyone of all other ages together somewhat at random. Just big, open fenced in areas with "dens" built from large boxes and some outdoor bathrooms on one end. Big enough for everyone to move around but not big enough for comfort.

The groups kept in them are not generally family or even related. If Bill or Ada notice or hear about any two wolves who are noticeably emotionally close, they usually get separated immediately. There is a lot of petty squabbles and infighting. Or there was.

And then the "discipline" kennel is the cage in the barn where Misae was when the killing began. There are a dozen or so of those spread around. The shifters hate being isolated and it's an effective punishment. It's also a small enough crate that most werewolves will shift to stay comfortable, and them being in wolf form all the time makes it easier for Bill's family to dehumanize them.

In the center of the four kennels, about equal distance from each, is what Misae thinks is Bill's house. You can understand why - from the outside it looks like your average two-story farmhouse. It is also where the experiments happen, and where some of the werewolves go and don't come back from.

Misae - and everyone else - has always assumed those werewolves were killed.

[receival]

castlevania, season 2 starters.

the following is a collection of sentence starters from the netflix original, castlevania.

i’m going to get something for your cough.

don’t move. i’ll be right back with some medicine.

i hate that you’re not here, every day.

i’m amazed any of you are still alive.

what do you need? tell me, i’ll give it to you.

i will not be silenced. just let me help!

please, you don’t know what you’re doing.

you don’t know what you’re going to bring upon yourself if you harm me.

i’ll leave. you’ll never see me again.

stand up like a man.

what the hell was that?

you can’t hate livestock. they are simply what they are.

you understand why they all must die.

the matter is closed.

you sicken me. do you understand?

stop whining about cruelty. this is the world.

only the death matters now.

and i’m standing here sad and angry because they’re together, and i’m alone.

this is the part where you’re supposed to tell me i’m not alone, (name).

you are really very not good at this.

i learned to travel alone early in life. maybe i just got too used to it.

you had a family, though?

i know a little bit about what you’re feeling. i’m sorry.

i was right about you the first time, you know. you are rude.

i’ve been called worse.

i actually came to apologize for my outburst.

i should have held my tongue, so i apologize.

i’m a nice person. i am. i know how to be nice!

so, how do we proceed?

i want to go home.

have you been drinking again?

i was under the impression it was destroyed.

you’re guessing though.

fortunate, then, that i chose not to kill and eat you, (name).

such a merry band we are.

eat shit and die.

yes, fuck you.

i’ll be honest with you. i don’t have a better idea.

i’m trusting you, (name). don’t make me regret it.

everybody regrets it in the end.

you will cease this infantile squabbling.

and what insights have you, (name)?

i will speak with you alone.

i suspect he still wants to sleep with me.

what advantage does my anger buy you?

i’m still not completely clear on why you don’t catch fire in the daylight.

god, you still think you’re funny.

he’s gone mad, and from that, there’s no recovering him.

oh, the world will still be here, (name). trees will still grow, birds will still sing, animals will still hump away in the undergrowth. but you won’t be here. none of you.

the sun will still set, but you will not see it rise.

you hear that?

no further.

what did you think you were gonna learn?

please don’t be angry with me anymore.

even after everything in your life, you’re still a sweet boy who believes in love.

i’m sorry. i just wanted to help.

i love you too. that’s why i do this. this is how i love you.

you stop fucking around, you do as you’re told, you never use the word ‘love’ again.

no such thing as love in this world.

[why do you do that?] / choosing my own actions and injuring myself to a world of horrors.

you struggled so hard to come back home.

you came home regardless.

do you really think that’s enough, (name)?

your intellect cannot be denied.

i believe you are actually worried about (name).

the fire in him has gone out somehow. it’s as if we’re looking at the embers of the man.

there are things we can do that don’t require his decisions.

why are you so fascinated by that?

we need to ensure it does not fall into the wrong hands.

is it you?

tell me what you need.

they must be stopped. culled.

my fellow humans have never treated me with love, and i’ve punished them for it.

i wouldn’t have them suffer.

will you join me?

it’s hard to imagine you playing.

his was your home?

you grew up here?

wasn’t the worst way to grow up.

who remembers that sort of thing?

is there a point to these questions?

i’m disturbed to find that o had more of a childhood than you did.

just help me clear it.

i didn’t know it was a fucking magic door.

are you coming or what?

my family. all that’s left of us.

bloody hell. is that what i think it is?

careful, (name). you almost sounded excited about something.

it couldn’t be. could it?

what on earth is that ugly thing.

you’re not even a little bit impressed?

may i speak to you?

are you going to continue questioning me?

get out before i slit you up the middle and bite out your heart.

this isn’t a war, (name). it’s a suicide.

i’m not gonna fuck you, (name). i’m too pissed off.

you stupid bastard.

what the hell was that for?

no, no, no, that’s not fair.

just tell me what it is.

you’re a cockwart, (name).

you are an adult. you do not have to rise to his every barb.

he’s pissing me off like it’s his job, (name).

i just want to do my work, (name).

you don’t say something like that out loud in this place!

say the words. so that i know you are still my friend.

you saved me. the only person in the world who ever lifted a hand to protect me from anything.

you are still my friend.

i have no fear of death. it always sounded peaceful to me.

i will be loyal to the end — and beyond.

they will never see us coming, and fuck them if they do.

no one has a right to your true beliefs.

you’ve given me purpose, and treated me with respect. a lie wouldn’t change that.

you don’t owe anybody anything.

i believe you are the only one who grasps the necessity of it all.

are you still my friend?

are you okay?

tired. a … bit lonely.

my dusty old sheet is big enough for two.

i’m not sad.

i wish you would stop doing that. it’s sick.

you would betray (name)?

it’s not betrayal unless the old man decides to be difficult about it.

thank you for showing me the truth.

my work here is almost done.

the end of this will be practically merciful.

i am also concerned that you enjoy him too much.

am i not working hard enough?

you’re afraid. you worry that you might have made the wrong choice.

perhaps you’re just an angry teenager in an adults body.

i don’t think i’ve heard you tell a joke before.

(name), you are a marvel.

you have caused this to happen. be proud.

i admire your resolve.

but those times are long gone.

i no longer have the strength for these petty decisions.

that’s all that matters. they all have to die.

do you know why i had to do it?

when i say ‘what’, that doesn’t mean i’d like to ask even more questions.

would you please — oh, you are the most annoying — just stop!

see? god hates me!

are you asking my advice?

so long as it brings silence.

well, i’m armed with a … a stick. so i’ll understand if you want to run away now.

you have nothing left but me.

you did it, (name).

i’m pretty good, right?

you’re the best.

they will not reach you while i live.

you would give your mortal life to preserve my immortal one?

you have a soul, i think.

perhaps you simple deserve a better fate than to die instead of me.

i choose my death, as i chose my life.

i told you before, i won’t let you do it.

i grieve with you … but i won’t let you do this.

you couldn’t stop me before.

i am no ordinary vampire to be killed by your human magics.

you didn’t kill me before. you’re not going to kill me now.

you want this to end as much as i do.

this entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.

not quite close enough.

my boy. i’m — i’m killing my boy.

i must already be dead.

(name), step back. let me finish this.

you’ve saved countless lives. but it’s alright to mourn the man, too.

he died a long time ago.

what do you think he’s going to do now?

i do not break things.

you’re giving me your home?

protect it. make something out of it.

keep moving. i’m not in the mood.

what do we have here?

is that really the best you have?

i simply don’t have time to deal with shit like you every time i want to sit and take a drink.

why would i want to stop now?

how on earth did you come to that decision?

this is the closest thing i’ve had to a life in … i don’t know when.

you’re the closest i’ve had to a friend.

so they’re barricading their homes and sharpening their stakes? that’s fair. can’t say i blame them.

you won’t stake me to death with that, (name).

where will you go?

i’ve been thinking about it all day. i still don’t understand.

(name) is dead. does that trouble you?

poor (name). stand up for me.

don’t worry. we’ll look after you.

(name) — what are you doing?

go to hell!

you are my pet now.

be well, my friend.

don’t let that idiot get you into too much trouble.

is this what i’ve got to look forward to?

[justafairytailofinnocence]

James Norrington x male pirate reader? Maybe the pirate got caught by James, heading to the gallows, but James free them instead?

Hello dear, thanks for your request.

James Norrington x male pirate reader 🏴‍☠️⚔ A matter of time⚓

Synopsis: James frees someone from his past from the gallows

Warning: mention's of hanging

The prison of Port Royal was rustic and unkempt; all the cells were lined in an orderly set of rows. Many men within the cells screamed and cursed names that shan’t have been brought to light. The officers at the entrance door wore red regimental coats and white shirts. Over the shirts were cross belts and grey breeches held by braces. They both wore black naval tricorne hats whilst their long hair was tied back with black ribbons. They held their Brown Bess muskets upright, gazing at a man formerly walking down the hall. The man wore a blue, full-skirted royal naval uniform made of wool fitted with very deep boot cuffs. He wore a white powdered wig with a black tricorn adorned with white feathers around the top. He held his hands behind his back, looking stern yet pristine, ignoring the prisoner's squabbles. The two lower-ranked officers saluted him, allowing him passage. He kept walking past all the cells while the prisoners shouted, “Oi, get’s me outta ere’!”, “Aye, I’m beggin ya”, “Lad, Lad, I’ll give ye three shillings fer tha keys”. He scowled at the sight of them, ‘good-for-nothing filthy pirates’ he thought. Scoundrels that held no honour or morals did all they did was steal, pillage, plunder, and commit the most treasonous crimes. His hatred for pirates stemmed from his childhood, ever since his father taught him. He despises any mentions of their names; to think anyone foolish enough to become one deserves a short drop and sudden stop.

The commodore halted in front of a particular cell, his eyes gazing coldly at the pirate seated in the corner. “I trust you’ve saved your prayers, for you shall hang at the gallows on this day”, he spoke with a deep, strict voice. The pirate in question was relatively quiet, unlike the others, he held no regard to acknowledge the commodore's presence. He was quite an untidy fellow, his hair in a mess, wearing a brown tricorn clothed with a brown frock coat and poet blouse. He wore black pantaloons and brown boots for shoes. The commodore had no care if the buccaneer wished to speak or act like a rapscallion. He was set to hang. “Do keep you’re your spirits high Mr L/n, I do believe your worthless life might just end quicker after all”.

The pirate, in turn, glanced up at the austere man with cold eyes. It seemed unfounded how a man had a deep detestation over one's life because they deemed themselves pirates. Had he known what true freedom was, one might say he would turn too. “Aye, keep yer knickers on, I know tis be me day of death, least I get ta visit fiddlers green in the afterlife”. James sternly spoke, “I believe where you’ll wind up, they’ll be no ‘fiddlers green’ but only your sinful damnation”.

The commodore ordered the naval officers to drag this scoundrel to the gallows. “Before ye send me ter me grave in Davy Jones’s locker, I ask why ye betrayed em’ commodore”. The statement in general, made James curious and halted the officers from opening the cell. “And what business do you wish to pry of mine, Mr L/n”.

“Cutler be at large, and ye stand thar a prideful man tha betrayed sparrah’s crew, hell, ye betrayed er—”.

“Whatever nosy rumours you’ve heard of is none of your concern.” The commodore furrowed his brows as his voice grew harsher.

“Aye but tis is, fer I recall a lass and lad back on that island searching fer a coffer” The pirate’s voice grew louder. “Why, don’t-che remember James, I was thar when ye ran wit tha chest, I saw ye leave Jack, Will and Miss Swann”.

“Don’t!” James growled.

“Yer guilty, tis written in yer deadlights”. It was impossible to reason; the pirate was a part of Jack’s crew and had pledged his loyalty to the captain. However, it all changed when the commodore came along, looking like a lost sod. He was a mess in a heap; his rank had become soiled. How could y/n not care for him? He was lost at sea in his state of well-being, drunk. Over time the two had formed a kindred relationship; they both bonded over the loss of their adventures and their devotion to their loved ones—James with Elizabeth and Y/n with Jack. Everything was going well when James betrayed the crew and turned y/n in. Left and set to hang for dead.

Albeit twas y/n’s fault for falling into such a bittersweet lie. Indeed, y/n cared for the commodore more than he should have. Oh alas, and ruin, a man’s yearning heart set on the beating beauty for a lass he is not.

James inhaled and quickly exhaled, displaying a sign of annoyance. He ordered the guards to open the cell and drag y/n out. With both on each side with one arm latched roughly around y/n’s, they began to head toward the gallows—or what should’ve been that way.

Upon exiting the building, the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops could be heard around Y/N. The individual took a moment to inhale the refreshing scent of the precipitation, relishing in its natural aroma. The droplets cascaded down from the sky, creating a stunning display as they contacted the pavement and pooled into small puddles. Y/N couldn't help but feel immensely grateful for the opportunity to stand in place and bask in the mesmerising allure of the rain. As they moved, he savoured every moment of his freedom, relishing every breath of air inhaled and exhaled. Closing his eyes, he felt the raindrops caress his cheeks, cascading gently down his face. As the naval officers led him to the gallows, Y/n took in his surroundings with a sense of calm. His last breath left him, and he opened his eyes to the sight of the rolling sea, gently lapping against the docks of the bustling port. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing to his ears, and he imagined himself on a grand galleon, sailing towards the mythical Fiddler's Green with the wind in his hair. The view of the vast horizon was breathtaking, and he took it all in as he walked towards his destination. Every adventure he had flashed before his eyes, Jack Sparrow, Joshamee Gibbs, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner and—

James.

Suddenly, the naval officers stopped and pushed the rogue before them. Y/n opened his eyes, feeling disoriented by the new surroundings. He expected to see the gallows and an angry crowd chanting his name in hatred, but instead, he found himself somewhere else, without the Hempen Holter.

They stood by the wooden dock where a schooner was anchored. All the sailors were carrying cargo onboard. As Y/n swivelled around, they were met with a rather grave countenance on James' face. His hands were firmly clasped at his back, and his brows were knitted together in a manner that suggested deep concern. Y/n, perplexed by his demeanour, approached the admiral's chains that were still attached to their wrists and legs. "Care ta enlighten me, James? Are ye tryna hornswoggle me mind?” y/n asked. The admiral swiftly ordered the naval officers to be dismissed, leaving the two of them alone. James drew closer to Y/n and removed the chains from their arms and legs, freeing them from their constraints. Y/n exaggeratedly stretched his arms while moving his arms from side to side. “I must admit, yer surely an odd one James”.

James grasped y/n by his shoulders and revealed his true expression of genuine worry. “Quickly, you don’t have much time, get on while you can—I don’t expect you or Elizabeth to forgive me but I can at least atone for my sins by saving you”.

As Y/n fixed his gaze upon the magnificent schooner, his eyes were brimming with a sense of purpose and longing. "Come with me, together we can break free from our current constraints an’ embark upon a new path," he suggested with a hopeful tone, inviting his companion to take the leap of faith with him. “Our paths may intertwine in the future y/n, but I mustn’t let Beckett know of Elizabeth’s whereabouts—neither your own.

"Go, now” "Please understand," he stated firmly, his expression stern and unwavering. In a sudden surge of emotion, James took hold of the pirate's shoulders and pressed his lips against his with an intense force, leaving them both gasping for breath. Y/n found themselves wrapped up in James's embrace, feeling the softness of his admiral's coat against their skin. "Tif fate allows us to reunite in Fiddler's Green, each and every treasure chest will bear your name, and I shall cherish em’ with all me heart."

As Y/n stepped onto the ship, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness in his heart as he left James behind. They hurriedly made their way through onto the ship as they prepared to set sail. Meanwhile, James watched from a distance, his eyes locked on Y/n's retreating form, his hands clasping behind him, wishing desperately that Y/n could stay with him just a little bit longer. The helmsman shouted, “Prepare to set sail”. With one last look, y/n locked eyes with James and nodded as a departing gesture. “Aye, cap’n!” y/n shouted to the helmsman.

With a heavy heart, James gazed upon the ship as it slowly drifted away from the harbour, carrying away the one person who had captured his heart completely - y/n. As he watched the vessel shrink in the distance, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of worry and fear creeping up on him. He prayed fervently, hoping that his beloved would reach his destination safely and unharmed and that he would be able to find a new life filled with hope and happiness. Despite his own pain and despair, James knew that he had to remain strong and focused, no matter what challenges he might face.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨