#we are so so so lucky that we only have some minor damage to fix

[fyrewalks]

more footage and details coming out from all the tornadoes in our area. and i'm just, i cannot describe the relief i'm feeling. these were tornadoes that were only ten or twenty minutes away from us etc. like it really is just luck that we weren't hit. someone we know no longer has a roof on their house, they're still missing pets. a family friend's neighbor no longer has a barn but thankfully they didn't loose any of their horses. our friend had to help look for them in the middle of the night. another place we know had multiple buildings knocked over. and we're still waiting to see how high the death toll will rise in our area. this isn't the first time we've had tornadoes from hurricanes (thank you to my mom for reminding me that we survived one when i was kid which i apparently blocked out ghfdjsk) but it is the first time we are super aware of it bc of social media, better reporting, etc etc.

[thescarletnargacuga]

SHADOW PUPPET

PART 4 OF THE UNSEEN SERIES: A HARLEQUIN AU FANFICTION

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

Shadowblade is my OC and NOT CANON

Featuring MOTSI, OC by @paper-fowl

WARNING: swearing, nightmare imagery, PTSD

~~~

"OW! Are you sure you know what you're doing!?" Jax loudly complained as Pomni mended a crack in his arm.

"I'm not Caine, shithead. You're lucky I'm even attempting this. Now shut up, so I can concentrate." Pomni focused her energy into the mending tool, slowly soldering Jax's wound closed. It was messy, but at least his inner workings were no longer exposed.

They sat with Shadowblade in the middle of the ruined warehouse where their epic battle with the silver beast ended. The beast's body laid headless, purple fluid congealing around it. Jax was badly wounded from using a powerful energy attack that finished the beast off. He could still fight if he had to, but energy was out of the question until he had more rest. Pomni wasn't too bad off, the only serious thing was some shrapnel in her left leg. Shadowblade needed serious repair, the giant dragonesque puppet had gone into shutdown and was unresponsive.

The sky was still dark. It was hours before dawn. Pomni had her mask to help her see in the dark while she attempted minor repairs. Jax bared the pain of the unprofessional work by occupying himself with conversation.

"Hey, is your pet going to live?" Jax nodded to Shadowblade.

"They better, or getting back home will be a bitch. I don't want to deal with you more than I have to." Pomni commented sarcastically to distract herself from her worry over Shadowblade.

"Ditto." Jax deadpanned. "You gonna call your boyfriend for help? They're pretty messed up." He looked over Shadowblade's torn torso and wings. If he hadn't arrived when he did, they would likely be dead.

"He's not my boyfriend." Pomni grumbled. "But, yes, I'll have to call him. Shadowblade's damage is too severe for me to even attempt to fix. We're going to be here for a bit. Even with his blink, I don't think he could get here faster than we did, and it still took us a whole day."

Jax rolled his eyes. "I told you we'd end up stuck here. Why don't you-.... Uh....why don't..." Jax collapsed.

"Jax??" Pomni put down the tool and double checked what she did, seeing if she damaged him in a way that would make him fall over. "Jax! Wake up! That's not funny! We need to-!!!!" Pomni felt it. An overpowering aura that made the air feel dense. She could sense the direction it was coming from but couldn't see anything yet. She instinctually reached for her sword, but her hand shook too much to unsheathe it. She couldn't stand, her body refused to move from its kneeling position on the floor.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Rhythmic tapping of a heavy metal cane echoed from the far end of the warehouse. Pomni's eyes went wide with panic. Not him. Not now. Please, if there is a god...

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

A towering, suited humanoid figure emerged from the darkness, within range of Pomni's night vision. The seven foot, bullhorn-head puppet walked slowly but with purpose. He was going straight for the silver beast.

Pomni hyperventilated. The Patriarch was going to kill her. She was defenseless and miles from Caine. She internally cursed herself for not even being able to draw her sword. She watched the imposing figure hold the end of his cane to the silver beast's chest. Firey red energy blazed down the cane and made the end white hot, burning through the beast's armor.

The Patriarch cut a hole over the beast's core with one circling movement of his cane, then held his hand out as though expecting something to be dropped into it. The purple crystal within the beast's chest cracked and shifted out of place before the very core of it shot out and landed in the Patriarch's palm. He closed his fist and pocketed the crystal before slowly turning his head to Pomni.

Pomni gasped, her heart going wild with fear. Everything inside of her screamed to run, but she fought it to stay with Jax and Shadowblade. Even under distress, she would not abandon them.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

The Patriarch approached calmly, completely unbothered by anything around him. Then, in a burst of fast forwarded motion, he was directly in front of Pomni, staring down at her.

Pomni would have screamed if she could breathe. Instead, she scrambled backwards; managing to find the strength to back away, at least until she was against Shadowblade. She stared into the Patriarch's single bright red eye, knowing it would be the last thing she would see before the void.

"You have something I want." He held out his hand. His voice clear and derisive, but with a threatening undertone.

Pomni put her arms out against Shadowblade, covering their exposed core like she could stop him from harvesting it too.

Instead, an object in Pomni's vest jumped, drawn in by the Patriarch's telekinesis. She tried to hold it down, but the journal from the basement safe flew away from her and into the Patriarch's waiting hand.

"Thank you." The Patriarch gripped the journal and turned to leave.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Pomni's mind raced as she stared into the back of the Patriarch for as long as she could see him, half expecting him to turn around and put his cane through her heart. The air still felt oppressive even after he was long out of sight. She felt like she was holding her breath for eternity when it finally stopped. She gasped and held herself as she trembled against Shadowblade.

Jax groaned. "Fuuuuck, my head...what happened? What did you do to me?" He sat up, rubbing his head. His chest felt weird as well, like his soul had been disconnected from his body before coming back suddenly. He saw Pomni curled up against Shadowblade with a thousand yard stare. "Hello, I asked you a question."

Pomni didn't respond.

Jax got himself to his feet and dragged his tired frame over to her. "Pomni?"

No response.

Jax has never seen her like this. Something spooked the Harlequin into silence and it was freaking him out. They couldn't wait any longer for reinforcements. He extended his arm to reach into the saddle bag. He rummaged around until he found a communicator. They were outside of radio range, but the distress beacons were detected by the W.A.C.K.Y watch no matter where they were. He activated the beacon and sat next to Pomni. For once, he was fine with the silence. He didn't know what to say anyway.

~

Caine was roused from sleep by a pinging noise from his watch. "Huh..?" His vision swam as he struggled to focus on the noise. "Wha-.. woah!" He rolled off the bed, nearly hitting his head on the nightstand on the way down. He groaned and searched his pocket. His watch continued to ping loudly and a distress marker was lit up in the City of Gears. He got to his feet and hastily grabbed his things. He was about to start blinking when Gangle and Ragatha came in.

"Caine! What are you doing out of bed??" Ragatha fussed.

"Pomni's activated her distress beacon. I need to go." He tried to blink outside but his heart lurched from the overexertion, causing him pain. He grunted, clutching his chest.

"Absolutely not! You're in no state to travel." Ragatha put her foot down, trying to guide Caine back to bed.

"Unhand me!" Caine pulled away, stumbling into the bed post. "Pomni's in trouble!"

"Then we'll send others!" Ragatha argued, scared for his well-being.

"No...no... You won't get there fast enough. None of you can...oh god." Fear gripped Caine soul. He barely felt strong enough to stand, let alone blink all the way to the City of Gears. He cursed himself for holding on to the void for too long. Now Pomni needed him and he couldn't get to her.

"I'll take you." Gangle said quietly when there was a silent pause between Caine and Ragatha.

The two looked at Gangle, surprised. Caine steadied himself. "Have you learned to blink?"

"No...but I am more comfortable with my soul magic and I....can fly."

"Since when??" Ragatha gaped.

"Not long. I figured out I could do it when one of Kinger's stick bugs wouldn't come down out of a tree. Next thing I knew I was floating." She giggled lightly. "Caine, If you need to get to the City of Gears, I will take you as fast as I can."

Caine put a grateful hand on Gangle's shoulder. "Thank you. We need to leave immediately. Grab anything you may need."

Gangle swept out of the room and Caine double checked his pockets for tools. Ragatha sighed. "It's going to be dangerous. You're so low on energy, you're stumbling around like you've been drinking all night. Let me go with Gangle. Let us handle whatever's got Pomni down."

"With all due respect, if Pomni has activated her distress beacon, you wouldn't be able to handle what made her do it. She and Jax, and possibly Shadowblade, could all be downed. They'll need an expert healer. I can rest on the flight there. By the end I should have enough energy to at least help them, even fight if I must. Try not to worry." Caine adjusted his coat on his shoulders, as ready to go as he could be.

"Impossible, I'm afraid. Everyone here has come to mean a lot to me. Including you. Please, don't push your soul too hard. It can only take so much. I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing, I just...."

"You're a wonderful friend, Ragatha. The world needs more people like you. I'll be careful." Caine reassured.

Ragatha nodded solemnly. "That's all I ask...oh, before I forget, I found some information on the crystal that I think you'll want to know." She took the fragments out of her pocket. "This is piezoelectric quartz. It's used as a power source for marionettes. It comes in a variety of colors, but they all generally come from the same place. The City of Power."

Caine remembered what the Master said about the existence of a D.I.E in Shadowblade. "Within...oh my god."

"What?" Ragatha asked.

"That's how he did it. The rat bastard fused a D.I.E with a large marionette's power source and then used a charm to maintain control. The process required to do such a thing.... I'm sick just thinking of it." He gripped his cane hard.

"Who...?" Ragatha stood confused.

"I spoke with the foul soul responsible for Shadowblade. Why do you think I'm so tired?"

Ragatha took the reformed control charm with S.B's initials out of her pocket. "Here. I don't know if it'll be of anymore use, but you should have it."

Caine took it as Gangle rushed back into the room, wearing a small cross body bag. "I'm ready!"

"Let's go then." Caine turned on his heel, marching to the door. "Hold down the fort, Ragatha."

Gangle and Caine went outside, where the sky was showing only the slightest bit of light from dawns approach. Gangle nervously held her arms out. "I, um...have to carry you."

Caine jumped into her arms without question, eager to get going. Gangle securely wrapped her ribbons around Caine legs and torso, carrying him as though he were her bride. She was the only one even slightly embarrassed.

Gangle focused on the gentle breeze lazily wafting by. A silvery glow emanated from her heart, traveling down the ribbons she stood upon. The wind rushed around with force, becoming gale force in an instant. Gangle's ribbons caught the air and gained lift. Caine watched with fascination as they rose from the ground. Gangle leaned forward and she started flying quickly, due east.

"Well I'll be dipped. You're soul magic uses the wind! That's incredible!"

"Heh, thank you." Gangle smiled with a tiny blush.

"Now we just need to find someone who can influence water, and we can make our own weather." Caine joked.

~

Birds chirping in hazey morning light gently stirred Shadowblade. They were in a comfortable human bed, wrapped in warm blankets. The smell of food in the air.

Shadowblade sat up, feeling very light and strange, their body not moving in a way they were used to. Removing the blankets, they saw a fair skinned human hand. They gasp. Two hands. Dainty and young.

Slowly, they get out of bed, standing on two legs. They look down, lifting their long nightshirt to see two human feet. Ten toes. Cold against the hardwood floor. They take a step forward. Then another. They balanced as though they had been walking on two legs their whole life.

Shadowblade looked around the room. It was small; only a bed, small vanity and wardrobe. The sunlight pouring in from the window gave everything a warm glow. They go the vanity. A crystal clear mirror reflects their chest as their head stood just out of its sight.

Shadowblade's hand shook as they reached for the top of the mirror. They tilted it...to see a young woman wearing a bonnet staring back. Shadowblade touches the human face, staring wide eyed at the reflection. The face was that of a young adult woman. Bright hazel eyes. Light freckles dotted pale skin. They grasp the bonnet, pulling it off to reveal long dark red hair that spilled over their shoulders. The hair curled lightly, a bit frizzed in the morning humidity.

Shadowblade touches the hair. The thick locks slide between their human fingers. It was the softest texture they'd ever experienced.

"You awake in there?" An unfamiliar woman's voice called from beyond the bedroom door.

Shadowblade jumped, staring at the door like a startled cat. "Coming, mother!" They said involuntarily. They gasp and clap their hands over their mouth. Their voice was soft, melodious even, like Gangle's.

Their eyes went back to the mirror and they looked different. They wore a simple brown dress and their hair was tied back. They felt compelled to leave the room, so they went out to find "mother".

The house was tiny, a bit ramshackled, but cozy. Floors boards creaked with each step. They only had to turn a corner to see a woman standing at a stove, her back to Shadowblade.

She was humming to herself, stirring a small pot of porridge. Shadowblade approached tentatively, jumping again when the woman looked back at them.

"Good morning, dear! You slept late. Have a seat, breakfast is nearly finished." Mother said with a smile.

Shadowblade sat stiffly as they were served a meager meal of porridge and a slice of bread. They kept their eyes on Mother, not trusting to take their gaze away from a stranger.

"Wh...where...am...I?" Shadowblade said slowly, not knowing their own voice.

Mother sat next to Shadowblade at the table with her own food and gave a warm smile. "You're home, silly. I certainly wouldn't mistake this place for anywhere else."

"I don't... understand...how..?"

"Where else would you go when you are hurting? You've been in a lot of pain for a long time. I'm glad you finally made it back. I've missed you."

~

Jax eyed the shrapnel in Pomni's left leg. "...you gonna get that?"

Pomni still wasn't responding. She stared emotionless at the floor, lost in a daze.

Jax gripped a piece of metal sticking out of Pomni's leg and yanked it out.

"AH! SON OF A FUCK THAT HURT! WHAT THE HELL!?" Pomni gripped her leg, glaring at Jax.

"There you are." Jax tossed the shrapnel. "What happened to you? You got all weird."

"Nothing." Pomni said stiffly.

"Bullshit."

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything."

"You are if it puts me at risk. I pass out for no reason and then you start acting like scared child?"

Pomni picked at the remaining pieces of shrapnel in her leg, carefully removing them. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you."

"Try me." Jax said firmly.

Pomni locked eyes with Jax in an intense stare for a long moment. "...fine. Are you familiar with an entity referred to as The Patriarch?"

"No."

"I may be the last combat Harlequin, but I am not the only Harlequin. This self proclaimed Patriarch has been following me ever since I defeated Kingr. I've seen him everywhere... I don't know how he gets around so fast."

Jax paused, thinking. "...maybe he isn't real."

Pomni went ridged, looking about as mad as she could be. She pulled the collar holding her bell away from her neck, exposing an ugly scar. "He did this to me, just by LOOKING at me. He's real. I don't know what he wants... Some times he hurts me. Sometimes he doesn't. Nothing and no one can stop him."

"Caine hasn't fixed that?" Jax pointed at Pomni's neck.

"I never take off the bell... He doesn't know about it."

"Damn...what did The Patriarch do this time?"

"He took part of the core of that thing." Pomni pointed at the deceased silver beast. "And he stole the journal. I don't know what he would want with it, but I can't imagine anything good. I'm just glad he didn't take Shadowblade." Pomni looked over her damaged companion.

Silence fell between them once again. The only sound being the soft rhythmic hum of Shadowblade's core. Pomni took off her mask, morning light giving her enough to see.

~

Gangle zoomed across the sky as fast as she could. Making much better time than expected. Caine took the time to meditate, rejuvenating some of his energy on the flight. His watch pinging louder as they grew close to the City of Gears broke his trance.

"We're here already?" Caine checked his watch.

"I found a jetstream!" Gangle proudly announced. "Where are they?"

"Down there. The warehouse with the big hole in the roof."

Gangle gracefully descended through the roof, bringing the wind with her and kicking up dust. Pomni and Jax were on their feet, expecting a fight. Caine almost blinked to Pomni, but saved his energy. Gangle released him, feeling his anxious squirming.

Caine ran up to Pomni, checking her for injuries. "We came as fast as we could! What happened!?"

Pomni embraced him. "I've never been so happy to see you."

Caine stood stunned, looking to Jax and Shadowblade's body, but gradually hugged her back. "I'm glad you're safe."

Jax avoided looking at the hugging duo. He was more interested in why Gangle was so far away from the manor. "Well, look who decided to leave the manor walls for once. Enjoying your field trip?"

"Indeed, Sir Jax. The air is so fresh up high." Gangle was transfixed a moment, then looked away shyly. " Master Caine needed to get here quickly. So I helped."

"Descending from on high like an angel? That's one way to get my attention." Jax chuckled.

Gangle squeaked. "I didn't- I'm not- oh my..." She hid her face, emotive patterns on her mask changing wildly.

Caine wished Pomni wouldn't let go, this was the most contact he's had with her that didn't involve fighting in a long time. His very soul sang in her presence.

"Shadowblade isn't doing good." Pomni said quietly. "And...he showed up."

Caine's blood ran cold. "The Patriarch?"

Pomni let go of Caine and pointed to the silver beast. "He took the core of that thing that attacked us. I thought he was going to take Shadowblade's too, but he didn't. He just...left. Even thanked me. Condescending bastard."

Caine could see the broken core and blood of the beast. "...the traitorous son."

"Huh?"

"Later. Shadowblade." Caine started evaluating Shadowblade's condition. The torso and an entire wing were torn apart. Heavy damage to the neck as well. They lost a lot of fluid, the core was dim and cracked. "Void preserve me, this is going to take awhile." He puts a hand on Shadowblade's face, drowning at seeing no signs of life.

"You can fix them...right?" Pomni asked with worry in her voice.

"Enough to get them back to the City of Circuits, but even that's going to be hours. You'll want to get comfortable."

Gangle and Jax came close to hear Caine's take on the damage. Gangle gasped, staring right at the core of Shadowblade.

"Oh my goodness...I can see them."

"Yeah, they're kind of hard to miss." Jax snarked.

"No, I mean I can SEE them. They're soul... This creature is a puppet!?"

"Hey, that creature has a name." Pomni glared.

"I-I'm sorry. I never thought-...Poor soul." Gangle stared, transfixed. The energy from the soul escaped through the cracks of the crystal containing it's D.I.E. She read what came through. "You saved them..." She looked at Jax.

"What?" Jax looked behind him, like Gangle could be talking to someone else.

"The last memory they have is you stopping the silver beast from killing them. You're a hero."

Jax blinked. "You know what? We haven't had a chance to secure the perimeter. I'm going for a walk." He turned on his heel and made for a side door outside.

"Jax?" Gangle called after.

"Let him go." Caine said, not looking up from Shadowblade.

"I think I insulted him. I didn't mean to." Gangle said.

Pomni huffed. "I'll have to remember that the next time I don't want him to bother me."

~

"Am...I...dead?" Shadowblade asked Mother.

"Not in a way that matters." She cryptically responded. "Won't you eat? You need your strength."

Shadowblade looked down at the bowl and considered eating but something blocked out the sun coming through the window. Shadowed mist poured in through every window and under the door and even the cracks. Shadowblade stood so fast, their chair fell over.

Mother didn't react, watching Shadowblade solemnly. "I wish we had more time..."

Shadowblade breathed heavily, they had no means of defense. They were small and weak and fragile as just a human. Ominous mechanical growling came from outside, from all sides of the tiny house. The mist filled the building, choking Shadowblade's throat and stinging their eyes. They fumbled blindly for a door but found nothing. The building they were in was gone. There was only darkness.

A golden light shined down on them. Two large eyes peered from the shadows. Shadowblade ran, but no matter how fast or far they thought they went, they couldn't get away from the eyes watching them. Ever nearer.

They ran until the eyes were on them. A beaked maw large enough to swallow them whole descended upon them. Then, they were the eyes. Feeling tall and powerful...and cold.

The mist dispersed to reveal an unknown battlefield. Human bodies by the hundreds were piled and rotting. Puppets torn to uncountable pieces littered the landscape. They knew this was their doing. They never failed a mission. Obey the Master. Seek and destroy.

Behind the stoic mechanical eyes was horror beyond comprehension. Shadowblade was realizing for the first time the true weight of what they'd done. All those people, humans and puppets alike, dead by their hand. The blood that stained their soul would never wash away.

~

Caine focused hard on putting all of his energy into healing Shadowblade, mending vital systems first. Pomni stood watch, keeping a com handy if Jax reported something. Gangle sat with her eyes locked on Shadowblade's core, taking in as much information as she could gather.

"Shadowblade is a she..." Gangle commented.

"Do you know her name?" Pomni asked.

"Not yet. Their a lot of memory to sift through and...most of it is as this form. She's been a puppet much longer than she was a human."

"Fucking hell..." Pomni grimaced.

"She fought in the war." Gangle added. "Against her will."

Caine tossed Gangle the charm. "You can thank this for that."

Gangle examined the ruinic stone. "SB... Shadowblade?"

"No, but an amazing coincidence." Caine answered. "Probably why they liked the name to begin with."

Pomni's com came to life with Jax's voice. "Hey, you bonzos wanna see something cool? Go outside, south side of the warehouse, and follow the ramp down."

"Really? You want to look for more trouble?" Caine guffawed. "We're lucky this place isn't swarming with marionettes."

"I'm sure that silver beast over there took care of anything troublesome a long time ago. I need to stretch my legs." Pomni left to go see what Jax wanted to show them.

Gangle stayed, putting a sympathetic hand on Shadowblade. "What will we do when she wakes up?"

"I don't know..." Caine answered honestly. "Figure out how to communicate, that's for sure, but otherwise, I'm not sure what we could do for her."

"Maybe a new body? Like the rest of us?"

"If that's what she wants, but I'll have to figure out how to safely extract the D.I.E from the crystal. This is all unique technology and I don't want to risk severing her soul from the mortal plane."

Gangle frowned, seeing more of Shadowblade's memories and state of mind. "What if she wanted you to do that?"

Caine paused. "Then I would understand." He left it at that.

~

Pomni met Jax on a subsection of the warehouse. They were in what looked like a massive subway tunnel system, but there were no rails. A tunnel to their left was collapsed, a train buried in the debris. To their right, an open tunnel with an odd looking train intact and waiting for passengers that would never come.

"We need to work on your definition of cool, Jax." Pomni looked around, bored.

"You don't know what these are, do you?" Jax forced open a hatch near the front of the complete train.

Pomni saw writing on the side of the nose of the train. "Mobile Operative Transport, Sector I."

"Exactly! It's a MOTSI! One in good condition, too. These living trains took people back and forth across and to other cities super fast. I rode more than a few in my time. Always fun."

"Living..?"

Jax activated a power stitch in the front car and the train came to life with a loud hum. As it shifted, the front of the train shook debris off its head raising it slightly from the ground. Bright yellow lights shined in Pomni's face.

"Ha! It still works!" Jax cheered. "We just got our ticket out of here."

The MOTSI train was more snake-like now that it was active. A faded white and red paint job was down the entire length of it's body. The hatch Jax had opened shut him inside and the train went off through to the only available opening in front of it.

Pomni stepped aside, avoiding being accidentally crushed against the wall. The movement of the giant train made the earth beneath it rumble. It forces it's way out of the smaller entrance, under Jax's direction, and breaks free of the underground railroad.

All the noise got Caine and Gangle to rush outside, prepared to fight, only to see a massive metal snake coil itself around a building. Jax popped out of the top front section, behind the head, and jumped down. "I got us a ride home. You're welcome." He smirked.

The snake stayed put, watching Jax.

Pomni joined the others. "This is getting ridiculous. Why can't we find any small pets."

"I was about to ask the same thing." Caine stared up at the snake train.

~

Shadowblade tore at their body. Their claws ripped away armor and spikes and cut into vitals. They tried to speak, only roars and rumbles of anger and agony came out. All they could hear were their own thoughts.

I am not a monster.

I am NOT a monster!

I AM NOT YOUR PUPPET!

I AM ME!!

They dug their claws into their chest. The crystal cracked under their grip. The pain was immense.

YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME ANY MORE!!

Shadowblade roared as mist poured from them. It formed a shadowy silhouette of their form, glaring back with the same golden eyes.

YOU ARE NOT ME!!

Shadowblade crushed their own core. Golden shards fell like stars from their chest. A white light beamed from the center of the crystal, piercing the shadow. It scattered in the harsh light.

I am...me.

Shadowblade's mind felt clearer. More memories came, but they didn't hurt. They flowed freely like a river that had been dammed for too long, washing away the barrier that held them back from feeling human.

~

Caine went back to Shadowblade alone, the others entertained by their new pet. He was about to continue repairs when a sharp sound from the core for his attention. He watched in amazement as thin black tendrils sprouted from the center of the crystal, forcing their way out through the cracks.

The new flesh wove itself into Shadowblade's inner workings, spreading across the entire body like vines. Shadowblade's eyes slowly brightened as she came to consciousness.

Caine smiled softly, putting a hand on Shadowblade's head. "Welcome back."

Shadowblade rumbled, happy to see a familiar face.

~~~

To be continued...

[dockett]

So Alive II Joel Miller x Reader

The first time you laid your eyes on Joel, you knew something felt... different.

Warnings: gunshot wound, stitches, explicit content 18+, soft!joel, oral/fingering f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, minors dni.

Word count: 3.1k

Something had sparked in you the first time you saw Joel Miller. You could feel the heat swirl up through your body, like the world was begging you to open up. Begging you to connect. Begging you to invite this man in. You didn't know if you could.

But something in you wanted to try.

It was the end of June, and it was hot. Hotter than you had remembered it being the year before. Joel rode beside you, he always did. You never acknowledged that you liked his closeness to you. 

Patrol that day was standard, riding to a nearby abandoned settlement for supplies, and was going decently without a hitch, until it wasn't. Shots were fired, and then Joel was falling back off of his horse hitting the ground hard. He gasped, the wind being knocked out of him, and in an instant you were off your horse, skidding to a halt on the ground beside him. 

The other members of the patrol dealt with the situation, riding for cover. The shootout began, and took only a few minutes to disperse. You couldn't care about that, even though you knew you should've. All you could focus on was Joel, blood starting to seep through his shirt. You swallowed, your hands shaky. You went to start unbuttoning his shirt, trying to assess the damage, but his other hand stopped you. 

“‘M fine,” he muttered, grabbing your arm as his eyes trained on you. You shook your head. 

“Joel, you are certainly not fine.”  

He stared at you, and then slowly but surely released his grip on your wrist. He nodded. You got to work. 

•••

He had leaned on you, one arm wrapped around your middle as you rode back to Jackson. You were acutely aware of him, telling yourself it was because you didn't want him to fall off. He was shaky.

You escorted him to the medical center personally, and when they pulled him back to stitch him up, he asked you to come with him. How could you have said no? 

He had a stoic expression as they stitched up his wounds. The bullet cut clean through his left trapezius muscle, skimming over the top of his collarbone. His hand twitched and he glanced at you. His eyes were unreadable. 

Your quick fix of wrapping gauze around his wounds after he had fallen off his horse had saved him a lot of blood loss, they told you. You just felt he was lucky to be alive. If the gunman’s aim had been any better, Joel wouldn't have lived. The thought chilled you, making goosebumps rise on your arms. You didn't like it, the idea of bringing back a body instead of a living man. Especially with it being Joel. 

They gave him a sling to wear, instructing him to give the injury time to heal. You could tell he hated it. He just nodded his head at the nurses, and they shuffled out of the room. You stepped towards him then, as he stood from the bed. His shirt was still unbuttoned. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked. 

“Like I got kicked by a horse,” he replied, trying to feed the button through the hole at the top of his shirt. He growled in frustration when he failed. 

“Let me.” 

He did. You buttoned his shirt for him, top to bottom. “Dunno how I'm gonna get out of this later,” he murmured. 

“We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” you chirped. “Let's go get you something to eat, and some rest.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, but followed you all the same. 

•••

The next few weeks were difficult for Joel. He couldn't lift anything, or reach above him with his left arm, so he ended up spending most of his time with you at the stables while you cleaned out stalls and groomed the horses. You enjoyed this job, much more than when they put you on patrols. Horses were easier on you.

Joel wasn't much of a talker at first but neither were you. You enjoyed the company all the same. As his range of motion got better, and the sling finally became a thing of the past, he would help you with what he could.

“My uncle had a ranch,” he told you one day as he groomed. You were cleaning the stall. It had become a routine, you do the heavy lifting and he gets the horses cleaned while haltered just outside the stall. It worked for both of you. “Used to go there every weekend with Tommy up until I was a teenager.” 

He patted the horse on the neck as he brushed over its back. “Never really thought I'd ride again.” 

You nodded, leaning against the pitchfork as you wiped your sweating brow with the back of your arm. You had grown up around horses, your family owning a ranch out in butt fuck nowhere Utah. “I'm glad I get to work with them here,” you said. “Reminds me of home.”

Joel patted the horse again, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Me, too.” 

You smiled at the sight. You always tucked these little moments away, somewhere deep in your memory where you would access them late at night. Joel liked horses. Joel missed football. Joel wasn't always the best cook, but he liked to barbecue. Joel was protective of his family. And most of all, Joel liked you. 

•••

Joel was livid. Why? You didn't know, but you could see it all over him when he opened the door. You could hear it in his tone. 

“Now, what did I—” he stopped. It was only you. You swallowed, suddenly very on edge. 

“Hi, uh… I can—I can come back another time.” 

“No,” he responded, reaching to grab your shoulder as you step away. You pause, unsure of yourself. His hackles were starting to lower. He took a deep breath. “Please.” 

Please. 

You slowly nodded your head and stepped inside. He closed and locked the door behind you, and then without a word walked around you and into the kitchen. You followed. A beautiful aroma was wafting through the air, and you could hear Joel muttering to himself as he lifted a lid off the pot on the stove.

You were hesitant to say anything. You didn't want to push the already angry man. Against better judgment you asked, “What's for dinner?”

He didn't turn to face you. “Stew,” he said, putting the lid back on. “Only has a few more minutes. I was plannin’ on bringin’ you some.” 

You felt your cheeks warm. He had been thinking about you, and more specifically, thinking about bringing you something he made. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips. “That's kind of you.”

He grunted, and then looked over his shoulder at you. “At the door–I–well… Tommy and Maria just left.” 

You knew from your small conversations that Joel didn't like Maria. Maria didn't like Joel. Something must've happened between the two, you assumed, and decided not to push. Instead you walked closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“You alright?” 

He closed his eyes, sighing and then bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It'll be fine.” 

You nodded, opening your mouth to say something before your stomach growled loudly. Joel chuckled, turning to face you. “Someone's hungry.” 

You could feel yourself blush as you glanced away. His finger was there, hooking under your chin and pulling your face back towards him. “Hey now,” he said, a sudden softness in his eyes. His lips parted, and then closed, like he couldn't figure out what to say. His hand moved, cupping your cheek. The other went to grab your hip. You felt stiff in his arms. It was happening so quickly—maybe too quickly. He leaned forward, his nose bumping yours and asked, “Can I?” 

You felt yourself nod, and you swallowed thickly. All of the residual anger left his body as he leaned further into you, meeting your lips with his own. He was incredibly soft in his actions. He kissed you with a gentleness you didn't expect, and you couldn't help but sigh and bring your arms up to wrap around his middle as he held you in place.

He pulled back, and you leaned into him until he broke away completely. He was breathing hard and so were you. He kept his hands on you, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Let's eat,” he said with a small and genuine smile. You nodded, giving him a bright smile of your own. 

The stew was delicious and at the first bite you teared up. Your hand was on the table, under his, and he squeezed it tightly when he saw them bubbling up in your eyes. “Hey,” he murmured. “You alright?” 

You nodded, feeling embarrassed. “Yes, sorry… it tastes like my mom’s.” 

He slowly nodded back. “I used to make it for Tommy and… well. It was about the only damn thing I could make.”

He gave you a watery smile. It clicked in your brain, tonight must've been important for Joel to go out of his way to make something, especially something that clearly was nostalgic for him. You took another bite, savoring the memories it was bringing you, too. 

The two of you ate in silence, his hand not leaving yours. 

He took your bowl when you were done, putting it in the sink. You stayed sitting at the table as he got the food put away in the fridge. It was weird to watch him. It felt strangely domestic—strangely normal. Even with all the pain and loss you had experienced, moments like this made the world worth living for.

Joel walked back over to you, extending his hand to offer to help you stand. You took it and he pulled you up against him, planting another kiss on your lips. Your hands looped around the back of his neck. 

“You can say no,” he mumbled against your lips. “But if you want to come up to the bedroom with me, I'd sure like that.” 

You thought about the implication there. Joining Joel in the bedroom with no one else home. Your body tingled. Maybe it's what you both needed. You kissed him back with fervor before saying, “Okay.”

He stepped away, your hands slid down to his chest. His heart was pounding hard and fast under his shirt. He was nervous, you could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his heart beat. He grabbed your hand with his, and led you upstairs. 

He sat down on the bed, his hands on your hips as he looked up at you. You stood between his legs, one hand on his right shoulder and the other behind his head, and you kissed him. Hard. He moaned into your mouth, and you gulped it down, feeling feverish. Your mouth opened when his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and he invaded greedily. He was taking what was his. 

And you let him, your tongues caressing and exploring each other. He pulled away from you, and you whined in protest. He looked at you through hooded eyes, licking his lips. It made a wetness pool between your thighs as you looked down, seeing a string of saliva connecting the two of you. 

You felt encouraged, a fire blossoming in your chest. You brought your knees up onto the bed, straddling him. His hands came to your sides, running up and down them before squeezing your breasts. You gasped, arching your back into him. He grumbled about needing to get your shirt off, and in a heartbeat you were pulling it off over your head along with your bra. 

His lips found your nipple immediately, hot and sizzling on your skin. He sucked and pulled, working it with his tongue. You couldn't stop the moans he pulled from you, his large hands on your bare back searing into you. Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping tight enough that it probably stung. He groaned against you, vibrating into you. The sound went straight to your abdomen, causing tendrils of heat to grip your body. You shook in his arms.

Almost unnoticeably, he shook, too. 

He released your nipple with a loud ‘pop!’ and he kissed up your neck before rolling you both. You landed on your back, and he kissed his way down your sternum and soft stomach. You twitched under each touch. He grabbed the button and fly of your jeans, undoing them and pulling them off. You squirmed as he looked at you, fully aware of his gaze raking over your body. 

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, kissing your thigh as he settled between them. You felt your cheeks burn. Getting complimented by the gruff man made your toes curl. 

“Thank you,” you whispered back, fingers sliding back into his hair. 

He hummed as he took off your panties. You laid your head back, and he breathed against you. “Hey, look at me.”

You gasped as he licked through your folds and then you looked down at him like he asked of you. He hardly even blinked, drinking you in as he tasted you. Your eyebrows furrowed as he set a pace and pattern, swirling his tongue across your clit.

Your grip on his hair tightened, legs jerking, when he slid a thick finger into your pussy, sinking it knuckle deep and curling it. Another followed, causing you to groan his name. He hummed again, sucking your clit into his mouth. 

Joel's fingers curled, and then he pumped them in and out of you. Your hips bucked off the bed in response. His other hand came searching, reaching up for your nipple. He pinched it and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. 

“Fuck you taste so damn good,” he growled. “Such a good girl.”

You clenched around his fingers in response, the praise going to your head and making you grin. Your head dropped back into the pillows as he continued his devoted and yet ruthless momentum. Your body tightened, like a coil ready to spring. You breathed harder, his name dripping from your lips over and over like honey. You grabbed onto him tighter, your heels digging into his back. 

“Cum,” he demanded, rutting his lower body into the bed. “Cum on my fingers, show me what a good girl you are.” 

Three more passes with his tongue and two more pumps of his fingers, and you were crashing into your orgasm. Joel groaned, almost louder than you, as you tightened around him. Your thighs slammed closed around his head as your other hand shot to the bed, bunching up the blanket under you. You bucked, you writhed, you cried his name, and your heart beat so hard in your chest you were sure he could hear it.

He slowly pulled away from you as you came down, still twitching and whimpering. He smirked at you, licking his lips. Your wetness was all over his beard and mustache, and you shuddered as he climbed up. He positioned himself between your legs, the denim strained by how hard he was. He shifted his hips against you as he kissed you, making sure you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Joel,” you whined when he pulled his lips away. “Get out of these.” 

You grabbed his ass through his jeans, and he sat up, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He let it slide off of his shoulders and discarded it across the room. He made quick work if his pants, too, and then he was naked before you. His cock was curved up, swollen and thick, and he grabbed it with his hand, giving it a few pumps. 

“You ready?” He asked, touching your bruised clit with the head of his dick. You trembled, shaking like a leaf under him, but nodded all the same. He pushed himself into you slowly, giving you both time to adjust. He hissed out a small, “F-fuck.” 

Your hands shot to his arms, gripping them tightly as the pain of the large man stretching you open brought a lump to your throat. He leaned over you, keeping your head on his left side as he kissed and nuzzled your throat. “Mmm, so tight. You're doin’ such a good job for me.” 

You arched your back as he fully seated himself. You both breathed hard as he began to shift his hips back and forth. Your fingers dug into him, squeezing his arms tightly as he began to move harder and faster. The bed creaked underneath you as the sound of his body meeting yours echoed through the room.

He pulled his face away from your neck, looking down at you with eyes that burned into yours. Your eyebrows furrowed, your nails beginning to leave red trails across his skin before he sat up, your hands falling to your sides. He grabbed under your knees, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders. 

He leaned down again, pain sparked in your thighs at the delicious stretch, and you cried out louder and louder as he pounded into you. He hit so much deeper than before at this angle, pressing into just the right spots that had your legs trembling. 

Your next orgasm tore through you so hard and fast and that you couldn't even register Joel anymore. You were gone, floating in the pops of color that surrounded your vision when you closed your eyes. Your body tightened around him over and over again, forcing him to slow down. 

As you came down, you gulped in air, trying to tether yourself back to the physical world. His hips began snapping into you again, and your legs fell off of his shoulders. He wrapped them around his hips instead. His hand came to your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye.

“Good girl,” he murmured. 

You couldn't even form words, so instead you moaned in appreciation. His thrusts were heavy, slow and deep, pushing himself into you completely, and when he finally came, he pressed his forehead to yours and whimpered your name. 

Your hands found his sides and back, nails sliding across his ribs as he filled you up, his whole body jerking before finally relaxing against you. He sighed as you felt his heart beat, pounding against your chest, and then he kissed your temple before pulling out and rolling over next to you. 

You smiled to yourself as you looked at him, his eyes closed as he laid on his back. You felt completely satiated by him, and as you rolled over to cuddle close, you felt that spark from the first time you'd laid eyes on him. 

You were glad you tried.

[thewhitewitch-bitch]

In Astris Supra (Chapter 6: Profectus Semper Deinceps Sub Ligneo Adyto)

Agatha Harkness x F!OC

Read it on AO3

As written in Familiaritas et Maleficis, the familiar of a witch can take any form, but commonly take the form of birds and small woodland creatures, or most common of all, the form of a feline, in an effort to conspicuously serve their mistresses without fear of capture or persecution. Not every witch may have a familiar; it is not within the rights of a witch to claim one, rather, they must be chosen by a familiar who deems them worthy of their service.

To be chosen is an incredible honor. It means that you exhibit not only talent as a witch, but also the potential to do and be more than what you have been limited to in your current station. More often than not, the arrival of a familiar comes in the form of some great tragedy or victory, a sign so clear from the Divine Mother that it cannot be ignored.

Mine was the former. 

He was young. Couldn't have been older than seventeen when he was carted onto the deck of the HMS Collie, but if he survived would forever carry the scars of a man who had seen enough tragedy to haunt him for a lifetime. Rupert and I were running triage, sending the operable cases to the surgeons below deck, taking the dead to the stern to be wrapped, treating the wounded who could be saved with a quick fix. When the boy came in on a stretcher, his head wrapped in the bloodied scarlet wool of a redcoat, a gaping wound against his right side which he clutched at in agonizing pain. When he was lowered onto the table, he let out a low groan. 

"Private Theodore Hatchet, sir," one of the soldiers who had carried him explained, "Caught the edge of a cannon ball as we tried to make a forward push." 

It had been like this for nearly a week now, everyone was hit as the British tried to make the forward advance, whether it was bullets or cannon balls, there was no escaping it if you weren't a commissioned officer sitting on the back of a horse. But this boy, this Theodore Hatchet... he didn't deserve this.

"Just... doing my duty, sir..." Hatchet said with a wince as Rupert began to inspect the wound in his side. I moved to unwrap the makeshift bandage on his head to assess the damage beneath it. Bits of singed flesh and clumps of coal black hair peeled away with the congealed blood as I pulled gently back on the fabric. He hissed in pain, his bloodstained teeth grinding against each other as it finally came loose. 

"Not much we can do about the pain, right now, lad." Rupert said apologetically as he took hold of a pair of forceps, "Miss Stuart, what can you make of it?" 

I leaned in to get a good look at the gash across Hatchet's forehead. It was messy, no doubt a result of hitting his head on a stone or against the butt of his rifle as he fell. But most blows to the head were shallow, easy to clean and care for. If he survived the injury to his side, the cut on his head would be of minimal concern. 

"It's minor, I can clean it and stitch it up."  

"Excellent." Kingsley replied, not bothering to check it himself, "It'll give you the opportunity to practice your surgeon's knot while I clean this up. You're awfully lucky, Private Hatchet, not many men could take a cannon ball to the ribs and have a chance at survival."

Hatchet tried to laugh, cracking open his pale green eyes a sliver as he tried to look down at Kingsley, but the pain became too overwhelming, making him groan again. Once the wave of discomfort passed, he opened his eyes again and glanced up at me as I prepared the needle and catsgut before taking a cloth to the wound to wipe the dried blood away. 

"A woman as a doctor," Theodore muttered, his voice barely audible above the distant gunfire and shouting soldiers, "I must truly be in heaven then." 

I smiled at him, pressing the rag gently against his forehead, "Not yet, Mr. Hatchet." 

"Please, call me Hatch." 

"Hatch." I corrected myself as I continued to clean his wound, "And I'm not a doctor. Not yet, anyway. Just a student of Dr. Kingsley's." 

Hatch’s smile broke through the pain, his bloodied teeth still forming a handsome half-grin as he watched me dab oil of vitriol and ethanol on his wound to numb it. “Well, even so, I’m grateful for your gentle hand, Miss uh?”

"Stuart. Aislin Stuart."

"Pretty name. You Irish?" 

I began to start stitching up his wound as Rupert continued to pull shrapnel and dead flesh from the gaping wound on his side. I shrugged as I worked, "I wouldn't know. My mother never spoke of her heritage, though if I had to guess, she might have actually been Welsh." 

"And your father? What about him?" he asked. My smile dropped, replaced by an apathetic expression at mention of fathers.

"I don't have one."

"Everyone has a father, Miss Stuart."

"I don't." 

My eyes became emblazoned with warning as I met his innocent look. He dropped the subject, instead glancing down at Kingsley who was starting to bandage the wound. 

"What about you, Doctor? Where all are you from?" 

"London." replied Kingsley blandly, "But my father was born in York."

Hatch's smile returned, "I was born in Kingston upon Hull. Father is a Commodore in the Navy, I suppose I was meant to serve. It's in my blood." 

I turned away for a moment, just a moment to grab a clean rag to dab away the blood that had formed at the base of the stitches. But glancing up for just a split second, I saw her again. Death stood across the deck with that entertained smirk, watching Hatch with a hungry gleam in her eye. Everything around me seemed to freeze in place, no cannons fired, no screams of pain rang out. I looked over at Hatch, whose smile was still plastered on his face as Kingsley was caught in place tying off the bandage around his abdomen. This boy... this kind, hopeful boy, deserved better than this. 

"No." I said firmly. I knew only she could hear me. Her malicious laugh echoed in my ears again. 

"You think you can tell me no?" 

Earthy brown met hazel, I didn't flinch or shy away. Theodore Hatchet had more to give this world, he was good, he didn't deserve to have such a kind light snuffed out when so much life was left to be lived. 

Death's grin fell away, her expression became disturbingly reserved, "He won't survive the night. Theodore Hatchet is meant to die, nothing can stop that." 

"One thing can. I can convince him to pledge his service to me."

She tilted her head curiously, almost... impressed, "He'll never walk the earth as a man again. He won't be able to say goodbye to his family." 

"He wouldn't have been able to do that if you claimed him either." I quipped, "All I ask is that you give me 'til dawn to try." 

The air hung heavy between us. Things slowly started to move again. Soldiers started to run as if they were moving through molasses, the faint echo of crackling gunfire finally reached my ears. I felt as though my heart would stop beating in that frozen moment, the hardened look of Death making me wonder if she might exchange Hatchet's life for mine. But then she nodded, and her gaze softened ever so slightly.

"Fine." she said, her nose scrunching up a bit in the disgust of having to cave, "You have until first light. But don't expect this to be a regular occurrence. I'm only doing this as a favor to her." 

My brow furrowed, my eyes narrowed, "Her? Who are you talking about?" 

Death's smirk returned, "Who indeed?"

She vanished, and everything started to move all at once, making me flinch as the noises and smells of war flooded my senses. 

"Are you alright, Miss Stuart?" Rupert's gentle baritone interrupted the noise, drawing my attention back to where he and Hatch were sat. My wide eyes and stock-still position must have been off-putting as they both looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted a second head. 

"Yes," I replied, returning to Hatch's side with a rag in my hand, "Just tired, I suppose. It's been a long week for all of us." 

The boy's smile faded a bit, becoming more wistful, "Last I knew, we were breaching the wall. Our cannons can't be more than a hundred meters from the fort. I wager by the end of the day, the Union Jack will be flying over us." 

"Well, I certainly hope so." Rupert said with a stiff, practiced grin, "We've done all we can do for you, Private. Miss Stuart will check on you in a few hours. For now, we'll get you below deck so you can rest." 

Hatch nodded slowly, painfully. A pair of soldiers stationed on board moved toward us when Kingsley waved them over, carrying a stretcher. They gingerly rolled the boy onto the canvas and lifted him with ease, ignoring the pained moans and grunts they elicited. I watched them take step after step until they vanished below deck and my timer officially started.

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

The boy certainly had a knack for predicting the future, but I wouldn't call him a divination witch just yet. By sundown on the twelfth of October, the French had surrendered, and terms had been agreed upon. It was over. 

As the faintest sliver of a waxing moon offered no light on board the Collie, I sat beside Theodore Hatchet, the only one awake below deck. A chorus of heavy snores echoed through bowels of the ship as we talked in hushed tones. It was tricky, trying to find the right way to propose what I wanted to propose. Most people would curse my name or try to kill me if I blatantly announced that I was, in fact, a witch. To offer to save a young man's life by less than normal means would certainly take some careful wording. 

"In the end, it took my mother three hours to get Louis out of the tree and to this day, he won't take any sweets from her." Hatch said, concluding a rather entertaining story from his primary school days. I smiled softly as he chuckled a bit, though the pain in his side quickly put a stop to it. My smile faltered as I glanced down toward his bandages. Blood was starting to soak through them, he was going to bleed out by morning. 

"I'm not going to make it, am I, Miss Stuart?" he croaked. Looking back into his eyes, they were sad, heartbroken even. I didn't say anything, but I knew he was able to read the expression on my face. He knew. 

"I'm sorry, Hatch." I finally whispered when I couldn't fight the apology forming in my throat, "I'm so sorry." 

He swallowed harshly, blinked hard to fight back the tears that were pooling in the corners of his eyes, "Is there nothing you can do?" 

There was no avoiding it now. No beating around the bush or distracting with alternative topics. 

"There is... something." I started, my voice quiet and shaky as I leaned in nervously, "But you would have to trust me entirely. And... you would not be the same person as you are now." 

Confusion replaced his sadness, his sharply defined brow furrowed, "What do you mean?" 

I leaned in, huddling over him to form a shell around my hand as I conjured up a few silvery wisps of my magic in my open palm, "I can offer you an alternative, but-"

"You're a witch?" he whisper-yelled, looking quickly around the deck to make sure no one was listening in. The only sign of life around us was the continuing cacophony of snores. He looked back at me, "Why couldn't you just heal me then?" 

I rolled my eyes; of course that would be the first thing he would ask. I shifted back on the stool by his bed and threaded my fingers together, shaking my head. 

"That's not how it works, Hatch." I said lowly, "Magic isn't a cure to every ailment. And I... I haven't been studying magic long enough to heal wounds as serious as yours. What I'm proposing to you is not healing, it's transformation." 

An inkling of fear crossed his face, "So, w-what you want to turn me into a- a toad? A newt? A cat?" 

I clapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up as his tone started to become loud. I held my hand there for a moment until he calmed down before withdrawing it, but the look on his face was still one of fear and partial disgust. 

"I am offering you the chance to become my associate." I explained, "Every so often, a candidate appears to a witch, usually in times of tragedy or triumph. This candidate can either pledge their service and take on a new form or deny it and..."

"Die?" 

"Or go about their lives as they used to."

"But not me."

"No... not you, Hatch." I said with a heavy sigh, "You're going to die."

Tears sprang forward. He sobbed, despite the pain it was undoubtedly causing him. I sat beside him quietly, my eyes glued to the seeping bloody bandage that was right in my face. He continued to cry for a while, but when his sobs finally ceased, and his chest rhythm fell back to normal, I took a gentle hold of his hand and directed his gaze toward me. 

"Theodore, you need to decide, and you need to do it now." I told him, "You said it yourself; you were always meant to serve. Serve me and I promise you that your life will be long and fulfilling. Refuse and you leave this world without ever having truly lived. What do you want to do?" 

He froze, took a minute or two to think on it. 

Then he nodded. 

"I, Theodore Edmund Hatchet, pledge my service to you, Miss Aislin Stuart, 'til death divides us."

I rose from my seat and set a hand on his chest. His eyes widened as he watched me prepare myself. I knew what he was silently asking me. A small, reassuring smile decorated my face. 

"It won't hurt, I promise." 

Looking back at my hand I muttered the famous incantation under my breath, "Derivare et formare, mutare et ministrare. Derivare et formare, mutare et ministrare."

As I continued to repeat the spell over and over, silvery tendrils wrapped around Hatch's body like long, ghost-like fingers. Slowly, they began to constrict him, encasing him in a shroud of pure moonlight. The pale glow grew brighter and brighter until I could no longer see Hatch beneath it. Glancing around the room, I was shocked that no one had awoken yet, that no one was even disturbed. But then I thought back to my brief interaction with Death earlier in the day. This was a favor, not to me... but to someone else. My mother perhaps? If anyone would be so daring as to court Death, it would be her. 

The light became dimmer, the form it encased became smaller. I continued my recitation without pause until the light was finally gone and the comforting sensation of magic at my fingertips faded away. Where Theodore Hatchet's body had once been, a raven stood, with gleaming obsidian feathers and the faintest smattering of green in its dark, beady eyes. It looked up at me curiously, then stretched out its wings as if it still expected them to be arms. 

"Hello, Hatch." I said with a wide grin, "How do you feel?"

What would have sounded like the call of a raven to any mortal sounded like Hatch's voice to me, clear and strong, as it had been before he was wounded. 

"Strange," he replied, "as if my body isn't really my own. But... it feels... right somehow. Miss Stuart-"

"Please, call me Ash." 

"Ash... was I always meant to become... this?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, Hatch. No one really knows if familiars are born or made. But when the opportunity presents itself to find one... we know it. A part of us can feel it. That sense of duty and service that you carry within you is what makes you special, Hatch. It's what brought you to me. And because of it, you will get to live a very long, very interesting life." 

If a raven could laugh, he would have. Instead, it came out as a cross between a caw and a chuckle, an amalgamation of his former and current forms, "Well, then I suppose I made the right choice. So... my lady, what would you like me to do first?"

I lowered my hand and allowed him to perch on it. With no one left to watch over, I left the lower deck and took Hatch up top to feel the gentle, cool breeze wafting across the bay. I shut my eyes for a moment, letting the chill of autumn bathe me like it had the first night I had set foot in the Colonies. I reached into the pocket of my coat and produced a piece of folded parchment that I had written on two days ago. 

"I'd like you to take a crack at flying." I said, holding up the letter, "I need you to deliver this to someone in Salem, Massachusetts. Are you up for it?" 

Hatch bobbed his head, his new way of nodding, "Of course. May I ask who I have the pleasure of delivering it to?"

"Her name is Agatha Harkness. She's the only living witch in the village, it should be no trouble to find her." 

Hatch took hold of the letter with his broad beak and started to flap his wings. After a few efforts, he lifted off my hand and flew upward, turning south and disappearing against the star-flecked navy sky. Giving a small sigh, I continued to watch the stars until they gave way to the faintest rays of morning light and for the first time in nearly a year, I felt happiness tug at my heartstrings. 

[doveshovel]

can we get more Hunter lore? 👉👈 niche little blorbo

!! Can't believe my little guy has gained niche blorbo status. I am honored, thank you anon <3

Feels it's important to mention that I'm not a very good writer, and Hunter's entire deal is essentially just me trying to make a character whose backstory is wildly out of place in the girl power sparkly horsie game but still sort of works with the cannon actions of the player character. This is just a hastily thrown together summary of how he winds up in Jorvik. That said, of course you can get more Hunter lore! :^D Sorry this took so long but I had to do some art to go with it :'))

Everything's tucked below since there ended up being a lot more than expected :') I think it's all fairly mild but

Content Warnings: Image 1: Some mild blood

Image 2: (dressed) head injury

Hunter's pre-jorvik summary contains: patricide, improper body disposal, vehicle theft (x5), unlawful operation of motor vehicles, crossing state lines with stolen property, trespassing, breaking and entering, evading arrest, speeding, and other minor crimes. Also some mention of drowning, concussion, and brain damage.

When an attempt to slip away from his childhood home in the dead of night goes awry, Hunter accidentally hits and subsequently kills his father with a stolen car, then does some sloppy short-notice body disposal. It's nowhere near enough to make sure he's not a suspect, but it does ensure that the body isn't found for another week (until the neighbors come by to ask why his father wasn't at church, only to find that the front door's been left wide open and a small family of raccoons have made their home in the kitchen). He makes his way from his old house in rural North Carolina (U.S.) northwards through eight states under cover of night, switching cars three times along the way (once in Virginia, once in Pennsylvania, and again in New Jersey) until he arrives at the coast of Massachusetts.

^Hunter, age 19, 5 hours after hiding the body of his father

It's here that (not knowing shit about sailing, boats, or oceanic navigation) he chooses an old pontoon in a private dock to hotwire and sail across the Atlantic with the hope of evading prosecution. Three days into the so-far shockingly successful voyage, rough seas capsize his little vessel, leaving Hunter stranded half-conscious and about two-thirds drowned on some debris until the North Atlantic Current carries him into Jorvegian fishing territory. Five days after accidentally murdering his father, he's spotted drifting on some debris by the crew of a Jorvik fishing vessel and brought back to Cape West where he gets some bearings and starts life anew. :^)

The little pontoon isn't so lucky, and its remains wash up along the coast of Maine nearly three weeks later. By then, it's been connected to Hunter's murder + string of vehicle thefts, and he's presumed to have died at sea in an unsuccessful getaway. In some ways, he did.

Most memories of life before the storm have been wiped clear from his brain, and what little that returns in brief flashes is usually just as quickly forgotten again. Some foggy details of events in early childhood remain, but his entire personality is altered by damage and Hunter becomes someone else entirely, often feeling that he's living in a borrowed body.

^old doodle of Hunter, age 19, a week after landing in Cape West

Hunter spends about two weeks recovering from a concussion and anoxic brain damage at the fishing club's Cape West bunkhouse before he's well enough to start learning the ropes and work doing some slightly less intensive odd-jobs around the village (fixing nets, processing fish, delivering mail, a little stablehand work at Goldenleaf, etc.). He attends a riding camp in Moorland towards the end of his first year in Jorvik at the suggestion of Mr.Trout, who believes it'll be a good way to get some better ideas of what the horse-loving isle of Jorvik has to offer and find some sense of self beyond Goldenhills Valley.

From here, its essentially the main storyline with some minor changes and seasonings thrown in :^)

[jlark]

Not sure anyone on here cares but we have power at my house!!!!

No internet yet but the road crews are fixing that today so maby when I get back from work we'll be up online.

My inlaws in SC are on the local hospital power grid and only lost power for 2h Thursday.

We're in south central NC and unlike our friends in the west at Chimney Rock and Asheville we just had wind damage and minor flooding. My dad's houes, where we live, has woods with a creek running through it on both sides and that flooded the 4 acres we're on. The sump pump in the basement did good until we lost power b/c of trees but we have a 2nd drain system down there so we only had a couple cm in one area on the floor. The farmer whose property surrounds our house is going to lose half his last rotation of sweet potatoes though, he was able to harvest 1/2 early but the rest are done.

Our good friend, Bob, in Chimney Rock lost his entire art studio/ gallery in the mt. artist enclave he was living at. He's a watercolor artist and some of his paintings have been completely destroyed but hes finding stuff that survived and is very hopeful. He's in a better head space than alot of folks, growing up and living by the coast in SC you get good at rolling with what the wether throws at you. He's lucky b/c several home around him where knocked off their foundation and are sitting splintered in the river. But every one we know is ok physically. This pictures are Bob's from Chimney Rock NC, he was on the top floor of his house, the last pic is from 3 days after the water receded.

[justzoni]

Life Updates

With the U-KISS Comeback, I've had a few PMs here and on Facebook asking if I, too, will be making a comeback.

The short answer is no, I have no plans to resume writing fan fiction. That's not to say I never will, but it's not in the books right now.

For a longer answer, I'll go ahead and give you guys a life update. Under a cut, of course, to save everyone's sanity.

Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I am an incredibly laid back, happy person. I go with the flow, don't get irritated or upset, and have an easy time handling problems when they arise.

That being said, there is one thing that pisses me off like nothing else: people who try to tell me what I am or am not capable of doing. And yes, when people do that, I can also hold a grudge.

Five years ago, my ex walked out on me twelve days after I had major abdominal surgery, when I couldn't even lift a gallon of milk or take care of myself properly. Before she did, she made a few statements that really got to me. She said that autistics can only have jobs, not careers. I was told that I should be grateful that I could find retail work that paid $15 an hour, because that was all I was worth since I didn't have a college degree. And I was also told that I should count my self very lucky that I had someone to "help out" financially.

To add to this, my doctors had told me that I would never run a mile, couldn't lift weights, and would never be able to leave the house without having an inhaler in my purse or pocket because to do so would be risking death.

When I say that I hold a grudge, I think what I really mean is that when people tell me shit like that, I tend to do everything I can to prove them dead wrong.

So, over the last five years, I have built a strong and successful career. I have become a recognized expert in my field, with a great reputation. I went from making $15 an hour to making well into the six figures. I traded in my tiny rented room in New York for a big, beautiful house in an upscale neighborhood in Nashville. The junker I was driving that would occasionally die at the worst times was sold off and replaced with a new SUV with all the bells and whistles.

And to top it all off, I got myself to a point where I was running five miles every morning and didn't have a second thought about my asthma.

I fixed everything but my severe trust issues.

Two years ago, I met a guy named Mike. We had a lot in common: he works in tech, loves dogs, loves movies, and is a craft beer enthusiast. Great. But I wasn't sure I wanted a relationship at all, as I had been determinedly single and had worked hard to keep myself from getting too close to anyone.

Four months after I met Mike, I got some bad news. My doctor informed me that I needed knee surgery. The surgery was explained to me as a very simple procedure that would take an hour. I'd be able to use crutches for the first three or four days, then I'd be back to full function within two weeks. No big deal.

When I went in for the surgery, I expected Mike to help me back home and help me out the next day, as he had offered. But nothing beyond that.

And then the surgery went very wrong. The procedure that was supposed to take an hour wound up taking half a day. Instead of the minor repair I was told about, the surgeon wound up basically having to rebuild my knee. He described it as the worst damage he had ever seen that wasn't from a single, traumatic incident like machinery accidents.

The recovery I was looking at was this: fourteen weeks before I could put any weight on my left leg whatsoever, six more weeks with severe restrictions and crutches, and very extensive recovery time. My knee still isn't back to full function.

With that kind of a medical situation, I expected Mike to take me home, help me get set up, then maybe call one of my friends to come help me out. After all, he'd only been dating me for about four months, and that was not at all what he had signed up for.

When they released me from the hospital, Mike drove me home and got me settled. He then left... and drove to his house, packed up a large suitcase, grabbed his dog, and moved into my house for the duration of my recovery.

If you'd like to know how to earn someone's trust, that'll do it.

In a little over three weeks, Mike and I are flying to Charleston, where we will be exchanging vows in a public park while surrounded by family. We have a very good life, and right now it is very full with work, wedding stuff, trying to get back into running, and talk of starting a family soon.

I do still occasionally write, but it's almost entirely original fiction. When I do get hit with a wave of nostalgia, I go through and poke at old fan fiction to make some edits and wonder why I stopped writing. But I no longer feel the pleasure and enjoyment that I used to while writing.

I'll leave this for now. Maybe someday I'll be back. Maybe I won't.

In the meantime, if anyone needs to get a hold of me, just shoot me a note. Cheers.

[cmdr-h-of-the-woods]

Cmdr H of the Woods' logbook, April 3309

29 March 3309 Sirsir

What can I say other than Rings? Rings? Rings! Stopped at Mitchell Hangar to sell some exploration data I had collected. The Universal Cartographics person told me it was lucky I stopped by that day, because it was the last day of the bonus they were offering.

3 April 3309 LP 906-9

Picked up a few local delivery missions. Just a few thousand kilometres between the settlements. Orbital flight offers some really lovely views. I won’t lie, these views are a good part of why I accepted the missions.

8 April 3309 44 k Virginis

As I was scanning the system, I noticed a human signal on a planet, some 400,000 Ls away. I was intrigued, since this system is not inhabited (to my knowledge) and I was quite a way away from civilisation. I found the wreck of an SRV, in the middle of nowhere. No one around. The comms log uplink was still functional, so I retrieved the last few entries. “Why won’t the ship come back? This can’t be happening to me”. This must be the SRV pilot, finding themselves stranded and worried. Then, a notification of an incoming transmission. “Hi, Dom”, it said. “l bet you’re wondering what happened to the ship and why it’s not coming back. I wish I could tell you it wasn’t me, but that would be a lie… just like the ones you’ve been feeding me for the past two years. Enjoy the rest of your life on that dead rock you cheating snake.” … Oh.

10 April 3309 HIP 60727

Found another of those Thargoid probes, or whatever they are. What are they, and why are they here?

11 April 3309 HIP 61240

I have met Commanders who find exploration boring. "All you do is jump and scan and jump and scan", they say. I get that, but at the same time, it is oddly addictive. "One more system", I keep telling myself. "One more jump, who knows what I might find there?" And that is how I found myself here in HIP 61240, almost 400 light-years away from Sol. I’ve been collecting biological samples, including some on planets/moons where nobody had been before. It’s always a strange feeling knowing that I’m the first person in recorded history to leave my footprints there, see these sights, and log those plants.

14 April 3309 Zettel Enterprise, Itzam Nawe

Back to civilisation. This wasn't planned, but my hull and internals had sustained some damage after a bad approach, and I was not feeling comfortable going deeper into the void without getting that fixed. I had a mechanic install an AFMU on Elmwing so I don’t have to worry about minor damage again if I am far from anyone.

Saw an announcement for an SRV/SLF race taking place in Gliese 868 in 2 days. This looks like a lot of fun, so I’m going to get there and watch that.

16 April 3309 Thomson Silo, Gliese 868

A day at the races! It’s been quite fun watching the various races that took place today. There were a few explosions, but all the pilots are safe and sound. At least, I hope they are. Maybe one day I will take part in one of those races, it would be an interesting change from exploration.

20 April 3309 Laksak

Met an engineer by the name of Lei Cheung. He did some good work on my shields. I was quite grateful, so I asked if there was anything I could do in return. He said that, living on a remote base, he often had needs for materials and necessities. We made a deal that I’d get him some of that, and he’d keep working on my modules to get me even better upgrades, the kind he usually only does for his friends.

I soon realised that the 4 tonnes of cargo I have on Elmwing were not going to be enough. I mean, sure, I could put some modules in storage and add more cargo racks, but even then, it was never going to be a lot. I flew to Rotsler Station to ask the Inter Astra representative for advice. He suggested a Python, but said that, unfortunately, they did not have any in stock at the time, and, to his knowledge, the nearest station that had them was in a system 20Ly away.

So, I booked an Apex shuttle to Glauss. The pilot was a guy by the name of Doyle Jacobs. He did not seem super happy to see me, but still was professional. (Except for the part where he flew without his HUD on. Not sure that’s standard procedure.) The Inter Astra representative there said that he had been told I’d come pick up a ship and that it was already waiting for me in a hangar. Cool!

I remember when I bought Elmwing and I thought the Cobra was massive compared to my little Sidewinder. Well, this Python is… something else. I must admit, I was a little taken aback. The absence of an advanced docking computer was unexpected, but mostly, I had forgotten what it was like flying a stock ship. Tiny FSD, tiny thrusters, tiny everything (except for cargo space), I wasn’t expecting that on a bigger ship. But, I’m sure Cedarcone the Python and I will get to know each other. I’m thinking of equipping her with mining equipment when I’m done hauling goods to Trader’s Rest.

22 April 3309 Laksak

Lei told me I could come back any time and that he would give me his best upgrades. I am thinking I will also have him work on Cedarcone. I picked up a mining laser and a refinery and headed for one of the planets in this system that has some rings. I've never done any mining, except for one brief lesson a lifetime ago, with the Pilots' Federation. Getting used to a new ship and a new activity at the same time is not easy, but I did manage to collect some resources. I'm sure I will be doing more of that at some point or another.

23 April 3309 Scorpii Sector RO-R b4-1

Upon approach of body 5a, I picked up a distress beacon signal located at -81.6494° 86.8657. Found the remains of a ship, two occupied escape pods, and canisters of narcotics and personal weapons. Not sure if the escape pods contain hostages or criminals, but I picked them up and dropped them at the nearest station. If they were hostages/prisoners, they will hopefully be able to be reunited with their loved ones and be free. If they are criminals, maybe they will be brought to justice.

I’m probably going to spend the next couple of days hopping around the area, scanning plants and planets, and then either work on Cedarcone some more or get ready for another trip outside the Bubble.

[narutogwriting]

Ruin the Friendship

⋇✦ Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader

⋇✦ Genre: angst; fluff; oneshot

⋇✦ CW: none

⋇✦ Length: 2.5k+

⋇✦ @gaarasandpit just a angst/fluff naruto x reader request if you’re up for it 🥰 maybe where the reader and him are somewhat close friends and he notices she’s drifting from him because her feelings get in the way? he’s oblivious and hurt about it then confrontation happens ending up in a good old love confession

“Cmon! Open up!” Naruto called from outside your house, pounding on the door like he had been incessantly for the past five minutes. “I know you’re in there!”

He did not, in fact, know whether or not you were in there, but he couldn’t imagine where else you would be.

All week you’d been missing; Naruto couldn’t find you anywhere. Sometimes he would see the flick of your hair from the corner of his eye or his ears would pick up the sound of your laugh, but by the time he turned to find you, you’d be gone.

Your absence in Naruto’s life wasn’t something of a minor inconvenience; it was a constant pain, as if he was missing a part of his own body. Iruka had joked that Naruto missing you was akin to that of a phantom limb, like there was something of him that should be there and it wasn’t and he ached because of it.

“No, Naruto. We haven’t seen her,” Shikamaru shrugged. Ino nodded her agreement.

“Sorry. Maybe she’s on a mission or something.

Naruto frowned, sighing in frustration. “Alright, well, thanks.” He muttered before he sulked off. Shikamaru and Ino watched him go, waiting until he disappeared before Ino gave you a kick under the table.

“Ow!” you whined as you crawled out from underneath, rubbing your shoulder.

Ino rolled her eyes at you. “You’re lucky Naruto’s an idiot, or he definitely would have seen you.” She told you as you slid yourself down into the seat next to her. “Remind me: why are you avoiding him again?”

Propping your elbows on the table, you rested your head in your hands as you gave a forlorn sigh. That was a loaded question. You were avoiding Naruto because the absolute worse thing that could ever occur had happened.

You’d fallen in love with the idiot blond.

And how could you not? You’d been best friends with Naruto for the longest time. He was a constant in your life, always at your side. It was rare that one of you was seen without the other.

There was no one in the entire world that could make you smile or laugh the way that he could. Whenever you were sad or hurt, he always had the words to make it all better. Naruto had the type of smile that could save people, and you were no exception. There wasn’t a person in the world that could meet someone with a heart like Naruto’s and not walk away changed.

It had been a slow thing, a soft, unsure growing. It wasn’t a feeling you’d recognized at all once, because you always loved Naruto.

It wasn’t totally strange for you to get excited when you saw him or miss him when he was gone. It wasn’t unusual to think about him before you went to sleep.

But when you began to wake up and your first thought was, “my god he’s beautiful” when you looked at the picture of the two of you on your night stand, that was a little strange. You never used to spend extra time in the morning doing your makeup when you knew you were going to see him soon.

And you never used to blush when he smiled at you. Even you could tell you laughed a little too hard when he said something even remotely funny.

It was one day when the two of you were taking a walk that it happened. He was telling you a story, his motions large and exaggerated. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. As he turned to you, arms raised high over his head, his foot hit a rock. Naruto went sprawling to the floor, rolling across the ground and landing flat on his back.

You burst out laughing at the scene, hurrying to kneel at his side. “Are you okay!?” You asked him between giggles.

Naruto’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he laid on the floor. He looked up at you, smiling sheepishly. “Oops…”

It was such a simple thing, but you’d looked at Naruto and thought, “I love him so much.”

Nothing had ever startled you more.

Of course you loved Naruto; that was a given. It was never anything that needed to be thought or said. It was just a fact. But as soon as you had thought the words, you knew that it was different this time. You didn’t just love Naruto.

You were in love with him.

You’d hoped that the feelings would fade. Maybe it was just a fluke or a passing crush. Day in and day out, you waited for your feelings to go back to normal, but now that you’d acknowledged them, they only seemed to grow stronger. It got to the point where you couldn’t even look at naruto without turning into a blushing mess. It was pathetic.

So you’d decided there was only one reasonable solution: you would have to avoid him for as long as it took for the feelings to go away.

And of course you didn’t want to stay away from him. Being with him was as natural as breathing. But the way you saw it, if he found out about your feelings, your friendship could be ruined forever. This way, you could take some space, move on, and resume your friendship like nothing happened.

But Naruto wasn’t making that easy.

You hadn’t realized just how much time you and Naruto spent together until you were trying to distance yourself from him. He was everywhere. Every meal, every free moment, he was by your side or trying to be at least.

“Wanna go eat?” “Wanna go train with me?” “Let’s watch a movie!” “I heard there’s gonna be a festival in the next town over!”

You couldn’t get away from him. So this past week, you’d taken to hiding from him every time you saw him, deciding it was easiest to just avoid him completely. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe just how much time and effort Naruto was putting in to trying to find you.

But of course he was putting in effort. Because you were his best friend and he couldn’t understand it; where you’d gone or why you weren’t talking to him. Had he done something wrong? Were you mad at him or something? Your absence in Naruto’s life was drawing out every insecurity he hadn’t even realized he still had. He was worried, drowning in anxiety.

What if you’d decided you didn’t want to be his friend anymore? Maybe you were annoyed with him, found him to be too much. When you and Naruto had first become friends, he thought it was too good to be true. There was no way that someone as nice and pretty and cool as you would want to be friends with him. No one had ever wanted to be his friend before.

But there you were with your sweet smile and calming presence. You had accepted Naruto, every piece of him, without question or reservation. You meant everything to him, so the thought of losing you had sent Naruto into a panic.

You’d managed to avoid Naruto for a full week and a half. The past three days, as far as you knew, he hadn’t even made an effort to find you. It was a relief and heartbreaking all at once. You needed your space, but it hurt to think that maybe Naruto didn’t miss you at all anymore.

These were the thoughts racing through your head when you crawled into bed that night. You doubted you’d be getting much sleep; you’d barely gotten any since you had started avoiding Naruto.

Pulling the covers over yourself, you closed your eyes and tried to get comfortable. It seemed like hours you laid there awake before tiredness finally started to drift over you. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off to sleep when a sudden loud noise startled you awake. Sitting up quickly, your eyes darted to the window where the noise had come from.

Naruto had forcefully pried open the window, shoving himself not-so-gracefully through the opening and crashing onto the floor.

He quickly jumped to his feet, rubbing his head with a small wince before his eyes landed on you, widening slightly.

“Ah ha! I got you!” He shouted victoriously, pointing his finger in your direction. “You can’t hide from me anymore, believe it!”

God, he was too cute for words and that was exactly the problem. Your heart practically burst just looking at him as he appeared so accomplished and excited.

But the triumphant look on his face slowly vanished as he stared at you. When he spoke, his voice came out quietly, dripping with dejection. “Where have you been?”

Quietness settled over the room as the two of you stared at each other. Naruto made no move to get closer to you, and you likewise stayed strapped in your seat. “I’m sorry…” You offered weakly, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t be sorry!” Naruto snapped, anger quickly replacing his despaired features. “Tell me why! What the hell? You think you can just avoid a guy? Cut me off like I’m nothing to you!?” He was trembling, his usual happy grin twisted into a broken grimace so despondent it took you off guard. You had caused that hurt that Naruto was feeling. The thought made you sick.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, at least say something!” Naruto spat. “Don’t just run from me like a coward! If you have something to say, say it to my face!”

There was a harsh edge to Naruto’s voice that he never used with you before. Not in all of your years of friendship. You realized suddenly just how badly you’d hurt Naruto by avoiding him. It wasn’t something you’d considered; you’d only wanted some space so you could get back to normal with him.

But you saw it clearly now, the damage that you had done. Suddenly, in this moment, he was the lonely, isolated child that he had been before you met, feeling alone and abandoned in the world. And this time, it was because of you.

The regret was like bile on your tongue, and you wished fiercely that you could take back the past week and do it differently. You couldn’t stand the thought that it was you who had caused this damage to your best friend, the guy you loved so much.

You didn’t have any words to fix it. All you had was the truth.

“I love you.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could pull them back in. And once they were out, they couldn’t be taken back.

Confusion quickly settled on Naruto’s face. It was as if you could see the anger dissipate from his body. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape, while he tried to process what you’d just said. “You… What?”

Turning bright red, you pulled the blanket back over your head in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that! Now there would never be any going back to the way that things were, but you had to tell him. You couldn’t just let him think that you were cutting him off without reason.

“I said I love you…” You muttered from under the blanket. “I’m in love with you, Naruto. I have been for a while now, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So I thought if I just took some space and didn’t see you for a while, then maybe I would get over it, and then we could just keep things the way they were…”

It was much easier to get the words out when you were under the blanket and couldn’t see him, but you were still nauseous with anxiety as you told him how you felt. Your heart was steeling itself for rejection as you waited for his response.

The only noise was shuffling as Naruto came to your bed. You could feel the indent as he sat down next to you. He grabbed your blanket, slowly peeling it off of you and despite your reluctance, you let him.

You didn’t look at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position. You’d never been so embarrassed before.

“Did it work?” He asked you quietly.

Fidgeting with the hem of your night shirt, you mumbled, “Did what work?”

“Are you over me?”

The question took you off guard, lingering between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but flicker your eyes to his. He was staring earnestly at you with those wide blue eyes you loved so much. You wanted to lie to him but you just couldn’t.

“No.”

Naruto’s focused expression stretched into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him. You were too startled to respond, so you just stared at him, confused, instead.

“You scared me!” Naruto laughed happily as he rested his cheek against your head. “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore! You didn’t have to completely avoid me, ya know.”

There was a mix of relief and disappointment at his reaction. So, he wasn’t weirded out about your confession? Things didn’t have to change. The two of you could stay ‘just friends.’

“So, we’re okay?” You asked him nervously. “We’re still friends?”

Naruto gave a puzzled hum as he pulled away from the hug to stare at you. He raised his eyebrow as he studied you for a moment. You could almost see the light bulb go off above his head as he realized.

“Oh!” He laughed, grinning sheepishly and rubbing his neck. “I guess I forgot to tell you it back, huh? I thought it was obvious! I love you too, believe it!”

You blinked as he giggled embarrassedly, that signature smile of his on his lips. “Naruto!” You snapped at him, lunging and knocking you both off the bed. He landed on his back with you on top of him as you rubbed your fist into his head. “You dummy!”

“Hey! Cut it out!” Naruto whined, squirming under your touch. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend!?”

The question was enough to make you stop, your mouth frozen in a surprised “o” shape, just like he hoped. He laughed, sitting up and holding you to him before he placed a happy kiss to your cheek, making your face flush over red.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking at him as it finally sunk in what he said. He loved you too. He called himself your boyfriend. “Is that your way of asking me?” You questioned.

Naruto nodded earnestly. “And my way to get you to stop giving me a noogie! It’s a win win! Well, if you say yes, that is…”

Shaking your head, you laughed as your whole body softened in relief. Your arms slipped around his neck as you hugged him tightly. “Yes, obviously!” You told him. “Yes! I love you.” Naruto hugged you back just as fiercely. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand reached up to cup your cheek as he leaned forward, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to your lips.

Well, you guessed your friendship was officially ruined. But suddenly, you didn’t mind so much.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Crocoduel

When you stop and think about it, this episode is really just the world's most intense custody battle.

Let's get into the thirteenth (chronologically the twelfth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Crocoduel

We start off with the band Kitty Section (composed of Luka, his timid sister Juleka, her “best friend” Rose, and Ivan) performing a concert for the super amazing Zoe and all the peons beneath her greatness (Alya, Alix, Nino, and Mylene). Luka notes its been a while since Marinette came to the Liberty. Because I guess even the show wants to forget the events of “Sole Crusher”.

Luka is still upset that Marinette hasn't wanted to be around him since their breakup, so after he walks away, the others scheme to force them to spend time together.

Yep, even though they promised to back off in “Gang of Secrets”, Marinette's friends are once again trying to meddle in Marinette's personal life as well as Luka's this time. Because it's not like they can understand how hard it is for two exes to remain friends after a breakup and give them their space, right? They plan to invite Marinette to Luka and Juleka's birthday party while reminding the audience that they're twins.

YES. THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN TWINS. ASTRUC HAS NEVER SAID OTHERWISE OR CONTRADICTED THIS STATEMENT IN THE PAST.

LUKA WAS NEVER TWO YEARS OLDER THAN JULEKA, JUST LIKE THERE WAS NEVER A WAR IN BA SING SE.

In all seriousness, I do feel like I was a little hard on Astruc for this. Compared to other things he's made canon on Twitter, this is fairly minor, and we only knew Luka was the older brother at first through a tweet. And considering the other retcon we'll see in the very next scene, this isn't as big of a deal as I made it initially.

Alya invites Marinette to the party, but she easily deduces that it's a trap. Alya then tries to convince Marinette to talk to Luka.

Uh... since when? When did Marinette lose all romantic feelings for Luka? The whole point of the breakup in “Truth” was to show that she couldn't pursue a romantic relationship with Luka because of her duties as Ladybug. She never showed any signs of not loving him, which made the breakup all the more tragic. Yeah, “Mr. Pigeon 72” was an excuse for her to go back to loving Adrien because the writers don't know how to write anything else, but it didn't mean she stopped loving Luka. You know, it's almost like the writers want to make sure the audience knows Lukanette will never happen and the sacred Love Square is the only way Marinette will ever feel love for someone else.

Alya still forces Marinette to go, making her ask Juleka if Luka won't be there. Some people have gone down on Marinette for this, but she does later acknowledge how wrong this was to ask, and apologizes to Juleka for trying to force her to do something she didn't want to do. If only Marinette's friends learned the same lesson.

Juleka goes to tell Luka about the party, but hesitates to tell Luka he can't go there. While he knows Juleka is hiding something, Luka is distracted by the sudden arrival of his father who he loves despite abandoning him for his entire life, Jagged Stone. However, Luka and Juleka's mother, the anarchy-loving Anarka isn't happy that much like his sperm when the condom broke, Jagged came in without her permission.

At the day of the party, Marinette panics as soon as she sees Luka, who in turn realizes she didn't want to see him. Rather than comfort Juleka who just ran away crying, the others comfort Luka, preventing him from being akumatized by Shadowmoth, though he still keeps his Akuma around just to be safe. Marinette apologizes to Juleka before Shadowmoth can akumatize her too (even though she got a Magical Charm in “Guiltrip” so it wouldn't work either way). Then Shadowmoth tries to akumatize one of the guests as they find out Jagged (who just arrived) is Luka's father, but since they're dumb teenagers who don't know Jagged was winning awards and being celebrated as a rock icon while Anarka was working two jobs and struggling to make enough money for rent, they think it's awesome. Very confusing day for Shadowmoth, isn't it?

Marinette also finds out Jagged is Juleka's father and finds out Juleka worries Jagged loves Luka more since they share more interests, which she thinks is true when Jagged gives Luka a guitar case and instructs her to not tell his sister. Marinette tries to call out Jagged for neglecting Juleka over Luka even though Jagged was more of a father to his pet crocodile than either of his biological children, but it's obviously a gift for Juleka, the first bass guitar Jagged ever owned, which calms her down. Funny how nobody acknowledges how Jagged practically abandoned his family, isn't it? Sure, it looks like he's trying to make up for it, but he just acts like he's always been Luka and Juleka's dad and they don't have any problems with their father literally never being in their lives until now.

Jagged's gift to Luka is a record of the first record he made in his band with Anarka before they broke up, Crododuel, but Anarka is naturally pissed he wants to give that to Luka. Jagged and Anarka argue over which one was the Yoko Ono in their relationship while they both grab the record, which Shadowmoth uses to akumatize the two as it breaks, turning them back into Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock respectively, Shadowmoth labeling them as Crocoduel.

Unlike the other team Akumas like the Punishers or the Gang of Secrets, Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock care more about fighting each other than working together, and they see getting Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous as a competition to help prove who was right in their argument. It's a pretty interesting gimmick, though I don't get how Shadowmoth thinks this will help him and not ignore Ladybug and Cat Noir while they fight.

Alya provides a distraction to help Marinette transform, and after we get Adrien's single scene to remind the audience he's still a main character, he transforms into Cat Noir. The two heroes give chase, but then Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock decide to take their fight to above the clouds.

Yeah, it's not like you have a form that specifically allows you two to fly, right?

All they had to say was that Marinette was still making more potions for that form, and it would have been better than ignoring the fact that they can fly.

Much like the hotel room during the night Luka and Juleka were conceived, the crossfire from Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock's fight starts to damage the area around them. Ladybug and Cat Noir get Luka and Juleka to safety, and Luka tells them about what's happening, while Ladybug spouts the lesson about people needing to talk even though they don't love each other anymore, reflecting the situation the writers retconned her into learning.

Ladybug summons her Lucky Charm, a roll of scotch tape, and comes up with an idea that involves Juleka. She takes her away into an alleyway and gives her the Tiger Miraculous. The tiger Kwami, Roarr, demands Juleka show some courage, so Juleka yells in her face. Unfortunately, as much as I want to show this scene, the subs I got don't really match up, so I can't really give some screenshots of it. So I guess you can watch this scene from Full Metal Jacket instead to get the gist of things.

So Juleka takes the Tiger Miraculous and transforms into Purple Tigress.

I think the suit has a pretty good design. I like the striped pattern with the gold highlights around the black stripes, and think the color scheme is visually pleasing, especially the hair. I wouldn't call it one of my favorite hero suits, but I still like the way it looks.

Cat Noir launches Ladybug and Purple Tigress into the air where they split up to steal both halves of the record, but when they break them, no Akuma comes out. It turns out that since the record was broken while Jagged and Anarka were akumatized, they need to put it together again before breaking it in order to free the Akuma.

Purple Tigresse goes to distract Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock with her power, Collision, which she uses to KNOCK CAPTAIN HARDROCK'S SHIP ABOVE THE CLOUDS, TAKING GUITAR VILLAIN WITH HER.

Why the hell did it take four seasons to break this Miraculous out if it gives the user the ability to go Super Saiyan on the enemy? I think Cat Noir's expression after seeing the power in action says it all.

Cat Noir Cataclysms the record (because a record is just so hard to break without using the power of destruction, isn't it?), Ladybug de-evilizes the Akuma, uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix everything, Jagged and Anarka somehow weren't killed by their own daughter, the three heroes pound it, and Ladybug gives two Magical Charms to Jagged and Anarka.

Back at the Liberty, Juleka tells the two to forget what caused them to break up and just apologize while they ignore the past, proving the writers really don't get how hard it is to move on from tough events in life. And despite building it up for the entire episode, Marinette and Luka talk in the final thirty seconds of the episode and just agree to be friends, meaning once again, Luka was sidelined in what should have been a focus episode for him.

Aside from the way Jagged and Anarka's relationship was portrayed coupled with the retcons surrounding Luka, this episode was alright in my opinion. Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock are some of my favorite Akumas, so I thought it was nice to see them again, even if we didn't get to see their powers at full potential. I also thought this was a really good episode for Juleka, as I felt like the hero debut really helped her grow as a person and didn't just feel like she was given a Miraculous because the plot said so. She wanted to help her parents, and using the Tiger gave her the courage to symbolically speak out while potentially launching them into the stratosphere.

But the biggest problem to me has to be the way Jagged is portrayed in the episode. Just like with “Truth”, the idea of Jagged being a terrible parent is just swept under the rug and everyone just accepts the fact that Jagged is Luka and Juleka's dad very well. Despite the idea leading to some interesting drama in a show that's no stranger to family drama, they don't really do much with the whole “Jagged abandoning Anarka” thing. Aside from a brief interaction between Luka and Jagged while the former was akumatized into Truth, nobody is really angry at Jagged. Nobody really feels angry at Jagged for what he did, despite the drama being the main focus behind the episode that also had the Lukanette breakup. You would think this would at least lead to some tension between his family, but nothing really comes from it other than an argument that was pretty much played for laughs. But considering this show has a history of teaching kids to love their parents no matter how cruel they are to them, I'm not entirely surprised.

Overall, it's just a decent, albeit forgettable episode. If the writing with Jagged was different, it could have been a lot better in my opinion.

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[tigerkirby215]

5e Vex, the Gloomiest build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Horace “Hozure” Hsu. Made for Riot Games.)

Writing this build in a dark room late at night, super tired and stuff... Stuck inside cause of this dumb virus... AFKing in TFT for a Prestige skin like a tryhard... It’s kinda aesthetic, ya know?

GOALS

Another person to kill... Shadow? Can you handle it? - You don’t need best friends: you’ve got your Shadow. He’s the only cool one, because he’s basically you.

Ugh. Can we get some rain clouds in here? - No one likes a debbie downer, but everyone loves a good scare!

Man, walking suuuucks - Nowadays even the anti-dash champion needs a resetting dash. “Do the thing, Shadow.”

RACE

I could make Vex a Harengon to justify her rabbit ears, but she doesn’t really do much “jumping.” That, and I didn’t buy Wild Beyond the Witchlight. So Halfling still works good enough for a yordle. Your Dexterity increases by 2, and while your movement speed goes down to 25 you have Halfling Nimbleness to move through people who are bigger than you. You’re also “Brave” for advantage against fears (when you hang around the Shadow Isles stuff really isn’t that scary) and of course have good ol’ yordle Lucky to reroll Nat 1s.

Halflings are normally pretty cheerful but Ghostwise Halflings are perfectly dark. You’d normally increase your Wisdom by 1 but I’d recommend increasing your Constitution instead. But I mean, it’s not a big deal if you take Wisdom instead. It is only +1. You also get Silent Speech to keep to team chat with 30 foot telepathy. I mean, they have to understand your languages but at least you don’t have to tell everyone what you’re talking about. And oh yeah you obviously speak Common and Halfling.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - Turns out when you don’t release any new yordles for (wait it’s been 5 years since Kled was released? Holy shit) people end up wanting them.

14; DEXTERITY - Just because you don’t like walking doesn’t mean you’re slow.

13; CONSTITUTION - Imagine dying like a normie.

12; WISDOM - Vex isn’t sad because she’s pessimistic. She’s just realistic.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You’re too cool for school. (And I needed everything else more.)

8; STRENGTH - Ughhh I don’t wanna lift heavy stuff! I’m tired...

BACKGROUND

I guess you’re technically a Haunted One, even if the black mist is the best thing that ever happened to you. You get proficiency in Arcana and Survival as well as two language of your choice to talk to your "allies.” (I guess one of them has to be exotic or whatever.) (I’d personally pick Sylvan as the language of yordles and whatever language the majority of your party knows as your second choice, but that’s just me.)

The thing that sucks about having a Heart of Darkness is that everyone keeps trying to help you, thinking that your sadness (and the living shadow on your back) is something to be fixed. I mean, at least you can get the NPC normies to help you, as long as you don’t spook ‘em. “No doctors! I told you: being sad makes me happy.”

(Artwork by @ToggleD0wnFall on Twitter.)

THE BUILD

or whatever...

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting as a Sorcerer for saving throws and stuff. Also proficiency in Intimidation and... Persuasion, I guess? Look, persuading people that you’re fine “no really” is a skill too.

I wonder what Sorcerous Origin we’ll pick... If only there was one based entirely on shadows and darkness... Oh hey Shadow Magic. As a Shadow Sorcerer you get Eyes of the Dark for 120 feet of Darkvision to see with your dumb Halfling eyes, and Strength of the Grave which will let Shadow take a hit for you. (As long as you make a good Charisma save.)

But of course the main appeal of a Sorcerer is the Spellcasting. You can learn 4 cantrips from the Sorcerer list and two level spells: For cantrips Mage Hand will let Shadow pick things up for you, Mind Sliver and Sword Burst will keep loud people off you both up close and from afar, and Prestidigitation will let you do all sorts of normie yordle magic. As for leveled spells Shield and Mage Armor are both kinda mandatory for some Personal Space.

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

What? Did you really think we wouldn’t get at least some support from adults? Work for that cool gloomy dude Viego and make a pack with The Undead. That’s because Undead are super dark and morbid and have a Form of Dread: as a bonus action you can turn on your Doom and Gloom for 1 minute. You get some temporary hit points, fear people when you hit them, and are immune to fears yourself. You can transform a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

You also get Pact Magic, which is different from normie Spellcasting because you get the cool stuff done with just a Short Rest. Anyways you can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Minor Illusion to have Shadow trick some normies and Eldritch Blast to Eldritch while you Blast. You can also grab some first level Warlock spells like Hex to mark people you don’t like, and Arms of Hadar if you really need your Personal Space.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get their Eldritch Invocations for extra stuff that you don’t have to put effort into. While Armor of Shadows does exist it’s honestly better for you to cast Mage Armor with a spell slot, so with that being said take Agonizing Blast to agonize while you blast and Eldritch Mind so you can keep your concentration around annoying people.

You can also learn another spell like Hellish Rebuke, because people just keep barging into your Personal Space!

LEVEL 4 - SORCERER 2

Now that you can agonize your blasts it’s time to go back to Sorcerer. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently don’t do much other than give you more spell slots. You can turn your Warlock slots into Sorcery points though, which is good because they come back on a Short Rest but the rest of your magic does not.

You can also cast another spell like Earth Tremor, to slow people down with Looming Darkness and sunder the land with your edginess.

LEVEL 5 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers finally get Metamagic! Empowered Spell will allow you to maximize your damage and retain your role as an artillery mage. Alternatively if you want to guarantee fears in your foes take Heightened Spell to give them disadvantage to resist Shadow’s influence.

If you want Shadow to stick around then Dust Devil will swirl around for quite awhile. Alternatively Shadow (Magic) also teaches you Darkness for free, and you can cast it with 2 Sorcery Points to see through it! Your friends can’t see through it, but you can team up with Shadow for some powerful combos when you can see them but they can’t see you!

(Artwork by @jpdiasarts on Twitter.)

LEVEL 6 - SORCERER 4

4th level Sorcerers get the first of many Ability Score Improvements, but I can’t take Fey Touched every time for Flash. That, and we won’t give into basic yordle society. So let’s get value out of our Halfling race with the Second Chance feat. Along with +1 to your Charisma you can also use your reaction to make an enemy you can see attacking you reroll their attack roll, potentially making them miss.

Don’t use this against an attack that you can Shield against, but if someone gets a really good roll you can use this to get your Personal Space back! You can only use this once per combat though (it comes back when you roll for initiative!) so make sure to use it when it matters to keep your spell slots in check.

Oh and you can also learn another spell, and another cantrip! For your cantrip Shocking Grasp will help you push people away if they get too close (folk tend to react poorly when zapped by a tazer!) As for leveled spells Web will keep foes from dashing around, and is also pretty flammable. Huhn; wonder if that’ll be useful.

LEVEL 7 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers get gifts from the Ruined Queen Tasha in the form of Magical Guidance. You can use a Sorcery point to reroll a d20 if needed, potentially squeezing a success out. Don’t use this all the time (even if Warlock slots means you’ll have plenty of Sorcery points to spare) but this can be very useful in an emergency!

You can also learn third level spells and hey: Fireball may be a normie spell, but it’s still pretty effective. It’s maybe a bit too flashy to be Looming Darkness but it’s a good source of AoE damage which isn’t as loud and annoying as Shatter.

LEVEL 8 - SORCERER 6

All this time being a Shadow Sorcerer and Shadow hasn’t even done anything for us! Well how about you go out there and get some work done, Shadow? For 3 Sorcery points you can summon a Hound of Ill Omen to target a foe within 120 feet of you.

Shadow is basically a Dire Wolf except he’s Medium, has temp HP equal to half your Sorcerer level, can move through stuff (but takes damage if he ends his turn in stuff), and automatically chases whoever you told him to go for. Shadow will appear 30 feet away from the person you told him to get, and will chase after him like I said. All he’ll really do is attack the target you told him to though; he won’t even opportunity attack unless it’s the person you told him to chase. But if Shadow’s near someone they have disadvantage on their saving throws, which is pretty cool. (Unfortunately it’s only against spells, not your Form of Dread.)

Speaking of saving throws: Slow is a really great way to keep normies from running around doing annoying stuff. And you don’t have to hit Shadow with it which is pretty cool.

(Artwork by @Lauriquess on Twitter.)

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get to choose their Pact Boon: if you want a really small Shadow go for Pact of the Chain, and if you want your cool necklace go for Pact of the Talisman, but we’ll be going for Pact of the Tome because you’re mostly a spellcaster really. (And we definitely don’t have enough cantrips.)

You get a Book of Shadows (See? Books can be cool!) with three cantrips: take Thaumaturgy to be extra spooky, Vicious Mockery for some sick teenage burns, and Sapping Sting to make normies fall over when you fear them. Some might say that 10 total cantrips by level 9 is a bit overkill but look on the dark side: you’ve now got a cantrip for basically every type of saving throw in case you can’t hit with Eldritch Blast!

Honestly none of the Pact Boons are particularly important for Vex so I picked the one that made the most sense. Feel free to take something more practical since 10 cantrips is admittedly overkill.

Oh and you can learn more Warlock spells, so now it’s time to finally take Misty Step. For Flash!

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: getting more Charisma for better spellcasting is probably a good idea.

You can also learn another spell, and hey look another cantrip. For your cantrip even if more damage options are kinda overkill by this point Chill Touch inflicts Grievous Wounds, which might be useful. You can also grab another second level spell and Blindness / Deafness (which is on the Undead list) is far more useful than any of the other normie options you’d have at this level anyways.

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation, and even if you’ve got a resetting dash you’re still a squishy mage. So grab Tomb of Levistus for Zhonya's Hourglass.

You can also grab third level Warlock spells now! Remember how I took Fireball and complained that it wasn’t a good replica of Looming Darkness? Well Hunger of Hadar takes your Concentration but it’s a lot edgier!

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Undead Warlocks have become Grave Touched by the mist, and can make mist of their own! Along with being able survive without eating, drinking, or breathing you can turn any of your damage into necrotic damage. If you’re in your Form of Dread however you can add one extra damage die to whatever you’re using to get people to buzz off, adding to that morbid and macabre aesthetic.

You can also add another spell and if you’re bored with Shadow being a wolf how about you make them a Summon Shadowspawn? Weaponize your Fury, Despair, or Fear (I’d honestly recommend Fury since it has good synergy with your Dreadful Aspect) and work together with Shadow to deal with all your annoying foes! I’d also suggest replacing Hellish Rebuke with Counterspell, because even if the former fits better the latter is way more useful.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks can finally activate Shadow Surge. Relentless Hex lets you mark a foe with Hex and then dash to them. And technically you can move Hex around after the fact to reset your dashes! And while you’re at it you may as well grab Dimension Door for Summoner Teleport.

You could also upgrade Summon Shadowspawn to Summon Aberration if you so desire, but Summon Shadowspawn is more than strong enough and far more fun and thematic.

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 8

Another Ability Score Improvement. Yay. Cap off your Charisma for the best spellcasting you can get out of Shadow. You can also learn another spell, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 9

9th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation: even if it’s kinda ineffective Ascendant Step is still pretty useful to have Shadow carry you around. I mean yeah it’s slow but not that much slower than walking for you, and Shadow can lift you up in the air. “Shadow; carry me...”

You can also learn 5th level spells. If one guy’s being particularly annoying Negative Energy Flood can get them to shut up and work for you. Alternatively if you want more Personal Space Antilife Shell is on the Undead List and will make sure normies keep faaaaar away.

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 10

Are you ever so sick of everything that you just want to explode? Necrotic Husk has two benefits: for one you’re resistant to Necrotic damage, and immune while in your Form of Dread because being around Viego for so long means you’re used to his work.

But additionally when you are reduced to 0 hit points you can use your reaction to drop to 1 hit point instead and cause your body to explode! Each creature of your choice within 30 feet of you takes 2d10 + your warlock level in Necrotic damage. You do gain 1 level of exhaustion after using this, and after using it once you can’t do so again until you finish 1d4 long rests. So I’d perhaps use Strength of the Grave first unless you really need to lash out.

I hope you weren’t expecting more spells because you aren’t getting them from Warlock: just a cantrip. By this point we’ve honestly got far too many cantrips so I dunno maybe just grab Prestidigitation again and swap it out from Sorcerer when you get the chance.

(Artwork by @DukkoArt on Twitter.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 7

Finally back to our yordle roots: 7th level Sorcerers get 4th level spells like Storm Sphere for a sphere of darkness and angst. But I mean the real benefit is that you get more Sorcery points let’s be real.

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess. Spooky winds and stuff. Either this level or next level depending on your DM.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 8

Your last Ability Score Improvement... You’re gonna have to ask: what’s more important to me? More Metamagic, or more Eldritch Invocations? If Metamagic is to your liking take Metamagic Adept for Careful Spell and Distant Spell along with two more Sorcery points to use on them. If you like Eldritch Invocations though Eldritch Adept has a ton of options as a level 10 Warlock. I won’t tell you what invocation to take (they’re all great boosts but none of them shout out at me as something you should prioritize) as there are plenty of options to make your own Vex now that they’re all grown up.

I can at least tell you what spell to take: none of them! Wait until next level!

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells which means you’ve finally caught up to your Warlock slots. And look at that: the good wish Tasha gave you one last way to weaponize Shadow. Bigby’s Hand does a bunch of cool stuff and is pretty much the ultimate way to make Shadow crush some normies. (Most literally.) Alternatively if you want to borrow from Viego Enervation will let you heal from the mist and also do some damage. Great if you’re stuck in a corner with a bunch of annoying normies.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 10

Our final level is the 10th level of Sorcerer for one last spell, one last cantrip, and one last metamagic option! For your metamagic it’s honestly about time you take Quickened Spell to up your DPS. For your cantrip take Mold Earth to dig holes in the sand and brood. And as for your leveled spell? Honestly I just like Synaptic Static, and there isn’t much else I want anyways.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

We’re all doomed. But you’re more doomed - 5th level spells pack more than enough punch, and you’ve got plenty of them. Warlock slots will always be at your fingertips, and Sorcery points give you plenty of flexibility too!

I can feel it: someone’s happy over there! - Along with giving you a temporary hitpoint shield Form of Dread puts a nice bit of CC on all your abilities. Keep enemies scared and sad with tons of Doom and Gloom!

Ugh. Stop copying me Shadow! - Hounds of Ill Omen are cool. Summon Shadowspawn is also cool. Bigby’s Hand is especially cool. And hey: even your lower level Concentration spells like Hex? They’re pretty cool too.

CONS

Ughhhhhhhhhh this is gonna take foreeeever! - You’ve got limited fumes, even for a coffeelock. Form of Dread has limited uses and there’s only so much spell slot melting you can do to get your magic back.

I’m dancing... Happy? - You’ve got a really boring set of really normie skills... and if you’re playing Vex the way she’s meant to be played you’re probably not going to use any of them except for Intimidation.

Yup; the glass is half empty - Half your levels are Sorcerer levels, meaning you’re squishy. You’ve also got Mage Armor on which guess what: also means you’re squishy. People who hit teenagers sure are lame but it’s really not hard to Power Word Kill you.

But I guess you’re pretty cool overall. Shadow’s an alright partner and you can spread Ruination even without Viego. Trudge around and get people to frown for once. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting the world to be sad. But do try to at least be happy out of character, because we play games to have fun. I mean, who’d play a video game that just makes you depressed and angry?

(Artwork by @AzzylumArt on Twitter.)

[hoedorokishoto]

Trust - Part 1

Shoto Todoroki x Reader 

+ Minors DNI

| part | next

“You know, if you just stopped getting kicked in the head, I wouldn’t need to fix your gear all the time.” I said, my hands running over the smooth metal of Hitoshi’s voice modulator. Different from the first one I had made him 2 years ago; small changes being made to help your best friend become the best hero he could be.

“Maybe I miss hanging out with you. You are worth a swift kick to the head.” He said from behind me, walking around the room as he spoke. Looking at the various machines, weapons, and other projects I was working on in the workshop. I laughed at his response, shaking my head as I screwed the missing panel back into place.

“You flatter me.”

Hitoshi Shinso had been your best friend since before both of you were even born. Your dad and his parents, living next to each other since their early 20’s, experiencing drunken nights, sad days and the trials of parent hood together. So in turn you and Toshi had done everything together. First steps, first words and first days of school.

“I saw you and Mr Aizawa on TV.” I said beaming, the thought of him realising his dreams and making them a reality enough to make my heart soar.

“Oh yeah, it was pretty weird. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Neither will Mr Aizawa.”

“Lucky you guys are so chatty.”

It was him who laughed this time, coming up next to me and hugging me into his side. I did miss him, his hero work and my support work taking up much of whatever spare time we had. Especially being 3rd years, our futures looming over us even more, having to make final decisions about our future. Gone were the days of dressing up as our favourite heroes and running around our homes catching our parents who pretended to be villains. Now all I seemed to think about where internship offers and upcoming exams, mathematic equations often overtaking my thoughts even in my dreams.

The gear didn’t need much fixing just a loose panel and a few scratches, something easy that I could fix in a matter of minutes.

“Good as new!” I said, holding up the voice modulator and admiring my handy work, then passing it back to Hitoshi.

“You’re the best Y/N, ramen is on me next time.” Hitoshi said, winking and taking the equipment from me. Placing it over his face and making the necessary adjustments.

The workshop was surprisingly quiet, usually filled with the noise of machines and steel clanging together. The music usually turned up to max volume as the other support course students worked on support gear for other heroes. Hatsume clearly wasn’t here because it had been a whole 3 hours with no explosions nearby.

“So how is Kaibara?” Toshi asked, quirking his purple eyebrow at me. I rolled my eyes at his question, stepping around him and back over to my tool bench.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”

“Well I only ask because you seem to know him a lot better than I do. Intimately I would say.”

“Ew, don’t say intimately. Are you 95 years old?” I said, faking chills and a look of disgust on my face.

Sen and I weren’t dating, I didn’t want to date him but the time we did spend together proved effective in helping relieve the everyday stress of living at UA and being a Hero Support student. The sex was good, and he was handsome, always considerate of me and never did anything I was uncomfortable with. The more I thought about it, the more perfect he seemed. He very well might be, but just not for me. There was never any substance behind my feelings for him beyond the attraction to sleep with him. If we did interact outside of the bedroom it was purely platonic, just friends and nothing more. As bad as it sounded, I was using him for personal benefit and nothing more.

"He talks about you a lot.”

I looked into his eyes and flipped my hair, a cocky grin overtaking my features.

“Well… what can I say?”

“Not like that you weirdo, he asks a lot of questions. He wants to know more about you.” Hitoshi laughed, slapping my arm, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you guys not talk?”

“Why would we need to?” I asked, not quite understanding the question. My back to Hitoshi now, tidying my workstation as I waited for his answer. We knew what we needed to know about one another, our names, birthdays, and a few general things but beyond that it seemed irrelevant.

“I think he likes you.”

“Well I hope he does he puts his penis inside me Hitoshi.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant. He like likes you.”

I stilled; my back still turned towards my friend. My view of relationships was always clouded by indifference. I could blame it on the fact that my parents didn’t work out or I could blame it on my preferences, hell I could even blame it on my star sign. Whichever excuse I chose I always knew that deep down I knew that relationships would never work, and people were better off alone, if I didn’t fully give someone my heart there is no way that they could rip it out of my chest and step on it. I would never put myself in that situation.  

“That sounds like his problem, not mine.” I said coldly, picking up my bag and heading to the door, hopefully hearing the end of this conversation.

“Ramen is on you remember. I’m hungry.”

Without another word I flicked off the light by the door and headed out of the workshop, Hitoshi picking up speed to walk beside me, not saying another word.

                                                                *

The walk back to UA was always killer, that dam hill being the bane of my existence for the last 3 years. The silence was almost deafening, I could feel Hitoshi holding something back. Wanting to say something, something about the conversation earlier no doubt.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I can feel you being gloomy, more so than usual. It’s irritating.”

Hitoshi sighed, rubbing his eyes with one of his hands. Shaking his head as he stopped.

“I want you to be happy! Is that so wrong? What’s wrong with Kaibara?”

“If you like him so much why don’t you date him.”

“I don’t want to make jokes!” He said, stepping past me, and continuing up the hill.

“Why is this so important to you? You’ve never really cared before.” I asked, jogging to catch up to him. He didn’t answer, he just linked our arms and continued up the hill. Pushing whatever he was feeling down and sealing it away.

“Denki is having a party in the 3A dorm this weekend. Wanna come?” Hitoshi asked changing the subject and tightening his arm around mine.

“Mr Aizawa is allowing that?”

“Yeah, apparently it will be good for us to blow off some steam before the school year really kicks off. His words not mine.”

He sensed my hesitation.

“Hatsume is going to be there, she even convinced IIda to go.” He said raising his eyebrows.

“Wow, that is impressive.” I said matter of factly, nodding my head. The class rep of the 3A was known for being a real stickler for the rules. Keeping everyone in order and always being the epitome of a model student. Bless his soul, but he wasn’t really the party type. The picture of him in that environment was enough to convince me to go.

“Please, who is going to help me stop Denki from being an idiot?”

“Literally any of his other friends?”

“Yeah but you are so pretty, and he is a simp.” Toshi said matter-of-factly.

“Fine, but if I don’t see Tenya do his little arm thing at least once then I’m gonna be so mad at you.” I said giggling and tightening his arms once more.

“I can guarantee it, it will be Denki and a party. It’s like you don’t even know him.”

                                                               *

Me and the rest of class 3H had been instructed to be at Ground Gamma for a joint training session between 3A and 3B, the hero support students were to observe and help with gear whenever needed. Taking notes on current gear and seeing where adjustments were needed. As the future heroes got better at handling their quirks and being in tense situations some fights ended with a lot of damage. Whether it be to the heroes themselves or their gear, that’s where we came in.

I always seemed to forget just how big the facilities at UA really were, most of the grounds built to look like entire blocks of actual cities. Ground Gamma was made up of various exposed pipes and machinery, the combination giving a labyrinth affect perfect for heroes to improve theirs fighting skills in tight spaces.

Watching them was impressive, just how far they had come in a few short years was a credit to just how hard they trained every day. I felt safe and content knowing that these people were going to be patrolling the city one day and keeping people safe.

“Hey stranger!” a voice yelled in the distance, Sero’s tall body coming into view as he walked closer to me. Denki and Toshi following closely behind.

“Afternoon.” I said, saluting the boys as they got closer, standing on either side of me examining the work bench and tools that we had set up before anyone else arrived.

“How is my favourite little nerd?” Denki asked, nudging my arm with his and hugging me.

“I’m good, excited to see you guys train today.”

“Aw babe, prepare to be amazed!” Denki said, winking at me, his arm still slung around my side.

“Y/N could watch me burp the alphabet and be more impressed.” Hitoshi said sarcastically.

“You guys are so harsh.” He replied, clutching his hand to his chest and feigning sadness.

The group laughed as I turned around and prepared for this afternoon’s events. Ready to take notes and sketch new designs. The students had started filling up the platform, sitting in the groups they had been assigned, discussing the best plans of attack depending on their quirks.

“Everyone gather around!”

“Today will be a bit different, after today’s exercise we will be assigning you with new support students based on where we think the heroes need improvement and previous projects from the support course students. We will also be looking at your scheduled internships and work studies and matching you based on that so we can get all heroes and their gear to the best they can be before graduation.” Mr Aizawa said, commanding the attention of everyone on the platform. He wore his usual nonchalant expression, hair down and hands in his pockets.

Everyone talked amongst themselves about the recently learned information. As of right now I worked on Bakugo, Uraraka and Hitoshi’s costumes and support gear. The first two hero costumes were my entrance exam task, getting a rough design, a file on both students and their quirks and having to design according to that. Now making adjusts when needed or wanted. The most recent addition was two earpieces for Bakugo to reduce the noise of his explosions but still allowing him to hear regular noise, so he didn’t lose any sense while fighting. In hopes that his explosions wouldn’t damage his hearing anymore than it already had.

New projects were always welcome, in hopes of keeping my grades high before graduation. Hero Agencies always quick to offer students internships based on good grades and successful support gear.

“So to get this started, give it your best and good luck!” Allmight finished, the first two groups of students heading to their assigned bases to start training.

                                                             *

The training finished, class A’s teams winning the most training battles and celebrating accordingly. Cheering and hugging each other. My notebook already full of notes and sketches for potential changes and brand-new designs.

“Everyone please look up at the screen and look at who you have been given as your support students. There will be no changing so no complaining.” Aizawa said, already walking off the platform. Probably to wrap himself up in his sleeping bag.

There in large blue writing was my name.

Y/N Nanase – Hitoshi Shinso, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki

I looked over at the student who was newly assigned to me, there Shoto Todoroki was in all his half and half glory. One blue eye and one dark grey already staring back at me.

[mymoonagedaydream]

stark! daughter reader and Bucky get into a motorcycle accident. Bucky runs over to the reader who’s laying on her back on the side of the road, injured.

Bubble Wrapped

Summary: Breaking free from your overprotective father felt really good, at least for the first few minutes

Pairing: Bucky x Stark daughter!y/n

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Language

---

For the daughter of a fucking avenger, you really didn’t get to have much fun.

The world knew Tony Stark as the self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist, but the side of him they never saw was the unreasonably strict and overprotective father, the one who barely let you set foot outside the compound without surveillance from a full secret service of bodyguards and a personal apache attack helicopter.

He made sure you stayed close to home job-wise too, arranging for you to begin work as an assistant to your mother as soon as you turned eighteen.

He even kept all the other residents of the compound under strict orders, that no circumstances warranted you getting mixed up in the dangerous side of their work, and that he’d completely ruin anyone who dared challenge him on that.

You lived in bubble wrap. 

You knew that your dad was doing what he thought was best for you, and he did everything he could to make up for your lack of freedom, but all you really wanted was a proper life.

Then Steve brought the newest avenger back to the compound.

You’d seen him in passing a few times, when you ate with Nat in the communal dining area or walked past one of your father’s many meetings, but you only properly met him after he’d been living in the compound for a few weeks.

While Tony was away on business, Pepper gave you a few days off work to relax and have free reign of the compound, during which time you bumped into the newest avenger fixing his motorbike in the parking lot and decided it’d be nice to properly introduce yourself .

‘Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m y/n.’

‘We haven’t, but I’ve heard lots about you.’ He flashed you a smile before standing up and sticking his hand out towards you. ‘Bucky.’

‘Nice to meet you.’

You shook his hand and gave him a polite nod, then taking a few steps past his bike, but stopping when he spoke again.

‘So what's the deal with your dad?’

‘Good question. Could you be more specific?’

He chuckled, pulling a dirty rag from his pocket and wiping the sweat off his forehead. ‘When I arrived, he sat me down and said you need to stay away from all the exciting stuff. You got brittle bones or something?’

‘Not as far as I know, unless they’ve deteriorated from lack of use.’

‘I’ve heard of that happening.’ You huffed slightly at his amused smile, giving him a face of complete resignation in return. ‘You should probably try having some fun.’

‘It’s on my to-do list.’

You headed back towards the door, smiling to yourself and finding that you were extremely intrigued by your father’s new team member. Just as you yanked it open, Bucky shouted after you.

‘I could take you for a ride?’ You spun round, looking back at him in slight shock. ‘On the bike, I mean.’

Your heart started thumping. You definitely wanted to, more than anything, but Christ if your dad ever found out he’d probably lock you in your bedroom until you were forty.

‘That’s a really, really bad idea.’

‘So is that a no?’

You felt a warm smile spread across your face and your legs started moving on their own, instinctively carrying you towards him as you battled the choice out in your mind.

‘Alright, but you can’t tell anyone. For both our sakes.’

‘Deal.’

He only had one helmet, which he gave to you, insisting that it’d take much more than a road accident to cause him any damage. Throwing his leg over the bike, he positioned himself right and gestured for you to hop on.

Your whole body was tingling with excitement as you settled yourself behind him, nervously running your hands over your thighs. As soon as he revved the engine your heart leapt out of your chest.

‘You’re gonna want to hold on, Stark.’ He called over his shoulder. ‘First time can be nerve wracking.’

The bike roared fully into life and he pulled away from the building, the sudden momentum prompting you to throw your arms around his waist and hold on as tight as you possibly could. 

You swivelled your head round, watching the compound disappear into the distance, ecstatic to finally be away from that place for a while.

Bucky sped down country lanes and back roads, laughing heartily at every squeal you let slip, purposefully gunning the bike a little harder after each one. 

You could feel each burst of fear and excitement and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you’d never felt more alive.

But it all changed in an instant.

A car pulled out from a hidden turning without checking the road, speeding right into your path.

Bucky quickly swerved and the motorcycle crashed down onto its side. 

He was thrown over the handlebars, landing with an almighty thud on the tarmac and rolling away a few metres. Your leg got trapped underneath the bike, both you and it sliding across the road so fast that the material of your trousers got ripped away and you felt the rough road surface scraping against your bare leg.

The car immediately sped off, leaving you and Bucky sprawled out in the middle of nowhere, both lucky to be alive.

Even with the unholy amount of adrenaline your brain was producing, you still felt an intense, stabbing pain grow from your trapped leg. It worsened with every deep breath you gulped in, until it became almost unbearable.

Battling through shock and confusion, you lifted your head slightly to try and figure out where Bucky was, spotting him lumbering back onto his feet a few metres away. He sprinted over to you and yanked the bike away like it weighed nothing, relieving some of the pain in your leg, before dropping to his knees.

‘Fuck, are you hurt?’

You shifted slightly and groaned in pain. ‘I think my leg is broken.’

‘Alright, don’t move. I’ll call an ambulance.’

You tried to keep control of your breathing as he spoke down the phone, but you weren’t able to stop intense panic and fear rising in your chest. 

Bucky must’ve seen how scared you were, because while the two of you were waiting for help to arrive, he lay down himself on the road next to you. He held your hand and reassured you that everything was going to be alright. 

He made what would otherwise have been the most terrifying ten minutes of your life completely bearable.

Once you arrived at the hospital, you were taken for x-rays, which showed that you’d only sustained a stable fracture. Your doctor kept passive-aggressively reiterating how lucky you’d been, stating that she rarely saw such minor injuries from severe motorcycle accidents, especially ones that happened at such speed.  

You noticed she didn’t bother lecturing Bucky, even though he was the one not wearing a helmet. Then again, he’d somehow come out of it with no injuries whatsoever and had taken to shooting intense daggers at anyone who even tried to approach him, so she was probably just too intimidated to attempt it.

Fully casted and drugged up, you made your way back to the compound with Bucky, where you explained everything to your mother. Thankfully, she’d always been much less strict, and she agreed that Tony could never know what’d happened. She even helped you devise a very detailed story about how you’d fallen down the stairs while tipsy. Genius.

The evening came around and you found yourself alone in the living room, disappointed at how quickly the morphine they’d given you at the hospital was wearing off. 

Just as you were about to hoist yourself up and raid your father’s liquor cabinet, Bucky shuffled into the room, looking extremely sheepish.

The rest of the avengers weren’t usually allowed into your parents’ private quarters, but with Tony still away and Pepper working all night, he probably figured he was safe for a quick visit.

‘I just came to make sure you’re alright.’

‘Yeah I’m all good, thanks Bucky.’ You glanced over to your monstrosity of a cast and chucked. ‘Well, apart from that thing.’

‘I’m really sorry. Should’ve just stayed away, like your dad said.’

‘No, it wasn’t your fault. That driver was an asshole.’ He nodded, a slight smile spreading across his face. ‘I’m still really glad I said yes. Up until things went sideways, I was having the best time of my life.’

That seemed to cheer him up. His expression evolved into a wide grin and he took a few steps towards you, scanning his eyes over your face.

‘Maybe next time, we should go smaller. Whack-a-mole or something.’

‘Next time?’

‘Yeah. Unless Tony finds out what happened and murders me.’

You bit your lip, trying your best to suppress a giddy grin. 

‘Sounds like a plan.’

---

[extremelyblackandwhite]

scrubs - 2.

pairing: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death. if you are not comfortable with these warnings please dni. 

< previous chapter

   - Where are you going? - Miriam rose her head from the work bench as Y/N took her gloves and googles off, disposing of both in the yellow bin. - Y/N, where are you going? Don’t leave me alone with the trainees. 

    - I’m going to get dinner. No eating in the lab, remember?

    - Urgh, couldn’t you have gone to dinner when Michael was here? You’re leaving me alone with the trainees ... and the ask so many questions. - she whispered the last part, afraid the trainees would hear her and hit her over the head with their very heavy portfolios. - I’m going next.

    - Hour break, don’t you dare page me. - she pointed her finger menacingly at Miriam before clocking out and heading out for dinner. If they had told her during her sleepless nights spent revising for her least favourite modules the most exciting time of her shifts would be the bland food served by the hospital cafeteria, she would’ve just become a pharmaceutical researcher. Yet again, you need to start at the bottom if you want to get to the top and Y/N was more than ready to climb that moment.

She pressed the button for the lift, leaning against her own hand as she tried to wake herself up. Turns out studying and staying up all night applying for PhD projects and then coming to work at 7AM is not the way to go for energy. Luckily, the black tea she had drank this morning had managed to keep her awake, however the caffeine was starting to slowly leave her system and she still had a few more hours awaiting her. As she was about to fall asleep while waiting for the lift to make it to the lower floors, she heard her name being called out.

      - Y/N? - she looked to her side to see Peter standing next to her. They’ve known each other since freshers and if there was someone who was always wide awake during twenty four hour shifts it was him. He worked currently in the clinical biochemistry laboratory, mostly coming over to visit Y/N whenever they were working on cardiac infection cases together. - I looked at the file you gave me. CRP is actually present but quite low, could be recovery phase from an infection. My guess with abdominal pain would be a UTI. 

     - You reckon it hit recovery phase by itself? 

     - Listen, some pharmacy assistant might’ve given him antibiotics. Who knows but I’d get a urine analysis, do some cultures and see how’s it going but from my point of view, it’s in recovery phase. 

    - You’re a superstar, Peter. - she hugged him just as the lift doors opened. - You’re going up?

    - Yeah, it’s dinner time. I think they’re serving meatballs today. Exciting stuff. - the two stepped onto the lift. - Miriam said Dr. Stan came down today. You’re still giving him hell?

    - I am not giving him hell. He’s just constantly sending samples either mislabelled or misplaced and he expects me to lecture his nursing staff about it. 

    - I don’t know, Y/N. Back at university you spent 2 hours arguing an answer with a lecturer, I just think you like arguing. - he chuckled as the doors opened onto the floor where the cafeteria was. - Or maybe you like arguing with Dr. Stan. 

Before she could complain about the snide comment, Peter took to having a chat with a nurse he was particular sweet on leaving Y/N with her mouth open ready to argue and a finger pointed at him. She rolled her eyes, collecting herself as she released her hair from the ponytail which held it safely high up so her scalp could rest for a few hours before it had to go back up. Walking into the green lit cafeteria, the room was filled with half asleep medical staff digging through the bland food like mindless zombies. She did not blame them, she too sometimes would switch off her brain during breaks but lately all the free time she had was dedicated to applications after applications, despite the fact she kept getting rejections every single day. 

The scientist grabbed a worn out plastic blue tray, getting a batch on weirdly shaped meatballs from the cafeteria lady as well as some odly too yellow noodles. Hey, it is food, her brain told her as she grabbed a diet Pepsi and a slice of apple pie which was the only eatable dessert around. 

     - Didn’t you owe me dinner?

     - You almost made me drop my tray. - she gave the resident doctor a dirty look, gripping tighter onto the tray. - And I’ll be damned if I ever owe you dinner but I do have your blood culture results and we did sort out your weird infection case.

      - It is not my infection case. 

     - Fine, your patient’s infection case. God heavens if any interns knew that you had an infection, that way they wouldn’t fawn over you. - she rolled her eyes at him, setting her tray in the first table she came over. He did the same, placing his tray right in front of hers before sitting in the metal chair with a cocky grin.  - Go away, I’ll send over the report to your office. 

      - Have you not figured it out yet and trying to buy yourself more time? Or are you trying to escape the dinner date you set up with me?

      - That might work on your interns but not on me, Stan. Besides, it is an infection.

       - But there’s no worrying levels CRP besides, what about the abdominal pain? Surely CRP and white blood cells would be off the roof. 

       - Okay, since you probably missed Biochemistry in med school I will explain it to you. The CRP levels are high during initial phases and lower down during resolve. Your patient is probably on recovery phase already. Recovery means it is fixing itself. Do you need me to explain CRP to you?

     - If you pulled that out with any other doctor, you would’ve gotten told off.

     - Other doctors don’t ask me stupid questions. - she pointed her fork at him. - Dr. Mackie never sends the samples in the wrong vials. 

     - What about the blood cultures?

     - Congratulations, Dr. Your patient is not septic. It’s most likely localised but I’d suggest ordering some X-rays if you wanna localise where it actually is. I wash my hands of your troubles. - she shrugged, wrapping her fork in the spaghetti laying on her plate. - Need anything else, Dr. Stan?

      - I remember being promised a dinner date.

      - You should get your ears checked, the only thing I promised you was data and you’re lucky I also gave you a data ana ... - the scientist was interrupted by her pager beeping loudly against her belt. She grumbled, looking down at her belt with a look that would scare  anyone. - Duty calls.

       - How convenient it went off now. 

       - Unlike you, Dr. Stan, I have a team to lead.

       - Sounds complicated, Y/N. You sure you don’t need a babysitter?

She turned around as she was about to leave, raising his middle finger at him before rushing down the hall as her pager beeped uncontrollably. So much for not paging her during dinner time. Someone better be dying, she thought to herself as she slide her card into the door slot to get access. What she came in contact with was not what she was expecting from a laboratory of trained professionals. Miriam was holding one of the trainees head forward whose nose was bleeding all over her worktop bench.

      - Miriam, what the fuck?

      - Don’t look at me. Thomas ... - she squinted at the boy whose head she was holding forward. - Started bleeding when he smelled the knee aspiration.

      - Oh no. - Y/N put some gloves on before walking over to the two. - Okay, Miriam call a code orange. I’ll take Thomas upstairs and get him sorted.

      - It’s so stinky.

      - I know. - Y/N handed them two cotton balls from the jar to her left. - Put  them up your nose.

What would be a day in the laboratory if a newbie didn’t either faint or got nose  bleeds from samples? Definitely not a day in her laboratory. She looked around the busy hospital grounds, trying to find any free, available nurses but they were all overworked. No wonder why, whenever midnight rolled around, people started coming in left and right from club brawls and the grounds were always a nightmare.

      - What you got there, Miss Y/L/N? Is this how you lead your team?

      - Fuck off, Stan. I do not have time to listen to your comments, I need to find a nurse.

      - What happened, kid? - Sebastian looked to the 19 year old medical laboratory assistant holding cotton against his nose. - Lab that bad? Come on, I’ll fix you up.   

      - Thanks. - she mumbled, following the two men into one of the free areas. Thomas sat on the table while Sebastian pulled up a chair to sit in, Y/N remaining up on her feet. 

      - So kid, what happened? Y/N rough you up too much?

      - He got a nosebleed from the smell of a knee fluid from an aspiration. - Y/N replied to him, much to Thomas delight who felt more than embarrassed about the situation he was in. - Is this what you’re doing now, Dr. Stan? Minor cases? Did the chief of medicine finally realised you’re unqualified?

      - No. - he spoke as he pointed out his light at the trainees nose, to look for any specific damage. - One of my patient’s in critical care but it seems to have stabilised for now at least. 

      - Oh ... sorry. What happened to them?

      - Sepsis. - he turned off the lights. - Listen kid, it’s nothing to bad. Just stay sat here and firmly pinch the soft part of your nose, just above your nostrils, for about 15 minutes. Don’t forget to lean forward and breathe through your mouth. Me or one of the nurses will come check on you after to see if it has improved but so far, so good.

     -  I’ll return to the lab. Page me when you’re ready to return, okay? - she gave the young starter a kind smile before pulling the curtains and letting him be. Unfortunately for her, Stan would not let her be. - Keep it.

     - How weak are your staff? How are they gonna react to when they actually see infected body parts?

     - I said keep it. - she crossed her arms, ready to leave and return to the laboratory until she remembered something. She turned around on her heel, passive aggressive smile on her lips as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - Also, Dr. Stan, the infected tissue samples you sent us had the wrong birthdate on them.

     - C’mon Y/N.

     - They’re on hold until you speak with the laboratory manager about them. Good luck.

He opened his mouth to fight with her but she had already gotten into the elevator. The rest of her shift was pretty uneventful with her and a few of her colleagues having to pick up the pace to get everything sorted before they left. Miriam and her fiance left first at 1AM leaving Y/N to count the minutes til 2 AM rolled around. Once the clock read 2AM, like a speeder, she was out of that laboratory and into the elevator before anyone could call her. Walking to her parking spot, the sky was dark, the lot light by harsh yellow barely brightening. As she walked over to the second handed baby blue Fiat 500, she noticed someone hunched over and sat on the top of a black new model Audi, smoke coming out from his cigarette. Normally, she would’ve just avoided it and gotten into her car to go home but the turquoise scrubs were much too familiar at this point.

    - Dr. Stan? - her boots hit the gravel as she stood just a few meters away from him. - Do they not teach you in medical school that smoking increases the chance of lung cancer?

    - Not now, Y/N. - no sarcastic remark? That was a new one. He threw the cigarette butt onto the ground once it was all over, feet rubbing it against the gravel. - Not now.

    - I thought your shift finished at 1:30? Pulling overtime hours? Someone needed your assistance? Death time?

    - My septic patient died. - she immediately wished she hadn’t said anything. Death was not something she particularly dealt with. Surely, some results were awful, specially in cases of ultra resistant bacteria showing up in the blood but that’s what they were, results. She didn’t see the patient, in all honesty all she would know the patient would be by a barcode number. - Sepsis quickly lead to organ failure. I don’t understand ... she was getting better.

    - Sepsis is unpredictable. You did the best you could do. 

    - And you’d know? All you do is be in the laboratory and do tests. What would you know about it?

    - Okay ... - she put her hands on her hips. - Are you on any antibiotics, prescription pain killers, sedative drugs, statins or any antidepressants?

     - I don’t see the point. 

     - The bar nearby has a discount for hospital staff. It’s only a five minute walk and everyone else is so miserable, you don’t feel bad about being miserable.

     - I’m not going to the bar in my scrubs, Y/N.

     - If you’re okay wearing those ... - she pointed at his scrubs. - Then you are okay wearing them at the bar.

She was right, the bar did look miserable. Not in a miserable way which would require regulation to shut down the place but miserable in a way one would just be at home wallowing in their pity with a pint of beer and right now that was all he needed. He sat in a sticky red booth, in front of her with a pint of beer while she picked a cocktail from the menu.

     - You don’t seem like the type of girl who’d come here.

     - And I’m not but they sell really cheap burgers at lunchtime. - she put her hand under her chin. - Besides, I’ve done this before.

     - When did you convince someone to come to the bar because their patient flat lined?

     - You know Dr. Liam Watts?

     - Surgery residency? I’ve heard about him before. - her lips tensed in a straight line as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - No. You’ve been here with Bucktooth Watts before? 

    - Yeah... even after he clearly needed support after he couldn’t save his first patient, he still decided to take me on a date here.

    - I’m sorry, you dated Bucktooth Watts? - he chuckled, downing whatever was left of his pint, signalling the bartender to bring him another one.

   - This is why we don’t hang out. He’s not bucktoothed. 

   - Sure, sure. I see the appeal, I mean over Christmas at least you have someone to cut the carrots. 

The night went onwards with a bunch of maybe irresponsible drinking. Y/N was two mojitos in and she was already tipsy and giggling like a school girl, not really used to drinking. Sebastian was in the same state as her, trying not to laugh at everything as they stepped outside to grab a taxi. At least both of them were conscious enough to decide not to drive.

   - No, you did not get locked in the vroom cupboard during your residency. - she held her belly as she laughed.

   - I did and my senior doctor did not notice I was gone. I was stuck there for 5 hours.

   - Oh god. - she held herself against the wall. - I always knew you were a clutz. You know, you’re the only doctor who hasn’t told off his nurses about the blood  bottles.  

   - Can I tell you a secret? - he whispered mid laughter. - I am afraid of them.

   - Oh my god. - she held her hand on his shoulder covering her mouth with the other one. - See, this is why I constantly argue with you. You’re soft, doctor.

   - Arguing with you is the best part of my day. You look really hot when you’re telling me off.

   - You look terrible when I tell you off. - the two of them stopped laughing, looking into each other eyes for the first time since they’d been out of the laboratory. Maybe it was the alcohol but at that moment, the best idea to the two of them was to lean towards each other, his hands grasping each side of her waist as they connected the space between them, getting together into a hot long kiss.

[shslpunkartist]

I know the corrupted Zardy scenario is a non-canon 'what-if' scenario that wouldn't happen otherwise, but that didn't stop my mind from wandering off down the rabbit hole last night, thoughts jumping from one to another, trying to come up with some plausible explanation for how this version of Zardy was even corrupted in the first place. I presume that the first attempt didn't go well similarly to how it went with Zardy in the canon version of your Corruption AU so what happened here.

And that's when it hit me.

Remember Zardy's life gem? If my memory serves me correctly, it's basically his heart so to speak. Therefore, if anything were to happen to it, it'll affect him regardless of how minor it is. And since it so happens to be located on the left corner of Zardy's chest right over where a heart would be located on most humanoids, it's very plausible that something could perhaps hit or even simply graze it during fights or such.

However, with that said, I also recall that this life gem is ridiculously tough to the point that even other netherworld demons would struggle to even make a crack in it. Since most beings in this universe are nothing like the ones within the universe where this Zardy hails from, Zardy usually doesn't have to worry about anything damaging his life gem for the most part. Even in the very unlikely event that somebody manages to get lucky enough to crack it slightly, it wouldn't be much of an issue for Zardy since the gem is capable of self-regeneration.

But the fact that it's said- stressed even- that Zardy would be affected if anything were to happen to this gem regardless of how minor the issue means that, from a technical point of view, all cracks are "deep" either way. Which only emphasizes how connected it is to his very being.

So that brings me to this: what if something or someone so happen to get a just enough of a lucky shot on Zardy's chest, directly on the spot where his life gem is located? Perhaps they manage to somehow deflect an attack from Zardy back at him. Perhaps they manage to get ahold of a weapon that was made out of the right material to affect Zardy's life gem. Perhaps they WERE simply just that lucky enough to manage to crack it on their own.

Whatever happened, there's now a small crack on Zardy's life gem. Now, in most cases, Zardy wouldn't be worried. Small cracks are very annoying, yes, but it was nothing his gem couldn't fix on its own.

However, what if something foreign were to so happen to slip into the crack during the regeneration process? Now, I imagine the gem is capable of purifying itself of any foreign matter like dirt and such during its healing process, but what if this matter so happens to not only be alive so to speak but also something that seems capable of affecting one's very being? Like the Corruption~?

The Corruption cannot, in most circumstances, corrupt Zardy due to his immune. But what if it were to somehow bypass this immunity by entering somewhere that so happens to be connected to Zardy's very being~?

So I present you this HC/theory of mine: The reason this Zardy was able to be somehow corrupted in the first place was due to something or someone getting lucky enough to put a crack in his life gem and some corruption so happen to get on him and enough manage to slip into that healing crack!

This would also help explain why Zardy was left so exhausted afterward too. After all, the corruption had to strike him at what's essentially his heart~ Anyone would be left just as drained after going through such a ordeal as well~

This is actually a well thought out theory! I like this idea a lot. Hell, we might just have to do a side au for the corruption, where Zardy actually does get corrupt this way

@xenoshadow13 thoughts?