#we spent most of the evening together he made me drink water we invented new sign language signs it was great

[maddy-ferguson]

maybe she was onto something now i genuinely think he's in love with me

my new bff was told a secret by a girl we both know and she told her not to tell anyone and even mentioned me by name like she said not even marianne!!!! and i was told the secret the minute we were alone together this morning😭😭😭

[mysticalrambling]

Hello

I m new on your blog and read your work and i fell in love with your stories. I read you were interested in taking request so can you take my request too? I was wondering if you can write a steve rogers x reader, where y/n is his girlfriend and he leaves her after civil war and then they see each other in infinity war, he tries to patchup with her but she ignores him because in past he often compared her to peggy and also because she knew about him kissing sharon and she is hurt. During the fight she doesn't talks to him and when tony returns from space she still continues to ignore Steve and when he confronts her she snaps at him for hurting her for a long time. He apologizes and somehow they makeup and also him kissing sharon was misunderstanding because sharon kissed him. And then they are happy together and also in endgame the reader is worried steve will stay in past but he comes back and they get married with the team present and have kids and live happily

Happily Ever After (S.R)

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and I loved the plot line. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it and I am open to more requests.

Steve Rogers Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master List)

Summary: Steve comes back after Civil War and you are angry with him because he left you. You do not forgive him because you thought he cheated on you and he always compared you with Peggy. But he returns from the past when he chose you over Peggy and you forgive him. You eventually get married and expand your family.

Warnings: Angst but eventual fluff.

._._._._.

He stood right there in his Captain America shield with all his former glory. Your ex boyfriend looked the same but there were some differences like he had a full grown beard and he was more muscular. He kept staring at you with longing and pain but it was not even the half of what you experienced while he was gone.

“(Y/N), you need to take the position left to Steve.” Tony pulled you out of your trance and you just stared at him when you comprehended his order. He had been there for you from the moment Steve left you after the Civil War. Sitting with you when you couldn’t sleep at night and forcefully feeding you when you spent the whole day starving. He didn’t want you anywhere near Captain but you both always worked best together and there were much more important matters at hand.

“But Tony, I can be with Steve.” As much as Rhodey wanted to be away from all of the people that were responsible for his fall, he didn’t want you to suffer. They all had seen you fall apart on the Avenger base when you realised that your boyfriend left without saying good bye to you and without an explanation. Just telling Tony on a voice message to take care of you wasn’t enough.

“I’ll be okay, Rhodey. You are needed near the buildings so if some of the aliens escape our defenses, you can be there to protect the city.”

All of the avengers kept stealing glances at the both of you because they knew that it was only a matter of time before you exploded. But they were wrong. You were not the stubborn, hot headed woman that did not let anyone walk over her. That woman died when Steve left. He took her with himself.

"Take your positions and give them hell." Steve and you made your way towards your designated place.

"(Y/N), listen to me. I-"

"Do not talk to me. We are done." Keeping your eyes trained on the path, you avoided meeting his eyes.

"But, let me explain. I did not have a choice. You sided with Tony and I couldn't tell you that we were leaving." He tried to catch up with you but you were a woman on a mission.

"I did not side with Tony, I sided with the accords. And I was working my ass off to get you all out of there and I looked like a fool in the end." He collided in you as you abruptly stopped in your tracks.

"(Y/N), I didn't know-"

"You didn't know because you never tried to contact me. I was the one who had to go through multiple trials with the government because they thought I helped you all to escape." There were tears pooling in your eyes and Steve wanted to kill himself for being the cause. "I was benched for four months, for Gods sake."

You are reminded of those horrible times when you didn't know what your next step was going to be. The others tried to help you but you had to suffer through all the criticism alone. Some days you just wanted to leave it all behind and start a new life. But you weren't a coward. You wouldn't let anyone run over you like this and ruin your life. Getting back up was tough but you managed it. The day that you were allowed back on the field was the day that you decided you were not going to let anyone ruin your life.

"(Y/N), I made a mistake and I missed you so much." He tried to touch you but you flinched. A look of hurt passed his eyes and retracted his hands.

"Let's just fight. I want to kick some ass." The war crafts soon landed and you all got to fight. You had to admit that Steve was one of the best teammate that you had. He knew when to defend you and when to let you attack. You were busy fighting two of the aliens when one came from the back. Steve saw it and immediately came to your defense. You were never going to admit it but you missed this.

When the fight ended, you both made your way towards the main compound and saw all the avengers gathered together. Steve and you only had minor cuts throughout your body but nothing major. The moment you saw what all the commotion is about, your breath hitched. It was Tony with half of his skin burnt and taking his last breath.

Kneeling down beside him, you started crying. "Hey, it's okay. Just be happy and do not hold on to old grudges. Take care of family for me, please." Pepper was beside you and she started crying harder when she heard him. "Steve, come here for a second."

"I am so sorry for everything. You will always be my friend, Stark."

"We both were in the wrong, Cap. For what it's worth, do not lose (Y/N) because she is the best thing that has happened to you."

Tony was on his last breaths now and you both moved aside because Pepper wanted to have some last moments with him. There were some rifts in the team since the civil war but at this moment, you all were in this together. Tony was the one who brought you all together and saved many of you from your abusive lives. He was your best friend and you didn't know how you would spend your life without his sarcastic comments and his new inventions.

"You go, Tony. We are going to be okay. I love you." The words that left Pepper were a mere whisper but because of the pin drop silence, you were able to hear her.

"I love you too," Uttering his last words, he finally closed his eyes and all that could be heard were Pepper's wails of agony. Everything after it was a blur; the med bay, the briefing, the funeral. Time seemed to pass you by and you were numb the whole time. It was like a large piece of your heart was torn away from you and you didn't know how to react.

"(Y/N), can we talk?" Natasha lightly knocked on your door before you muttered a small come in. She looked around the room and noticed the lack of pictures in your room. The warmth that once radiated from your room was now gone. There were pictures of you with the team, with Steve and with Natasha. You liked to capture all the memories and it was one of the things the team loved about you.

"Hi."

"Hello. I just wanted to see how you were doing after everything."

"I am fine. Just processing everything." The loose thread on your blanket was the main focus of your attention right now.

"You don't seem fine. I know you, (Y/N)."

"No, you don't." Scoffing at her ridiculous statement, you felt anger bubbling inside your chest. "You were one of the first people who became my friend when I came to this tower. You knew I couldn't live without Chris and you. You both were my support system."

"(Y/N), I wanted to tell you everything. Believe me, I did. But we had to keep it a secret because we had to protect the other avengers as well."

"I have been listening to this reason from the past few days and I am done. I was ready to help you guys and you could have just contacted me once. I didn't know if you were dead or alive."

"I am sorry. I wanted to do it but it was never the right time. Half of the times you were surrounded by government officials. Can you forgive me?" The red head came and sat next to you on the bed.

"I can but I don't know if we can go back to the way things were."

"It's okay. We will be friends again. And as a new friend, I just want to tell you that Steve was miserable these past two years and he loves you so much."

"I don't want to talk about him, Nat. Let's go to the gym and spar."

"I am going to kick your ass as alway, (Y/L/N)."

"I have been practicing, Romanoff." You both went on to sparring and Natasha won in the end. However, the whole day you kept thinking about your ex boyfriend. He had been trying to talk to you from the past two weeks. It was hard for you to ignore him but you were now reminded of the times when he compared you with Peggy.

The small things that you did was always met with criticism like Peggy did not work in the field like this or Peggy wouldn't talk to him like a brat. Apparently, she was the mature one and you could never compare to her. Most of the times, you tried not to let the comments get to you but you were human. He might have done it unintentionally and you didn't want to hold it against him. But it hurt.

"We are going to talk today and you are not going to run away this time." He blocked you in the kitchen when you came out of your room to drink some water.

"Funny how you are saying that I am the one that is running away. Hypocrite much now, are we?"

"(Y/N), I am apologising to you because I can't live without you."

"You did so well for two years, I don't know why it is a problem now."

"I understand that you are angry with me. I wanted to be with you so bad but my duty as Captain prevented me from it." Your face was turned away from Steve but you turned towards him when you heard the words leave his mouth.

"Your job is more important than me?" Enraged, all you could see was red and you wanted to punch the daylights out of him.

"I thought it was but not anymore. You are the most important thing in my life and I don't want to lose you."

"Well, you have other women in your life so you don't need me."

"What other women?" Steve's confused gaze swept over your face when you spit those words out.

"I know about Sharon. You kissed her when we were still together. You cheated on me and I hate you for it." Pointing your fingers at his chest, you didn't realise when your voice started to rise.

Steve held your hands and pulled you close to his chest. "Sharon kissed me and I immediately backed off. I would never cheat on you."

You couldn't believe your ears right now. This was one of the things that helped you get over Steve. Believing that he cheated on you, made it a lot easier for you to despise him. Granted that never happened but it was still easier. However, he was still stuck in the past and he did not want to admit it.

"Even if Sharon is not a problem, you are still stuck in the past."

"What do you mean?"

"You are still in love with Peggy and I can not be your second choice anymore."

"Peggy has got nothing to do with this. She is dead and I love you."

"But I would have never been the one you loved if Peggy was here."

"That's not true. You both are totally different people and I love you now." Steve didn't know how to explain it to you. The things he felt for you were totally different for what he felt for Peggy. You made his breath hitch and his heart pounded whenever you smiled at him. He was so in love with you that he didn't think it was possible to love someone this much.

He knew that he compared you with Peggy before he left but at that time he was not ready to leave the past. It was unfair of him to do that to you while you tried very hard to meet all his expectations. However, he realised afterwards that you did not have to meet any of his expectations because you exceeded all of them. He felt so guilty and he just wanted to have you back in his life and forget about all the things that happened.

"I don't believe you."

"Please do. I want us to be okay before I go to return all the stones."

"You do that and then we can talk about us." He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before you could say anything. You were pretty sure that would stay back with Peggy and that's why you didn't want to reconcile things. You didn't want him to break your heart again.

"Ready to go, Cap?" Scott asked as he rechecked the time machine again. Everyone glanced at each other when he said that because they all thought that Steve might remain in the past for Peggy. They all had their doubts but everyone was scared to say them out loud. "You only have five seconds to get back before you are stuck."

"Ready." He glanced at you one last time and stepped in to the machine. You held your breath as Scott counted out loud and when he reached the number four, you were sure that he wasn't coming back. You were about to turn back when a snapping sound echoed throughout the room.

"I told you I will come back." Coming to a halt right in front of you, you couldn't believe your eyes. You pulled him in and kissed him ferociously.

"I love you."

"I love you too and remember that no one compares to you. I am really sorry."

"It's okay. You passed the test." When you both kissed again, all of your friends cheered for you.

As time passed by, you realised that Steve was the best person you could have possibly ended up. He was the literally the man of your dreams. Waking up to him every morning, cuddled up in your bed to going to bed with him kissing you goodnight. Steve made you breakfast every morning even when he was getting late and weekends were only reserved you.

The day that he proposed was still so clear on your mind. You remembered how he was nervous for a week that you thought something was seriously wrong with him. He would stutter and sweat when you got too close to him like it was a new relationship. There was a barbecue for the whole team on the compound and you all were gathered around the garden with drinks in hand. Everyone was enjoying it to the fullest when out of nowhere Steve knelt in front of you with a ring in his hand. After listening to his speech, you said yes with tears in your eyes.

"Are you ready?" Natasha asked you as she smoothed down your wedding dress that you spent months picking out.

"Yes." Pepper helped Morgan with the flower basket because the seven year old wanted to be the flower girl.

"Okay, then it's time." Walking down the aisle was worth it when you saw the adoration flicker in his eyes. He said some of the most heart warming words that had you ruining your eye makeup. It was a beautiful ceremony that only included close family and friends. You wanted a private wedding and you announced it to the world the next day. They all went crazy but the positive response was overwhelming to say the least.

Four months in to the wedding, you realised you were pregnant. Natasha was the one who sat beside when you waited for the test while Pepper brought a million of them for you. You were scared to tell him because you never discussed the possibility of having kids in detail.

"Just tell him. He is going to be ecstatic." Natasha tried to soothe you when you started crying with your face in between your hands.

"Okay. Steve will be home anytime soon."

"We should probably get going." Pepper and Natasha made their way towards the door and gently closed it.

"Hey, babe." Kissing you on the cheek, he immediately went to the washroom to take a shower.

"We need to talk."

"Sure. What's up?"

"I am pregnant." Blurting it out was not what you had planned but you couldn't think of another way. He stopped folding his armor midway and just looked at you with disbelief in his eyes.

"Are you serious? Oh my god. When did you find out? I am so happy, baby."

"I found out about an hour ago. And you are seriously happy?"

"Of course, I am. We will have a mini you or me with us in nine months. I love you, baby."

"I love you too." Keeping his hands on your stomach, he hugged you tightly and you knew that you got your happy ending. You were one of the luckiest people alive because you have a husband like Steve and now you were going to have family with him.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: I love Captain America and I was happy to write a fanfiction about him. If you guys have any more request, I will be happy to write about them and message me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile 

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._.

[babesonly]

fic recs 2.0!

hello kings (gn) ive got significantly more fic than last time which means this is gonna be a little more organized than the last post bc it is much longer <3 categories in order are non casefic canonverse, casefic/roadtrip fic, finale fixits, endverse, non supernatural aus, and then non destiel ones. titles will be in bold for my favs! also within each category they’re in order from shortest to longest

Canonverse

I’m a tulip in a cup by godtiering (1.2k)

I worry that I never really came back from hell. I wonder why, if I got remade by heaven, I’m still the same screwed up kid that I always was.

Sometimes I worry I’m not into women at all.

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

a REALLY good fic that’s basically just a look inside dean’s head during my bloody valentine do not read this looking for a fun time but please do read it

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

“You know,” Cas mutters into Dean’s bare skin. “When I was still… an angel, I used to dream that I would take you as my vessel.”

hello consumehimnatural fans!!!!! read newt’s fic right now its incredible

dean winchester is not a nicholas sparks protagonist by microcomets (1.9k)

Dean fell in love with Cas the way you fall asleep--slowly, and then all at once. Or some other hackneyed and trite bullshit. God, this is embarrassing.

dean is in LOVE. he’s also a disaster who keeps staring at cas’ hands. sigh

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

Coda to 13.06 (Tombstone). In which Castiel reckons with the aftermath of Dean's grief.

hello fellow widow arc fans <3 click here to see cas find out abt the events of advanced thanatology !

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

Between the doomed offensive at the Firmament and the impending retreat from the ravaged northeast border, Castiel left camp long enough to answer one of Dean Winchester's prayers.

S6 DEAN IS A WAR WIFE. been really into early seasons deancas lately and this one is very good. god

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

Ezekiel 39:17 "you shall eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of the princes of the earth."

MY GOD. anyone who saw the @autisticandroids​ purgatory cannibalism talk and was interested read this right now. also anyone who enjoyed nbc hannibal OR raw (2016). if romantic cannibalism is remotely aligned with your interests read this right now. god

Sam Winchester, Ally At Law by alittleduck (3.3k)

Sam was pretty sure he could read every single gay friendly guide to coming out or supporting queer family members ever written and literally none of them would even imply that arguing with gay people that they were actually just homophobic constituted as "ally behavior". However, Sam was equally sure that none of those book authors had found themselves accidentally watching their brother get pounded by an Angel of the Lord at 9 am on Tuesday, so Sam was pretty sure he might actually still have the higher ground. Now, if only Jack would stop trying to bond with Dean using gay slurs long enough for Sam to convince everyone of that, he might just be able to cobble together some remnant of sanity or, failing that, dignity.

Or, the one where Sam desperately wants to invent PFLAG but Dean won't stop teaching Jack gay slurs

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS. 

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

Dean pulls the Impala over at a cider barn about thirty miles out; doesn't really think about it, just sees the hokey orange lettering off the roadside and lets his hands guide the Impala off the interstate with gravel spitting under the wheels.

they get a nice day out together and dean has a gay crisis and it’s written beautifully mwah

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi (3.9k)

In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything.

sometimes i think about this fic and it hits that at this point dean and cas would have been married for more than a year. cas my beloved...

an exploration of gender; angelic by sometimeswelose (4k)

Castiel's true form is made of electromagnetic radiation. He has spent the majority of his life, if you really want to add it all up and average the whole thing out, as a wavelength of celestial intent.

The thing about being made of light: it's light in the physics sense of the word. Castiel's waves are gamma, x-ray, micro, and radio. He's visible light too, of course, a visible light so intense that it is blinding to most humans.

hello trans cas community <3 he’s literally trans he was assigned genderless and then went hm actually i will be a man! love of my life

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny. 

ohhh deans tenuous relationship with his sexuality my beloved...

love. worship. consummation. consumption. by redeyedwrath (4.3k)

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

These are all snapshots centered around the idea of you know. Hunger in Supernatural. Both carnal hunger and other kinds. Fics are shown in semi-chronological order but this series is generally nebulously early seasons.

for ANYONE who is a consumehimnaturual this is required reading it is INCREDIBLE and gorgeous and very visceral and i am so very obsessed with it. thank you redeyedwrath for enabling my brainrot

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

“You know what Jimmy Novak looked like. You think he was beautiful—gorgeous, hot, all of it. It’s him. Not me. This isn’t my face.”

“But,” Dean says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it. Just that Cas’ face is right there, brows drawn together and cheekbones gleaming in the lamplight. It’s a face that’s made his heart skip probably a couple hundred beats collectively since they met.

And it used to belong to someone else.

this one is just very nice <3 cas gets uncomfortable w dean calling him attractive since dean has never seen his trueform and they work it out

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

Alone in Purgatory and hunted by Leviathans, Castiel finds himself praying to the one person who can't hear him.

cas i love you <3 cas alone in purgatory praying to dean bc dean is the only thing he still worships i love you so much

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well.

written in s5 when cas was depowered and completely nails the later seasons bitchy husbands dynamic it’s very good and fun <3

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

very bittersweet very well written and also canon compliant so do not go into this one looking for a happy ending but i DO recommend it it’s very good

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

“When I first came to earth, it was advised that we temper the senses bound to our vessels. They were a distraction, we were told. An antiquated form of experiencing existence that would hinder our ability to complete our missions, whatever that may be. My true form can better facilitate these experiences. What you would recognize as heightened senses of sight and sound, among other things.”

Or, how Dean helps Cas experience all five human senses for the first time in one night.

early seasons deancas man. i love the sound part i love dean being so worried about doing a good job with this. god. read this please

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

Dean’s violent reaction to being unexpectedly woken has become something of a running joke among them, but Castiel can’t help but look past it to the underlying cause. It makes him ache to think that Dean feels so unsafe, so persecuted, before he’s even fully conscious.

Secretly, Castiel has been determined to work on that, to ease Dean into awareness in a less jarring way, smooth away one of the many stresses that follow him even in sleep. Now’s as good a time as any to try.

oh to sleep more soundly in the presence of someone you love...this fic is very nice i enjoyed it a lot

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

hello trans dean community here is 7k of trans dean having to deal with his internalized homophobia now that he’s sleeping with cas <3 it is SO good

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

He takes a shower and the pressure is not especially good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s warm and he stands under the spray a long time. Human skin, he knows, constantly renews itself, shedding the dead cells of the epidermis. He wonders how long it will take until he is an entirely new person, until every cell on his surface is a new one. He looks at his hands under the water. It might take less than a month.

this might be the only post 9x03 fic on here with a happy ending actually? plenty of good melancholy leading up to it though <3 canon divergent after 9x03 though which means no 9x06 fanfiction gap but it is absolutely worth reading

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

hello this one is SO funny dean finally gets comfortable enough with his bisexuality to start having sex with men and it goes so very bad every time so sorry about your shitty choices beloved </3

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

this one is very sweet i liked it a lot <3 good refreshing little fic where they just get to have a nice evening together

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

Dean settles on to his side, lying in the bed facing Castiel. “So you had sex without me and you bit all my moves. I think I deserve to hear about it, at least. What was her name?”

op im in love with you. premise is established relationship deancas and cas mentions he did have sex before dean and not only that it was a threesome. good for him <3 this fic is cas describing the story of what led up to the threesome and what happened during it while dean interrupts regularly. incredible

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

“What?” Dean says, fake-offended. “I’d be hot as a girl, you know I would.”

And this is when he really, really should have stopped talking. When he shouldn't have whipped back around and asked, “Cas, if I was a woman, you’d fuck me, right?”

Because if he hadn’t said that, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this:

Cas, meeting his eyes, forehead wrinkles all smoothed out like there’s nothing to be confused about anymore. Cas with something at the corner of his mouth that might barely be called a smile.

Cas saying, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes, Dean.”

--

Dean Winchester fucks around and, with the inadvertent help of some witches, Finds Out.

dean winchester your gender is diabolical. this fic is insane and its the only thing that matters actually. dean fully convinced its normal and straight to think about being a woman so you can fuck your male friend. incredible. op im proposing to you

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

Dean listens to Nina Simone, reads Anne Carson, and makes out with a dude (sort of).

yall want to read about dean realizing he’s in love with a man as a direct result of learning to better respect women right?

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

Dean Winchester and Castiel retire from hunting to raise baby Jack. Dean struggles to allow himself the things he truly wants.

Jack is two, Castiel and Dean are idiots, and Sam's gotta solve everyone's problems.

love a married couple who doesn’t know they’re married <3 everyone say thank you sam for bullying dean 

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

a classic for good fucking reason. we’ve all talked about dean thinking holding hands is too gay after having just had gay sex but my personal favorite was sam accusing dean of cheating on cas because dean bought condoms. incredible

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

literally the only quarantine fic i’ve ever bothered to read in any fandom and completely worth it it’s SO good. they become fwb and dean has an existential crisis and he keeps bringing up meaninglessness and death during sex

Bodies by Speary (18k)

It was a secret they never acknowledged even with each other. It would change everything, end everything if either of them ever dropped the act. So they became very good at acting, at keeping up the lie that gave them what they wanted. Even if that lie involved constantly seeking out temporary, consenting female vessels, Cas would do it. He told himself it was worth it for Dean. He just hoped that he could stop wanting more, or maybe one day Dean might stop pretending that he wasn't really sleeping with Cas every time.

i don’t even have anything to add tbh if that summary did not immediately make you click we are very different this fic is incredible. god. fellas do you ever make yourself a woman so you can fuck the man you love without him having to talk about it or confront his sexuality

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe (20k)

So the man crouching in front of Castiel is named Dean. He wonders if that’s supposed to mean something to him.

“Cas must’ve got hit with something earlier. He just dropped like a sack of fucking potatoes a minute ago. By the time I was checking on him, he had already woken up again, but now he doesn’t fucking know who we are.”

“I’m right here you know,” Castiel says testily.

Sam’s eyes are wide even as his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks between Dean and Castiel again.

“What do you remember, Cas?”

“Firstly, that I’m not Cas. I don’t know who Cas is, but it’s not me. I don’t know who either of you are, either."

or the one where castiel is hit with a memory curse that makes him forget the winchester brothers and is stunned to find out he has a family... also why can't he stop thinking about dean?

BEST amnesia fic oh my god. cas my beloved you deserve the world. everyone read this that is not a request.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

this entire series is really good i enjoyed it a lot, i’m just putting this one specifically on the list bc the rest of the series is very explicit and this is really good as a standalone for anyone who wouldn’t be into the rest of the series!!

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."

Who the fuck was this bitchy "warrior of God" doing talking to him like that? Fuck Cas-tee-el and his dumbass trench coat and abrasive motherfucking attitude.

Dean was done with this shit.

***

Wherein a monster of the week steals the essence of Castiel's vessel, so he must use Dean, recently raised from hell, as a vessel instead.

it is at this point i realize that there are more fics than i expected there to be on this list that involves a threesome with only two people/using the presence of a female body to act like what’s happening is heterosexual. deangirlism is a disease 

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

His grace is burning out, and the wasteland it leaves inside him becomes an echo chamber for all the memories, all the fear and doubt and self-loathing he's collected over the years. Things said and done hound him on endless repeat until he's convinced they’ll break through his skin and fill the silence of the bunker.

His head is killing him, and he sits hunched over an open book, not really reading, just digging his fingers into his skull and praying nothing slips through the cracks.

this one is GORGEOUS i love it so so much. dean and cas are both struggling so much to get by and they’re trying to support each other but fucking it up and they have to grow together and learn to cope with the fact that this is where their lives are and they fall in love i need everyone to read this

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

Title: Just One of Those Things Author: Impala67 Series: TOS Rating: M Summary: Four years into their five-year mission, and all the planets start to look the same.

In which Dean is not Gene Roddenberry, but he does write Star Trek fanfiction.

mx winchester writing star trek fanfiction to process his own trauma <3 this is a wip but it’s SO good and i also have not consumed a single piece of star trek media so it IS definitely readable to anyone who isn’t a star trek fan. please read this

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

“Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

this is on here just for the 1.5 people who were putting off this one like i did for no reason. it’s extremely good and it is just gentle. i enjoyed it a lot

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

yall ever wonder what it would’ve been like if the sam and dean arrest storyline in s12 was interesting? yeah <3

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

cas learning about humanity through poetry before dean and thats what led to him developing enough emotion to be lobotomized....cas i love you so much

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

another cool amnesia fic!! for unknown reasons everyone forgot cas three years ago but cas didn’t forget anything. cas deserves so much love and support. god

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

cas getting to meet and fall in love with pre hell dean just as much as he loves the dean he already knows oh my GOD. i love this fic so much. turn of the earth my beloved

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

Two Deans, one Cas - it's not as sexy as it sounds

Or

An ethics lesson from Hell

Or

The one where Dean from the past meets Dean in the present. They're not sure they like each other very much.

deans intense self hatred vs cas’ unwavering love for every version of dean oh my GOD also this is a wip fair warning but it’s so worth waiting for updates i’m having such a great time with this one i cannot wait to see how it gets ended

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

saltyfeathers said i WILL make the plot holes in this show mean something because the showrunners are sure as shit never gonna adress them ! and i thank them for it bc this was a really cool read

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

Dean's breathing is audible in the scant space between them, irregular. The motel room is dark, pale blue shadows falling in through the gaps in the blinds. Throwing a pattern of uneven white stripes over the bunched up covers. Over Dean's fingers twisted in the sheets. One half of him in shadow, softened by the dark. The heat of his skin. The tremble of him under Castiel's touch.

He caresses a hand over Dean's chest, slowly. Dean's mouth falls open, his body arching into Castiel's touch. Castiel stops over Dean's heart. Through the fever of his desire, he rejoices about the wonder of experiencing another's heartbeat through one's own senses.

Dean gasps, but then he turns his face away and towards the dark. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like something is hurting him.

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

the case is background on this one but it Does take place over the course of a case so im putting it here. god touchstarved dean trying so hard to work through his shit for cas head in my hands i love this fic so much

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

chapter 2 of this one.....god. dean and cas you are both so unwell <3 i love everything abt this fic everyone read it now

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon (15k)

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

fics that make you go Oh they love each other...also there’s lesbians in it literally what else could you want.

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

this fic is just like. it’s kind! this fic is kind it’s just a pleasant experience and i enjoyed it thoroughly. they’re in love and it’s good

Suck It, Judy Garland by GlitterDwarf, midrashic (20k)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

actually im gonna defend dean here imagine youre dean and cas gives what definitely sounded like a deathbed love confession while making eye contact with you and then immediately afterwards fake dates your brother. who among us would not have been a bitch about this

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

It’s nearing three a.m. and they’ve been on the road a long time. Sam’s been asleep in the back seat since eleven. Giving up and handing the wheel over to Cas and letting the guy who doesn’t sleep drive had seemed like a good idea.

the premise of this fic is so funny. cas voice dean you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid. everyone read this

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo (22k)

This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore.

alt version of getting rid of the mark of cain, the darkness never happens. this one is VERY heavy but it’s so good and it has a hopeful ending. ive read this one twice and loved it both times

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (45k)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

hello op please contact me. please contact me and let me see the inside of your brain. this fic was an unparalleled experience and everyone should also go through it. i love it so very much

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that is them?

one of my absolute fav case fics it forces dean to confront some aspects of johns parenting and work through some shit and also him and cas fall in love and it’s really well done. love this one a lot <3

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

this one is just extremely funny. local midwestern heterosexual man is forced to play relationship counselor to the dumbest gay people in existence because one of them wore his face

Dean Winchester Really Needs To Make Some Gay Friends by AreYouReady (2.2k)

“Like, I’m trying to think if I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. If I ever had a gay thing before you came along and just didn’t notice,” Dean said.

Cas suddenly looked down, and away from Dean. If Dean didn’t know better, he would swear Cas looked guilty.

“What is it, Cas?”

“You have had several… gay things before.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him.

“What? When? How come you know this better than I do?”

There was no way the answer to this question wasn’t funny as hell.

dean learning about gay ppl via the memories of dean smith...incredible.

tiny difference (between ending and starting to begin) by sunforgrace (2.4k)

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

It doesn’t happen often. Not when Dean’s around to tell, anyway. But often enough that he starts to notice.

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

Cas just doesn’t watch the sky. He watches the birds.

Chuck is gone, Cas is human, and the world is safe. In the quiet aftermath Dean and Castiel find each other again.

i really don’t have much to say abt this one it is just very good and they love each other so much

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

Dean's phone doesn't ring on the drive back to the Bunker, but that's okay. Because—well, maybe Cas lost his cell, what with getting shuffled back and forth between a cosmic void dimension and all. And anyway, Dean doesn't want this conversation to happen over the phone, he wants to—he wants to talk to Cas face-to-face. They should talk face-to-face.

Dean will tell him—

Dean doesn't know what he'll tell Cas. Dean is, in fact, terrified by how utterly and completely he does not know what he'll say to Cas.

cas being forced to face the consequences of sending the risky text that was despair <3

dean’s coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda by cowboydeanwinchester (4.1k)

Dean started working at a local auto repair shop in Lebanon, Kansas about a year ago. His coworkers don't know much about him. Except that he has a wife. Or maybe he doesn't. But he has a kid. Who is either a toddler or a high schooler. Who is either named Jack or Sammy. He also might have a best friend named Cas, but that also might be his wife.

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

obsessed w people not knowing a single fucking thing about dean because he talks so much and never explains anything. this fic is SO funny

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

the empty playing mind games on an awake cas bc it can’t put him to sleep is a thing i like a lot and this is very very good 

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

dean and cas STILL managing to not communicate with each other properly after the confession is so funny to me and this fic does it really well. also i like that a human being in the empty, where humans do NOT belong, had some like. consequences

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

“There you are,” the Empty says, in Dean’s voice. It’s cold, like Dean’s eyes are cold, his expression set in contempt. It’s the expression Cas feared, he realizes, all the times he thought about saying it. Revulsion. It makes him feel sick in the way that goes beyond physical, here where there is nothing physical left.

The moment before it happened had been so sweet it covered up all the hurt. For years, Cas had been holding back those words, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying them. And now he had said it, and he knew that it was good, knew that it was worth it. But on the other side there is only this.

--

In the Empty, Cas dreams of his regrets, until someone comes looking for him.

one of thee best dean rescues cas from the empty fics out there i love the way his memories are written i love how many of them were ones that this fic came up with to give me new things to have brainworms over instead of just making me more fixated on He Watched Him Rake Leaves than i already am

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

It's been four years since Dean saved Cas from the Empty and confessed his feelings in return, and in their Vermont lakehouse, the retired couple is now learning how to heal. One morning, Dean gives Cas a haircut.

(A character study of Castiel.)

perfect fic perfect fic no notes no complaints they love each other so much and now dean is giving cas a haircut and they’re spending the day together. god.

and every time we kiss, i swear i can fly by knameless (14k)

Every time, Dean tells himself it’s the last.

--

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

a just boy best friends kiss for every season <3 mwah

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

'a prayer for which no words exist' // richard siken

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

mediawhore i am in LOVE with you oh my god this fic. this fic. dean taking care of cas after rescuing him dean wrapping cas in a blanket oh my GOD

swimming with the fish pond fish by februyuri (17k)

Some time between Dean bleeding out on a makeshift hook in a barn in Ohio and Sam making marshmallows on his funeral pyre, Dean was brought back to life. By Castiel. Again. Dean agreed to it if only to give Jack time to work out the glitches up top. So, now Dean’s back in the land of the living and things are ... actually good, for once.

Or, as good as they can be when demons are attacking Earth, Dean’s failing to get over why he died in the first place, and Cas is suddenly, inexplicably taking every opportunity to casually tell Dean that he loves him.

this is a wip! but it is so good and so worth the read i love it a lot and am very excited for the last chapter. it IS pretty heavy though dean has a LOT to work through

looking like a true survivor (feeling like a little kid) by courfeyrac (20k)

"Jack’s a clever kid—has been ever since he was born, maybe even before that—but Dean’s pretty sure he hasn’t figured out where they’re going yet. And Dean’s… Dean’s excited about it. He remembers planning surprises for Sammy when they were little—saving up quarters and sneaking off to the arcade the year he turned seven, or slipping a book Dean had seen Sammy admiring into his jacket before sprinting out of the store the year he turned twelve. There was only so much Dean could give him back then, hindered by lack of finances and transportation and a father who paid attention. Now, though, Dean’s got a wallet full of cash, a tank full of gas, and the freedom to give his kid the kind of birthday he deserves."

Or, it's Jack's fourth birthday, and the kid wants to go to Build-A-Bear.

EVERYONE READ THIS RIGHT NOW. that is not a request this fic undid me. oh my god. oh my god. they’re a family and they’re going to build a bear and they love each other. oh my god. also no it isn’t a baby jack fic he is 4 and he is also alcal

what’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles (27k)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

"But have you ever just met someone and maybe it wasn't from the first moment, maybe it was after all these other moments that meant more than you ever expected them to, and it seems like your soul just—just—" Kaia makes a helpless gesture with her hands, pushing out, and she breathes out loudly. "Like it can finally exhale. And that person isn't guaranteed to make you happy, but they're—they're important. You just know it, you can't even escape it, you can't let them go. Ever met someone like that, Dean?"

"I—" Dean halts, his mouth hanging open. He's looking at Kaia, who's looking at him, and his heart is fluttering in his throat like a caged bird aching to soar again. His mind threatens to spiral out of control, but he focuses, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Um. I—yeah, I have."

deancas AND dreamhunter we love to see it also dean DOES smoke weed with kaia and apologizes for pulling a gun on her what more could you want in a fic

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

Dean did a lot of thinking about when and how he would get Cas back. Months of it, actually, stretching into a year, because while Sam and Eileen were settling into their new lives, Dean was stuck. He was stuck in a faraway corner of the bunker, dark and empty and hollow, ringing with the sound of a vibrating phone.

So when he falls to his knees in that same room, exhausted, hurting, breathless, and he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas, he realizes that he doesn't have a single clue about what to do now. Getting Cas out had been easy--actually, it'd been the opposite of that--but the planning of it, the methodical desperation of one attempt after the other had been a familiar rhythm. It'd been soothing almost, solid, something to focus on that wasn't Cas's eyes, watery and jubilant in a way Dean hadn't ever seen that up close on anyone, let alone Cas.

And now Cas is pulling him to his feet, and Dean's stumbling, and he instinctually grabs Cas's arm, and his hand lights up with a fire that he isn't prepared for.

"Hello, Dean."

oh post despair lack of communication....oh dean refusing to work through his feelings...this fic is incredible i love it everyone who enjoys dean doing everything in his power to avoid talking about feelings up to and including having sex with the guy who’s in love with him multiple times should read this

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment.

SOBSICLES TATTOO FIC MY BELOVED. dean grieving and getting tattoos and it turns into tattoo therapy. im SO in love with mitzi it’s insane. requires some suspension of disbelief for how long a tattoo takes but it’s an incredible fic and an unparalleled experience. sobsicles does not miss

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

SUPER cool concept i liked this a lot i’m pretty sure everyone’s read it already but just in case someone hasn’t you absolutely should

oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith by sobsicles (62k)

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't.

~~~

"You don't understand," Dean whispers, exhaling shakily. "I know you don't, because even I don't. The instant you were gone, I wanted you back. Cas, I wanted you back. I wanted—I wanted—"

Cas stares at him, searching his face. After a moment, his own face falls slack, eyes widening just so. "Oh," he breathes out.

Dean wants to be furious that Cas has figured it out before he has—whatever it is—but he's not even that surprised. Cas knows him too well, always has, even more than Dean knows himself. He's been kicking Dean in the goddamn teeth with how deeply he understands him, even about the things Dean doesn't, ever since they first met. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that's what Cas had said. All bundled up in impossibilities and power, this being that looked at Dean Winchester and knew every single inch of him, as if he had a right to each part.

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

the ONLY heaven fic. i do not read heaven fics bc i refuse to budge in my finale denialism i refuse to read fic where it is accepted that dean dies. i was hesitant to read this but god im glad i did it was so good. literally the best possible outcome of dean dying

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

“If I’d actually been born human, would I have gotten sick like everyone else? Would I be running around gnawing on the neighbors?” Castiel tilts his head up and even from here Dean can see the black ring of his pupils, wide and dark as dead stars. He’s high as fuck and he’s been loading the guns for forty-five minutes. He stares into the space where Dean is. He smiles and shows his teeth. “Maybe you’d have already put a bullet in my head.”

"This is why you don’t lead storytime anymore," Dean says. "This kind of shit."

endverse last night on earth fics are something that can be so personal actually. god

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

The very last song is the Song of Solomon, and Castiel sings it only for Dean. Set in "The End."

this is like. pre endverse and the tone is so like. wistful? is the best word ive got? it’s gorgeous i love it but fair warning there is graphic description of like. viscera and infected wounds

to think that we could stay the same by cipherwriter (6.5k)

cas has all he needs; himself, his creation, and enough power to continue this cycle for a long time. he's fine. dean wants to take care of him anyway.

oh my GOD this one is good it’s based off the thing of how originally endverse cas was supposed to be just sitting in a room killing and resurrecting the same cockroach over and over. very bittersweet at some points i love it a lot, do not read it if youre looking for something happy though lmao

the first church at the end of the world by withbloodstainedclothingon (11k)

The angels don’t eat the brain. Only Croats do that.

this one is fucked but it’s incredible it contains very heavy and violent subject matter and cas is an Actual cult leader he doesn’t just have orgies it is SO well done and i had a great time reading it i recommend it very highly if the warnings sound like something you can stomach

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1.1 million. i know. yes it’s a wip)

There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.

The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

PLEASE. i know the length is intimidating i KNOW it’s a very long fic but please. please read down to agincourt i am begging you. head in my HANDS this series is incredible.

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

look man it’s bendingsignpost okay. it’s bendingsignpost it’s good and it’s sweet and you should read it

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

do you ever pretend to be a jehovahs witness for months to hang out with the guy you like because you fucked up asking him out? yeah.

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

Dean is three years sober when Cas comes back into town.

~~~

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dean, once again, has to swallow the urge to offer to swallow something else. It's very hard to resist the gut-wrenching pull of want that hooks in his chest whenever he looks at Cas. And to think, he used to have him, used to be able to act on that want.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

Well, there's no point in kicking himself three years later for shit he can't change. He'll just sit right here and pretend that his fingers aren't twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. He can't do that anymore, and it's his own damn fault.

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

Dean huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah. Eventful."

this fic hit me SO hard emotionally oh my god. don’t have much to say bc most of my thoughts on this fic are very personal but my god read this please

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

this one is SO fun. dating the food critic who called your garlic bread closeted and lying about your career because you’re embarrassed and you want to redeem your food in his eyes but then you fall in love with him

Non Destiel Centric

gender? you mean that thing i have that pisses people off? by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie) (946 words)

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want? 

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god. 

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

[melzula]

Refined Taste

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: an anon requested some more Iroh and Princess content so I delivered hehe

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The soft whistle of the boiling tea pot is a welcomed sound that brings you a great sense of peace and comfort as you work in the kitchen of the Jasmine Dragon. Few customers occupy the shop as they sit and chat over cups of tea and mini cakes— a limited time only delicacy curtesy of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe— and with a lull in the crowd after a very busy day at work, you’re happy to spend your free time chatting away with Iroh.

Today marked the fourth day of Zuko’s much needed slumber, so while you waited for him to wake you spent your time revisiting old friends and places in Ba Sing Se. You said hello to Miss Tai and bought three new dresses to help support her small business, you went out for a pleasant lunch date with Jin, and, something you were admittedly embarrassed about doing, you spent your evenings wistfully gazing out your window in hopes of spotting the Blue Spirit. It was odd being back in the place that held some of your happiest and some of your darkest memories, but you loved it all the same. During the day you made sure to check on Zuko as he slept, and when your presence was no longer needed you made yourself useful by helping Iroh run the Jasmine Dragon.

The events that had occurred in Yu Dao had almost been disastrous, but with the help of Katara and the residents of the colony Aang was finally able to see that Zuko had been right all along. You stayed on the sidelines just as you had told Zuko you would, it wasn’t your place to interfere, but now that things had settled and King Kue was willing to negotiate you would be attending the meeting as a representative for the South and to offer any aid you could. However, such a council could not take place until Zuko awoke, and so you found yourself in the company of Uncle Iroh.

“I don’t even want to imagine what my nephew’s life would be like without your courage and support,” Iroh says over the boiling water. “Thank you again for bringing him to me, y/n. Spirits know he wouldn’t have come on his own, he’s too stubborn.”

“Well, I did have some help from Aang,” you admit with a quiet laugh, “but you don’t need to thank me. I love Zuko, and I’ll always look out for his best interests.”

“So you’ve proven time and time again. He is lucky to have you, you know. Very lucky.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you smile, gazing down bashfully at the sleeves of your dress. “But Zuko’s also lucky to have you.”

“He is lucky to have both of us. I mean, we are an excellent team,” Iroh says with a wink. Your shared laughter quiets at the sound of careful footsteps making their way into the room, and you feel your heart swell with love and adoration at the sight of a sleepy Zuko standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up!”

“Hi sleepyhead,” you say with a smile, rising from your seat to meet him halfway. Zuko is grateful for your touch as you rest a hand upon his cheek and press your lips against his own in a delicate kiss. You taste of honey and ginger, your intoxicating scent of fire lilies invading his senses, and though Zuko wishes he could kiss you with fervency, he settles for one last lingering kiss before finally parting from you; making out in front of his Uncle is something he’d rather not do, so he composes himself.

“How are you feeling?” Iroh asks, watching with an amused smile on his face as you and Zuko immediately cling to each other. Your arms wind around one another and hold each other close, and the love you share is enough to warm the old man’s heart. Yes, Zuko is in very good hands.

“Better,” Zuko notes faintly, “but tired.”

“I’ll make you a nice cup of green tea to wake you up a bit,” the man says as he immediately gets to work.

“Let’s go sit down,” you suggest, taking Zuko’s hand and guiding him towards one of the empty tables in the shop. He seats himself with a yawn and smiles gratefully as you take off your warm shawl and drape it over his shoulders before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Hungry? There’s still some mini cakes left over.”

“Are there any strawberry cakes?” He asks with a meek smile.

“But of course! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t make my boyfriend his favorite kind of mini cakes? I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Zuko calls after your retreating form, hearts in his eyes as he watches you disappear behind the curtains. Would it be selfish of him to ask you to be his Fire Lady right now?

Iroh leaves the kitchen with a pot of tea just as you walk in to fetch Zuko his cake. You make sure to grab the one with the most strawberries and extra frosting, the way he likes it, and set it neatly onto a plate before returning to your beloved. Aang is now seated across from him, and so you say nothing as you place his food before him and sit down beside Zuko.

“—Since Roku’s my past life, in a way you’re my family, Zuko. And no matter how hard I’ve tried, I’ve never been able to detach myself from those sorts of bonds,” Aang laments. “It’s a flaw, I know, but it’s one I’ve decided to accept, for this life at least.”

“You’re not the one who’s flawed, Aang,” Zuko sighs. “Why can’t the struggle get easier for me? Even just a little? Sometimes I wonder how long I’ll last.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze when the confession leave his lips, but the way in which Zuko reaches over and tightly grabs hold of your hand is enough. Your heart breaks at his words and you desperately wish you could ease his pain and worries, but you know that being here by his side is enough for now. And you’ll be by his side whenever he needs you to be.

“You know, in that dream, a woman stood with us on that mountaintop watching from the shadows. I think she was my mother...”

“Sometimes, dreams are the way a person’s spirit reveals the answer to his own problems,” Iroh notes wisely. Then, with a humorous smile on his face, “but, then again, sometimes they are just the result of eating spicy food before going to bed.”

“Maybe finding my mother would connect me to a part of my heritage that isn’t so murky and confusing,” Zuko notes thoughtfully. “Maybe then I’d finally find peace. I’ve never told anyone this, but right after I became Fire Lord I sent out search party after search party looking for her. I even hired June and her shirshu. They all came back empty handed. What can I do now that I haven already tried?”

“It’s a new world, Zuko. You need to take some new risks,” Aang says wisely.

“We all do,” you agree, your mind already beginning to drift elsewhere as you calculate how long you can stay away from home without being missed too much.

“Speaking of risks,” Iroh cuts in with a smile as he presents three glass of odd looking to your trio, “why don’t you all try this brand-new beverage I invented?”

“What is it?” You ask curiously, taking the glass Zuko hands to you and swirling the odd looking balls at the bottom of it with your straw.

“Well first, I cook tapioca balls until they’re soft and tender. Then I put them in the tea, where they sit like little pearl-sized snacks at the bottom of each cup! Add a little milk and— ta-da!— a revolution in tea is born!”

Zuko and Aang share uneasy glances with each other before slowly taking sips from their glasses only to immediately cringe the moment the tapioca balls hit their their tongues.

“What is that trying to sneak into my mouth?!” Zuko exclaims after promptly spitting out the pearls.

“Wow,” Aang chuckles nervously, “I’ve never had tea that’s quite so... chewy.”

“It seems I am a man ahead of my time,” Iroh says sadly, his eyes casted downward to the floor. However, the noisy sound of a straw directs all attention towards the smiling Princess and interrupts his bout of sadness. Oblivious to the gazes of your friends set upon you, you happily suck the last of your tea from the glass until it’s completely empty. It’s only once your drink is gone do you finally notice the strange looks sent your way by Zuko and Aang.

“What?” You retort with furrowed brows. “It’s really good.”

“Finally, someone with taste!” Iroh exclaims happily at your praise. “It appears I am a revolutionary after all.”

“You actually like that stuff?” Zuko says flabbergasted.

“It’s just tea, but different,” you shrug, grinning when Zuko hands you his leftover drink to finish for him. “However, the only thing I would add is some ice. It tastes better cold.”

“Genius!” The tea maker compliments, watching in awe as you bend ice cubes of your own to plop into the glass. “Y/n, you must come to the Jasmine Dragon more often, I could use your refined taste.”

“‘Refined’ is a strong word,” Zuko murmurs only for you to elbow his side. “Ow! What did I say?”

“I’d be happy to, Uncle,” you say with a sweet smile.

“I think I know who the new favorite is,” Aang jokes only for Zuko to roll his eyes. However, he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as he watches you and his Uncle interact together. It was safe to say you hadn’t made a good impression on his sister or his father, but the only thing Zuko really cared about was his Uncle, and from what he could see the two of you were like peas in a pod. Faintly, Zuko wondered if you would be the same way with his mother.

“What are you thinking about?” You whisper to the Fire Lord, immediately taking notice of his far off look.

“About you,” Zuko admits to your surprise, “and how much I love you. And how I’m really glad you’re here.”

Heat spreads its way across your face and you smile bashfully at his profession, resting your head upon his shoulder as you converse with Aang. Though Zuko hates to keep you away from home longer than you need to be, he knows he’ll need your help with something else. But before he can ask you, there’s one person he still needs to see before he can begin his next journey.

He needs to talk to Azula.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @sirkekselord @protect-remus @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @draqondance @taeeemin @user12345321 @just--artemis--with--ghost @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @neighborhoodpansexualdisaster @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

Fantasy ROTTMNT Fanfiction:Do Not Go Gentle:Prolouge

Summary: We were beaten by Draxum, the   Unbreakable Baron. He took our Donnie from us. Now there’s nothing in the Hidden Kingdom that will stop us from getting him back. Sequel to the Broken Butterfly

Characters: Leo, Donnie, Raph, Mikey

Rating: Currently E

  Overall: T (for later chapters] (note I’ll be sure to rate each chapter individually and give each one trigger warnings pertaining to that chapter for people who want to read the story but want to avoid the angst and violence coming up )

Pairings: Oh? You want to read the story and ship everything  including the trees? Go right ahead you just have to get past my ““ship guard” *points to dragon lying in front of entrance to story wearing a bib that says ““shippers only diet”

Take a step back, before Draxum stole Donnie from his brothers, before their adventure began. Before their adventure, after all everything has a beginning

                                                         (#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Prince Leonardo Pumpington Cuddle Wuddle Baby the Twenty-Fifth awoke as he always does. With a minor headache and more tired than when he laid down twelve hours ago despite sleeping on a triple sized king bed under the fluffiest blankets made from only the finest endangered species. He pushes up his eye mask and waves off the Choir standing by his side that acted as his personal alarm before sinking once again into his soft warm bed. Staring at the ceiling and mural of himself winking. Leo made sure to wink back with finger guns, as was his usual morning ritual. He was content to lay in bed for the rest of the day (which wouldn’t be unusual) when the large ornate double doors swung open. A familiar octopus stepped in with a wide smile but eyes that were forever nervous ,”Go-good Morning my Prince! Are you ready to wake up? Where would you like your breakfast?”

The prince stretched his overly privileged arms. He could always have breakfast in bed again, that thought was always appealing, “I‘ll eat in Dining Hall Three today.” He claps his hands together loudly. Two of the more muscular choir members quickly moved lift him out of bed, holding him over their heads like a religious object and carry him out of the room. The hallways are covered in beautiful rare oil paintings, but none of them held his attention until they pass by a large mirror. “Holdup,” he says waving his hand, the two attendants back up to the mirror again. Leo made sure to give his reflected self the self-appointed wink before snapping his fingers at an attendant who had doted alongside, “You go get my make up team and my manicure team. I refuse to look anything less than spectacular.”

“Yes of course my prince.” She she curtseys before hurrying off.  The attendants carrying him finally arrived in the large dining hall with a table longer than most roads. He was lowered onto a soft throne-like dining room chair before he clapped his hands together and another attendant, with a tray with an ornate tea pot came over with several ornate china teacups on the tray to see which one he’d want to go with his breakfast. He sipped one, “Too cold” he tosses the cup over his shoulder where it shatters on the ground. “Too hot” he tosses that one. “Too sour.” He tosses another, ”Too perfect...” he tosses again before letting out a large irritated sigh. “Go try again,” he snaps as that attendant runs off as well (trying their best not to step on broken pieces of fine china).

The prince leans back in his seat before a chef hustles out with a tray. “For you, your excellence!” he says lifting the lid off the tray and sets it in front of him, despite his already irritated attitude, he can’t help but smile at the delicious selection, the chef bows. ”Caviar Benedict, with a maple syrup glaze, a side of cinnamon churro asparagus and a glass of,” he sighs, “le Choccy Milk.”

“Aw perfect!” Leo waves off the tired chef.  It’s not long after he’s finally given a good pot of tea and he’s leaning back in his seat. He has two attendants giving him a manicure, with a third applying his make-up and a fourth  lifting his tea to his mouth while a fifth one is leaning precariously around everyone else to try cut his food for him. “Taki!” he snaps to the octopus servant, “I have a headache so clear my schedule.”

‘I-oh-uh.” Taki let out a tremble. “My Prince what about your Aetherwave show? You told your fans you would take a dive into a pool of diamonds today.”

Leo scoffed. “And I told you my diamonds are dirty, throw them out and buy me new ones,” he says, turning his head towards an attendant who snapped his fan open and began to fan him off, “Did you replace my ring yet?”

“You mean the one of a kind diamond sapphire ring made for you by the master craftsman Jair-Red? I-I was trying to tell you that he recently passed-“

The Prince snaps his head in Taki’s direction with such intensity the octopus squeaks out in fear “Then get the necromancer and tell her to make him make me a new one.” He thought for a moment to make sure he had said that right. “And make sure this one is clean. Unlike that last one,” he scoffs as he remembers how disgusted he was when he found that smudge on his seventy third favorite ring. So disgusted in fact he had wasted no time in yanking it off and throwing it out the nearest window.

“Um, yes my Prince, I’m sure NecroNancy won’t mind coming into work on her birthday.” Ending in a tone that implied NecroNancy would not only mind coming into work but would also be very cross about it.

Leo let out a loud scoff, his throat was actually starting to hurt from making that noise so much “That’s not my problem is it!?” he demands as though daring Taki to imply otherwise.

“Yes, right, sorry My Prince.” Taki moves down his list. “Um, that was all you really had. Other than your concert tonight-“

Leo levels the octopus with a angry look, waving off the attendant who had just finished his eyeliner. “ I just told you cancel everything.”

“No-now I would your majesty.” Taki avoids his burning yellow eyes by looking at his paper, “Your mother was the one who requested the concert. And-“ the octopus gulps,” I do not think you want to disappoint her, do you?”

Leo’s hand bumps lightly against his teacup. Though barely noticeable to anyone else, Leo was painfully aware of his mistake. He flexes his trembling hand before regaining his composure, “Well if Mummy wants it then who am I to say no. I don’t suppose she’ll be at this one either?” he asks.

“No, My Prince, I'm sorry.”

Leo hides his disappointment by inspecting his new manicure, looking for a flaw to point out. Unfortunately, they were done to perfection. With a surge of irritation, he claps his hands together. “Leave me be!” he commands, “Go get my preparations ready.”

The staff bowed as they left, bumping into each-other as they hurried away to do their assigned tasks. When they were gone from sight, Leo sighed and leaned back as much as he could in his high back seat with a cup of tea in his hand before drinking from it.

He had gone three years without seeing his mother

What was another three to her?

                                                               (#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Leo spent the rest of the day in preparation for his concert relaxing in a gold water bath which took all the tension out of his body. Investing all that money to invent gold water was the best small fortune he had ever spent, (even if it was highly toxic to drink). A day of pampering and relaxation nearly killed off his sour mood. But before he knew it, while being fed diamond-grade gold grapes, Taki was reminding him of his recital.

He knew his mother had probably already picked out a recital outfit for him, but until then at least  he had a choice in what he would wear to the event. And for him it was his favorite aqua formal coat over a his white button up shirt and two toned pants with spats. He needed help from Jabot to put on his ruffle tie and pendant but other then that he was fine. The attendants loaded up any excess jewelry he would need between the recital and the parties afterwards.

Unfortunately, the platinum diamond carriage was being re-diamonded so he was stuck with the gold diamond studded carriage. He tapped his foot boredly  before flipping out his mystic mirror, twist a flash, he knew it was connected to the Aetherwave, which was at its strongest at the castles. “Hello my fibbly fabulous subjects, it’s your beloved and beautiful Prince, Leonardo Snuggly Wuggly the Twenty-Fifth, here to tell you of an upcoming recital featuring,” Leo made sure to tilt his head to catch the mystic sun on his cheek, “Yours truly, I hope you can all make it, though I doubt it. I’ll be sure to pay someone to describe it in full detail when I return.” Leo blew a kiss at the mirror before hanging up.

“Um,” Taki tapped his tentacles together. “My prince, please we talked about you broadcasting just before you leave. It's very dangerous you don’t want your enemies –“

Leo squeezes his eyes shut snapping his fan shut with such intensity that it interrupts Taki with a small squeak as though he understood how close he was to getting on the Princes last nerve. Leo turns to Taki with a large smile. “Taki, Taki, it’s Taki right? I’ve known you foorrrr…” Leo trails off in a way that leads to Taki to add, “E-ever since Big Mama brought you home.” His nervous face half hidden behind his clipboard as though it could somehow protect him.

“Right, right. A while, and maybe in this time I may have made you feel.” Leo danced his fan as though trying to conjure the word he was thinking of, “Comfortable? So as a Pirnce, it's my job to remind you.” He taps his fan on Taki’s forehead, “What does it mean to be a prince?”

“It-it means you’re one of a kind.” Taki stutters, “a a gift.” Leo gestures for him to continue, “a superbly burbly light from the stars.”

“That’s RIGHT Taki, very good.” Leo clapped his hands like one would clap at a dog on its hind legs, “I’m a a gift, you’re lucky enough to be able to be graced in my presence every day. And you.” Again, Leo’s fan taps him between the eyes, this time with enough force to make Taki step back with a tremble, “Well, there are millions like you. So, while I'm irreplaceable, that means there are millions of yokai who could do your job in your sleep, so you are….” Leo again trails off, gesturing for him to continue. Taki’s eyes filled with a sadness that Leo barely notices, as the octopus lowered his tear-filled eyes, “replaceable.”

“Very good Taki! Such a smart man!” with a final tap of his fan on Taki’s head, Leo climbed up into the carriage, a guard pulled the door open for him. He gave finger guns to the guards who sat in the drivers spot and on the back. Leo was about to swing in when he saw a massive brown dog sitting across from his would be spot.  Ugh,” he groaned, “Gus what are you doing?”

“Heya Prince!” Gus said happily, either oblivious to Leo’s disgust or just not caring. “Big Queen sent me here as extra muscle but you’re cool with that, right bro? Course you are!” The dog tore open a tin of bone shaped cookies he had brought along and began to tear into them without any dignity or manners. Leo scrunched up his beak before pulling himself in. Snapping open his fan to try and get the smell of “peasant” off him.

It wasn’t his fault they were all poor.

                                                                (#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Thanks to the best magic available the inside of the carriage kept the interior at a perfect temperature, judging by the shivering peasants working out in the fields, but thankfully that’s what curtains were for. Leo spent most of the journey looking through the dance recital choreography his mother had picked out for him. Why she bothered to do that he didn’t know. Tapping his foot in rhythm and trying to visualize what illusion would go best with the moves. He’d have a little time to practice before the event but he often did his best work on the fly. So eventually he gave up. At that point there was a heavy shadow against the curtain telling him they were passing a forest now. Leo was half asleep when the smooth ride was interrupted by a jarring hit and they came to a stop. He grabs the door to keep from flying forward as his anger swells back. “What is the glimbering meaning of this?!” he demands scooting towards the window. ”I swear if you make me late I'm throwing you all into the Battle-“  he goes to throw the curtain open when suddenly something heavy slams against the door. Leo drew back in shock as the carriage rocks heavily. He grabs at the framework to keep from falling on the ground. Before he could say anything, Gus was scrambling for the door. ”Don’t worry, your highness!  I’ll protect-“ But a moment later the door was thrown open and his bodyguard suddenly was yanked from view and thrown aside.

A cry of surprise escapes Leo, he scrambles for the door he was presses against and after a few frantic seconds manages to get the door open and fall out the other side just as he felt a hand grab at the back of his shirt. The prince rolls on the ground for a moment, surrounded by the sounds of combat and shouts. The neat clean purple guard of the Matriatch locked in a struggle against several larger dirty looking thugs that Leo could only assume were bandits when one of them turns and points at him, “There’s the Prince!”

No!

Kidnappers.

For a moment Leo hoped they were referring to another devilishly handsome prince when all eyes fell on him. Leo looks to his fallen guards in hopes that are just pretending to be horribly injured but judging by the pained groan of one of them lets out when one of the kidnappers steps over him he knows it’s a pipe dream. “Thanks for the Aetherwave video, kid,” one of the bandits with a crooked jaw says. “We had just about given up on getting you before you posted that. Now how about you be a good boy and don’t put up a fight.”

Leo would like to think he would have been brave if he had ever been in a life or death situation, but his trembling body betrays that dream as well.  But if he knows how to do anything, its talk. He musters a chuckle that he hopes is more humor then fear. ”Really? You geniuses thought coming after me was a good idea?” He puts on a wide grin as easy as a mask, “I am Prince Leonardo Snuggly Wubbly Baby the Twenty-fifth and I –“

“Um.” One of the bands looks off to his friends in confusion. “Wait that’s your name? For real? That’s just tragic.”

Despite himself, when the bandits start off laughing (he’s even sure he can hear one of the guards chuckling weakly into the ground) he blushes angrily, “Excuse me, you are criminals! I don’t except any of you to crimdididly criminals to understand a name of high society. Or someone of my power.” He snaps his fan out hard which suddenly fills the air with bright sparks with such intensity one of the bandits stumbles back in shock. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied at their awe and fear. “I am a master Mystician. I have trained with warlocks and wizards whose very power could turn the world inside out.  And you honestly think you have any chance of challenging me!?” He threw his free hand upward as a light explodes from his fingertips licking the air like a mighty firework that makes the bandits stumble back in shock in order not to be touched by the magic.

They are so enamored by the display, it takes them a moment to notice that Leo is, in fact, running away as fast as he can in a manner that not only raised the question if he had ever run a day in his life or even walked (like a deer that not only just realized they had legs but were on backwards).

Leo’s hands fumble for his panic broach at his throat while looking at the bandits who were just noticing his disappearance when his graceful toe caught on a large root and sent him hard onto the ground. The broach flying from his fingertips and sinking into a mud puddle. “Who put all this nature here?!” he shrieks in panic. He can already hear the bandits running after him, Leo hurries to his feet and turns towards where he had come from. Despite his panic he summons bright silver lights to his finger tips that he swipes through the air, creating a crystal web across the trees in the path. But not wanting to wait to see how long they would last Leo ran again, before he hears the crystal shatter behind him and sends. Before he can react a rock hits him hard in the shell, knocking him forward snd rolling across the hard ground, his only saving grace was the hard tree in front of him that stops him but sends pain shooting down his shoulder, causing him to cry out and hold the injured appendage. He turns to press his shell against the tree as the bandits are now far too close to his liking.

“You know what, your highness?” The square chinned bandit says. “That was a good try. Probably not the best escape attempt I’ve ever seen but definately the funniest.” The other bandits chuckle around him as he raises up the muddy remains of Leo’s Panic Pendant. “Maybe if you were actually as great as you think you are, then you might have stood a chance.”  His rough hands crushes Leo’s only hope before dropping the pieces to the ground and stepping froward, reaching towards him with the same sinfully dirty hand.

Leo turns his head away, anything to spare him the sight of the hand coming closer to grabbing him-

Something whistles through the air followed by the sound of impact and something hitting the ground hard.  Leo lowers his arm in time to see something jump over his head and land hard against the bandit in front of him with both feet, sending the Yokai flying. The interloper ducks underneath a bandit directly to his front that tries to punch him and plants his staff hard in the ground, vaulting over and sending a bandit flying back into a tree. The interloper swung his staff up into a defensive position. The impenetrable shadow of his raised dark plum hood stole his features from Leo sending a shiver down his shell , but he could assume that when he jabbed his staff at the  bandits it was a warning to go on. One of the bandits go to grab the leader when the interloper aims his staff at the unconscious bandit leader. Before he uses his toe to kick his money pouch up into his hands, before nodding at him. The bandits grab their leader by the ankles and run off into the forest after his friends.  After that, the interloper opened up the drawstring pouch and began to poke around inside.

It took Leo a moment to realize his life was no longer in danger, and that relief was swapped by a rage, “What took you so long?! I thought that Uncles Rangers were the best warriors in the kingdom,” he snaps. The interloper head tipped in his direction for a moment before going back to count the money in his bag. It takes Leo a moment to realize he’s being ignored and swells up his chest as he stomps in the interloper’s direction, “Don’t you ignore me! I thought I was dimbly done for!!! I am the Prince; my safety is your only priority.”

For the first time since he arrived, the interloper looked fully in his direction, his face cast in shadow by   his hood as though finally acknowledging his presence. He almost seems frozen at the sight of him, a fact Leo took to mean he understood his failings. “Thats right, when we get back to the castle I'm going to make sure you are thrown in a dungeon-“ Leo didn’t have a chance to finish his threat before the hooked staff appeared again and caught him around the ankle.

The moment his head hit the ground his world went black.

                                                              (#)(#)\/(#)(#)

It feels like a life time before Leo opens his eyes again and when he does he’s welcomed by a splitting headache. He instinctually tries to rub his head only to find his arms have been bound with his wrists behind him. Not painfully but it is enough to make him glare at the figure sitting against a tree several feet in font of him. Now Leo can see this figure lacks the fine, if plain, tunic of a Ranger. He’s wearing poor peasant clothing that seems to hang off him, wrapped in a dark plum cloak, the only indication of his skin came from his bare two-toed green feet and fingerless gloves. He’s watching Leo from his spot with his arms over his chest. If Leo hadn’t known better, he would have thought that he had fallen asleep. Except, even though Leo can't see his face, he feel his eyes on him which only adds to his anger and irruption. He can’t actually tell how much time has passed only that they are not in the same clearing as they had been a moment ago but a more secluded spot, where the mushroom trees where much closer together.  “Excuse me?!” he snaps. ”What is the meaning of this?!” he demands. “You're not a ranger, are you?! You’re just some- some, weirdo living in the woods huh?!? Huh!? Do you want a ransom too!!??” he demands. A part of him is almost desperate for a response at his point.

“I don’t like to waste my words.”

Leo blinks. He had thought the figure might have been close to his age, but to hear his actual voice still shocks him. The thief falls silent again, drinking from a tin cup that smells like cheap old coffee that Leo can smell from here.  The thief stands up and-spins his staff around his hand again lazily. “The truth is, I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. Ransoming you out won't do me any good, I'd live the rest of my life with a target on my back. Which isn’t ideal. I could rob you I guess, but I'm not sure I want it brother myself with stuff that smells so flowery. But that’s if I wanted to be professional” The thief dumps his cup out by his side. “I could just take everything you have and dump you in the deepest darkest part to the woods.“

At first Leo wonders if it's possible to have a heart attack from fear alone.  But at the moment his heart seems determined to try. Kidnappers were one thing; he had been warned about them his whole life. But this person didn’t sound like they were all too interested int that. This sounded more like—

Leo blinks, his eyes going to the hooked staff that hasn’t left the thief’s side. Though the twisting hooked wood is nothing special to him, other than a dark gray handle at the end that seemed to summon the weapon, he sees a dark crystal hovering inside the hooked circle at the tip. The purple with a hint of pink is achingly familiar and the moment he recognizes he had owned it he can't’ help but let out a full-on laugh. It brings him no small amount of satisfaction to see the Thief look in his direction again. “I get it, you’re one of the orphans Mummy threw out before me,” he sneers. “Awwww you poor thing. Jealous that Mummy saw you for the worthless unlovable, pieces of trash you are? Is that it, little boy-“

The figure is in front of him in half a blink, lifting him up by the front and slamming him hard into the tree behind with such speed that Leo cries out in panic as dark pink eyes burn into him with such intensity Leo could feel the red hot rage about to be unleashed on him, “You know, you’re right?” the Thief says in a way that almost makes Leo think he’s sneering, “Since i’m  a no one.” He twists the shirt up tighter in his hands, “Then I got nothing to lose-“

Before Leo could see his life flash before his eyes, there's a flash of red energy and the Thief jumps away in in time to avoid a giant fist red of energy swiping at him. In the time it takes Leo to hit the ground, the Thief summersaults underneath another giant hand and snatches up his hooked staff and roll to his feet. A giant bulking figure jumps out from the tree line, sliding across the ground before coming to a stop.

“Comet Farts!” the Thief gasps.

Not that Leo could blame him, the figure now standing between him and the Thief was more muscular then any of his guards, a large snagle tooth hanging from he mouth and  with a thick  that would put a tree to shame, Leo had seen snapping turtles before but none that big. He was wrapped in a black cloak and grey traveling gear, his head is marked off by a red bandana that’s fixated on the Thief.  “In the name of Captain Jupiter James Guild, you are under-arrest for kidnapping and grand larceny and-“ The giant snapping turtle looks to his hand, Leo could just see a list of crimes the bounty hunter hand written up his arm, “And-and just a lot of other things-“ but the bandit had already turned and fled into the forest, “HEY!” The turtle shouts, “No, you're under arrest! That means stop running!” the giant runs after him, before calling, ”Mikey make sure the Prince is ok.”

“Don’t just lea-“ There’s a rustling to Leo’s right that makes him shriek out in surprise before, what could only be described as, another turtle slightly younger than himself pokes his head out to the bushes, “Don’t worry your highness! I’m a fan! Me and Raph are here to rescue you!” before climbing out of the bushes, revealing his dirty mud-covered body and old patchwork orange clothes.

Leo shrieks again.

This time for different reasons.

“No don’t you dare touch me! You’re filthy and you smell like a bird-“ There's another crashing sound, the thief almost crashes into Leo (who gave out his, what felt like, hundredth shriek and leapt out of the way.) The Thief hits the mushroom tree before falling into a crouch position. When he drags his hand across his face, Leo could see blood stain his sleeve.

The one who had called himself Raph stepped out of the forest, cracking his neck from side to side. “I’m sorry I hit you. I don’t want to fight some kid,” he starts, “If you turn yourself in maybe they’ll go easy on you-“

The Thief visibly grips his staff tighter, he reaches into his pocket and tosses a small brown bundle in the air that he smacks with his staff in Raph’s face which explodes into red dust. The bounty hunter cries out as he stumbled back, scrubbing at his face with his forearm before the Thief was on him jumping up and planting his feet hard against him like he had before with the bandit. Raph, though blinded, twists away and brings his elbow up to knock the Thief hard in the head.

The impact makes the Thief hit the ground before Raph’s foot found its place on his arm that held the hooked staff. The Thief squirmed trying to free him arm, “I’m trying to help you here. I was trained by the greatest hero of the Hidden-“

The hooked staff in the Thief’s trapped hand suddenly flashes and shrinks into the handle, with a limited room the Thief manages to toss it his other hand where it reforms and he swings hard, knocking Raph in the face.  The Thief rocks back to his feet. His closed stance shifting to a wide one as he swings his staff around, Raph’s arms came up and crossed over his face as red energy covers him again flaring under the hits as the Thief spins around and rains a few smacks on his sides before swinging his leg up with a side kick to the stomach. Blindly, Raph swings his arm around and knocks him hard in the head.

The Thief flew back hard against a mushroom tree, his hood fallen back to reveal a dark jade green complexion wrapped in a purple bandana, blood running from where his nose would be as he snarled angrily at the Bounty Hunter before jumping at him again.

The turtle that had been called Mikey let out a small whine, “Raph, the Prince won't let me untie him because he thinks I smell.”

Raph had somehow pinned the Thief around his chest, but judging by the strained look on his face he wasn’t going to keep it for long as the two struggle around. ”Don’t distract me, I'm working,” before pausing “And when was the last time you had a bath that wasn’t just you standing in the rain?”

Mikey opened his mouth to respond before lifting his arm and smelling his armpit, judging by the grimace on his face he had just answered his own question. Leo squirmed away from the filthy turtle, in fact he was so determined to get away from the filthy turtle that he didn’t see the Thief slam his head back against Raph’s face, forcing the bounty hunter to drop him and the two opposite turtles collapsing against the other.

Then.

A breath.

The one known as Raph ran forward with his hand held out probably to pull the Thief off him, but as he took a step closer a small wave pulsed from him. Like a gust of wind, ceasing the chaos and shouting and bringing silence. An invisible force catches him by the front of the chest and pulls him upward into the air, causing him to cry out in panic. He looks around and sees the same thing happening to those around them. Even the scattered leaves and stones are caught in the air as though reality in that moment had taken a break. Each of them caught in some sort of invisible suspension.  A heat started at the back of Leo’s eyes and burned forward like an inferno. He squeezes his eyes shut in order to try and stop it but his eyelids are forced open, revealing golden eyes with white flecks radiating from his eyes as the world suddenly turned white. He lashes his arms and legs out around him stupidly to try and grab something when he notices a person standing in front of him, outlined in a green flame with yellow eyes staring right at him, though there aren’t any real characteristics, Leo can tell it’s a human of sorts with a large pompadour. It reaches up to touch him but he can't’ help but flinch away, whether out of fear the fire would burn him or the stranger itself he doesn’t know. But then the figure tilts his head to the side as though saying ‘I understand’.

Before Leo could say anything, he’s not even sure he could in this state, the figure suddenly twists into itself and takes the shape of a five-petal lotus flower before burning away. Then he hears a man's voice behind him, as though something is whispering to him

“Come find me.”

As quick as it all starts, it ends. Leo hits the ground hard and gasps loudly, rubbing at his tear-filled eyes as he looks around him. Too shocked to yell, but he can tell he’s not the only one confused. Raph had already pulled himself up next to Mikey to check on him, who’s now rubbing ineffectively at  eyes streaming with tears. The Thief is several steps away, as though eh had thrown himself as far them as possible, and is checking his trembling hands as though making sure they weren’t about to explode on him. But after a few glances at each other, as though reassuring themselves they had all experienced the same thing. They had one question for each other:

“Who are you?”

Part 2=>>

[star-spangledstud]

PARADISE

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader 

Summary: The Avengers enjoy a hard-earned vacation.

Word Count: 3700-ish

Warnings: Fluff (None)

Blistering heat. Skin sticky from several layers of coconut-scented sunblock with built-in self-tanner, causing a dewy glow to set upon your bronzed, heated skin. A bright pink cocktail stood beside the tanning bed you were laying on, a slice of fresh lime and a tiny blue umbrella hanging off the side of the glass. Drops of condensation made their way down the length of the fishbowl shaped glass, collecting on the palm tree coaster it sat on. You sipped it every minute or so through a neon yellow plastic straw, allowing the icy drink to cool you down while the alcohol warmed the back of your throat as it went down.

You turned the page of your romance novel, green doe eyes covered by large black sunglasses following along the words written on the tattered paper. A glance up from your book to the pool area in front of you revealed toned bodies in brightly colored swimming trunks and skimpy bikinis sprawled everywhere. Natasha sat beside you on Wanda's sunbed. She'd braided her hair and was busy putting flowers in it. Fake daisies by the looks of it, made of cloth with little plastic stems. You smiled and took another sip, savoring the sour taste and slushy texture and took a mental note to order the same thing over dinner later. Then, you turned back to your book.

Steve loved summer. Perhaps it was the stark contrast provided by the sun's rays to the ice he was trapped in for so long or the scent of nature in bloom all around him that sparked his admiration for the season. He wasn't sure. All he knew is that he enjoyed the blistering heat and the breeze carrying the scent of fresh flowers across the resort.

His skin had become wrinkly from spending hours on end in the pool with the guys, but he was finally starting to win the game of volleyball against Sam and Thor, and Captain America did not like to lose. He'd tried to convince Tony and Bruce to join them but they were sitting in the shade, stacks of paper and two laptops covering the sunbeds around them. You smiled and shook your head at them, but didn't comment on their constant need to work, even though it was Tony's idea to take everyone away for a two-week paid trip to paradise in the first place. Maybe he just really loved showing off his money. You didn't care, because you were sipping on your fourth free cocktail.

Your eyes drifted back to the water glistening beneath the rays of the sun, to Steve, who was laughing so hard at something Peter said his hand went to his chest.

Steve felt your eyes on him as soon as you lowered your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose so you could watch him lose the game. He held his hand up to the guys, motioning for them to continue without him. Peter begged him to stay, knowing he could never win the game by himself, but Steve already waded to the edge of the pool. Instead of using the metal stairs, he gripped the edge of the pool and lifted himself out in a fluid motion. Water dripped from his torso and out of his shorts, leaving a trail of it on the marble tiles as he closed in on you.

He softly took a hold of your calves, lifting your legs and placing them into his lap so he could sit down on the sunbed. You placed your book on your chest, marveling at drops of water that ran down his milky white torso. That boy did not tan.

"Tired?" You teased, eyes drifting to Thor smashing the ball across the water.

"I can go all day, remember?" He replied, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Sore loser then," you retorted, "nothing wrong with admitting defeat."

"'S not in my genes, I'm afraid," he paused, "so, what' cha reading?"

Even after the sun had set behind the palm trees, the heat remained. The air was still heavy and humid by the time you woke up from your pre-dinner nap and the second you stepped out of your shower, your skin was sticky again. You'd already given up on washing your hair. It would just get greasy again.

It was nearly nine when all of you met up at the restaurant. Overlooking the beach, you had a perfect view of the waves that crashed upon the shore from your seat at the table. You ordered the same ridiculous cocktail and were sipping it quietly, listening to your teammates conversating. Shadows of the palm trees waving gently in the breeze cascaded across the candlelit tables, hypnotizing you for a moment.

Tony's laugh broke your trance and you smiled, not really having listened to the joke. He stood up, scraping his chair back across the cobblestone. His glass of white wine swirled when he rose and he used a fork to tap the side of his glass. Silence immediately fell over the table.

"A toast, to the most annoying yet best teammates a guy like me, could ever ask for," he grinned, "the only reason why I'm saying this is because I've been day-drinking. They make hella Pina Coladas here."

"We know," Natasha said, grinning widely, "we love you too, Tony."

Waiters circled around the tables that had been pushed together to accommodate all of you, plates filled with various kinds of gourmet dishes balancing on their arms and in their hands. You raised your glass, smiling while everyone else did the same.

You looked at Steve, who had taken a seat beside you. He'd traded his swim shorts for a pale blue button-up shirt of which he'd rolled up the sleeves. A shark-tooth necklace, courtesy of one of the salesmen down at the beach who just wouldn’t leave him alone, hung around his neck. It was perfectly visible through the undone buttons on his chest. His hair was fluffy and soft from being in the water all day. You could tell he hadn't tried to style it with gel.

You almost hated yourself for watching him, even from the corner of your eye. It was a habit that had crept into your system over the course of four months. A habit that resembled an addiction to drugs. It was just fun at first, but your constant need to have your eyes on Steve had turned into a necessity, into a way of life.

The two of you had always hit it off. He was the first person to introduce you to the rest of the team when you were initially hired and he had taken it upon himself to show you the ropes and guide your training after that. He made you feel comfortable in an environment filled with strong, confident people during a time in which you felt like a small fish in a big pond. He watched your back on missions and took you to the city on days off - although admittedly, he mostly brought you along for his own selfish reasons.

He forced you to take him to places like McDonald's and KFC, not because the food - although advertised as such - was finger-licking good, but because he'd missed out on the experience of greasy fast food when he was growing up in the previous century. He forced you to take him to BestBuy, not because he was in the market for a new smart-fridge, but because he needed you to explain the appliances that had been invented after he went into the ice without judging him for his continuous stream of questions. It wasn't until your throat was sore from all the talking that he would take you to a coffee shop so you could sit down and enjoy a hot beverage. Not Starbucks though. Way too crowded and the drinks were too complicated. What the hell was a Frappuccino, anyway?

It was during those days where you began to glance at him. Peaks, out of the corners of your eye when he was trying to figure out whether to order a Quarterpounder or a Big-Mac. Admiration for adjusting so quickly in a world so far away from his own, for accepting it. Glances turned into zoned-out stares that focused on his features until he'd wave his hand in front of your face and ask you what planet you were on. Your cheeks would heat up every time, a sight he loved - but would never admit - and you would stammer and make up a stupid excuse about being tired.

You hated the feeling of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach whenever he would brush his arm against yours during the movie nights, or when his knees would hit yours as you sat opposite each other in the coffee shop. You hated the lopsided smiles he gave you when he thought you weren't looking and hated how close he would stand to you in the kitchen when you were making breakfast, shirt off and sweatpants riding low on his perfectly sculpted hips.

You hated how you'd begun to develop a crush on Steve Rogers. It just crept up on you, silent and deadly like a black viper. It had wiggled its way into your heart and settled there, causing it to hammer skip every time you were near him. You wanted to punch yourself for acting like a lovesick puppy because you were sure it was a one-sided thing and yet even as you laid in bed at night with thoughts racing and images of Steve flashing before closed lids, you couldn't turn your fucking brain off long enough to think clearly.

You and Steve were friends. Not just friends, either, but best friends. You spent so much time together it made Tony gag. Natasha couldn't stop obsessing over the two of you, constantly trying to prove that you were secretly dating. Even Bruce caught wind of the closeness of your supposedly platonic relationship and when he caught the two of you in the common room late one night doubled over in hysterical laughter, piles of blankets and fluffy pillows surrounding you on the couch you were sitting on, even he was convinced there was more going on than you were letting on.

As you were sitting on a tropical island, surrounded by the people that you cared for the most, a part of you wished there was. How nice it would be to experience a vacation at a fancy resort in the tropics with a romantic partner. You snorted, picking up your knife and fork while shaking your head. There was nothing going on between you and Steve and as far as he was concerned, there never would be. You were friends, after all, best friends at that, and there was no way that Steve could be interested in you in any other way. He was so perfect in every way and you were just, ordinary. Plain, a Big-Mac without toppings.

Dessert came before you even realized what was going on. You were buzzed at this point from all the cocktails you'd consumed and instead decided to order a glass of ice water to accompany the chocolate lava cake you had ordered. You only ate half, stomach feeling like it was going to burst at any point if you ate any more. Steve, being the gentleman he was, took the fact that you placed your spoon down as a sign and finished it for you.

"Y/N?"

You hadn't heard him coming.

He was standing behind you suddenly, shirt unbuttoned further than before and hair blowing in the wind that had started to pick up. Of course, it had been Tony's idea to host a private party after dinner in the club that was attached to the resort. Employees of SHIELD and the Avengers were dancing inside, booze flowing just as smoothly as the music. You'd stepped outside for only a moment in desperate need for some fresh air and time to think. 

It was still warm outside, the soft breeze feeling wonderful on your slightly reddened skin. 

"Hey," you said, elbows leaning on the railing that separated the resort from its private beach, "what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he said smartly, offering you a sip of his sprite, "This is a nice place."

"It's beautiful," you mused, watching the gentle waves and the pearly white sands ahead.

"Yeah," Steve mumbled, "it is."

Seeing you in a white triangle bikini was the single most amazing thing Steve had ever seen. It had taken all his strength not to rip you from the beach and into your bungalow where he could kiss you and have you all to himself at last. The salty water had transformed your hair into waves, and the sun had kissed your skin and made you glow. You were on a towel on your stomach, book in front of you and sunglasses hiding your eyes. A bottle of sunscreen poked out of the tote bag you brought and a bottle of water stood perched up into the sand. It had to be warm by now, but you didn't care.

He loved seeing how much you enjoyed this. How naturally you adjusted to the change of pace, how you blended in with the scenery as if you'd always been there. He got to see a side of you he'd never seen before when you were in New York, where the rain seemed to permanently hang over the city. He loved how you interacted with people you were so used to seeing only at work,  but this also made him jealous. He was used to being one of the only people you would hang out with in private but now, you'd practically been glued to everyone but him. How badly he wanted to take you out for a stroll on the beach alone or enjoy a cocktail with you with no-one else watching. Hell, he'd even dance for you at that club with the music he could hardly call music if it meant he got to spend more time with you alone.

He was playing volleyball again, on the beach this time. Half of your party had gone out on scooters for an island excursion, but not you. You had decided that your book was more important, and so you were reading the final chapter with the sun cascading on your back. He'd tried to get you to join him earlier, but once again, you'd declined. Not now, when you were so close to finishing the book. The main character was about to confess her love for the man she'd been chasing for years. She had finally built up the courage to tell him how she really felt. Her words caused your stomach to clench and your heart to pound. You had to know how it would end.

But even the most experienced of readers required a break every once in a while. You were hot, extremely hot and in desperate need of something to cool you off. Alas, the water you'd brought had warmed up, offering no relief from the constant heat blazing down on you. You got up, placing the book into your bag so it wouldn't get covered in the sand and stretched your limbs.

You looked around the beach for a while, noticing it was a lot quieter with half the staff gone for the day and exhaled, allowing a deep breath to escape your lungs while you began to jog across the hot sand.

"When are you going to tell her you're in love with her?" Tony asked with a smug smirk on his face and the ball in his hands.

Steve swallowed, catching the ball with ease.

"You're supposed to hit it back, not catch it and stand there like a dead guy," Tony commented, "Anyway, you dig her and for some reason, you're too afraid to just man up and tell her. Why?"

"Because," Steve said, "we're just friends."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Look, nothing's ever gonna change unless you act and you're an idiot if you think she doesn't feel the same way. Plus, I made a bet with Tash, so you better step up your game and get to it. Like, right now."

"Tony, I can't do that."

"Give me one good reason. Go on, I'm waiting." Another cocky smirk.

"We're coworkers."

Tony rolled his eyes, "Oh please, Fury doesn't give a shit and neither do I. Sign a couple of forms if you have to. Listen, pal if you don't make a move soon, someone else is bound to come in and sweep her off her feet and you'll be sorry forever."

Steve thought for a moment, watching as you walked further away from him and cursed Tony for being right. Again.

"She's the only one who can tolerate your shit, Rogers. Don't let her get away so easily."

Your feet were just touching the water when a hand around your upper arm stopped you from walking into the ocean. You'd ventured out to a more quiet area of the beach, where the only sound audible was the crashing of waves and seagulls over your head. You could still see your towel from where you stood, but the details had become blurry. Perfect.

"Hey,"  you said, voice sounding startled after you'd turned to look at whoever was holding you.

"I don't know why I allowed Tony of all people to convince me to do this, but I wouldn't be here if what he said to me didn't have a truth to it so I suppose it was for the best." Steve stammered, hands now on your shoulders as if to shield them from the sun.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, confused.

"Do you like me?" He asked, cheeks reddening more and more with each passing second. You couldn't tell through the darkness of your sunglasses, but he didn't know that.

"Of course I do Steve, you're my best-" He cut you off, testosterone and adrenaline taking over now.

"Not like that. Listen, you make me happy. Like, happy, happy. I don't mean the kind of happy that I get when I run into Sam at the gym and he has a fresh smoothie and a bagel for me, or when we successfully complete a mission and return home safely. It's not the kind of happy I get when I drink my favorite coffee, or when I see a dog at the park."

"What are you saying?" You whispered, eyes hidden by tinted glasses sliding across his face for any sign of fuckery.

There was none. You're suddenly painfully aware of the water swishing against your legs, aware of the grains of sand beneath your feet and his touch, which burned hotter than any sun in the universe could ever do. It's like you'd taken a step inside the book you were just reading.

"You make me feel things I haven't felt before, but want to feel all the time. I crave you when you're not there. The brush of your fingers, the softness of your voice and your laugh, Y/N, I need to hear it all the time and hell, I don't want to even think about having to share it with anyone else because I can't stand to bear the thought." He realized he was being dramatic, but he didn't care.

It disgusted him how easy it had been for Tony to convince him to tell you, but he was right. Walking on eggshells around you was ridiculous and even though Steve realized that being this honest could ruin everything in a matter of seconds, he also knew that lying was a habit he hated and he had been lying to himself for far too long by pretending to accept your friendship as the endstage.

Your hand was on his chest before he knew what was happening. A small smile played on your rosy lips, yet there was hesitation hidden behind those sunglasses. Hesitation, because what if the only reason why he said those words to you was because of a stupid bet? You were almost convinced of it, but his blue orbs told you the truth far better than any of his words could ever do. He was searching for confirmation, waiting for you to tell him you felt the same. Hell, they were begging you to say something, anything just to get the anticipation out of the way. It was like a horror movie, where you knew a jump scare was coming but you didn't know when.

"I do like you,"  you said finally, "more than dogs at the park."

An amused expression on your face allowed him to finally breathe again. Bright blue eyes still intensely scanned your face, just to make sure you too were telling the truth. He wasn't a walking lie detector - unlike Natasha - but he could tell you were honest.

"I want to take you out," more adrenaline, "properly. Not a coffee shop date, but a real date. With flowers and dinner."

Your heart clenched, second hand finding his chest, "I would like that."

It was hard to stand on the tip of your toes while being in the sand. You sank a little, so it kind of defeated the purpose, but still, you did your best to gain some height on the tall man in front of you. His piercing blues traveled across your shoulders, followed a trail of glimmering sunshine along your body and you sighed, almost fearful you ended up with a heat stroke and were currently delusional. Or drunk. Or both.

But his lips, salty from the ocean water he took in when he went under a while ago and soft, felt very fucking real. You could hardly believe it because did dreams really come true, but hell yeah they did, because you were in one right now and you were not asleep. You were kissing, mouth on mouth and it didn't stop there, because your tongue soon slipped in - you blamed the alcohol you had earlier for your sudden boldness. Blamed him too, for overwhelming you with it.

You didn't even care about the fact that Tony and some level 6 SHIELD employees were watching you guys make out on a private beach. Didn't give a damn about the fact that Tony picked up his phone to call Natasha about how she now owed him $200, or how your sunscreen was starting to wear off and your skin would soon turn red. You finally had Steve right where you wanted him, really had him now, and you didn't plan on letting go anytime soon.

[ilikefandom]

Healing the Stars

An: Hello my lovely readers!!!!!!! I am so sorry for not posting! I have finished my Caesar fic, if you peoples would like a version with a more developed relationship let me know!

Type: Fluff

Pairing: Light Caesar Flickerman x reader

Summery: The Star Squad has to find a safe place to hide, their lucky to find two secret allies on the way.

Warnings: Light description of injuries

When they entered the Capital, they were told to expect the unexpected. Unexpected didn’t cover half of it. With all of the booby traps in the streets and the citizens in their homes, the adrenaline pumping through the Star Squad was what was keeping them alive and alert. One unexpected thing that shook the group deeper than a bullet was the sight of a bald man running around a pool on a running track.

The man was tall and fair, his face masked with youth, even though he seemed to be older than the twenty something he presented to the world. He was dressed in the fancy workout clothes associated with Capital health ads, which were probably manufactured in District 8. He looked down at his watch, tapped it twice, then he sat down on a little bench that sat just beside the track. He picked up a clear flask from the floor and drank from it. Inside was a neon yellow concoction that flowed down his throat  like a river, and as he drank, the wrinkles that were on his face faded away. 

He looked familiar, so familiar, but Katniss couldn’t tell exactly who it was. It was then that it dawned on her, “Is that Caesar Flickerman?” She asked, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead.

Finnick grimaced as he lifted his gaze to look at the man on the bench, blood dripping from his legs, which were mangled by the mutts. “Yeah, I think it is.”

Peeta, who had suddenly found himself to be eloquent, stepped up to the glass and knocked thrice, hard.

‘Caesar’ jumped and looked at the rebels with shock in his eyes before getting up and disappearing into the depths of the mansion that he must have called his home.

Gale raised his crossbow and prepared to smash the glass, a sensor let out a small beep and the window slid to the side, revealing a hidden door. 

“It feels like a trap,” Gale noted as he loded a bolt in his crossbow. It did indeed feel like a trap, but there was nowhere else they could go and Finnick was in dire need of medical attention. 

Finnick was the first to hobble through the door, he barely made it the ten or so steps to the bench before sinking onto it, letting out a whimper as more blood spilled from the bite wounds. There was a red smear on the floor from where he had stood. 

‘Caesar’ reappeared  as soon as Finnick had found his seat. There was a young woman who came running in after him. She held a large red bag and a smaller bag filled with bandages.

He gestured silently at the rebels’ various injuries and she nodded. She looked unnaturally natural, like the man who had called her in, that was, apart from the tattoos littering her body. She opened her bag and produced a bottle identical to the one that sat next to the bench. She handed it to Finnick with one word, “Drink.”

She began to examine his legs, looking back up at him, “Drink the tonic. It will help to regenerate your cells faster. I should know I invented it.” She pulled another bottle out of her bag and began to dab the bites with the disinfectant in the bottle. 

The woman looked up again at the Star Squad, back to the man, then again at the Star Squad. “Go put on some hair, dear, you’re frightening the children. Finnick O’Hair, you drink up now!”

Finnick looked at the woman, seeming to recognise her, at least vaguely. Then he lifted the drink to his mouth and began to sip at the liquid.

‘Caesar’ left and appeared moments later wearing a very familiar blue wig. The same wig that Caesar had worn for the 74th hunger games.

“You are Caesar Flickerman!” Katniss gasped as the tattooed woman began to bandage Finnick’s now disinfected legs. Caesar nodded and picked up the partially empty bottle of disinfectant and screwed the lid back on then setting it in the bag.

“Then who are you?” Gale asked, directing his gaze at the woman as she pinned the bandages together at the top of Finnick’s legs. 

She stood up, smiled at him and tilted her head to the side, her natural (y/h/c) hair bounced on her head. “How rude of me! I remember most of you, but I forgot how you would never remember me. I’m Dr. (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

Credessa’s eyes widened. “I remember you. Two years ago, you were on the hunger games program. You surgically attached Peeta’s leg and you had an interview about it.”

“You would be correct.” (Y/n) blushed as she played with a chain that hung around her neck. “I’m the official Hunger Games doctor. And, as you can see, I’ve lost a lot of patients.”

It was then that Katniss noticed the tattoo she thought was an interlocking chain of black links was a series of names. Each of the links had twenty three names and only one had more. She spotted Marlee’s name on (Y/n)’s left shoulder, where those who perished in the 50th hunger games sat. She saw the newest link, with Wiress’ name inked into her right wrist. Above the new tattoo was Rue’s name spelled in cursive with a flower background around it. It was the name of every single fallen tribute, every tribute from the 29th games forward. 

“Is that?” Finnick whispered, running his fingers up her arm finding the link that represented his first games. 

“Every tribute,” Dr. (Y/l/n) smiled sadly, “every single one.”

Peeta took a deep breath then entered the house to sit next to Finnick on the bench. He too touched her arm and began to look at the names as well. He looked back over his shoulder, gave a small smile and gestured for the rest of the Squad to enter.

Although hesitant, the whole Star Squad finally crossed the threshold. They let out breaths of relief when alarms didn’t go off and nothing seemed to trigger an alert. However, as soon as they all were gathered around the bench, the door snapped shut and the windows darkened.

“So nobody can see you.” (Y/n) smiled. “And so that you can see us.”

Katniss looked down into the water of the pool. Lights at the bottom were moving together, revealing a mocking jay emblem.

“You’re rebels?” She asked, wonder blooming in her eyes. 

“Why do you think that we both started working for the games? You think that we wanted to?” Caesar asked as he looked at the younger group, as he pulled (Y/n) to his side. She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.

“During the 27th hunger games Caesar and I threw a party. It was a meeting of young Capital citizens who were going to refuse to watch the games. We were holed up in a basement when the Peacekeepers came.” (Y/n) shuddered and Caesar gave her a squeeze, holding her tight. 

“All of us were sent to prison.” Caesar continued for her. “We spent a year down there, then we were offered a choice, work for the Games or our families would die. We were stuck in these positions because we organized the party. We worked together the year district ten won the games.”

“We weren’t that old.” (Y/n) whispered. “He was only 26, I was 21.”

“I wanted to be like my father who was a talk show host on Capital TV. (Y/n) wanted to be a doctor. In the end I suppose we got our wishes.” Caesar said bitterly.

“When we found out what Pultrich was up to I went to him and asked if we could be in on it. Coin denied up entry on the grounds that we were too close to Snow.” (Y/n) turned to Caesar and smiled. He looked down to her eyes and kissed her forehead.

“Here,” Dr. (Y/l/n) said, handing Katniss a device with blinking lights on a map. “It’s a map of all the pods. The ones marked in red contain bad things. The green ones are for the Capital citizens, they are full of food and weapons. The blue ones are pods that have already been activated.”

Caesar slid an arm under Finnick’s and hoisted him to his feet. “He can’t come with you, he’s too slow and will only weaken your team. My wife will take care of him.”

(Y/n) took Finnick’s other arm across her shoulders and the two began a walk to the other side of the hall, where a door stood. 

Caesar turned to Katniss who was looking at him and Dr. (Y/l/n), no, Dr. Flickerman in shock. He smiled, “You go, girl on fire, burn his rotten regime to ashes.”

[baekchelor]

ａｓｈｏｒｅ[ix]

pairing: bodevan cash x reader genre: Doctor! AU, Romance, Angst, A tiny bit of Smut summary: After a fall out with your fianceé, and an opportunity to chase your dreams, you embark into a medical mission trip to Namibia where you run into self-taught doctor Bodevan Cash. Love ensues. word count: 4.7k a/n: I think you will love this. I loved writing this so, so much. This is the final chapert, BUT we still have the Epilogue to come. I’m opening a vote for my new story, if you want a Ned Kelly AU pls comment a 🥵below and if you want a George Mackay GossipGirl AU comment a 🤭.

❝the  sea,  the  majestic  sea,  breaks  everything,  crushes  everything,  cleans everything,  takes  everything...from  me.❞                                                                                             ― corinne  bailey  rae

THREE ｅｉｇｈｔｅｅｎ ｄａｙｓ

◄ ｐｒｅｖ

Being completely, utterly honest, you were one of those doctors who suffered the hidden pleasure of actually enjoying Grey's Anatomy. Guilty as charged. Not ony our life, you've understood the guilt some of the characters experienced —Meredith, per se—when a phone buzzed loudly, the name of the person they were supposed to be committed to flashing on the screen, while they were trapped in dreamland and in the arms of someone else.

Empathy crawled over you, though, the thirteenth morning in Namibia. Over the bedside table, your phone spun over the fake wood as the ringtone chosen and reserved for Ethan and only Ethan, sneaked into your dream, grabbed you by the toes, and its claws were so sharp that on their attempt to drag you out, you jolted awake.

However, you weren't able to sit up all sweaty and scared. You tried to, but you were unable. The limbs in your body felt extremely stiff, heavy, and the source triggered the alarm system inside you. Someone's strong, perfect arms were resting tightly around your waist. Said someone, muffled and whined when you carefully freed your body and sat up, every inch of skin flushed red.

As things go, conveniently enough, it was almost midday, and you've slept curled up against Bodevan's frame. With the head buried on his chest, his arms encircling your waist, your legs mingled together... the entire flipping night.

Great. Just great.

The worst thing is —and it is shameful to admit, you must confess— the reason why you decided to answer Ethan's call that morning, was the fact that the longer your phone rang, the most possible it would wake Bo up. And firstly, you enjoyed the view too much to give it up. Secondly, the last thing you wanted was Bodevan to realise your fiancée had called.

By mere instinct, while you murmured a groggy Hello! to the speaker, your eyes travelled their usual route towards the exquisite engagement ring residing on your index finger. Then, right then, hell broke loose. Because there, right there, was none ring to be found.

Your eyes went wide, wild, and almost jumped out of your face when frantically, you introspected between the covers, underneath the carpet, across the floor only to be met with no sign of it.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

"Hey baby," Ethan's voice was sleepy, deep, and the obliviousness on it made your eyes water. "Did I wake you up, sleepyhead?"

Yes, he did, and your head is killing you.

How many drinks did you share with Bodevan last night?

How many bottles?

How on earth did you lose your engagement ring?!

"Yeah... It was a long night".

"Hospital emergency?" He pressed on, "You forgot to call me. I waited."

"Sorry, E," The apology means so much more, it quivers as you speak. "I was at the birthday party I mentioned before."

Bo rustled in the sheets beside you. Your voice must have woken him up.

The laughter at the other side of the phone, robbed back your attention, "Completely zoom out on that. How was it?".

"Fun, I guess..."

"So it was crap?"

"Yeah," you lied. More so, you didn't lie entirely. It was crap that you lost your ring, and it was crap that you snuggled all night with a boy who is not the one you're going to marry —and it was crap that if you're completely honest with yourself, you didn't give a shit about it. Because you were certain, almost certain, you have fallen in love with another man.

As in, with the man in front of you with wild pillow hair and piercing blue eyes.

With Bodevan Cash.

This was madness. Africa induced madness! Surely, this infatuation was a result of the miles-away syndrome. You haven't seen your fiancée in two weeks, and you have spent the majority of your days in the company of the uniquely weird boy.

But what if... what if the loss of your ring was destiny talking? Perhaps it was written in the stars that the sapphire engraved item wasn't supposed to be wrapped around your finger.

Fate or not, you needed to find it. You couldn't just give up on it and on Ethan. It wasn't fair, and you weren't that kind of girl.

In such wise, you cut the conversation short and hurriedly hung up the phone. Ethan believed your excuse: you slept in, and you needed to rush to the hospital for your rounds.

After you were enchanted by the fact that under a morning sky, Bo's eyes really did match, and you giggled and blushed over breakfast with him —you didn't share pancakes, you wouldn't do that to Ethan. The meal of choice was waffles and sweet but dark coffee—you two embarked on the exhausting search for the ring.

The starting point was the clinic, under the patient's cot. Then you searched across the beach, digging in the sand as if you were looking for seashells. You searched all over your cabin, in between the sheets, under the bed, inside the drawers...On day fourteen, you and Peera turned the teepee upside down, pushing furniture to the corners, emptying the shelves, to no avail. On day fifteen, you asked the hotel plumber to dismantle your sink, in  case in your drunken state you'd washed your hands and didn't notice it going down the drain. On day sixteen, you gave up the pursuit. On day seventeen, you came to terms with it and gathered enough courage to break the news to Ethan.

Today, on day eighteen, you are ready. Or at least, you think you are. Bodevan will be here soon, like every day around 9pm to strum some chords on his acoustic guitar and then play that silly game you invented a week ago where either of you would close their eyes, while the other wrote medical terms onto your skin. Whoever wins, gets to choose dinner —and breakfast, because weirdly enough, Bo has been staying the nights. And he always wins.

Holding yourself, in seek of steadiness, you dial Ethan's number. The rain has increased, and you wish upon the stars it delays Bodevan's arrival.

Ethan picks up almost immediately, "Hello, you. I'm on my lunch break, so you're on luck today."

Here it comes. No filter.

"I lost the ring."

"What ring?" He's chewing something, an apple you presume. Ethan loves apples.

"The engagement ring."

"You did what?" He is not screaming, but his voice is sharp, and it cuts right through you.

"I-I lost it. It fell off the night of Danny's birthday party."

"I see." You know what it's about to come, you recognise the tone on his voice as the one he employs when he's aiming to hurt. "You lost your engagement ring the day you got wasted while partying with that excuse of a doctor you're working for."

"I was not-", you hurry, "I mean I didn't..."

"Of course, you did. I know you. I know your hangover voice, and I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Ethan, I-"

"Will you cut the bullshit?" he intervenes, "This is your revenge from what happened with Harper. I understand."

Your mouth falls open, at a loss for words, "Are you implying that I lost your ring on purpose, to get back at you?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Rage curls in your stomach, "Wow. Real nice, Ethan. You really don't know me at all."

Ethan laughs. He fucking laughs. "I'm saying this because I know you." None of you talks for a minute, and then he breaks the silence, "I'll change your flight for tonight."

"No," calmly, you answer. "I'm not leaving until I find that stupid ring."

"Come on, you're never going to find it." Ethan sighs, evidently done dealing with your stupidity. "I will just buy you a new one."

"I don't want a new one," you say, still calm. You've been pacing back and forth concerning the decision you're about to make. Finally, you've made up your mind, and it's clearly the right choice. "I don't want an engagement ring, Ethan." The rest of the sentence goes quietly, "I-I don't want this marriage."

He sighs again, and you can picture him resting his fingertips between his eyebrows, tired of dealing with you and your feelings. Ethan has always been a cold man, and for a while, you thought the only person he was warm to was you. Such a fool. "Is this your way of saying you're still upset over my previous marriage?" asks Ethan. "Because you said you were fine, but I knew this would happen—"

"It's not just that," you confess, in part, you haven't get over it yet and eighteen days in Namibia haven't bought you enough time to do it.

"What are you saying?"

Your heart grows heavy. You hate this. But you have to do it.

"I can't marry you, E. I'm sorry. But I-I can't promise away my entire life with someone when I'm not even sure how I want to live it," you confess, voice breaking.

"Fallen out of love with me already, huh?" he questions, the pain sewed to his words, further breaking your heart.

"I love you. I'm just—It's been hard, this whole thing... we being liers, you being married, me being here..." You don't dare to say his name, but you think it. Bodevan. "I don't know what I'm supposed to know, but at least at this exact moment, I'm sure I can't marry you."

"Alright," comes the response, always calm, always composed. "Let's take a break. We'll talk when you're back."

"Ethan—"

"I'm hanging up now."

Before you could retort, he hangs up. You feel a strange sense of relief, even though something inside you broke with the knowledge of what you'd just done.

It isn't entirely over, you're aware. You still have to go back, and you have to face him, and return gifts, and send apology letters to the guests. But the confession is off your chest. You didn't want to lie to him anymore.

As you let out a deep, heavy sigh, you glance back and notice that right at the doorframe, stands your very own sun. Now you understand why it's raining and cloudy; sunlight is trapped in your cabin. Bodavan witnessed everything, and he is watching you, warily.

Plastering a smile on your face, you greet, "Hi."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I would ask if everything is okay, but clearly…"

Shaking your head, you explain, "It had to be done. I can't do this anymore. Pretend as if I love him like he loves me and spend the rest of my life with him. It's not fair to him, or to me."

Bodevan says nothing. For the first time in days, he looks incredibly flustered, ocean eyes avoiding any sort of contact with you. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but then he steals the words away.

"I apologise," he blurts. "It was inappropriate for me to spend so much time with you, and even worse t-to fall asleep with you in the same bed."

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, shame. More so, hurt. "What are you saying? All of that was my choice, you didn't force me into anything. Wh-why are you apologising?"

"Because I have this... feeling that whatever just happened," Bo hurries his gaze away from you. "H-Happened because of me."

If there was a hole in the middle of your room, you would crawl inside and dig your way back to New York.

"It had nothing to do with you," you half-lie. "Nothing even happened between us," you snap, coming off rougher than you'd expected.

"Right," he murmurs, looking away. You can't fathom why the look on his face manages to break your heart more than cancelling your engagement had. "Let's play something then. W-Whats your favourite song?"

"Sweet Child O' Mine."

He smiles, "That's my mother's as well."

Bodevan shrugs off his wet jacket. He clears his throat and sits on the edge of your mattress, guitar resting on his lap. You hear the soft sound of his voice singing a much slower version of the song, and suddenly, you feel at peace. Absent-mindedly, you pick up Bo's signature mustard jacket, draping it over a loveseat so it can dry. Right off the bat, something silver and sparkling drops to the ground.

You gape. Lying there, on the floor, is your engagement ring. Looking undamaged and pristine. A smile would have curved your lips if it hadn't unmistakably fallen from Bodevans's jacket.

When you crouch down to pick it up, your mind begins to spin. Since when does Bo have it? Had he had it all along? Or had he found it and not told you?

The mere train of thoughts makes you sick to the stomach. You clutch the ring in your fist.

When Bo strums the last chords of the song, and his soft voice comes undone in a whisper, he looks up to find you standing there, features betraying the long lost smile.

You stare out at the bay, avoiding the gaze he refuses to haul away from you. His eyes are deep blue, as wild as the waves crashing the shoreline. Confusion is evident on his face, brows curved in the sense of bewilderment. Right now, Bodevan is a doctor, trying to diagnose your symptoms, and figure out what shifted inside you that has you bracing yourself against the biting gale off the water. And him.

You tug the yellow montgomery closer, but it is no use. Only one thing could warm you tonight, and he is out of reach. You miss the way he fills the circle of his arms with your body, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head —it should be an Anatomy case of interest, it seems to be customed as the perfect resting spot for his lips. But it is a good thing Ethan isn't here now. What he'd find out would leave a bruise on Bodevan's face, and it would be the last hit to turn you into pieces.

Bo's eyes drop to his jacket, your fist clenched around the fabric, and his face falls. Dr Cash found the disease, and it pains him, of course, it pains him. He just figured out, the source of your lack of well-being, is him.

"You know," he states, careful. The astonishment in his voice doesn't surprise you, yet you can't explain to yourself why it stings so much. You’re trying your hardest to stay calm. But a lump has formed in your throat, your stomach has turned into a thousand knots, and you can feel the tears building up inside your eyes.

"Why?" It is pathetic, really, how your voice breaks amidst a one-word sentence. The tears are free now, streaming down your cheeks. "I know it wasn't for the money. Unless you've fooled me on your Maoist shit as well."

"A fighter for the rights of poor farmers and landless labourers, seeking to overthrow the state and usher in a classless society? I am."

"Then, why did you do this?"

Bodevan looks away, clearly weighing his options. It takes him a second, and then he is down on his knees, staring up at you with big ocean eyes, and your legs turn to jelly.

"I know what you think, but I didn't do this to hurt you," he grabs your hand, and you feel his fingerpads as though they were burning through my skin. He takes your palm in his own, urging to open up your fist. "You have broadened my mind, you've helped me grow. The way you've opened me up —you've penetrated deep inside me. Like if you had cut me open in the operating table and filled my insides with you. And I know I penetrated deep, deep inside of you—" he stutters, with eyes still wide. If you weren't as mad at him, you would find the pink streak across his cheeks adorable, and you would find inside you the box of tenderness reserved just for Bo and his peculiar self. But Bodevan made sure to close that box, cover it in tape, and carry it all the way down to the basement in your heart. "Not, not like that. I-I would love to... o-one d..."

"Bodevan..."

"I did it because I am an idiot," he blurts out. "I'm an idiot for you. I-If you'll have me." Right on cue, you watch him suck in his breath, wishing to take back his confession. Clear as water, you can see the progression of his emotions settle in the crease between his eyes. Bo feels impetuous, then bewildered, then ashamed by his own forwardness. He always does this, too many times before.

"No," you whisper, remembering...always remembering... Ethan. Bodevan's lies. "I don't want to talk to you, and if you care for me at all, you won't say another word."

His ocean eyes drill into you. Bo steps back and crosses his arms over his broad chest —God, you'll miss watching his yoga routine in the morning. But this is his fault.

For a few seconds, he looks at you strangely, wondering whether to concede. You stand for a moment, gathering energy, it's stupid, but it is taking all of you to walk away from this misunderstood unique boy. But is time to let your feet drag you out of this air-consuming cabin, away from Bodevan Cash and his perfect long hair. Back ashore.

The moment you storm out, rain drains all over you. It soaks you in a matter of seconds, but you don't care, you really don't care at all. You're angry and upset and feel as if you're adrift in the middle of the ocean, with thunders in the horizon and strong winds moving your ship from side to side, without giving you a rest.

Bodevan chases after you. Ever so careful, he clasps his big calloused hand, around your waist and guides you to meet his eyes. It's puzzling, he has never done such thing, on the contrary, his gaze is always playing hide and seek with you.

"I didn't tell you because every time your anatomy appears in from of me, I run out of methodology," he says frustratedly. "Because this love no longer understand of reasons or advice and it feeds on pretexts, and it lacks pants."

With shaking hands, almost without noticing, you let the ring fall to the sand. "T-This love?" you ask quietly.

Bodevan doesn't let go of your wrist. His lids are squeezed shut. "I'm sorry. You have every right to never talk to me again."

"You didn't answer the question. Do you love me?" you ask again, heart hammering in your chest.

"By all means," he confesses, chest rising and falling. "I-I'm an idiot who somehow fell in love with you without realising it."

Dizziness overwhelms you. You share the same suffering than Bo. This love doesn't allow you to stand, it has broken your heels. Even if you get up, you'll fall again into it. Even if he hid the ring, you're still in love with him. Even if Ethan returns, you would still be in love with Bodevan.

You've transformed into a thing that does nothing but love him —fool, blind, deaf, brute. Bodevan Cash rules your thoughts day and night, withal how many times you've tried to bury him in your memory, you haven't figure out a way to forget him.

If you could exorcise yourself from his voice.

If you could escape his name.

If you could rip your heart out and hide, so you don't feel ever again.

Maybe then, you would be able to stop loving him.

"I'm stupid, you know? I always want the things I can't have" Bodevan stutters. "And now I've ruined everything."

Your thumb brushes against his cheek, "You haven't ruin anything."

Taking him by surprise, you untangle his grip from your waist and bring his hand to your waistline. His figure grows very still as you pierce through his blue gaze, his pupils nervous. "I gift you my waist," you whisper softly, pink mouth close to his bruised one. "And my lips, for whenever you want to kiss."

Both of you, nervous as hell, can't believe the promises that are rolling off your tongue.

"I give you my delusion," you giggle. "And the few neurons I have left."

Bo doesn't react and says nothing for a bit. It frightens you, but you find comfort in the fact he hasn't pull away from you. And then, he hums, "I gift you my silence."

You want to cry, of pure and golden happiness. Bodevan leans closer, resting the damaged skin of his perfect lips at the tip of your nose. And you say, "I gift you my nose too."

"I give you my bones, even," Bo interjects, voice deeper, rough. He is breathing heavily, forehead pressed to yours, and your mind flashes back to the first day you met him, and how you have been like this, near the sea. "But don't run away from me anymore."

Bodevan lands his lips into yours. Responsive, you entangle your hands in his damp locks, luring him closer to your body. His lips are igniting fire down your spine, and you discern now why he is your sun, and why his eyes are like the morning sky.

Dramatically out of character, he doesn't hesitate when you reach down to pull his shirt up and off his body, your small, cold hands resting on his toned, flipping fantastic chest. The rain continues, yet, neither doubts to turn your clothes into a wet pile dangerously close to the seaside. Bo lowers you onto the sand, kissing patterns into every inch of skin he encounters, tracing the entire shape of your body. Never in your life, have you felt this alive. Every part of you burns under his touch and his eyes, and you don't fear to be consumed by the fire.

Eyelids screw shut when you hear yourself gasp. Your bodies have entwined, and you hold him close, closer as you ever embraced someone, his minty breath misting your ears as he whispers your name.

"Bo..." lazily, you flutter open your eyelashes and watch him in adoration.  His jaw is clenched in concentration; his hard muscles contract and pull on top of you. Bodevan brushes your cheekbone with his fingers and kisses you twice before burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breath is staggering, hot and wild.

Bringing his face to yours, he opens his eyes, "You once asked what I loved most in the world..." You did. He answered, his siblings. "I lied. It's you."

As you smile, you recognise you're equally a liar. When he asked the question back, your answer was medicine. But it is him. It really is him.

The following morning, you wake up tangled in the sheets, a beam painting your face with pink shades as you remember why. Peacefully asleep and ever-so ethereal, Bodevan lies next to you.

Bo matches your smile as you kiss his cheek, your fingertips tracing the words you couldn't find yesterday, but the ones you're certain you feel. He's always been an expert, he always beats your ass, and you can tell he understands what you're writing with invisible ink across his back when he smiles, lids still closed. You love him, and although you can't vociferate it, you want him to know it.

Bo pulls you into his arms, "I'll wait for you. You have my words" he rustles. "But you need to go back to Manhattan. You need to go sort out if you really want a life in the middle of nowhere, with me.

"I do."

"You don't," he intervenes. "You have been here too many days, now everything is blurry. My dad, he—He never asked my mom if she still wanted the life she was living. And she killed herself." Tears run down both your faces, no matter how hard you're trying to stop them. "I would never do that to you."

You nod, "Alright."

Bo wipes your tears away with his thumb, "I will miss you."

"I will miss you too," you choke. "So much."

With one last look back at the boy with morning-sky coloured eyes, you step into the departures gate, taking a shaky breath as Bodevan waves goodbye. An ocean will be between you, and your heart drowns the entire flight home.

ｎｅｘｔ►

[ineffably-good]

Prompt: Old Fashioned

Today’s thirtieth anniversary Good Omens Celebration Theme is Old Fashioned. And here’s my contribution!

Read the whole set on AO3...

-- 

Aziraphale didn’t get many chances to feel like the modern one in his relationship with the demon known as Crowley. No matter how he tried to stay on top of things, it always felt like the demon had gotten there first. If there was a new invention, a new technology, a new food – somehow, the demon found out about it and made a big to-do of introducing it to the angel. He didn’t seem to do it to prove anything; in fact, he seemed to enjoy the process of finding new things for the angel to experience and try. It was… almost sweet.

But just once, just one time, Aziraphale wanted to be the one who was a few steps ahead. Which is why, after he discovered that Crowley had dealt with their argument by going to sleep for a long, long time, he decided to take advantage of this -- his big chance to get out in front of things, so to speak.

He spent the rest of the 19th century, after it became apparent that Crowley wasn’t planning to wake up anytime soon, scanning the papers, attending lectures at the explorers’ clubs and science societies, and dropping in on technical expositions wherever he could. And whenever he learned about something new and interesting that could fit into his bookshop or lifestyle, he became – what was the phrase? An enthusiast. An investor. What would someday be called an early adopter.

He had one intention in mind through all of this. When that miserable demon got up from his fifty year sulk, he was going to walk into the bookshop and feel like a visitor from the stone ages. And he, Aziraphale, guardian of the eastern gate, was going to enjoy that moment very much.

--

He knew, of course, the instant when Crowley woke up. He’d been keeping an eye on him for quite some time now. What he didn’t know was how long it would take the demon to get in touch with him. He could, after all, still be angry about the holy water incident. Or he could be embarrassed about the whole thing, not sure how to proceed.

Aziraphale had thoughtfully taken care of this, however, by having a lovely upright phone installed in Crowley’s home. He’d been certain to get the one with the loudest possible ring, for maximum effect.

Which, after giving the demon an entire three days to make contact with him in some other way, he decided to use.

After going through the necessary steps to place the call, Aziraphale held the receiver of his own phone to his ear and listened to the thunderous ringing taking place on the other end.

A loud rattling noise a few moments later indicated that the receiver had been taken off the hook.

“Hello? Crowley? Hello?” he called.

He heard, instead of a voice returning the greeting, a vague and distant sound of hissing and the clatter of what sounded like a rather expensive telephone hitting the floor.

“Aziraphale?” a voice shouted from far away. “Aziraphale where are you? I hear your voice!”

“In here!” Aziraphale called out. “Pick up the – the small black handle-shaped thing on the floor!”

“Aziraphale!” the demon shouted, sounding frantic. “Have you been discorporated? Oh god, I slept too long! Don’t worry, I’m coming to find you!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. This was not going as planned. But as long as Crowley showed up at the bookshop in relatively short order, he supposed it was all tickety boo.

 --

The demon came slamming through the front door of the shop not twenty minutes later, looking incredibly spooked.

“Ah, awake are we?” Aziraphale said wryly from his seat at the desk.

“Angel!” Crowley said frantically. “I thought you were discorporated! Your voice… was in my apartment… but very faint… and – and what on earth is going on in here?” He blinked and looked around. “Why is it so bright in here?”

Aziraphale lowered his reading glasses and peered at Crowley over the top of the frames. “I assure you I’m quite well. I wasn’t a ghost, I called you on the telephone. See??”

The angel pointed to a large, black contraption on his desk that looked to Crowley like a combination of a very ugly vase, a few bits of yarn, and some kind of misshapen drinking glass.

It looked, he realized, exactly like the thing that had made the awful noise in his apartment earlier in the day. The thing that he had then smashed to bits on the kitchen floor when it wouldn’t stop shrieking. Right before he heard the angel’s disembodied voice, he realized.

“A – a telephone?” he asked. He shook his head trying to clear it. He always felt a little slow on the uptake after a long nap.

“Yes indeed,” Aziraphale said. “It’s the latest thing! I can pick up this bit here,” he said, demonstrating, “and click this bit a few times, then speak to someone who is in an entirely different place! Nearly everyone is using them!”

“You – you had one of these things installed in my home? While I slept?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, straightening his waistcoat superciliously. “I know how you like to be kept up to date. And you’ve missed rather a lot.”

Crowley frowned and took a good look around. There were strange fixtures hanging from the ceiling and emerging from sconces on the wall that burned much too brightly and steadily to be gas-lit. It was all a little too intense, to be honest – it made his eyes hurt to look at some of them. Crowley’s eyes had been formed in the times when it was sunlight during the day and firelight at night – they were not meant for this – this incandescent disaster. He winced and dug around in a pocket for his sunglasses.

“Oh, my dear, does the new electric light hurt your eyes? It does take some getting used to; I do hope it doesn’t give you a headache,” Aziraphale said kindly. “But if it does, they’ve invented the most wonderful thing called aspirin! Shall I get you one? It will fix you up as quick as anything!”

Crowley blinked and looked at the angel, who blinked back at him innocently. The demon was not fooled. The angel, blast him, was enjoying something about this whole scenario, and enjoying it immensely.

“What,” he said slowly, “is going on.”

Aziraphale shuffled the papers together that he’d been working on and ostentatiously pulled out another new invention – one he was rather personally fond of, the brilliant little paper clip! – and made sure Crowley was watching as he fastened the pages together into a neat pile. Then he pulled out the newly minted fountain pen to mark something with on the topmost page – he’d made sure to buy at least ten of Waterman’s first 200 pens, as soon as they hit the market in 1885, and always kept one at hand.

Crowley continued to stare at him.

“Nothing is ‘going on’, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “You simply made a decision to sleep through some very important years! The world moved on while you were sulking – I mean sleeping, of course -- and it’s going to take you a while to catch up.”

Crowley gaped at him, starting to get the picture.

The angel capped his pen and smiled warmly at Crowley. “Don’t worry, though,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

“Ah,” Crowley said. “So that’s how this is going to be, is it?”

Aziraphale gave him a look of absolute innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re aggravated with me about sleeping for so long so you’re going to rub my face in each and every thing I missed?”

The angel had the gall to look wounded. “Why no,” he said, seemingly sincere, “not at all! I can’t wait to share with you a few of the things they’ve come up with! Why you haven’t seen the gramophone yet – or, or moving pictures! And oh, you’ll love the zipper! So much fun, all that up and down movement! And, of course, there’s all kinds of horrible new weaponry that your side probably had a hand in; I won’t be showing you those. And then there’s the combustion engine. Why some people even say that horses will soon be obsolete, and we’ll all be zipping around town in one of these mechanical carriages!”

Crowley sat down heavily. Perhaps sleeping hadn’t been a great idea.

“Is there still wine?” he said blearily. “Or has that been improved, too?”

Aziraphale hopped up. “Of course there’s wine! How silly of me, I should have offered you refreshment right away. You sit there quietly and let me get that for you.” He bustled off towards the kitchen, then stopped and called back cheerily. “Oh, and I’ll just get you that aspirin too, shall I? You don’t look at all well.”

Aziraphale allowed himself one triumphant grin as he walked towards the back room. Time to select the best vintage from the last fifty years and begin making peace with his old adversary.

[whereistheonepiece]

The Colors of You

Note: Have a Lusona, feat. the rest of the Straw Hats because this crew interacting and being friends makes me happy. 

And let me just take a moment to get all sentimental on you guys, ‘kay? I remember being hesitant to talk about this polyamorous ship at first because I didn’t think I’d get much support for it, but the reception’s been surprising and warm, just like the rest of this blog. And it just means a lot to me.

-

“Hey, Usopp.”

“Yes, Nami?”

Nami glanced at Usopp over her shoulder, smiling gently as she saw the practiced movements of his pencil gliding across his sketchbook in the corner of her eye. They were taking advantage of a peaceful day on the Grand Line, sitting back to back in the sun. Usopp was sketching a shell he’d picked up on the beach of the island the ship had most recently visited and Nami was reading a book Robin had loaned her.

She leaned her head back against his, looking up at the sky. “Tell me something,” she continued.

“Sure, Nami,” Usopp responded. Even if she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the smile in his voice.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

Usopp hesitated, sitting up straighter against her. Nami marked her place and shut her book, waiting for Usopp to speak. His hesitation told her that this was something he’d spent some time thinking about and that made his interest all the more personal, which made it all the more important for her to hear.

“Well, it’s... You know... It’s kind of silly,” Usopp stammered. 

Nami set her book down and repositioned herself so she was sitting directly next to him, taking one of his hands in both of hers. He looked at her, uncertainty furrowing his brow, and she smiled patiently at him. “Go on,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Usopp stared off into the distance, his back hunched. “Do you remember that festival we attended a few islands back?”

“Mm.”

“Well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right around the time you and Robin and Chopper wandered off, Luffy and I saw these performers who had paint all over their bodies. And it got me thinking...”

“You want to try it yourself?” Nami asked, prompting him to elaborate.

He smiled sheepishly. “I asked them where I could buy some paint and, well... What do you think? Is it something you’d ever like to try? I-I thought it might be something you, Luffy, and I could try together.”

“What kind of paint job are we talking about?” Nami asked, wanting to encourage him to speak more about something that had clearly interested him. Given that he’d held onto the paint without saying anything about it, maybe he needed that extra push. 

Nami loved the way Usopp’s face lit up when he told her about his personal projects, whether that was looking after his garden, getting a new invention to work, or the notebook stuffed full of poems and sonnets he held close to his chest, afraid to show anyone else other than her and sometimes Luffy. She remembered the relief and then elation on Usopp’s face when he first showed her one of his poems and he saw that she was moved by his words. Now she wanted to encourage this artistic endeavor. Usopp had displayed an artistic flair with his sketches and had recently taken up painting with Robin, and this simply was just a different kind of canvas.

“W-well...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “These performers were doing something that was more complicated than what I had in mind. I was just...thinking about how it would be fun to paint something on someone’s back.”

“I think it sounds lovely, Usopp.”

Usopp finally looked at her, his lips curling in a nervous smile. “You mean that, Nami?”

“Of course I do,” Nami said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Usopp shot up and threw his arms around her, his sketchbook and pencil falling out of his lap. He hummed in delight as he squeezed her, lightly rocking her in his arms. Nami laughed softly as she hugged him, rubbing small circles on his back. Usopp pulled back, hands clasping her shoulders. “Did you have any plans this evening?” he asked her. “We could probably do it after dinner.”

“That works for me.”

“Great!” He hurriedly got his feet. “Don’t go anywhere; I’m just going to find Luffy and let him know.”

Nami giggled, nodding at him.

“I–I think Luffy’s only going to sit still long enough to get his face done,” he muttered, talking to himself as much as he was to her.

“Yeah,” she agreed, picking up her book and opening it back up to where she’d left off. “You can probably paint his face like a tiger and he’ll be happy.”

Usopp laughed, rubbing the back of his head, eyes closed in contentment. Nami smiled up at him, her heart warm to see him so happy. “Yeah,” Usopp agreed. “Yeah, you got that right.”

-

Usopp went all out after dinner, setting out a tarp for the three of them to spread out on, setting it up with the supplies they’d need. He caught the attention of the rest of the crew, who wanted to know what he planned on doing on Sunny’s lawn.

“Usopp, Nami, and I are going to paint each other!” Luffy responded, answering for Usopp.

“You’re going to paint each other’s portraits?” Robin asked, blue eyes glittering with interest.

“Nope!” Luffy laughed. 

“We’re literally painting on each other, Robin,” Nami explained. “Body art.”

“Usopp got the idea from a festival!” Luffy continued, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “He’s gonna paint my face!”

“You’re actually interested in this, Nami-san?” Sanji asked, plucking his cigarette out of his mouth, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“Yep,” Nami confirmed. “Usopp’s really excited.”

“Well, I think it’s a SUPER idea!” Franky said, giving them a thumbs up.

“You guys wanna join?” Luffy asked.

Usopp looked up from his task, peering nervously at the rest of the crew.

“I’ll go grab some more paintbrushes,” Robin said, walking off and taking Franky with her.

“Put on something you don’t mind getting dirty,” Nami called after her, sending Usopp a reassuring smile.

Sanji smirked at Zoro impishly. “What do you think, Marimo? Would you let me paint on you?”

“I don’t trust you not to draw something stupid on my back, shit-cook,” Zoro said bluntly, crossing his arms.

Sanji snickered and slipped his hands into his pockets, not disputing Zoro’s accusation.

“What about you, Chopper, Brook?” Luffy asked, eager to get more people in on the fun.

“Ah, I’m afraid I don’t have enough skin for you to work on, Luffy-san. Because I don’t have any.” Brook laughed. “But I’m happy to provide mood music,” he said, pulling out his violin and settling down in the grass.

“I have fur, Luffy!” Chopper grumbled. He toddled over to Usopp, asking him if he was using paints safe for human skin, to which Usopp vehemently replied that he’d triple checked at the store that it was the same kind of paint the performers used.

Nami watched the crew while they waited. Robin and Franky came back with more paintbrushes, cups of water to clean said brushes, extra towels, and an extra tarp. Brook played a pleasant melody, filling the late afternoon with his music. Sanji excused himself and came back with sake to keep Zoro occupied and wine for the rest of them, insisting that it was the proper drink for an activity such as painting. Chopper and Luffy wrestled nearby while Usopp started mixing paints. Usopp and Nami’s eyes met. They smiled at each other.

Robin and Franky paired up, the first to start, Robin’s job of painting on Franky’s enormous back made easier by her Fruit. “Make it SUPER, Robin!”

“Of course, Franky.”

Nami watched the two lovebirds, watching Robin’s picture begin to take shape until she heard Usopp’s exasperated voice: “Hold still, Luffy!”

Nami looked and saw Usopp pushing forcefully on Luffy’s shoulders, willing his boyfriend to remain seated. Luffy, his hair pulled back with some of Nami’s hair ties, squeezed his closed eyes tighter and pouted. “At least tell me what you’re painting!”

“Luffy, don’t you want it to be a surprise?” Usopp asked enticingly, coating Luffy’s face with white paint.

“Hmmm...” Luffy paused, seeming to actually weigh his options between delayed and instant gratification. “Okay...”

Nami scooted closer to Usopp, laying her head against his shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what you’re going to paint on me, Usopp?” she asked, using the sweet voice she used on him and Sanji when she wanted to get her way.

He turned his head only slightly, just enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re just going to have to wait like Luffy, Nami,” he said cheerfully.

“Yeah!” Luffy agreed. “If I have to wait, you do, too!”

Nami chuckled. “Fine. Fine.” She sat up straight, considering Usopp’s back. “Do you think I could get started on you, Usopp?”

He paused. “If you don’t mind working with a little movement,” he replied.

“I don’t,” she replied, grabbing a paintbrush and a cup of water.

“Okay,” Usopp said, pausing his work on Luffy to pull off his t-shirt, tossing it to the side. Luffy cracked his eyes open. “Eyes closed, Luffy!”

“It’s not like I can see what you’re doing on my face!”

“No, but you can reach for that mirror over there!”

Luffy grumbled but complied.

Usopp moved the palette closer to Nami and she set to work. Paint was not a medium she dabbled in like Robin and Usopp, so she’d keep it simple. Her first instinct was to draw the ocean on a sunny, peaceful day, much like the one she and Usopp had enjoyed, given Usopp’s dreams of becoming a brave warrior of the sea, but they were pirates: they spent almost all day, every day surrounded by the ocean.

Nami watched Usopp as he painted Luffy’s face, his own set in concentration. She hadn’t even begun painting and still he was trying his best to keep still for her. He was so considerate, it filled her with warmth.

Warmth. 

Home.

Nami began mixing paint, trying to find the right shade before she could begin. Just as she put the paintbrush to his back, Usopp spoke. “Okay, Luffy. Now you can look.”

Luffy stretched his arm out across the tarp to where the nearest hand mirror lay, pulling it to him with a snap. He grinned as soon as he saw himself, face painted like a white tiger. Luffy laughed joyfully, scrambling to his feet and running to each crew member, demanding that each of them look and see what a good job Usopp had done.

Usopp carefully looked at Nami over his shoulder, smiling at her. She smiled back, pausing her work to lean close and place a kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad you got me to do this, Nami,” he said, turning his head back. “Luffy’s so happy. And it looks like everyone else is having a good time.”

“It was a good idea, Usopp,” Nami replied. “I’m happy you shared it with me.”

Luffy ran back to where Usopp and Nami sat, plopping himself down next to him. “Usopp! You gotta let me do your face next!”

“Sure, Luffy,” Usopp said, in that gentle tone of voice that Nami loved so much. “Why don’t we wait until after Nami is done?”

“‘Kay.” Luffy turned his attention to Nami. “Can I do your face, too, Nami?”

Nami considered the grin on Luffy’s face, the mischievous gleam in his eye. She didn’t trust it. “I don’t think so,” she said tersely. Knowing Luffy, he’d paint her face so she looked like a circus clown.

Luffy wilted. “Please, Nami?” he whined. “I’ll do something cute.”

“No.”

Usopp laughed. “Come on, Nami,” he coaxed, glancing over his shoulder. He winked at her. “A cute painting for a cute girl.”

“I am pretty cute,” Nami agreed. They both continued to stare at her until she relented. “Fine, fine. But you make sure he doesn’t pull anything.”

“You have my word,” Usopp said, saluting her.

-

Nami stared at herself in the mirror, holding her hand under chin and smoldering seductively at her reflection. She didn’t know what it was, but there was something appealing about the pink hearts on her cheeks. “I have to hand it to Luffy,” she said, looking into the eyes of Usopp’s reflection next to hers. “He meant it when he said he’d do something cute.”

Usopp laughed, his face done up like Sogeking’s. “Well, you make anything cute, Nami.”

Smiling still, Nami turned and stared at her back in the mirror, holding her arms up like she was about to flex them. It had taken Usopp a long time, but he’d painted a multitude of feathers on her upper back and triceps. A dazzling array of oranges, reds, yellows, and a couple spots of brilliant blue, green, and purple. It reminded her of the exotic birds they’d seen on a jungle island once. She felt like a creature out of mythology: powerful, beautiful, and deadly. She felt sorry that she would have to wash it off eventually.

“This is beautiful, Usopp,” she said, admiring his work. “You make me feel bad about my painting.”

“Aw, shucks, Nami,” he said, turning and staring at his back in the mirror. She’d painted a tangerine tree on his back, a small slingshot that resembled his older model leaning against its trunk. “I love what you painted for me.”

“You really mean it?” she asked softly, turning so she faced him properly. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re not just saying that because I’m your girlfriend?”

He pulled her close, placing his hands on her waist. “I love it because it comes from you,” he explained. “I’m honored that you would choose to paint something so precious to you on me.”

Nami wondered if the pink hearts did anything to hide the blush blooming on her face. At a loss for words, she simply chose to kiss him, letting her actions speak for her.

[thebiblesalesman]

A Knowing Grin: Relationships in What You Left Behind, the New Overwatch Short Story

Baptiste & Mauga

Nguyen & Sainclair

Overwatch & Talon

The Middle East Scenario

Baptiste & Mauga

Baptiste and Mauga moved in tandem, with the practiced ease of soldiers used to fighting together. It had been years, but it came back quickly, as natural as breathing.

“I missed you, you know,” Mauga called over the roar of gunfire. He was enjoying every moment of the battle, relishing the adrenaline. Baptiste could feel that same rush in his veins, too. “All those years you were on the run, and we could have been doing this instead. Don’t tell me you didn’t miss it, too.”

Had he? More than he was willing to admit. He’d spent so many years running, and this felt right—not being part of Talon, but having a place where he belonged, with a dependable team at his back. That was what he’d found when he joined the Caribbean Coalition, and later with Mauga and their squad. Taking care of people centered him, made him feel whole.

Baptiste and Mauga are two people who exist on the same wavelength, uniquely capable of reading how each other are feeling. Their friendship does not require niceties because it is fundamentally about sensitivity. Baptiste was seeking a sense of belonging, and Mauga is the life raft he happened to cling to. Mauga is isolated even among killers for various reasons, but quickly discovered he could refuge all of himself in Baptiste- both his friendly, charismatic exterior, and his colder but more genuine thoughts. Baptiste sees straight through him, and that turns out to be something he appreciates.

Baptiste, along with Sombra and Mercy, is an orphan of war. Throughout his life he has sought a place to take shelter and find meaning in dependable people around him. You can actually compare him to Ashe, who retains her blood relatives and appears blissfully unaffected by the Crisis, but who did not receive the satisfaction of a well-connected family and ultimately invented her own. But unlike Ashe, Baptiste did not have a wealth of opportunities. Overwatch—an organization he dreamed about as a child—never even came to his home country of Haiti. In that organization’s absence, the islands of the Caribbean formed their own Coalition, and he took root there.

He proved an elite medic and prime special ops material. But all things end, the Crisis included, and his service. Baptiste was faced with the threat of no longer belonging, and sought an organization that could make use of his skills. Talon was “a well-paying mercenary group that took on security missions that were sanctioned by official organizations or corporations”. Once inducted, he made fast friends with another recruit, Mauga. Specifically, Mauga “pulled Baptiste into his orbit”, fulfilling that fundamental need in Baptiste to have someone to serve and care for.

“Watch your back,” he shouted instead, taking down a mercenary who’d been about to shoot Mauga.

“That’s your job!” Mauga laughed. His gun tore a path through the guards swarming the top of the staircase, and they ducked for cover. He was in his element, wild and unleashed. He’d been like this on their missions, a hurricane of a man.

With you at my back, we can do anything, he’d told Baptiste once. You’re the best medic in Talon. You keep me alive, and I’ll protect you. No one stands a chance.

Baptiste and the others in their Talon unit—Doubleday, Mazzei, and Pacanowsky —operated as troopers, the same as many other ex-military agents from around the world. Mauga took the role of Heavy Assault, described as follows in the Venice Memorandum: “Believed to be the products of extensive genetic engineering, these elite troopers employ an extremely powerful exoskeleton and stimulants to increase their combat effectiveness.” While violence is a path Mauga chose, it is worth keeping in mind that his brutality is further fueled by engineering, or drugs, or both.

For a time, Baptiste was content with Talon, even as his missions grew increasingly questionable. Four years ago, two years after Talon’s newest leadership figure was jailed by Overwatch, Baptiste realized that his “security missions” were perpetuating the cycle of suffering, that he was creating more Baptistes by his own hand. His closeness with Mauga proved a selfish thing, one of the many comforts Talon offered in exchange for his soul. He fled from the Monte Cristi battlefield, but Mauga proved as attuned to him as ever, and was the first to find him in his escape.

“Cuerva told us that those missions were on the level,” Baptiste said weakly. He’d known the truth, even then. But he hadn’t wanted to believe it. And from the look on Mauga’s face, he knew that, too.

“Of course he did. And of course they weren’t. But who cares? We’re in too deep, Baptiste.” For a moment, all his bravado dropped away. It was just the two of them, no audience, standing beside the water. When he spoke, it was quiet. “There are no good people. Not you, not me. All we can do is have fun while we’ve got the chance.”

And Mauga challenged Baptiste’s narrative of his life. He highlighted two other missions, Makati and Singapore, that had been just as heinous. According to Mauga, Baptiste knew it was wrong the whole time. It was just that in Monte Cristi he encountered something personal—saw a ghost—and that his flight from Talon was just another self-indulgent act. Mauga ultimately let Baptiste go, but he also did not go with him. Baptiste, likewise, never thought to offer that possibility to Mauga.

Unlike Baptiste, who grew up dreaming about a world that could be and an Overwatch that never came to save him, Mauga has made his judgement of the world and the people in it. It makes sense for him to have no interest in deserting: the entire world is as awful as Talon in his eyes, but Talon is where he has the most fun wading through it. But he retains a weakness for Baptiste, his own personal mind-reader, and ultimately he becomes one of the ghosts that Baptiste leaves behind.

Flash-forward four years and Baptiste is consumed by the nightmare of his choice, which has left him without a home or a family. He travels from place to place, trying to outrun the invitations Talon constantly sends after him. It’s not as simple as fearing for his life. Talon prefers his talent, not his blood. His old captain, Cuerva, describes the potential capture of him in the most idyllic sense:

If all goes well, everything will be settled and we’ll be on our way home by tonight. Hopefully Baptiste will be among us, playing cards and drinking rum, instead of lying in a shallow island grave. [Cuerva Strike Team Log]

The threat for Baptiste is playing cards and drinking rum with his fellow soldiers is something he would prefer to running and hiding too. But given it was the behavior of his squadmates and Cuerva that led him to flee Monte Cristi, he has no trouble dispatching all of them when they come to call.

It’s Mauga who becomes the problem. Mauga, his perfect foil, comes hunting Baptiste in Port-de-Paix, stalking out Baptiste’s habitual safety net, inserting himself in Baptiste’s old home—offering himself and Talon as a replacement. Mauga does not do this at the whimsy of some higher-up, but for his own attachment to Baptiste. He comes offering the horror of constant killing, and the chance to belong again.

Even the mission Mauga shuttles Baptiste into is tailored to play on his desire to find purpose in serving others. Mauga’s manipulations are expert, a send-up to the fact that he only plays the role of a brute, and that in truth he is sly and dangerous—unfortunately this too is a trait Baptiste likes about him. Theirs is a friendship compounded by years of fighting beside each other, and as Baptiste embarks on the Port-de-Paix mission, he finds himself coming back to Mauga’s style “as natural as breathing”.

The mission itself seems to be dancing to Mauga’s tune too. Baptiste finally meets a member of Overwatch, and he is man invested in causing suffering to his own city, a man who gave up his comrades for gold. Mauga uses this man to test Baptiste, to get him to break his final code: that he will not kill an unarmed combatant.

But for a second time, Baptiste and Mauga cannot find agreement. Thus when Mauga comes again after Baptiste’s escape, all he offers is death. Just as Baptiste was never able to completely relinquish the comforts of friendship to do what is right, Mauga refuses to relinquish the comfort of Talon for friendship. The two of them are divorced from the larger conflicts of Talon and Overwatch or omnics and humans except as collateral victims, and in Mauga’s case this has produced a demon who is smiling at you as he kills you.

Mauga stood in the full-length window, scanning the canopy of trees. All of the glass panes were blown out, shattered by the bullets from his massive guns. “Baptiste,” he called. “Buddy, I just want to talk.”

The story’s dramatic showpiece of Baptiste and Mauga’s connection sees Baptiste working Mauga out of a battle-lust using nothing but his voice. There are a couple important features to this scene: 1) that Baptiste only gets to Mauga to behave like a friendly human being for a moment, that Mauga smiles, then kills a helpless man anyway, 2) that from the very start Mauga understands Baptiste’s thoughts too.

Mauga spends a lot of his time smiling like he does to Baptiste in the scene, either acting a role, or confident he has worked out everything Baptiste will do. When Baptiste does not behave to his expectations, he goes straight to violence, as it’s the only other skill he has. Their relationship has all the hallmarks of being toxic, but What You Left Behind is seeking a degree of understanding, trying to explain why Baptiste would return to someone who is no good for him, and why he nearly recalls to a life of brutality despite being a “good person”. And in the end, almost the only distinction between Mauga the Berserker and Baptiste the Healer is that somewhere inside Baptiste a shred of hope remains.

Baptiste stood, and Mauga stood with him. “Whatever you’re worrying about, don’t. Get in, get it done, and get paid,” Mauga said, only loud enough for Baptiste to hear. He hefted his pair of machine guns, each as tall as a full-grown man, like they weighed nothing. The coolant tanks on his back gleamed in the scant light. He raised his voice, letting it carry across the dropship. “Now, who’s ready to have some fun?”

Nguyen & Sainclair

“You see what I’m up against, Baptiste? I got him a hat, but he won’t wear it.”

Nguyen looked at the panama hat on the bar top like it was the filthiest thing he’d ever seen. There was a pink sunburned stripe across his nose.

For your reference if you are unfamiliar with Nguyen’s name pronunciation:

At first Talon Senior Analyst Trung Le Nguyen exists to provide an example of a personality that is absolutely repellent to Baptiste, whereas Mauga is an inescapable attraction. Nguyen does not like Baptiste very much either, but there is one other lesson to take from this story: despite Baptiste’s inability to appreciate Nguyen as a person, they are able to work together without issue. Baptiste sees Nguyen as dependable, which makes sense given that Nguyen provided his unit with analysis through all their missions. Nguyen is also more flexible than he may seem, agreeing to meet with Baptiste at Mauga’s insistence despite his own reservations.

Mauga is not as vested in disliking Nguyen as Baptiste. In fact he constantly seems to be trying to rope Nguyen in as he does with most people, but it does not work with Nguyen because Nguyen is impervious to charisma. Despite Mauga and Nguyen not really getting each other like Mauga and Baptiste do, they are also content to work with each other. Mauga and Nguyen also happen to be the only named members of Baptiste’s old unit who are still alive.

We don’t enjoy as deep a look into Nguyen in this story as we do with Mauga, but let’s take a peek at some words and phrases used to describe him from Baptiste’s point of view:

clinical and cold

cold as frostbite

cool, expressionless eyes

[Nguyen’s] voice cut through the air like a knife. Mauga sighed. “Sweet as always.”

From anyone else, the gesture would be courteous. From Nguyen, it felt like a threat.

Nguyen is an easy read as a clinical workaholic, not inclined to emotion, making him a good foil to Mauga’s impulsive brutality. He notably wears the same adequately professional attire, impeccably laundered, day after day. His detachment from excess is strange in Talon, an organization where many of the day-to-day troops are getting their first taste of luxury and end up feasting on it.

But his professionalism cracks toward the end of the story, after he learns that their target Vernand Sainclair has betrayed and murdered Talon forces—the same kinds of grunts as Baptiste and Mauga—stationed at his mansion for his protection, and Vernand further tries to shoot Mauga after promising he is loyal (the bullets ricochet harmlessly off Mauga’s shield and break some windows).

Nguyen stalked forward, Mauga covering him with the shield. “You sent us into a trap. You murdered the forces we stationed here for your protection,” he snarled. Nguyen yanked the gun from Sainclair’s grasp and slammed it onto the desk. “I even set up an appointment. And yet you continue to inconvenience us. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your head right now.”

Unlike Mauga, Nguyen appears to display his emotions raw and honestly...it’s just that his most common emotion is disappointment, followed closely by irritation. His anger here probably comes from a variety of sources, but one of the strangest aspects of the story is that Nguyen is on the ground at all. He is an analyst, and despite his John Wick-caliber pistol work, it is not clear why he felt the need to personally handle Sainclair. Nguyen ran analysis for Baptiste’s unit and also for Cuerva’s attempted recovery mission, but it’s not apparent that he has any particular affection for Baptiste...or anyone really. When Baptiste attempts escape, Nguyen’s professional response rules over all others:

There was a gunshot, and pain tore through his left arm. He almost lost his grip on Sainclair. He didn’t have to look to know who had fired that shot, and that he was lucky to have survived.

It is unlikely that Nguyen is any sort of hero candidate at this point, but he is a well-realized accessory to the story and its themes. Everything in What You Left Behind comes in matched pairs—Mauga and Baptiste, Baptiste’s childhood friend Dr. Roseline Mondésir and Dr. Angela Ziegler, Nguyen and Sainclair. But whereas most of these pairs harmonize with each other, exuding similar personalities or goals, Nguyen flatly rejects his counterpart at every turn. Vernand Sainclair is a man of excess, an analyst like Nguyen, but he abhors field work, betrays casually to feed his own self-interest, and like so many members of Talon, he originally worked for Overwatch.

Overwatch & Talon

“You were Overwatch?” Baptiste said, stunned. He’d never met one before. All the dreams he’d had as a teenager, the recruitment poster he hung above his bed at the orphanage, the secret hope that somehow, someday, Overwatch would come in and make everything better. And now one of his childhood heroes stood before him, a man willing to throttle his country to turn a profit and betray his organization to spare his own life.

“I was never in the field. I was just a handler, like you.” Sainclair nodded at Nguyen. “Overwatch always took me for granted. That organization was poisoned from the very start, and the longer I was there, the more I could see that it was slowly rotting from the inside out.”

When the Retribution mission came out, people were quick to note the similarities between the elite Talon units and existing Overwatch agents. The Heavy Assault has a rocket-powered charge just like Reinhardt, the Assassin blinks from perch to perch like Tracer, the Sniper appears in a puff of wraithform smoke. Most fingers ended up pointing at Moira, whose hero profile states:

After Overwatch was disbanded, O'Deorain was forced to turn to unconventional sources of funding. This time, she was invited to join the scientific collective that had founded the city of Oasis. Yet some have whispered that the shadowy Talon organization had already been supporting her for years, aiding her experiments in exchange for utilizing the results for their own purposes. [Hero Profile: Moira]

But What You Left Behind tells us is that the fall of Overwatch and rise of Talon was inevitable, and not the fault of one single betrayer or leak. Towards the end of its life, Overwatch ceased to look like the promise on its recruiting posters—or if you prefer Sainclair’s outlook, Overwatch was never the same as the idea of Overwatch. This also goes back to Mauga’s philosophy: there are no good people anywhere, so even if something like Overwatch was founded with good intentions, the people inside it would eventually fail its honorable mission.

Blackwatch enjoys an especially close connection with Talon. We learn in the story that Talon HQ is in Rome, which is also where the Blackwatch facility was located until it was destroyed by a Talon bombing eight years ago. The Blackwatch Commander and his attending geneticist both became Talon council members, the top sniper in Talon is the widow of a Blackwatch agent, and as we previously saw in Train Hopper many Blackwatch grunts happily became Talon grunts.

But Overwatch also created Talon operatives whenever it failed to reach out enough, such as in Haiti. And Nguyen’s reflective examination of the Recall dossiers at the end of the story also suggests that some existing agents or some who have yet to officially respond may actually be traitors lying in wait.

The mirror of Overwatch and Talon is not as simple as saying “Actually Overwatch is really the evil one!!!111″ Talon is a bunch of terrorists and profiteers. In fact this story tells us that Talon has the exact same issue Overwatch did: it has leaders like Doomfist invested in powerful ideals and visions of the world, but the rank-and-file like Baptiste and Mauga end up engaging in the same petty ravaging that armies have since the beginning of time. The Council is never sharing their entire hand with the grunts either, trusting that their lofty ideals will be accomplished on the backs of handsome mercenary payments.

At this point maybe it’s easy to throw up our hands and say “okay, everything is bad, so why care about any of it?” That’s the exact conclusion Mauga reached. But Baptiste thinks differently. After forcibly escaping Mauga’s clutches at the end of the story, he reviews the Overwatch dossiers and recognizes Dr. Angela Ziegler. They met in their travels because of one shared idea: that they wanted to help communities in need, without violence. Baptiste goes on to recognize how Mercy is very like the local clinic doctor in Port-de-Paix, and very unlike her glossy image on the Overwatch recruitment posters. It is because of his personal connection and personally witnessed strength that he reaches out to her, and not because of an ideal or a formless dream.

I think what the story is trying to get at here is that any organization, regardless of name or mission, is only as good as the people in it. There isn’t good and evil, Overwatch and Talon—there are individuals, and all of them have relationships just as complicated as the one between Baptiste and Mauga.

The Middle East Scenario

Baptiste tapped the glowing dot marking her last known position on the map. He’d thought that Overwatch was dead, but maybe it wasn’t. If Talon was coming for Dr. Ziegler, then she had a right to know. He’d need help tracking her down, but luckily, he knew just who to ask.

Baptiste opened an encrypted app on his phone, entered the password, and hit the call button on the bottom of the screen. It only rang twice before a familiar voice came through the speaker. “Hey, mijo. It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Sombra,” he said, looking at Dr. Ziegler’s profile. “Can you do me a favor?”

Time to gossip about god programs again, yippee!!!

A couple things about this section: 1) It’s going to be more speculative than the others by necessity, so feel free to ignore it!, 2) Ultimately I don’t know what the plot is here...just admitting that up front. I do make a guess though!

So recent Overwatch media has a pattern of introducing a tease at the end. The Blizzardworld map trailer showed Winston, Tracer, Bastion, and Torbjörn chilling in a living room at the end. Reunion ended with Echo. Storm Rising ended by introducing some omnic no one has ever seen before. And What You Left Behind ends by introducing Baptiste’s friendship with Sombra and indicating that he is shipping off to find Mercy with her help. Some of these teases contribute to what I am going to call the “Middle East Scenario”, where a lot of plot threads seem to be orbiting around the Middle East and Mercy, with the potential for converging.

First let’s look at what individuals are actively pursuing Mercy:

Ana & Soldier 76 - Soldier has a documented aversion to Mercy in Bastet, but in the follow-up animation Bastet Rises, Ana ends up hauling his useless carcass all the way to Mercy’s doorstep. Bastet tells us that Ana for some reason knows where Mercy is, and Soldier’s wounds in Bastet (from an attack by Reaper in Old Soldiers—still with me?) are not healing correctly, necessitating a slightly more advanced medical approach than Ana’s field stitching. I guess you could argue the canonicity of Bastet Rises, but it was commissioned by Blizzard and I’m pretty sure that Genjicat in the final shot is the only wink-wink.

Baptiste - Of course What You Left Behind ends with Baptiste seeking Mercy out to warn her of Talon’s interest in her and the other former agents. He’s checking for a physical location, so he probably intends to meet her in person. The only complication here is timing: Baptiste’s story takes place three days after the Recall, the events of Bastet take place around the same time as Reflections (where you can see Ana and Soldier moping together at Christmas), so whatever Baptiste is doing he’s either taking a really scenic route to Mercy or he actually meets her separately from Ana and Soldier meeting her. Reflections also shows us that Mercy is still chilling in a tent somewhere, so if anybody has met with her they have yet to disrupt her post-Overwatch routine of traveling from one humanitarian mission to another.

Reaper - In a general sense Reaper operates as Talon’s executioner and would be seeking Mercy for that reason. Baptiste seems to think Talon is a very present threat at the end of the story, though he may not know Reaper personally. There is a second reason Reaper may show up at Mercy’s house, which is his pursuit of Ana and Soldier. Soldier specifically worries about staying in one place too long because of Reaper in Bastet.

Sombra - Likely to be in touch with the good doctor, at least virtually, due to Baptiste calling in a favor. Baptiste and Sombra met while they were both working at Talon, per the Developer Q&A.

Next we should consider what other forces are operating regionally or who otherwise might get pulled into Mercy’s orbit:

Pharah & Helix Security - From Bastet we know Ana has written a letter to Pharah, but Pharah has yet to respond. Soldier speculates that Ana will request Pharah to manage some artifacts at the Necropolis, and encourages her to contact Pharah again. If Pharah does seek out Ana, the trail will inevitably lead her to Mercy. Helix Security, the private military Pharah works for, is also active in the post-Recall timeline. The Anubis god program broke out of a Helix facility, and so did Doomfist, quite effortlessly. Despite this there is nothing currently indicating Helix is a Talon puppet. Talon has an interest in their properties but has been unable to access them freely. Reaper notes that Helix is unaware of the true value of what they are guarding. It’s hard to imagine Helix being unaware of the importance of keeping Doomfist imprisoned, which along with Sombra’s involvement suggests Talon’s interest is in a software asset—Anubis, or something like it.

Helix Security should have upgraded the Anubis facility after we took it over a few years back. And now the worst has happened—or it’s about to. The Anubis A.I.—one of the “god programs” Overwatch quarantined after the Omnic Crisis—broke its containment at 2300 hours.  

Anubis - Pharah and her team destroyed Anubis in Mission Statement. Ten years before that, Overwatch quarantined Anubis for the first time. Overwatch’s intervention led Egypt into a state of famine and ruin, which suggests very strongly that Anubis was originally some sort of post-Crisis A.I. infrastructure initiative. In fact the first panel of Old Soldiers shows some graffiti on a wall that reads “A.I. is our right”. It seems that whatever Overwatch did, they not only goofed it up hard, but that their intervention was not necessarily desired in the first place. A further incident occurs in Cairo three years after Overwatch’s Anubis intervention, while the humanitarian crisis is in full swing, but no details are given—it’s a background headline in the Uprising comic. By the time Mission Statement comes to pass, the Anubis A.I. was badly malfunctioning and its containment facility lacked the necessary security upgrades to handle it (remember Reaper’s comment about Helix not knowing what they are guarding...). We don’t know what Anubis was like when Overwatch originally intervened in its operation, but we do know that the humanitarian crisis sparked by that intervention was of special concern to both Mercy and Ana. Even with all this information, I feel like there is a catalyst missing. After all, Anubis is dead, and Talon has not been successful in getting whatever it is they want out of Helix Security’s protection. But Storm Rising may have offered the missing piece...

We learn that Doomfist is in collusion with whoever that mysterious omnic gentleman was. […] No, he’s not a part of Talon. […] Even though we’re in the past here, we’re learning about something that’s coming up, that’s unfolding… We know there’s going to be a minor detour because Doomfist has to spend a few years in jail because he’s going to get captured shortly after this. But then, the plan will unfold. [Jeff Kaplan]

Storm Rising Mystery Omnic - There are multiple reasons to believe this omnic is a member of Null Sector, but the remaining weirdness to his appearance is that he meets Doomfist in Egypt. Why would either Null Sector or Doomfist be in Egypt? The only clue we have is Jeff’s comment, that the two of them had a plan to execute six years ago, but it got put on hold after Doomfist was jailed. The possibility exists that this plan requires access to a powerful infrastructure A.I. like Anubis, and what we see in Old Soldiers is that Talon is trying to get access to property guarded by Helix Security... It would be interesting if Overwatch’s apparent mistake in Egypt came back to haunt them ten years later. There’s a lot of ghosts in this game.

Moira & Oasis - A lot of these orbiting issues are centralized in Egypt, but Mercy’s position on the map in Recall is closer to Iraq. We know she isn’t precisely in Oasis because Oasis is hardly the site of a humanitarian crisis, but it’s not unfathomable that she would know people working there. That includes the Minister of Genetics, Moira, who is also on the Talon council, and who also gets regular visits from Reaper to further treat his condition. If, say, Soldier 76 showed up on Mercy’s doorstep with a stubborn wound caused by Reaper, the temptation might be there to reach out to Moira to help treat him. One of the weirdest unresolved plot threads in Overwatch is also potentially connected to Oasis—Dr. Hamid Faisal, whose excavations at Petra and Ayutthaya make use of Oasis-style drones. Faisal works for an unknown benefactor, and also has work at Ilios, a site from which Talon has been attempting to steal artifacts. As revealed in Bastet, Ana also knows Faisal and has a favorable opinion of his work.  

Genji - Genji, you say? Well at the time of Reflections we know Genji is aware of Mercy’s location since he is writing her a physical letter that presumably is addressed and mailed and not just delivered by a dragon Fed-Ex. He and Zenyatta appear to be chilling in Nepal (geddit), but there is nothing saying Genji isn’t going to walk over for a visit sometime. Wouldn’t it be just fun if he happened to arrive at the same time as all this other stuff was going down? Zenyatta could come too and enter directly into the middle of this big vengeful Old Soldiers plot and save some lives! What? No? Okay, back to my corner then.

In speculative conclusion: another animated short ala Infiltration, introducing a new hero (MO?) while simultaneously advancing the plot? There are a lot of moving pieces here though, and a lot of characters to render in an 8-10 min runtime. Bear in mind that Mission Statement was originally supposed to be an animated short and was cancelled for similar reasons. So there might be some additional media interventions building up to some showpiece cinematic.

But know that I will always consume and digest to a paste more short stories and comics Blizz, you can count on me!

References

What You Left Behind [short story]

Cuerva Strike Team - Log Recovered [blog post]

Venice Memorandum Declassification [blog post]

Baptiste Developer Q&A [forums discussion]

Baptiste [hero profile]

Baptiste [origin story]

Mercy [hero profile]

Moira [hero profile]

Sombra [hero profile]

Storm Rising [voicelines/cinematics]

Storm Rising [Creator Residency stream] (Jeff Kaplan/OhNickel/Fareeha -  2019.4.16)

Bastet [short story]

Bastet Rises [animation] (by Dillongoo, commissioned by Blizzard Entertainment)

Train Hopper [comic]

Mission Statement [comic]

Old Soldiers [comic]

Reflections [comic]

Masquerade [comic]

Uprising [comic]

Retribution [comic]

Recall [cinematic]

[i-heart-danchou]

Freedom

This is for eruri week day 9 and also 6, Fireworks and marriage!  It’s something of a sequel to ‘Stay with me’ in which Erwin survives his injuries at Shiganshina.  https://i-heart-danchou.tumblr.com/post/185630592451/stay-with-me You won’t need to read that one to understand this one though, but it probably won’t hurt.  -- It wasn’t very often that Levi got excited, but he’d been waiting for this for a long time, and dammit he was gonna make the most of it. It had been a long and difficult journey since the last stand at Shiganshina: a whole world against them, their true enemies revealed, and Erwin… badly, badly injured.  Levi had spent the first three months after the battle helping Erwin adjust to being newly disabled.  He’d barely survived his injuries, and was left with a somewhat large chunk of his abdomen missing as well.  It was hard for him to walk, hard for him to eat, hard for him to piss and laugh and do things he used to take for granted. Levi stood beside him though, celebrating even the smallest accomplishments and trying to keep Erwin’s spirits up.  He’d seen the truth of the world, he’d lost his independence in a meaningful way, but dammit, he was alive and that was all that mattered.

Levi had more or less forced him to resign his position as commander, and instead had encouraged him to take up the less physically challenging role as advisor to the queen and the various commanders.  If the demotion bothered Erwin, he never mentioned it.  He had his office refurbished with wheelchair accessible accoutrements, and… slowly, carefully, started to get readjusted to living.

His depression was always there, but it seemed to have abetted somewhat now that his father’s death and truth had both been vindicated.  Sometimes Levi would fall asleep curled up against Erwin’s side— one or the other really, his right side wasn’t as good for cuddling as it was missing an arm, but his left side was so, so tender and delicate… it wasn’t easy— and he’d wonder if saving Erwin’s life had been a gift or a curse.  Erwin struggled, surely, with how limited he was now but… he was alive.  He was alive.

Levi had had to leave Erwin behind more times than he cared to in order to help build the new Paradisian infrastructure.  He had to leave once more when Eren had gone rogue, a fact which annoyed Levi considerably since Erwin had predicted he was going to do something quite rash if they weren’t careful, but that was another matter.

A horrific war followed, a tale of death and destruction, of betrayal and redemption, a slimly won fight that altered the course of humanity forever but… Levi wasn’t interested in dwelling on that.  

They had free movement beyond the island now, and Levi wanted to show Erwin just what the world had to offer.  He’d arranged for the finest ship in the Paradisian fleet to take him and Erwin across he ocean, and he hoped very much that the old commander would be able to handle the journey.  He had attendants at the ready, was going over the safety manuals ad nauseam, apparently had practiced rescuing 200 pounds of dead weight from the ocean just in case.  

“Honestly Levi, you don’t need to make such a fuss.”  Erwin protested mildly as Levi pushed his wheelchair onto the boat.  “I’ll be fine.  I’m fairly tough, all things considered, you don’t need to worry so much.”

Levi scoffed and kept pushing, not really wanting to get into the fact that he couldn’t bear to lose Erwin again.  “If you keep complaining I’ll dump you into the ocean and save myself a lot of money, so zip it.”  He growled, a twist of fondness ebbing through his voice.  

“Are you at least going to tell me some of the itinerary?  I’d like to know what to expect.”

“First up is Marley, obviously since it’s closest.  We’re staying at some beach resort there, I dunno the details, and Hanji’s arranged for a culture tour or whatever.  Should be about two days to arrive, apparently.  We have a nice private cabin on the boat and I made sure the chef knows that you only eat bland shit.”  

Erwin chuckled.  “My hero.”  He squeezed Levi’s hand and sniffed the ocean air.  “It’s a beautiful day.”

“Yeah.”  Levi muttered.  “It is.”

**

Levi had never really imagined that he and Erwin would end up having freedom like this.  That the weight of the world would release them one day, that they'd be able to relax and just… enjoy whatever time they had left.  Their cabin was certainly luxurious; clean enough for Levi’s standards, a private bathroom, a big fluffy bed with the softest sheets he could ever remember feeling.  There was a food cart ready for them, with chilled sparkling wine and pastries enough for the both of them.  

Erwin couldn't really drink with his abdominal injury but he had a tiny glass of the stuff to make Levi happy.  “It’s perfect, Levi.  This is so lovely.”

Levi’s lips twitched and he shut his eyes.  His face still hurt him sometimes after his run in with Zeke, and he subconsciously rubbed at the wound that had just about blinded him on the right side.  “You deserve it.”  He muttered.  “C’mon, get some rest before the sun sets.  I want you to see how it looks over the ocean.”

Evening rolled around and Levi carefully pushed Erwin to the main decks so they could watch the sun sink over the horizon.  The ocean was lit up with beautiful pinks, oranges and purples, and Erwin let out an appreciative gasp as the sun made way for the stars in the sky.  “It’s incredible.”  He whispered.  “Thank you, Levi.  For helping me see this.”

“That’s nothing.”  Levi informed him, pointing up at the sky.  Moments later a loud explosion cracked through the night sky, erupting into a dandelion puff of golden sparkles before their eyes.  

Erwin was impressed.  “What—“

“They're called fireworks, Erwin.  A Hizuru invention… I wanted you to see them.”

Blast after blast went off in the sky, showering them both with sparkles of all the colors of the rainbow.  Erwin was rapt, and Levi eventually moved to sit on his lap as they watched the show together.  

“Levi?”  Erwin asked in between fireworks.  “I’m so, so happy right now.  Thank you.  For this.  For everything you’ve done for me.  For the beautiful world you’ve carved and shown me.  I love you and I always want to be with you.”

Levi shook his head and smiled, kissing Erwin’s temple.  “You’re going soft on me, Erwin.  I don’t need any marriage proposals from you.”  A barrage of fireworks went off, and he leaned in close.  “We’re already pretty much married anyway, asshole.”  He explained, kissing Erwin on the ear.  “And we’re always going to be together.”

Erwin smiled at that and stole a proper kiss, gingerly pulling Levi close with his left arm, obviously trying to keep his balance.  Levi supported him, because he always did, and they melted together.  

In the sky the stars kept shining, muted temporarily by the gunpowder display that settled peacefully on the water.  They were free now, they were alive, and the world was theirs for the taking.  

[ultraericthered]

Anime Update 33

CLANNAD After Story - Hey, this series had two young characters getting married and settling into their new life as a newlywed couple, dedicated an episode to that, and actually made it engaging to watch! Suck on that, Joe Quesada! This episode pretty much had two moods two it: wholesome and hilarious, often coming in one after the other. Tomoya and Nagisa’s awkwardness during Nagisa’s bath time? Hilarious. Their talk on their floor beds concerning Nagisa getting a job of her own? Wholesome (Normally the stuff Nagisa said would raise death flags, but that notion is just unthinkable to most people that it might not cross their minds). Akio dressing up like a radical young rapper to accompany Tomoya to the restaurant Nagisa works at? Hilarious. (I swear this guy just gets stranger and sillier by the episode) Tomoya bemoaning the fact that the high school building where he and Nagisa had spent so much precious time at is getting torn down, and Nagisa consoling him? Wholesome. And then the end with Nagisa’s pregnancy reveal, complete with Nagisa dramatically declaring to her parents “We had sex and sex makes babies!”? A truly bizarre mix of both as only this series could deliver.

Dragon Ball - And that’s it for Tao Pai Pai! Sort of a shame to see him go after just 7 episodes - he was the best villain in this saga and at the time was the best villain in the whole series aside from Pilaf. But whereas Pilaf is a largely comedic villain, Tao is dark in a way that was unprecedented in the series prior to his arrival. Actually no - Goku turning into a great ape and killing his own grandpa was dark. The climax at Muscle Tower was dark. The stuff with the pirates was dark. Tao is flat out disturbing. His part in these episodes starts with him grabbing a small, defenseless child in a stranglehold and then trying to very bluntly murder him. Most intense few minutes this anime gave us to this point. Not only that, his involvement in the plot has caused Goku’s quest to completely change gears. Beforehand he just wanted his grandpa’s Dragon Ball back, but now he’s willing to part with it again just to wish Bora back to life with all seven balls thanks to Tao having killed him. While the Goku VS Tao rematch definitely didn’t fall short of expectations, there were parts that did bug me a little. When Tao decided he’d go up Korin Tower and drink the sacred water himself in order to even things with Goku, a part of me could just tell that this wasn’t in the original manga, and sure enough, it wasn’t. I did like seeing Tao and Korin interacting, and it tied this mini-arc together in a very neat way, but Tao ends up right back where he was before anyway so it was ultimately pointless and just there to pad things out before Tao bit the dust. And the filler scenes at Kame House were just painful. The anime has a problem with Flanderizing characters whenever it goes off with scenes of it’s own invention: Yes, Master Roshi is a pervert, but this is not how he usually goes about being one. He doesn’t just creep on teenage girls and try to ogle them with no prompts for it whatsoever. That aside, this was a good mini-arc wrap up that segues into the final battle with the Red Ribbon Army, which I’d certainly say it’s about damn time for.

Love Live! - There was no suspense whatsoever in Episode 25. There was never a doubt in my mind that µ's was going to emerge the winners of Love Live. After everything they’d gone through and all we’d seen established of them in the previous episodes, how could they not? What I appreciated was that the episode didn’t try to force any suspense. It took it’s time, had the girls enjoy themselves, reflect on their final training course together, get together for a school sleepover, have this really great moment where they overlook the entire lit-up city at night, and make their way to Love Live for their last concert. “KiRa-KiRa Sensation” was no “Snow Halation” but it was pretty up there in terms of µ's songs, and an epic number for them to present to Love Live. But their most triumphant moment is what followed, as the entire crowd called out for more from them, clearly the favorite among all the school idol groups present. What Honoka told Eli in that mostly vacant auditorium back in Episode 3 rings in Honoka’s mind, getting her very choked up over how far she and her friends have made it. And in a mind blowing twist, it turns out that the Season 1 opening, all along, was µ's encore performance at Love Live. Their fate was hiding from us in plain sight the whole time.

The final episode is one of those types of final episodes that I really like - one where the main conflict or plot has been resolved already so it spends it’s run time just letting everything unwind as we say goodbye to the setting and characters. While it’s not the most emotionally stirring final episode involving a graduation I’ve seen in anime (looking at you, Angel Beats!), it was perfectly serviceable for what it was. A sort of problem with the last four episodes is that they’re all following “Melody of the Heart”, the best episode in the series, so you can feel it when those heights aren’t being reached again, but I will say that the moment of the graduation ceremony itself, with Honoka’s surprise song for her Third Year friends, really touched me. This season and it’s story events on the whole were much better than the first season (it dawned on me after it was done that the Blues Brothers-esque “save the school” thing just plain didn’t come up in this last episode, we’re so far past that!), and it’s finale was no exception to that rule...which made it kind of disappointing when it’s actual ending was. For all it’s faults, the first season finale (Episode 13) picked a very good moment and image to end on, yet here, the episode had the perfect ending in it’s grasp: the girls leaving the school rooftop for the final time, Honoka seeing all the memories playing, thinking to herself that they saw their mission through to the end, and everyone walking out as that “Love and Peace” song played. Just one final goodbye and they’d have nailed it. But what happens instead? A wacky moment where Hanayo gets some emergency message that freaks her out and makes her drag all her friends behind her, like µ's isn’t disbanding after all, and then we’re treated to this totally random and bizarre parade song and dance number from µ's, which ends with Honoka addressing the audience directly with words that honestly came off as unintentionally creepy. And then it just ends! That’s how we close it out? WEAK.

Next week: the REAL final concert and disbanding of µ's!

My-HIME - So this is like, the second festival episode we’ve had? Considering that the last one was when we saw Miyu kill a guy, I was a bit on edge, but not much happened here - it was just a nice refresher to get us up to speed on the existing HIME girls, HIME lore, and the dark dealings going on behind the school before shit hit the fan at the very end. We also got some romantic entanglements with Mai going out with Raito at the festival only to make Tate jealous and expose the feelings she and Tate have for each other, which in turn makes Shiho jealous and enraged at Mai. But what about Mikoto? It’s so obvious she’s the one who loves Mai the most out of anyone!

Ace Attorney S2 - I’m definitely much more into this case at this point than I was when it started, as we’ve now learned about Dahlia Hawthorne’s death being a key part in this case, the mysterious letter from Morgan Fey that Pearl received, how Pearl was supposed to channel Dahlia’s spirit but didn’t really understand what the letter was telling her to do, the mystery of who did end up channeling Dahlia and where is she now, the true identity of the victim, the truth about Iris being Dahlia’s twin sister and how both of them are partially of the Fey clan bloodline, the murder weapon that was hidden in plain sight, and the continued skepticism about Maya’s whereabouts. Seeing Phoenix working with Franziska, Edgeworth, and Gumshoe on the investigation was great, and then we have Nick’s talk with Iris. I have to give it to Dani Chambers, who voices Iris (and Dahlia) - she really sells the character and makes her scenes a lot more interesting to watch than you’d think they’d be. And even while in prison, Morgan is a horrible, spiteful bitch. Fuck you, Morgan Fey!

Nadja of Tomorrow - The episode is titled “Farewell, Dandelion Troupe.” Due to Nadja being so distraught over her stolen brooch that he messes up a dance during a live performance, the Dandelion Troupe members come to blows with each other and George calls for a disbanding. Thus do the Troupe break up....APRIL FOOLS! They didn’t have the balls to follow through with it! But it did lead to a groan-worthy turn in the second act where Nadja overhears the Troupe going “This is all because we took Nadja in as one of us! We should never have done that!” and then after she runs away, the Troupe clarify they say this because Nadja’s presence with them and the publicity they get is what led Rosso and Bianco to finding Nadja’s location, so they blame themselves for what’s gone wrong in Nadja’s life rather than the other way around. Really? This show really just resorted to that cliche? This wasn’t the worst episode or anything, but was far from the best. The most value came from the ending, where we see that not only does Herman now have the brooch, but he has Rosemary as an active participant in his schemes who is all too willing to play the role of Nadja Preminger before his father and the rest of the family, and the way Rosemary carried herself here was just bone-chillingly creepy. So I’d say this marks the last “regular episode”. Next week’s a very irregular episode, and after that....

Mobile Fighter G Gundam - We’re given a break from Domon fights with this more light-hearted romantic comedy episode centered around Sai Saici. No Wong or Master Asia here! The start was kind of ridiculous with the monks stating that Mermaid Gundam would be Dragon Gundam’s next opponent while Mermaid Gundam’s current match was going on and hadn’t been decided yet so how the fuck did they know which Gundam was going to advance to the next round, but things picked up when Sai Saici went out on the town in his silly Kamina shades and met Cecile. The “romance” that followed was really more of a one-sided thing, as I got the impression Sai Saici was crushing harder on Cecile than she was on him, but it did give us a good showing of what an actually thoughtful, sweet, dedicated, good-hearted kid Sai Saici can be when he has something that really matters to him. The insert songs here actually worked in it’s favor in setting the right tones, and Sai Saici ultimately having to choose his mission for the Xiaolin Temple over his love for his opponent’s sister. But let’s talk about the climax, which was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen on this show. The thugs from earlier show up in fucking robot suits to try and get revenge on Sai Saici. When Domon holds them up and calls Burning Gundam, he says “Rise, SHINING Gundam!” by mistake. And he beats the thugs...by tripping them. Burning Gundam just puts a foot out, trips one of the three robot suits into the other two so that they all fall into the water and are flailing about comically before sinking. The way the moment LOOKS really sells it, it has to be seen to be believed. It was just too much!

AND

Excel Saga, Extra Episode - Just as I returned to Toradora for Valentines Day, I returned to Excel Saga for April Fool’s day with the unaired 26th episode following the finale, titled “Going Too Far.” The experience was...less than pleasant. There were some parts I liked - all of Ilpalazzo’s scenes were great, I loved Cosette’s return, Excel and Hyatt’s interactions were as on point as ever, and the climax inside the love hotel got some laughs out of me, especially how it ended (”all problems can be solved with EXPLOSIONS!”). But most of it just wasn’t that funny and it boils down to a simple reason - the episode is dated. It was deliberately designed to be unsuitable for public broadcast when it was made. It’s title refers to the fact that it pushes the boundaries of what was acceptable to show and what they could get away with using for gags, which is why so much of the subject matter was dirty “adult” humor. It was outrageously risque and audacious in it’s day but now? There are things that HAVE been deemed suitable for broadcast that were far more shocking and appalling than what was presented in this episode. As a result, the episode now feels like simply a random Excel Saga episode where the people making it just snorted more crack than usual when they made it. Any bit of it that might’ve been “clever” in the past is lost on us, so it’s mostly just mindless and strange and stupid in a way that’s not particularly funny and leaves one feeling confused. I didn’t care for it, but I guess it was nice to spend one last time with ACROSS.

[narniagiftexchange]

                                       THE AUTUMN NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

                                                for @awkwardbookishgay  by  @blueandnoah .

HOLE IN HER SOLE.

Sunlight sifted over the forest like sugar on Lucy’s favourite cake. The air was cool and crisp as biting into a bright red apple, sunlight warming her fingers and nose. She hummed a little tune as she walked, basket over her arm, leaves crunching underfoot. She stopped in front of a hollow log and watched a snake soaking up the last sunshine of autumn.

The snake lazily opened her eyes. “Good afternoon, Missss Lucy.”

“Hello, Ms. Glimmer!” Lucy smiled. “Lovely day. I’m glad you can get some sun.”

“Me too, me too,” sighed Ms. Glimmer. “You don’t have anything tasssty in that basssket, do you?”

Lucy laughed. “You’re much better at catching mice than I would be. I have a few mushrooms, though, if you’d fancy a bite!” She held out her basket to reveal a handful of mushrooms round and white as pearls.

The snake shuddered, sending ripples all the way down to the tip of her tail. “No thank you. I think I shall leave the fungi for you and your brothersss and sssister!”

“I’ll keep an eye out for mice,” Lucy promised. She held out a hand. Ms. Glimmer rubbed against it like a cat.

“Until we meet again, Misss Lucy,” said the snake.

Lucy continued on her walk through the forest, stopping here and there to collect mushrooms. She stopped by a cluster of blackberry bushes she knew grew alongside a stream. Lucy picked the succulent tangy-sweet berries until her basket was full. The berries would make a delicious blackberry pie, Peter and Susan’s favourite.

The sun slipped behind the clouds as Lucy stepped into the clearing where she lived. Lucy pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The front door of her cottage was open, but the clearing was empty. No cheerful puffs of smoke rose from the chimney. Susan’s scarf lay abandoned on the ground in front of the cottage. Lucy’s stomach filled with ice. Blackberries burst as she dropped her basket, spraying droplets of juice over her shoes and stockings. She ran over to the house, heart leaping in her throat.

“Peter? Su? Ed?” No one responded. Lucy ran through each room. No one was there. No notes had been left behind.

Lucy left the cottage. The flowers Lucy and Mrs. Beaver had planted lay crushed and scattered over the yard. There were a pair of parallel tracks from a wagon or sleigh that Lucy could follow. Lucy wound Susan’s scarf around her neck before walking along the wagon tracks. She didn’t get far before a magpie fluttered down and landed on her shoulder.

“Miss Lucy!” he chirped.

“Hello, Briar,” Lucy said. “I can’t stop to talk. My siblings have disappeared!”

“I know. I saw it happen! A woman dressed all in white drove up in a sleigh and talked to your sister and brothers. I didn’t hear what they said, but the woman’s driver grabbed them and put them in the sleigh! They struggled, of course, but the woman had all these wolves, and they growled at your siblings until they got in the sleigh.”

Lucy stopped short. “Where did she take them?”

Briar hopped up and down on Lucy’s shoulder. “I don’t know, but I told my brothers to look for them, and to tell other birds to do the same.” Lucy took a deep breath and kept walking. “Forgive me, Miss Lucy, but you should prepare for this. Pack some food, take something to sleep on.”

“Oh, I know you’re right, but I so want to go right away!” Lucy twisted her fingers together. “Alright.” She returned to her cottage and packed a knapsack with clothes and bedding. She picked up the basket, still bleeding blackberry juice, and added its contents to her hamper of food. She went out to the garden shed to grab rope, a knife, and a heavy sheet of canvas. The knife was one of Peter’s, a gift from Father Christmas several years ago. Finally, Lucy returned to her room and pulled a box out from under her bed. Last year her Christmas gift had been a very odd pair of shoes made of iron and the cryptic message that she might need them. At the time, of course, Lucy had dismissed them, a little disappointed she hadn’t gotten a set of paints or a sled. Now she had a feeling she knew what the shoes were for. It didn’t stop them from being dreadfully uncomfortable, though. Lucy took a few experimental steps around the house before putting on a pair of her thickest socks and adding more to her pack. All prepared, she locked the house up behind her and set off.

Briar accompanied her for part of her journey. He told a few jokes and asked Lucy questions in an attempt to distract her, but nothing worked. She was a girl on a mission and she would not be deterred. After about an hour, though, Lucy admitted she needed to relax a little. She leaned against a rock and ate some of the blackberries. Briar ran his beak through her hair as he’d done many times before.

“Why has this happened, Briar?” Lucy asked. She picked up a mushroom and began to pull off each of the gills, dropping them on the ground.

“I don’t know, Miss Lucy,” said the bird helplessly.

“Have you ever seen that woman before?”

“Never.” Briar gently nibbled Lucy’s earlobe to make her laugh.

“Eep! Stop it!” Lucy shrieked. She instinctively pressed her head to her shoulder.

“I won’t!” Briar fluttered to her other shoulder and nibbled her other earlobe.

Lucy grabbed him with both hands and held him away from her. Briar struggled to escape from her grasp, but he was only a little bird, and eventually he stopped trying to flap his wings against her palms.

“Thank you, Briar, for cheering me up,” Lucy said. “And for telling the other birds about what happened. I’m truly grateful.”

“Anything for you, Miss Lucy,” the bird said shyly. Lucy unlaced her fingers, letting him go, and he hopped over to her shoulder. “I should go home to Mrs Briar, but you can always send me a message through the other magpies.”

“I will. Please be safe,” Lucy said. Briar jumped up into the air and flew away.

Lucy got up and began to walk again. She chose a more reasonable pace, knowing now that she might have many miles to walk. She distracted herself by inventing a story about a princess on an adventure. Eventually the autumn sun began to sink towards the horizon. Lucy chose a nice rock formation to against which to build her tent. She wedged sticks between the rocks and the ground to drape the piece of canvas over, then piled leaves, pieces of bark, and grass on the canvas for insulation. Inside the lean-to, she spread out her blankets and pillow. Bread and blackberries served as her dinner.

Leaves crunched outside Lucy’s shelter. She tensed: most creatures in these woods were friendly, but not all, and she didn’t want to take her chances against a bear. She held still, not even daring to breathe. The canvas of her tent wobbled. Lucy grabbed her knife and held it tight. She counted to thirty before she heard more crunching sounds leading away from her tent. Then the night was silent once again.

The night passed quietly after Lucy’s initial scare. She snuggled into her blankets, wishing she’d thought to bring a flint and steel. It wasn’t so bad once she’d settled in, though. She woke up early, before the sun, and watched the stars from inside her little tent. Drinking in the early-morning air felt like drinking ice water, clear and cold and liquid. Lucy fell back asleep until after the sunrise. She changed into fresh clothes under her blankets, packed up her bedding, and had a quick breakfast of cheese and apples before continuing on her way. Her shoes were no more comfortable than the day before, though she’d learned the best way to walk in them. She elaborated on the story she’d begun weaving yesterday until it was a rich tapestry of adventure. Lucy had to admit that ‘adventure’ didn’t sound quite as good now that she was sort of on one. Or a quest, perhaps. What was the difference between an adventure and a quest?

Most of her day was spent in areas of the forest where no formal paths had been made. Sometimes she could follow deer paths. Other times she had to make her own way through undergrowth. The daywas still chilly, but after an hour of clambering over logs and working her way through shrubs, Lucy took off her shawl and tucked it into her knapsack. She paused to brush flyaway hairs behind her ears and to drink water from a nearby stream. She knelt down to splash her face with some of the water when she heard footsteps in the dry leaves. Looking up, she saw a young man swathed in a dark cloak. They exchanged long glances, each wary of the other.

“You’re out here all alone?” he asked her, breaking the silence first. He knelt down by the stream and began refilling a waterskin.

“So are you.”

“I’m on the run from my uncle.”

“That’s funny—you’re running away from someone and I’m running towards someone,” Lucy remarked. “I’m sorry you’re on the run.”

The boy shrugged and looked down at the waterskin, putting the cork back in. “Who are you running to?”

“My sister and brothers. Someone took them away.” Lucy wiped her wet hands on her skirt before crossing them over her chest in greeting.  “I’m Lucy.”

“Caspian.” He crossed his hands over his chest in return. “Do you know where they went?”

Lucy shook her head. She pointed in the direction she’d been walking. “I was following the sleigh tracks, but they’ve disappeared. My friend Briar told the magpies to look out for them, though—perhaps they know.”

Caspian looked in the direction Lucy had pointed. “Would you like some company?”

Lucy leaned back onto her haunches and looked at her new companion. He looked trustworthy enough, she supposed. His cloak had fallen open, revealing a small knife at his belt. Ordinarily she’d have flagged the knife as something to worry about, but she had a knife, too. She would consider them even for the time being.

“I would like that,” Lucy said.

Caspian smiled at her. “I’m glad.”

He got to his feet and brushed leaves from his breeches. Lucy stood up and started walking in the direction she’d been going before.

“Hello!” she called into the air. “I’m a friend of Briar the magpie! Is there someone I can speak to?”

There was a pause before a pair of magpies darted from a tree and landed on Lucy’s outstretched forearm.

“Are you the lass with the lost siblings?” asked the first magpie.

“I am!” Lucy said. She glanced at Caspian, who smiled encouragingly at her.

“We saw them pass this way,” said the second magpie. “You’re on the right track, but it will be a very long walk. The sleigh was going so fast we could barely see it!”

“It was just a blur,” the first magpie agreed. “But it had to be them that got took by the magic lady. Who else would have such a fast sleigh?”

Lucy bit her lip. “Thank you.” She turned to Caspian. “Would you mind getting some bread from my knapsack for me?” When he obliged, she handed a piece of bread to the birds.

“Thanks!” said the first magpie.

“Very kind of you,” said the second. The first magpie dug their claws into the bread and flew away. The other ruffled her feathers. “I hope you find them, lassie.” She paused before adding, “I have something I would like to give you.” So saying, she fluttered away, returning in a trice with a clawful of bright beetle wings.

“Oh, they’re so beautiful! Thank you!” Lucy said.

“They are, aren’t they?” The magpie seemed to smile. “Good luck.”

“Thank you! Goodbye!” Lucy said. The magpie launched off her hand.

Caspian watched the birds go. “Your siblings were taken by a…witch? Enchantress?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy said. She played with the fringe of Susan’s scarf, still wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t want to think about what would happen when she caught up with the witch, and refused even to think that she might never catch up. “Let’s go.”

Caspian fell in beside her. He was a pleasant traveling companion, able to share a comfortable silence as well as he could tell a spellbinding story he’d heard from his tutor. Lucy particularly liked the ones about the bacchanals the dryads, maenads, and other forest ladies had in deep, forgotten forest clearings. The miles went by much more quickly than the day before, though Lucy’s legs were beginning to get sore. They stopped for lunch by a creek where it tumbled over a boulder. There was a nice clear patch of grass perfect for laying out Lucy’s piece of canvas and setting down their bags. Lucy immediately took off her shoes. Her feet, unable to breathe through the iron, smelled extremely ripe, so Lucy dunked them in the stream.

“Oooh! That is cold!” She yanked her feet out of the water and wiped them on the grass. She wrapped them in her shawl after sitting down on the canvas.

Caspian peeled off his dark cloak and tucked it into his rucksack. Now, without the shadow over his face, Lucy could see that he was a few years older than her. Glossy blond hair tumbled over his shoulders to his chest. He took meats and cheeses from his bag.

“Would you like some meat?” he asked Lucy, carving slices off a cured ham with his knife.

“Yes please! Would you like some mushrooms?” Lucy held out a small handful. Caspian took two. They feasted on bread, cheese, meat, mushrooms, and apples. Lucy knew that at some point they would have to consider finding more food, but she didn’t want to think about it yet. Full of food, they half-dozed on the picnic blanket. Knowing now that the sleigh went faster than the human (or avine) eye could see, Lucy was less inclined to hurry.

“What are your siblings like?” Caspian asked.

Lucy let out a gentle puff of air. Without opening her eyes, she said, “Peter is the oldest. He’s always trying his best to look after us and make sure we do the right thing. He’s very noble.” She smiled to herself, remembering their wrestling matches. Sometimes Edmund would fight dirty, but Peter never did. “Susan’s next. She looks after us too. She has such a tongue! The sparks really fly when she and Edmund fight. When they’re on the same side Peter and I have no hope of beating them. Edmund’s like Susan, but not a mama duck like she is. He used to be a bit of a brat, but he’s alright now.”

“I have no siblings,” Caspian admitted. “My uncle has a son, but he’s only a babe.”

Lucy pushed herself up on her elbows. “My siblings can be annoying, but I’m glad I have them.” She laughed. “Oh, but if I’d met you two years ago, I would have given you Edmund in a heartbeat!”

“Was he so terrible?”

Lucy shrugged. “I can sympathise with him now that I’m a teenager. But he was so stubborn and sullen.”

Caspian laughed. “I remember being a bit stubborn and sullen myself at that age.”

“I wish I could remember what Peter and Susan were like at fourteen, but I was eight and ten, and I don’t have so many memories from back then.” Lucy lay back spread-eagled on the canvas and gazed up at the clouds.

“I’m not sure I have many memories from then either, now that you mention it.” Caspian got up and rummaged in his bag. “Would you like a pastry?”

“Yes, please!” Lucy said eagerly, sitting up to accept half an apple pastry. It was thickly dusted with cinnamon. Custard oozed out the sides. It was impossible to eat neatly, so Lucy gleefully ate it messily before wiping her hands on the grass. “Who made that?”

“My family’s cook. He’s very good, isn’t he? I’ll miss his cooking.”

“You have a cook?” Lucy asked. “That’s amazing!”

Caspian laughed. “Yes, it’s quite nice. We’ve always had one. Now I suppose I’ll have to learn how to cook!”

“I’m sure we can all teach you once we find my siblings! Peter’s really good at pastry ‘cause he’s so patient. Susan’s the best with a bow, so she gets us wild game. Edmund makes the game into stews because he’s not patient so he can just put the ingredients in the pot and go do something else until it’s done. I usually make bread.”

“Did you make this bread?” Caspian asked, pointing at Lucy’s bag.

Lucy shook her head. “Peter made these loaves.”

“They’re delicious!”

“Just wait until you’ve tried mine!” Lucy smiled. “Shall we go?”

The two of them continued on their journey. Occasionally birds would fly down to give them an update on the sleigh. It continued in an uncannily straight line, even through the thickly forested parts of the landscape. While Lucy knew that she and Caspian were on a rescue mission, it was easy to forget: the weather made her feel like she was just taking long hikes, and the fact that her siblings had been captured by some sort of witch made the whole thing feel a little like a dream. Time flowed along like honey under the autumn sky. Mid-afternoon Lucy spotted some mushrooms. It reminded her that they would need to gather more food.

Lucy showed Caspian which nuts were edible and how to spot raspberry and strawberry plants. She would look for the mushrooms herself because of the risk of confusing poisonous ones for edible ones. Most of the mushrooms Lucy was able to find were plain white or brown, though she discovered one massive orange mushroom all ruffled like a flower in the height of bloom. When all was said and done, they had quite the haul of mushrooms, berries, and nuts. Lucy had even found two truffles.

The autumn light faded fast. Luckily, Lucy and Caspian stumbled upon an abandoned cabin. The walls leaned in on each other like old friends and gaps in the walls loomed like missing teeth, but it was something. Together they searched for logs and kindling. Caspian had a flint and Lucy’s knife would serve as a steel. Caspian built the fire while Lucy draped her piece of canvas over the dirt floor and laid out her bedroll. Caspian sat cross legged on his blankets, flames reflected in his eyes as he stared into its depths. Lucy leaned back onto her bed and gazed out of the missing half of the roof at the stars. She and her siblings had once made up new stories about the constellations: the Leopard, they’d decided, had been pursuing the white stag without knowing of its magical properties. The leopard chased the stag for so long that it eventually walked right into the sky. The Hammer got bored after it became a constellation and built the Ship out of star-wood, “whatever that is,” Susan had giggled. Lucy pulled her blanket up to her chin and rolled over so she couldn’t see the stars.

“Would you like dinner, Lucy?” Caspian offered.

Lucy rolled over again to face the centre of the room. Caspian had impaled a sandwich on a stick and held it over the fire. He’d also laid out a row of beech nuts next to the fire, as Lucy had told him that they were much better when dried. She and her siblings used to gather up apronfuls of beech nuts and let them dry out for weeks, but she and Caspian didn’t have the time.

“Why are you doing to that sandwich?” Lucy asked, sitting up.

“Our cook used to serve sandwiches warmed next to a fire. Melted cheese tastes wonderful!”

“I’ll try it.” Lucy shrugged off her blanket and began rummaging through her basket. “I like berries with cheese—do you think that would work?”

“Berries and cheese is the food of Aslan’s country,” Caspian said, grinning, accepting a handful of blackberries. He alternated bites of his sandwich with berries, gasping as he burnt his tongue. Lucy assembled her own cheese and berry sandwich and speared it with a stick. It took a while to discover the right place to hold the sandwich from the fire so it didn’t burn, and by the time Lucy had toasted one side, she decided one side would have to be good enough. Blackberry juice dripped down her fingers and arms as she ate and cheese burned the tips of her fingers.

“This might be the best sandwich I’ve ever had!”

“Agreed.” Caspian smiled at her across the fire.

Lucy leaned out the dilapidated door to wipe her hands on the grass. She came back in and wormed her way under her blankets. She lay there quietly for a while, watching the stars and trying to relax. The weight of both their unspoken worries pressed down on her chest.

“Would you be alright if your uncle found you?” Lucy asked hesitantly.

“What did you say?” Caspian asked, voice slow like molasses.

“If your uncle chased you. Would something bad happen to you?”

Lucy could hear Caspian shifting under his blanket. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure what he would do. My tutor told me that I was in grave danger, but it’s hard to imagine my uncle killing me. I suppose he might.”

“Killing you?” Lucy’s eyes snapped open. “Why?”

Caspian hummed. “He believes that I stand between him and what he wants.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know.” Caspian still sounded sleepy. “What he wants belongs to me, and I will take it someday. But for now, I’m seventeen and have only myself. He has an army.”

“An army‽” For a moment, the only sounds in the cabin were the snaps and crackles of the fire. Caspian sighed out a long breath.

“I am Prince Caspian the Tenth,” he said.

“Oh.” While Miraz didn’t have much of an effect on the Pevensies’ life in the forest, she knew enough of the situation for her stomach to clench. She rolled over to look at Caspian across the fire. “I see.”

“Yes, exactly.” Caspian yawned. “So here I am.”

“You seem awfully calm about it,” Lucy said.

“It’s all rather dream-like. I left in the middle of the night. I suppose I knew for a long time, deep down, that it would happen.”

“That’s awful,” Lucy whispered.

Caspian met her eyes from across the room. “The last thing I want is for you to feel bad for me, young Lucy.”

“In that you will be disappointed, because I do feel sorry for you and how you’ve been treated!” Lucy exclaimed.

“What about you? You have lost your three siblings. I have lost only the awful people I was forced to call my family.”

“You said this all feels like a dream to you. I feel the same.” Lucy sighed. “I can hardly believe they’re gone.”

“We will find them.”

“I hope so.” Lucy said it so softly she wasn’t sure Caspian heard her.

“We will. No matter how far we must walk, no matter how steep the path, we will find your siblings,” Caspian vowed.

As Caspian said it, Lucy could feel her heart lifting. She wasn’t alone in her search.

“Goodnight, Caspian.”

“Goodnight, Lucy, and sleep well.”

Lucy slept uneasily that night, worse than she had in her little tent the night before. She awoke from long, winding dreams to the sounds of Caspian’s gentle snores and wind whistling through their shelter. Upon awaking for the third time, Lucy got out of her bedroll. She picked up her blanket and wrapped it around her. She picked up the basket of roasted nuts, stepped outside of the cabin, and found a seat on a log. The early-morning forest wore a woolly shawl of fog that blunted its sharp, unfamiliar edges. Lucy could use one hand to count the times she’d ventured this far away from her home. She’d never come this far alone. She tightened her blanket around her shoulders and shivered. She was glad for the roasted beech nuts. They would have been nicer hot, but they were still good, and Lucy ate half the basket before she realised what she was doing. She watched the forest rouse from its slumber: birds beginning to sing, rabbits rustling through the bushes. Lucy even saw a bobcat winding its way between the trees. She held as still as possible, ready to flee at any moment, but the bobcat didn’t approach.

“Could you not sleep?”

Lucy startled, spilling the remaining beech nuts out over her lap. “Caspian!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He came around to her side of the log and picked up the beech nuts that had fallen on the ground. “Are you accustomed to rising this early?”

“No,” Lucy admitted, scooping the fallen nuts into her basket. “With the sunrise, usually, not before it.” She accepted the handful of nuts Caspian offered her.

Caspian sat down beside Lucy. They sat there for awhile in the morning quiet, the only noise the gentle crunching of beech nuts. Eventually they got up together, packed up their bedding, and headed on their way. Partway through the morning they came upon a mighty centaur. Her lower half was that of a draft horse, about as tall as Caspian at her horse shoulders.

“Good morning!” Lucy said.

“Greetings and salutations,” said the great centaur. She leaned forward so that she could see them better from her great height. “I do not often see humans in this part of the forest. What are your names, and why are you here?”

“I’m Lucy. He’s Caspian.”

“We are on a quest to recover this lady’s brothers and sister,” said Caspian, indicating Lucy.

“I am Meadowdell,” she said, bending one knee towards them. “That is a noble quest. Why have they gone?”

“They were taken by a witch.”

“A great shame. Do you know where the witch has taken them?”

Lucy pointed in the direction they’d been walking. “The magpies tell us they went that way.”

Meadowdell swished her tail. “I have planned to visit my own sister who lives over that way. Should you wish it, you could ride on my back.”

Lucy and Caspian exchanged glances: a ride from a centaur was a great honour. “We thank you, madam,” Caspian said.

In response, Meadowdell walked over to a boulder. Caspian cupped his hands into a saddle for Lucy to step into, then boosted her up to Meadowdell’s back. He stepped up onto the boulder and settled in behind Lucy.

“Are those iron shoes you wear?” asked Meadowdell. She reached behind her head to tie up her loose hair.

“Yes—I didn’t mean to hurt you, shall I take them off?” Lucy asked. While they were still not comfortable, she sometimes forgot that she was wearing them.

“No, no. It isn’t that.” Meadowdell twisted to look over her shoulder at them. “Hold on snugly—you can put your arms around me, small one.”

Lucy obliged, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Meadowdell’s stomach. “How will you steady yourself, Caspian?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, but Meadowdell broke into a canter, then a gallop, and Caspian lurched forward into Lucy. He tightened his legs around Meadowdell’s sides and grabbed onto Lucy’s upper arms.

Meadowdell was much faster than any horse either of them had ever ridden. Lucy kept her mouth tightly closed in order not to get a mouthful of Meadowdell’s hair as it streamed out behind her. The forest slipped by on either side of them, blurring into a uniform green backdrop to their adventure. Oddly, when Lucy looked under Meadowdell’s arm to see what lay ahead, it didn’t look as though they were making progress. The mountains in front of them didn’t appear to grow larger as they went. After about ten minutes, Meadowdell slowed to a walk.

“It is as I suspected. You will not make any progress on your quest unless you walk.”

“Why?” Lucy asked.

“I have heard tales of other questers who have been given iron shoes. It signals a journey they must make on foot, a journey that will be long and hard. I am glad you are not alone as you undertake this quest,” Meadowdell explained.

Lucy looked down at her shoes. “And if I took them off?”

Meadowdell shrugged. “It is old magic that governs these shoes. It may work, though I do not know enough to say for certain.”

“Thank you for trying to help us!” Lucy said.

“You are very welcome, younglings.” Meadowdell waited patiently as Lucy and Caspian slid off her back onto the ground. She took off one of her necklaces, a small golden acorn on a chain. “Take this. I do not know exactly what you will face, but the stories often involve gifts.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said. She fastened the clasp on the necklace around her own neck and patted the pendant where it lay on her chest. She reached up to give Meadowdell a hug, but she could barely reach her arms around where Meadowdell’s human torso joined her withers, even on tiptoe. Meadowdell stroked her hair.

“Be well,” she said, smiling down at Lucy. Then she flicked her tail and cantered off into the forest.

Lucy and Caspian continued on their way. Late that afternoon they stopped to make camp. Lucy showed Caspian how to make snares so they could catch some rabbits for dinner. They wrapped the meat in leaves and put it amongst the coals to slow roast.

“May I braid your hair?” Lucy asked. As soon as she’d seen Caspian’s lustrous blond hair she’d longed to run her hands through it, but it hadn’t seemed the sort of thing she could ask a stranger.

“Certainly.” Caspian loosed it from its ribbon and ran his fingers through it, undoing the tangles made by the wind as they raced through the forest. He settled himself on the grass as Lucy knelt behind him. His hair was just as soft as she’d hoped. She happily began to weave it into a braid.

“I learned how to do some of the braids the servants used to do on my hair. I could braid your hair,” Caspian continued.

“I would like that!” Lucy undid a small section and braided it again, securing the end with Caspian’s ribbon. Then she turned around, sitting on the grass, while Caspian braided her hair. She relished the sensation of gentle fingers against her scalp: it reminded her of trading braids with Susan. They usually wore their hair in simple styles, but once in a while they liked to practice more elaborate braids and updos.

“Were you friends with your servants?” Lucy asked. It was hard for her to imagine what having servants would be like. Lucy didn’t know what she would do while a maid was in the same room stoking the fire or sweeping the floor.

Caspian sighed. His hands slowed against Lucy’s hair. “Not as much as I would have liked. My uncle thought it was beneath me, but I took time with them when I could.”

“Did you have no one to play with?”

Caspian laughed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to ‘play’ with anyone. I do play cards or dice, once in awhile, with visiting royalty from other countries. When I was a child I could sometimes steal moments in the garden with other kids. But for years my days have been filled with lessons.” Caspian picked a piece of grass and carefully tied it around the end of Lucy’s braid.

“What kind of lessons?” Her hair done, Lucy turned around to face Caspian.

“Duelling, etiquette, dancing, history, maths, geography…” Caspian made a face. “It’s all very well, but I would rather spend time outside. I loved my lessons with Cornelius, though. He could make the driest topics interesting.”

“I’ve never been to school,” Lucy confessed. “The local school closed before I could go. Sometimes Ed and I use Su and Peter’s old books, but it’s not the same.”

“Well, once we’ve regained your siblings,” Caspian said, smiling slightly, “I could teach you what I remember as you teach me how to cook.”

“I would like that,” Lucy replied. She reached up to touch her braid. “You’ll have to teach me how to do this braid, too!”

“Anytime, Lucy. Now, I suppose it’s nearly time for bed…”

“Bedroll, you mean,” Lucy laughed. “Yes, I suppose so. Thanks for the braiding, Caspian.”

“Thank you, Lucy. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight!”

-

Meadowdell’s prediction about the length of their journey came true: Lucy and Caspian spent weeks or months on the trail of the witch. They soon began to lose track of time, though they could tell that a considerable amount of time passed: the leaves began to fall in earnest, the sun went to its rest earlier and earlier, the nights grew chillier every day. Lucy set a deadfall trap to catch animals for fur cloaks. Both Lucy and Caspian grew hale and strong.

One morning they awoke to a light dusting of snow over the ground. As much as Lucy had tired of their journey, she delighted in the snow. It fell gently during the day, allowing her to catch flakes on her tongue. As the land turned from grassy hills into rocky hills into foothills of mountains, their walk turned into more of a scramble over steep hills and rockfalls. They were both sweaty and out of breath by the time they arrived at the top of the steepest hill yet.

They could see a castle.

It was nestled into the valley between the next two hills, made of ice as much as rock, with tall, narrow spikes of both stabbing up into the sky. Lucy could only describe it as exquisite and terrible. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from its horrible beauty.

“There it is!” said Caspian. He, too, seemed to be under its spell.

“I don’t know what to do now that we’re here!” said Lucy, beginning to be frightened. “We have no idea how it is guarded or what sort of powers that witch has.”

Caspian took out his knife. “The only thing we can do is to watch.”

So they did. They walked the circumference of the surrounding hills, observing the castle from all angles. (It was no less unnerving from behind.) They watched for guards and anyone else entering or leaving the castle. (No one went in. No one went out.) In fact, it almost seemed as though the castle was in a deep slumber. The only signs of life (for all the birds and rabbits and mice would not go anywhere near) were the wolves roaming the grounds in small packs.

As they circled in closer to the castle, Lucy spotted a wide green lawn, incongruous in its obviously man-made nature: despite the unsettling nature of the rest of the castle, it seemed as though it had grown from the rock itself. The lawn had many statues of people and animals keeping stern watch over it. As Caspian and Lucy watched, five figures marched out onto the green. They weren’t close enough to see in detail, but the first three were of approximate human size and shape. They wore long robes of blue. After them came a very tall woman all in white and wearing a crown. Finally, quite a short figure came through the door and shut it after them. The first four all sat at a table. The fifth came and served them drinks.

Lucy and Caspian exchanged glances before wordlessly agreeing to get closer. They worked their way down towards the castle until they reached a better vantage point. From there, Lucy could recognise the three humanoid figures as Peter, Susan, and Edmund. They each looked unnaturally flushed as they mechanically sipped their drinks.

“Whatever are we going to do?” Lucy whispered to Caspian.

“I don’t know.” Caspian furrowed his brow. “I didn’t like the look of those wolves.”

“Me neither.” Lucy leaned back against a boulder as she thought.

“I suppose she has servants,” Caspian said. “Perhaps we could look for the servants’ entrance. Do you suppose they would let us in?”

“That’s a good idea! W should wait until they go back inside.” So Lucy and Caspian sat with their backs to the rocks as they waited. Lucy eventually suggested a storytelling game. She and Caspian traded sentences, creating a disjointed story about leopards on an adventure. The leopards were extremely good at adventuring, but they did have trouble holding keys and torches and rope.

When Lucy next popped her head up over the boulder, the Pevensies and their captors had disappeared. She and Caspian waited until all the wolves had wandered around to the front of the castle before hurrying down to the lawn. They walked the perimeter of the castle until they found what they assumed was the servants’ entrance. It had no lock or even a handle.

“Shall we knock?” Lucy whispered.

“Perhaps you could stand back. I will go in, and if I’m not back out in five minutes, come in after me.”

“Alright.” Lucy stepped into a niche carved into the walls so she would be hidden from anyone opening the door. She took out her knife and held it along her side, under her cloak.

Caspian knocked on the door. He jumped back as the door began to move. The knobbly rock began to shift and groan until it formed the shape of a man’s face. It was rather a nasty face with stern eyes and a cruel mouth, and it said,

“And who do you think you are?”

“I–was hoping to speak to someone about employment here,” Caspian fumbled.

“Is that so?” The stone face squinted at Caspian. “And were you invited here, or have you just shown up?”

“My—cousin—wrote me about this place, though they didn’t invite me explicitly.”

“That doesn’t sound like an invitation,” the face growled. “What’s your cousin’s name?”

Just as Caspian was about to begin weaving an answer, the door began slowly opening, its hinges groaning and complaining. A young woman came out through the door and addressed the stone face.

“Don’t be such a grouch, Tiberius. I’m happy to see my cousin any day.” She smiled at Caspian. “Won’t you come in?”

“Oh— yes, of course. It is lovely to see you again!” Caspian followed the girl as she disappeared through the doorway.

She led him down a hallway lit by flickering torches and into a cavernous kitchen. Countless workers in pale blue uniforms chopped vegetables, kneaded bread, and stirred soups. They came to a stop in a quiet back corner stacked with burlap bags of flour. She had the delicate look of a birch dryad and her voice was high and soft as she said, “Quick! Why are you here? It isn’t for a job, is it?”

Caspian glanced about them, but the nearest workers were yards and yards away. “I’m here with a friend. Her brothers and sister were stolen away by a woman who lives here. We wish to rescue them.”

The girl’s sheets of hair rippled around her face like waves as she shook her head. “What a horrible business. She’s taken girls and boys before, but never like this! I don’t think they’ve slept in weeks. She’s done something to them to keep them awake, it must be. But I don’t know how you could rescue them! She’s always with them, and the castle is full of her supporters.”

“Do you know why she took them?”

The dryad shook her head. “It’s all hush hush. Of course I’ve heard about three different rumours around the kitchen, but I don’t think any of them are true.”

-

Lucy walked the perimeter of the castle, looking into windows as she came across them. Most of the rooms were empty, though a few had servants dusting furniture or cleaning the windows. At these Lucy got on her hands and knees and crawled underneath the sill. She spotted another door as she crossed from the back of the castle to the side, this one manned by an armed guard. Lucy watched for a moment before making her way back to the door named Tiberius. She didn’t know how she was going to make it past; the door was clearly in a bad mood. Eventually Lucy decided to pretend as though she was not planning to get into the castle at all. After checking to make sure that Tiberius’ face had melted back into the door, she went over to the edge of the forest and threw her necklace across the meadow and into the snow near the door.

“Oh no!” Lucy said, as if to herself. She began rummaging through the light coating of snow with a stick, occasionally crouching to examine a patch of ground more closely. She gradually worked her way closer and closer to the door. “I can’t lose this necklace!”

“Oi! You! What are you doing, little girl?” called Tiberius.

Lucy looked up. “I’m looking for my necklace! I think I dropped it when I walked this way!”

“What business do you have near this castle?”

“Oh, none at all! Just visiting my grandmother,” Lucy said. “Is this a castle? That’s grand!”

“It’s the castle of Jadis, the White Witch,” said Tiberius.

“Wow! A real witch?” Filling her voice with sugar was fun, Lucy thought. “You must be treated so well for working for such a woman!”

“They treat me fine,” Tiberius said gruffly.

“Can you eat food? Oh, the food must be divine here.”

“I can eat, but they don’t give me any food.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible! Here, I have some jerky and nuts.” Lucy began to rummage in her bag. “It’s not much, but I feel so bad for you, doing all this work for no reward!”

“Oh, I don’t need…” Tiberius began. He closed his mouth when he saw the shiny roasted nuts Lucy offered. “I would love some, thank you.”

Lucy held the nuts up to Tiberius’ mouth.

“I don’t have hands,” he mumbled.

“Oh! Of course.” Lucy dropped a nut into his open mouth.

“That was delicious! Did you roast these?”

“I did!” Lucy smiled. “Another?”

It didn’t take long for Tiberius to warm up to Lucy’s bright chatter. She rather liked him with a little bit of food in his stone belly.

“This is a lovely castle. Do you know what it’s like inside?” Lucy asked, taking a roasted nut for herself.

“I’ve never seen it, of course. I hear from the servants that it’s lovely.”

“Could I take a look? I could tell you all about it!”

“I suppose no harm done, as long as you stay out of sight and don’t touch anything.” Tiberius looked longingly down at her basket. “Could I have another nut?”

Lucy gave Tiberius another few chestnuts. “Thank you, sir!”

“Mmmf,” said Tiberius, mouth full.

The door creaked open and Lucy disappeared inside. If anything had happened to Caspian, she had wasted precious minutes speaking to Tiberius, but Lucy hadn’t had many other ideas for getting in safely and with a minimum of fuss. Now, where was Caspian? She wished they’d come up with some sort of signal with which to find each other. She didn’t have far to look: she saw a flash of blond hair around a corner that turned out to be her friend. He was accompanied by a dryad.

“Caspian!” Lucy whispered. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am!” He indicated the dryad. “This is Whisperleaf. She will lead us to your brothers and sisters.”

“Just the one sister,” Lucy corrected automatically. Then the sentence caught up with her. “Really‽” She impulsively gathered Whisperleaf into a tight hug.

“Really!” Whisperleaf confirmed, returning the hug. “Come into the kitchen. I will get you some uniforms to wear.”

The uniforms were gorgeously starched: Lucy almost wanted to ask Whisperleaf how it was done so she could tell Mrs. Beaver, who was always looking for better ways to do things. Lucy felt marvelous in the first clean set of clothes she’d worn in weeks. Once the uniforms were in order, she and Caspian followed Whisperleaf through the back hallways of the castle. Any other time Lucy might have appreciated them for their flickering candles and cobwebs, straight out of any of her storybooks. Now, however, she wished they could see more than sixty feet ahead of them and that their footsteps wouldn’t slap so loudly against the stone. It was impossible to be quiet with her iron clodhoppers.

“Don’t be so nervous,” Whisperleaf told her. “Pretend like you belong here.”

Lucy straightened her hunched shoulders and held her head high. Oddly, it made her feel better, especially with the crisp uniform. She smoothed her hands over her apron.

“How are we going to do this?” Lucy whispered back.

“We’ll wait until Jadis is gone. Then we’ll tell the guard that we’re here to…take the Pevensies to the tailor.”

“What happens after that?” Caspian asked. “After we leave the castle, I mean. Those wolves ought to be able to sniff us out in half a second.”

“That’s a good question,” Whisperleaf frowned. “How would you feel about stealing some horses?”

Caspian shook his head, but Lucy said, “She stole Peter and Su and Ed. Let’s take some horses.”

“Would you mind, Whisperleaf?”

Whisperleaf shrugged. “They’re not my horses. Plus, Jadis is…” She lowered her voice as they approached the door. “…you know. Here we are.” She turned to Lucy and put her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders. “We can do this!”

Lucy nodded and squeezed Whisperleaf’s hand. “We can do this. Together.”

Whisperleaf stepped through the door, Lucy and Caspian following close behind. They were in a much fancier part of the castle than the shabby servants’ wing. Everything was draped in tapestries and textiles of blue, white, and silver. The end of the hallway was dominated by a pair of silver double doors reaching all the way to the ceiling. Whisperleaf led them to a set of smaller silver doors to the right of the main doors. A faun stood outside cleaning his nails with his knife.

“Good afternoon, Aurrus,” Whisperleaf said cheerily. “We’re here to escort the Pevensies down to see Tish. They’re to get new dinner things.”

Aurrus grunted, waving one hand towards the door without looking up from his task.

“Thanks, you’re a dear.” Whisperleaf opened the door and beckoned Caspian and Lucy inside. She clapped one hand over Lucy’s mouth before Lucy could gasp. Her siblings were all sitting nearly motionless on the luxurious furniture. Peter toyed with a chess set. Edmund flipped mechanically through a book. Susan threaded and rethreaded an embroidery needle.

“Pretend everything’s normal,” Whisperleaf murmured, taking her hand away from Lucy’s mouth. “Good afternoon, gentlemen and lady! We’re here to take you to the tailor.”

Peter set down the chess piece. “Alright.”

“If you insist,” said Susan tonelessly.

“Must I?” asked Edmund, though he set down his book.

All three of them looked up at once and spoke with one voice. “Lucy.”

“Shhh!” Whisperleaf hissed. “You don’t know her!”

“We’re supposed to take her to Jadis!” said Susan.

“She will join us as kings and queens,” Peter explained.

“What?” Lucy asked.

Whisperleaf cut her off. “There’s no time! Please come with us quietly. We will explain later!” She marched forward and gripped Susan’s arm. Caspian took Edmund’s and Lucy took Peter’s.

“I will see you later, Aurrus!” Whisperleaf said as they passed through the door.

Aurrus grunted.

“Where–” began Susan, but Whisperleaf shushed her.

“We really must insist–” said Peter. Lucy stomped on his foot to shut him up, forgetting about her iron shoes.

“What was that for?” Peter asked her.

“Please just be quiet, Peter. Just give us a little while and then I will join you as queen.” She wiped away the tears beginning to well in her eyes.

Whisperleaf ushered them into the servants’ back hallways. From there it was a short walk back to the kitchens. They paused in the hallway while they tried to decide what to do.

“Are there any other back doors, Whisperleaf?” Caspian asked.

“There’s one we can use. But I don’t know how we will get around to the stables or how we will take the horses.”

“Who looks after the horses?” Lucy asked.

“Different people, usually, but today it’s Dar. He’s not the brightest.” Whisperleaf looked both ways down the hallway. “We should go.”

The six of them shuffled down the hallway and out to the other door. It was hidden behind a tapestry and barely looked like a door. Whisperleaf took a needle out of her apron pocket and pricked her finger before wiping the bead of blood onto the door. It creaked open.

“Why do you keep working for this witch‽” Lucy asked, recoiling from the smear of blood.

Whisperleaf shrugged as she led the posse out into the meadow. “Didn’t have much choice but to take this job in the first place. And she doesn’t want us leaving and spilling her secrets.” She pointed to the stone statues overlooking the garden. “Some of those statues used to be servants.”

Lucy shuddered. “How horrible.”

“She turns people into stone?” Caspian asked.

“I know, I know, but we don’t have time.” Whisperleaf led them around the side of the castle to the stable. Servants and wolves drifted past, but none gave them odd looks: Peter, Susan, and Edmund had gone quiet and unresistant.

The stable was quiet and warm under its dusting of snow. It smelled of hay and fur. Half of it was filled with snow-white reindeer, the other half with horses with feathery hooves. A sleepy-looking teenager rested in a pile of straw at the end of the hall.

“Is he asleep?” Lucy whispered.

Whisperleaf craned her neck to get a better look. “I wouldn’t bet on it if I were a betting gal.”

“What shall we do?” Lucy asked.

“I can see if he’s asleep. If not, I could distract him with questions about the reindeer…?” Caspian suggested.

“I think he’ll still see us leading them out. Here. Let’s have Caspian take the…” Whisperleaf gestured to the statue-like Pevensie siblings. “…out to the forest, now. Then I’ll take the horses out there while Lucy talks to him. May be worth a try to flirt with him, Lucy…” Whisperleaf made an apologetic face. She helped Caspian herd Lucy’s siblings out the stable door.

Lucy took a deep breath before walking down to the end of the stable, iron shoes clunking on the flagged stone floor.

“Hello?” Dar sat up in the straw.

“Hello, I’m Lucy.” She smiled down at Dar. He appeared only a few years older than her, maybe Edmund’s age, which made him much less intimidating.

“Whaddya want?” He ran a hand through his messy hair and yawned.

“The horses are beautiful. You’re so lucky to work with them.”

Dar shrugged against the straw. “I guess. It’s just a job.”

“You don’t care about them?” Lucy asked, itching to say something else, knowing she couldn’t irritate him. She loved horses.

Dar shrugged again. “I’m just saving up to marry my girl.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Lucy brought her clasped hands to her chest. “That’s lovely!”

Dar smiled for the first time. “She’s the love of my life.”

“What’s her name?”

“Iridavan. Everyone calls her Iri.” Dar looked off into the distance with misty eyes. Unfortunately, horse theft was happening in the distance. “Hey! You!”

Lucy gestured wildly, making her golden acorn pendant swing in a wide arc. “Please! We have to do this. She took my siblings!”

Dar’s eyes narrowed as he looked past Lucy to Whisperleaf. “What’s in it for me? I could get beaten, y’know. Or turned into stone!”

Lucy shook her head helplessly and looked down at her shoes. “I…don’t know. That horrible woman!” She took another deep breath. Glancing at her pendant, she said, “I have this necklace. It’s real gold–you could sell it or give it to Iri…”

Dar’s eyes flicked to the necklace. “Gold?”

Lucy held the acorn between thumb and finger and wiggled it at him. “Gold,” she confirmed. “But you have to pretend you never saw us.”

Dar’s eyes narrowed again. “They’ll blame me for the horses, y’know.”

Lucy shrugged. “Break the gates and make it look like they broke out. I really have to go! Will you do it?”

“Yeah, alright. Gimme.” Dar held out a hand.

Lucy winced as she dropped the beautiful pendant into his hand. Still, it was more than a fair trade. “Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Whisperleaf, who nodded. “You never saw us.” She ran down the stable hallway to join Whisperleaf. They walked calmly out of the stable, just in case anyone saw, before ducking into the forest to join the others.

“Join us for a short pleasure ride,” Caspian was urging Edmund. Peter and Susan were already astride their horse. “Then we will go back and you can have Lucy.”

Edmund looked doubtfully at Lucy. “You promise, Lu?”

Hearing her affectionate nickname in his blank tone of voice made Lucy’s skin crawl. She couldn’t meet his eyes as she said, “I promise.”

“No time to waste,” Whisperleaf said. She boosted Lucy up to the back of one of the horses and mounted the horse behind her. Caspian did the same for Edmund. Whisperleaf took the lead.

“Where are we going?” Lucy asked.

“I’ve heard rumours about this place called Aslan’s How. I think we will be safe there,” Whisperleaf said. “Look, we should ride our horses through the creek. Throw off the scent.” The horses splashed through the creek. At times their hooves had to break through thin sheets of ice. Their prints were all too obvious in the snow, but there was nothing to be done about that.

It was a few hours before they got to Aslan’s How. The spell seemed to wear off Peter and Susan a little; the unnatural flush faded from their cheeks. Edmund seemed to have taken the spell a little harder. From time to time Caspian whispered in his ear.

Whatever Lucy was expecting from a place called Aslan’s How, an ordinary-looking hill was not it. She wasn’t sure why Whisperleaf thought they would be safe there.

Whisperleaf led them around to the back of the hill and pointed out a door disguised with shrubbery. “Here, Caspian, you take them in. Lucy, you and I can ride these horses out into the woods somewhere, hopefully make them think we didn’t stop here. We don’t have any rope, do we?”

“We do!” Lucy reached into her bag.

Whisperleaf grabbed the rope and dismounted, neatly tying one of the horses to Lucy’s horse. “I’ll ride the other and this one will just come along for the ride,” she explained.

Caspian dismounted and held out a hand for Edmund, who slid off the horse. Peter and Susan did the same.

“Why are we here?” Susan asked. She still spoke in a tone flatter than normal, though the light was coming back into her eyes.

Whisperleaf took Edmund’s arm and gently towed him into the How, the others in her wake. The door closed behind them with a gentle thump, leaving them in pitch darkness. “We are here to get you away from Jadis and back with your sister.”

“Ah, here’s a torch,” Caspian said. There was the sound of metal against stone before the torch flickered to life.

“Away from Jadis,” Peter murmured.

Susan frowned. “I can’t remember, but I don’t think she was nice to us.”

“There was good food,” Edmund offered. “We were supposed to bring her Lucy. Why was that?”

Lucy bit her lip. “Can we go?” she asked Whisperleaf in an undertone. “I don’t like to see them like this.”

“Good luck, Caspian,” Whisperleaf said, clapping his shoulder. She pushed the door open, bright light spilling into the hallway.

They didn’t ride the horses for long. Neither of them wanted to walk a long distance back to the How after the day they’d had. So after a short ride, they dismounted, untied the extra horse, and slapped all of them to make them run. Hopefully they’d be able to find the castle again, Lucy thought, though only for their sake, not for Jadis’s.

“Let’s make extra footprints so they think there were more of us,” Lucy suggested.

“Good idea.”

The two of them ran back and forth over their tracks, varying their stride length, until the snow was a mess of prints. They did the same past Aslan’s How and into the forest, hoping to lead any pursuers away, before walking back to the How. It was warm and full of light by the time they arrived: Caspian and Peter had lit a fire. Susan and Peter had even started dinner from what meagre offerings Caspian had left in his bag. It was mostly jerky and nuts, though they had a small amount of nettles and other winter greens for a broth.

Lucy took her place on her bedroll by the fire. She groaned as she stretched her legs. As she crossed one foot over her knees, she noticed a place wearing thin on the sole of her iron shoe. She took it off and held it close to her eyes to see in the dim light. Sure enough, there was a hole! She pulled off her other shoe. It, too, had a hole in the sole.

“Look at this!” She held the shoes out to the group. Caspian and Whisperleaf came to take a look.

“Well, I never!” said Whisperleaf. She took the shoe from Lucy and poked the hole. “Thank goodness you don’t have to wear these anymore. Why were you wearing them in the first place?”

“Father Christmas gave them to me and said I would need them. We came across a centaur who said it means I have a quest to do.” Lucy smiled and shrugged. “I guess my quest is over!”

Caspian crouched down to her level to give her a hug. “Free of those smelly shoes at last,” he said, kissing the top of Lucy’s head.

Lucy reached up to run her hand over his braid. “Not even happy I’ve rescued my siblings, just happy you don’t have to smell my feet anymore, I see!” Both of them laughed.

“I’m happy you’ve found your siblings, too, Lu,” Caspian said, letting her go. He dropped from his crouch to sit next to her, turning to watch the siblings at their work over the fire. Whisperleaf set down the shoe and went to join them, taking an experimental sip of the broth.

“Dinner’s ready,” Susan said. Edmund had gone looking for anything they could use as a bowl. Consequently, their broth and jerky was served in old army helmets.

“The ancient sweat really adds a nice salty flavour,” Whisperleaf said sardonically, but she sipped the soup as eagerly as any of them.

“It’s delicious, Su,” Lucy said. She smiled softly at her sister over the rim of her helmet. She thought Susan was almost back to normal, but not being sure made her nervous.

“Thank you. Peter helped.” Susan nudged him, smiling. She took another sip of the soup. Her eyes widened and she slowly lowered the helmet. “Hey! You saved us.”

“We did,” said Whisperleaf.

“Are you still under her spell?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t think so.” Susan narrowed her eyes. “I remember very little, but I don’t feel foggy anymore.”

“I don’t either.” Peter set down his soup and closed his eyes. “It was awful, Lucy.”

A shiver of horror went down Lucy’s spine. She didn’t know whether or not she wanted to hear it. “I can imagine!”

Edmund spoke up for the first time in what felt like hours. “Thank you, Lu.”

Lucy looked over to see that Edmund’s eyes were clear and all the unnatural flush was gone from his cheeks. Tears began to spill from the corners of her eyes. She set down her soup and beckoned to her siblings, who all came over to fold her into a big group hug. She reached out one hand back towards Caspian and Whisperleaf, who joined the hug. It was so warm and soft that Lucy’s tears of relief flowed even faster down her cheeks.

“No offense, Lu, but when was the last time you bathed?” Edmund asked, wrinkling his nose and stepping away.

Lucy laughed through her tears. “I have no idea.” She stepped back from the group and lifted her arm to sniff.

“We were pretty well focused on rescuing you from a witch,” Caspian added. “That’s much more important than how long ago we bathed, don’t you think, Lucy?”

“I agree.” Lucy reached for Caspian’s hands with both of her own. “Thank you, thank you,” she whispered.

Caspian pulled Lucy into a hug. “You’re so very welcome, Lu.”

Then Lucy hugged Whisperleaf. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I would do it again in a second,” said Whisperleaf, ruffling Lucy’s hair.

They all washed up their helmets and laid out all the soft materials they could find to make one big bed by the fire. They still had a long journey ahead of them, Lucy knew. They would have to be careful to get away from Jadis. But now that she had her family back, the hole in her heart was beginning to heal. Lucy curled up between her brothers and fell quickly into the first peaceful sleep she’d had in months.

I can’t know for sure, but I would like to think they lived happily ever after.

[vanderlindemangofarm]

headcanons for the gang if they actually made it to Tahiti and lived happily ever after (without Micah lmao)? I Love your headcanons so much!

Oh my god, isn’t this just the dream? Just imagine the Van der Linde Mango Farm becoming a reality! Fruit as juicy as Dutch’s bottom 👀

The Gang in Tahiti - HC’s

Dutch, of course, would immediately get to work setting up his mango business. Within days, he’s made friends with every prominent land owner on the island. He recruits Hosea and Strauss as his business partners - Hosea for his cool head, Strauss for his aptitude for numbers. 

But when he’s not working on his plans, Dutch spends most of his time alone. He wanders the many beaches of Tahiti, venturing into the mountains, the towns, the forests. He takes it all in, breathing in the warm sea salt air. He looks ten years younger, covered in a glossy tan. 

Sometimes he’ll catch himself mumbling “we made it” out loud, smiling at the blue waters. 

Arthur also spends a lot of time by himself, immersed by how one place can be so beautiful. He purchases a brand new sketchbook and fills it with intensely detailed drawings of the weird and wonderful animals he sees. 

He, John, Bill, Charles, Lenny and Javier are the muscle men of the mango farm, spending the long hot days picking fruit and hauling crates. But it’s a different labour to what they’re used to - they joke around, taking regular breaks to soak up the sun and jump in the stream to cool down. Javier sings cheerful songs, making eye-contact with the local girls as he strips off his shirt in the afternoon heat. 

John decides he really ought to force himself to learn to swim. Arthur, Dutch and Hosea spend days trying to entice him into the warm, turquoise ocean, but he can’t seem to do it. 

It’s Abigail who finally manages to snap him out of it. She’s treading water herself, when she suddenly starts screaming for help. “John! Help me! I think…I think there’s a shark!”

Before he has time to feel scared, John has leapt head-first into the water and is swimming furiously, if sloppily, to her rescue. It’s only when he gets close enough to see that she’s laughing that he realised he’s been tricked. 

Panic setting in, he starts gasping for air, but Abigail wraps her arms around him, keeping him afloat. He glares at her. “Why did ya have to go and make me look like a fool?”

“You may be a fool, but at least you’re a floatin’ one.” she cackles, kissing him hard before he can retaliate. 

The next week, John is teaching little Jack to swim too. 

Jack likes to help out his father and the others on the farm. He dashes up and down the fields, delivering messages and eating his fair share of fresh fruit, mango juice dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt.

Sadie puts her skills to good use on the farm, but ends up becoming involved with crime prevention on the island. She isn’t quite a bounty hunter, but if she gets wind of any unsavoury folk around she’ll pay them a casual visit. The rest of her time is spent swimming with Jack, who adores her. 

Sean, of course, has no hope of getting a tan like Dutch. He’s constantly scarlet, mostly because he refuses to stay in the shade. The Tahitians are fascinated by his red hair. 

He and Karen spend their days lounging on the beach when they’re not working at the farm. Karen rolls her bloomers up to her thighs, her toes digging into the sand. The pair spend most nights on the beach too, for obvious reasons.

If you don’t think that Sean occasionally recycles discarded coconut shells, shoves them down his shirt to create makeshift breasts and dances around the farm, then you’re a fool.  

Molly and Mary-Beth build a somewhat unexpected friendship after discovering a shared love of poetry and writing on the voyage over. They plan lots of walking expeditions together to get inspiration for their stories, staggering through the forests, holding hands to help each over the foliage. They end up creating a full walking guide of Tahiti as well as a poetry compilation, which they send via Trelawny to a handful of publishers back in the US. 

Susan and Tilly put their differences aside and, as you might expect, end up running pretty much everything on the mango farm. Tilly ends up marrying a local teacher, their wedding taking place on the beach nearest to the farm. Sean insists on serving the drink he “invented” - mango juice, coconut milk and whiskey. It’s goddamn awful, but no one has the heart to tell him. 

Kieran is fascinated by the local wildlife and, with the help of some kind locals, sets off to learn as much as he can about caring for them. If he sees anything in trouble - turtles, parrots, even washed up jellyfish, he can’t simply walk away. He becomes an unofficial veterinarian.

Swanson, upon much reflection, decides to stop drinking. It’s a difficult road, full of sleepless nights and exhausting days. He and Strauss become close friends and confidants, discussing their books and running errands in the town together. Swanson officiated Tilly’s wedding - still to this day his most treasured memory. 

Pearson has never encountered so many extraordinary ingredients for his cooking. He meets a recently arrived French lady in one of the larger towns, who offers to show him how to cook up all the new vegetables and which spices go well with the local cuisines. He finds her accent charming, and before he knows it he’s asking her to dinner. They live in a townhouse with an ocean view which they convert into a guesthouse, spending their days in the small kitchen cooking wonderful meals for their residents - usually the cheekier members of the gang who need a break from mangoes. 

Uncle, of course, cannot work due to his condition. But he’s considerably softer and more content, sitting in a rocking chair looking over the farm. The final years of his life are sun-kissed and calm, surrounded by those who he can safely call family. 

[dinoswrites]

Clothed in Light || Chapter 6: Corona

Arranged Marriage AU. Asra/Apprentice/Muriel. Ongoing.

| Previous | Masterpost | Next |

Content Warnings at the bottom of the post.

—

Kai stays with Muriel for four days before he’s well enough for her to return to her shop.

The whole first day she’s pretty sure he won’t even remember. After she cleans his wound he sleeps in fits and starts, until the yarrow starts to work and his fever breaks, sometime in the blackest hour of the night. She watches him sleep while she sits on the floor, her weak magelight catching in the lines of sweat that have run down his brow, a bowl of water on the floor beside her and the lepidolite pendant in her hand.

She thinks of Asra, over and over, clutching it so hard her knuckles are white. I want to speak to you. I want to speak to you. Please.

The bowl of water only shows her own reflection.

By the fourth day, Muriel is lucid. When there is a break in the rain, he mumbles something about checking on his chickens before going outside. As she packs up her belongings, and some shirts Muriel needs mended, she hears him chopping wood—even though she had explicitly told him not to strain himself. But she can only shake her head, wrap herself in her shawl, and throw her bag over her shoulder.

She hesitates in the doorway when she sees him. He’s shirtless now. The shirt he’d worn—the last one without any holes in it—had been so soaked through with his own blood that she had just burned the damn thing. She can see the long, jagged scar running across his side, pink and new against his skin. She couldn’t help the scar—he’d gone too long without help that she suspects even Aisha’s healing spells couldn’t have avoided it.

Muriel claims he doesn’t remember what made it, and she doesn’t know enough about healing to even guess. She doesn’t like it—she’s spent the last few days thinking of the oils she makes to reduce stretch marks for a few of her customers, and wondering if her aunt had anything written down about scars, and how to treat them.

As she stares at it now, at how it pulls at his skin when he moves, she can only think of finding him, curled up next to his weak fire, Inanna trying to keep him warm…

He turns, suddenly, and she hurriedly looks up at his face. He’s reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow, his breathing heavy after only splitting a few logs. But he doesn’t look dizzy, she thinks, even as her gaze drops to his lips—slightly parted, as he catches his breath.

A thought occurs to her, rogue and unbidden—she knows exactly how they feel against hers.

Muriel’s brow furrows.

Her face grows warm, and she busies herself with the strap of her bag. “I’ll mend your shirts for you,” she blurts, “though I think you’ll need new ones soon.”

It takes him a moment to respond. “Don’t bother. They’ll just rip again.”

“You need to wear a shirt, Muriel.”

He ignores her. She hears him grunt, and when she glances up he’s bending down to set another log for chopping.

“I’ll tell Asra you’re feeling better.”

He lets out a short breath.

She wrings her hands together. She can’t stop looking at his lips.

“Do you. Um.”

He does not look at her. He just raises the axe over his head, and cleaves the log in two. “What?”

She bites her lip. “Nothing. I’ll—I’ll bring you something for that scar tomorrow. Okay?”

Muriel looks like he’s about to say something. But he glances over at her, and his expression softens. He meets her gaze for a moment—just a moment—before he looks back down. “Thanks.”

“I can come back tonight if you want. You can—you can come with me, now. If you want.”

He looks down at the axe. And then he bends down, picks up another log, and places it on his stump. “Have to chop wood.”

“Oh. Okay.” She grips the strap of her bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He does not reply.

It’s a long, lonely walk home. The rain picks up again when she reaches the city, and Cinis cries until she lets him ride on her shoulders, under her barrier.

When she finally reaches her shop, she can feel the full effects of sleeping on the floor for the last three nights—when she’d slept at all. She locks the door behind her while Cinis jumps off her shoulder to the counter.

He makes a curious mrr noise, low in his throat. Then she hears him pawing at something, making it scrape across the glass.

When she turns, he’s knocked a little wooden figure over. She shoos him away, and ignores his chatter of complaint as she reaches down to right it. A bear, she sees—and with it a jaguar, with a delicate tail and intricately etched spots. Both of them sitting next to the note she left for Asra.

She looks around, but there’s no fox figure to go with them.

“Oh, Asra,” she says, softly. She runs a hand through her hair, and takes a long, deep breath.

She takes the figurines upstairs with her. She places them on her dresser, and then makes Cinis promise not to knock them over. She finds the uneaten pumpkin bread Asra dropped on the floor, and Cinis chases the mice it’s attracted with glee while she gets rid of it. She gets water from the garden and scrubs herself down, and combs oils through her hair, and then dresses herself in a clean nightgown before she collapses into her bed.  

She doesn’t fall asleep right away—Cinis curls up at the small of her back, and she lies on her side and stares up at the figurines. How they were carved to fit together, so perfectly…

And she can’t help but think of a conversation she had with her aunt, five years ago now. Jay had been leaning on the windowsill, Zaru on her shoulder, and Kalani had been searching for scissors to clip the aloe plant.

That Muriel’s awfully protective of you and Asra, isn’t he?

What do you mean?

Oh, you know. He and Asra have known each other for so long, they must be very close.

Close?

And Asra plays the doting spouse better than most married couples I know. They’re good kids, Kai. You’re luckier than you know to have fallen in with them.

All of Muriel’s lingering glances, why he would stick around Vesuvia at all if he hated the city so much… She had thought her aunt was telling her that Muriel was in love with Asra—it had seemed so obvious at the time.

And he is. In love with Asra. Beautiful Asra, who looks like moonlight come to life, and laughs like a bubbling stream. Brilliant Asra, who invents spells she’s never heard of and married her to save her from her father when he barely knew who she was. Asra who is perfect for Muriel in every way, so much that it makes her heart hurt that she can’t just tell him.

But Muriel kissed her.

She thinks of Asra’s face, the way he looked like he had so desperately been trying not to cry… She tugs at the lepidolite pendant, but it’s still cold in her hand.

“I think I screwed up,” she whispers to Cinis.

He stirs a little. Then he stretches, and gets up, climbs over her and burrows under her arm to stretch alongside her chest, tucking his face into her neck.

Think too much, he tells her, sleepily.

She sighs. “Easy for you to say.”

It is, he agrees. And then he burrows a little closer to her, and starts to purr. He keeps purring until her exhaustion catches up with her, and she finally closes her eyes and slips off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

 --

The next morning, she does not light the lamp outside. She gets right to work on a salve for Muriel—she has an oil for him to work into the skin, and she’s just pouring the last of a salve she thinks will reduce the appearance of the scar into a jar when she hears someone banging on the door.

“Miss Kai!” Trevor calls through the door. “Miss Kai! Are you in there?”

She screws the lid on the jar with a sigh. “If I were his mother I’d have migraines too,” she grumbles to Cinis.

Cinis quickly jumps from the bookshelf to his favourite spot in the rafters, chittering in excitement the whole while.

“Don’t jump on him,” she scolds, skirting around the counter to head to the door. She opens it, and Trevor stands on the doorstep, hand raised to pound on the door again.

“Miss—Miss Kai! Oh good, you’re home! I came last night but you weren’t here, I was so worried!”

“Hello, Trevor. Did your mother run out of tea again?”

“Oh—oh no, it’s not my Mom. It’s Em, my sister? She’s got this fever, and her nose is running, and she’s not eating…”

He looks beside himself with worry. So Kalani smiles, and steps aside to let him in. “It sounds like something the dock kids all caught last week. She’s made some new friends?”

“You… could say that. She keeps trying to fight them, Miss Kai, it’s making my mother tear her hair out.”

She can’t help a laugh. “She’s definitely making friends. Hang on, I think I still have something left…”

“Thanks so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

She finds the appropriate drawer, and opens it to find it still well stocked—she’d made a bag batch, expecting a second wave of sniffly-nosed dock kids sheepishly knocking on her door. Though she supposes Trevor won’t be the only hand-wringing big brother knocking, if his little sister has spread it to the other children.

“Brew this like your mother’s tea,” she tells him, handing over a small satchel. “Shouldn’t need more than that, the other cases all cleared up after a couple days. Make sure she drinks lots of clean water, and that she gets plenty of rest until she feels better.”

He clutches it to his chest, and then digs around in his pocket. “I will, definitely. Listen, I sort of don’t have any money on me…”

“Bring me an apple sometime,” she tells him, fondly.

Before Trevor can reply, Muriel bursts through the open door, Inanna hot on his heels.

Trevor scrambles backwards to get out of his way, while Muriel looks directly to Kalani at the counter, his eyes wide, his face pale.

“Muriel?” she blurts, looking him up and down. He’s just thrown his cloak over his shoulders, and he’s still not wearing a shirt, so she can see his chest heaving, as if he’s been running. “What’s wrong? I told you not to strain yourself—”

“We have to go,” he says, coming around the counter to take her hand. He holds it tighter than normal, and his hand is shaking. “Now.”

“Go?” she parrots, while Cinis yowls in irritation from the rafters. “Go where? Is Asra in trouble?”

He starts to gently, but urgently, guide her towards the door. “We all are. We have to get Asra and go before it’s too late.”

“Muriel—what?” She stands her ground, and resists his tugging when he tries to lead her out the door. “What is going on?”

He tugs again, gently, but his eyes are wild. He’s terrified, she realises, more than she’s ever seen him.

“The helmet,” he says. “I found it. He—the man who attacked me. He’s coming this way.”

Before she can shake her head and ask Muriel for any more details, the lepidolite hanging around her neck grows warm. She reaches for it, and Muriel’s eyes grow even wider.

“Asra,” she says.

She tugs Muriel back into the shop, and leads him back into the garden.

Even before she casts a barrier over the reflecting pool, she can see Asra’s image trying to form in its rainfall-distorted surface. She and Muriel crouch over it, hearing Asra’s warped voice slowly settle as the water draws still.

“… been ignoring you please I need to talk to you.”

“Asra!”

“Kai! Muriel!” He glances over his shoulder, and Kai can hear the clamor of voices rising from somewhere behind him. She can make out the council chamber behind him—the colour of everything is off, though, and it takes her a moment to realise that he’s talking to her through a cup of tea.

He leans in closer, so close his breath casts tiny ripples all over the image of his face as he whispers, “You need to get out of the city as soon as you can. They’re going to close the gates and I don’t know how much time is left—”

“Asra, what’s going on?”

“There’s an army heading this way,” Asra says. “They’ll reach the city before noon. There’s—there’s so many, Kai, please, you need to go.”

“We have an army too,” she starts to say, but Muriel puts a hand on her shoulder.

“They’re marauders,” he explains. “They… they leave nothing behind, Kai. Nothing.”

“Marauders?” Trevor calls. When she looks up, he’s standing in the doorway, wringing his hands. “That uh. That sounds bad. Coming here?”

“Go into the woods,” Asra says. “You and Muriel. I’ll—I have to stay with Mom and Dad, but you—you have to go, please.”

But she just keeps looking at Trevor. His face pale, his eyes wide, his throat bobbing as he swallows, the satchel clutched in his white-knuckled fist.

They leave nothing behind.

“I’m not leaving,” she says.

“Kai, I didn’t hear you—”

“I’m not leaving this city.” She turns back down to Asra’s projected image. “We’re coming to you. Stay put.”

“Kai—”

She splashes reflecting pool as hard as she can, and Asra’s spell falters, and fails.

She hurries back inside. She goes under the counter and pulls out the crate that holds all her bandage and poultice supplies, puts it on the counter, and grabs the blue fabric someone had traded her too for good measure. She grabs everything that could be used to wrap a wound or stop bleeding, and then she thrusts it all into Trevor’s arms.

“Uh? Miss Kai?”

“Go straight to your mother,” she tells him. “You get her and you get home, and you do not open your door for anything. Right?”

He swallows. “Yeah. Right—what’s all this for?”

She takes a deep breath. Then she pulls a key out of her pocket, and hands it to him. “This key will get you in the back door. You’ll have to climb the back wall, but Asra’s got hand holds carved out. Look for those.”

“I thought you said don’t leave—”

“Your mother’s tea is in this drawer, here—see where I’m pointing?”

Tears are starting to form in his eyes. “But—I can’t grab that, not without paying…”

“All my records are here,” she continues, pointing to a slim shelf Muriel had built her. “Bring someone here who can read. They can help you figure out how to mix more. This—” she pulls out a slim book, in her own neat handwriting and filled with Asra’s meticulous diagrams, and tucks it into the box, “is full of wound treatments. It tells you how to stop bleeding, how to keep a wound from gangrene, and how to keep a fever down. Are you listening?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand—”

“When the fighting stops, I need you and your mother to help as many people as you can. When you run out of supplies, bring them here, and get more where you can. Okay? Can you do that for me, Trevor?”

He goes still for a moment. He considers her, and she considers him—fifteen, she thinks, and it breaks her heart a little.

“Only until you come back,” he says, his voice breaking. “When—when you come back, you’ll show us how to do it right. Okay?”

She throws her arms around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug so fierce that the box he’s holding digs painfully into her chest.

“Now go,” she tells him. “Tell your mother everything I told you. Go!”

Trevor bolts into the street while Muriel hovers uncertainly over her shoulder.

She takes a deep, shaking breath. Muriel takes her hand again, and she returns his grip, tight and firm, before she steps out into the street, and locks the door behind them.

 --

Asra doesn’t think it’s ever been this loud in the council room.

Everyone is talking over each other all at once, constantly. Messengers are running in and out at a frantic pace, and someone keeps bringing tea but Asra’s had three cups already and he’s too jittery by far to drink any more. So he stands to the side of everything, his back to windows and the plains that stretch beyond the palace, and tries his best to stay out of the way.

His hand keeps going to the lapis hanging from his throat—and he hopes beyond all hope that Muriel has talked some sense into Kai, and they have left.

Faust is hiding in his scarf, trembling with worry.

His mother and father are looking over a map of the palace she’s conjured from air. The Courtiers have been huddling over it and dealing with the messengers as best they can in turns.

But the count only stands next to Asra at the window. He does not face the chaos in the room; instead he looks out at the mercenary army assembling in the fields in the shadow of the palace. His hands are clasped behind his straight, straight back, his expression utterly blank in a way that strikes Asra as strangely, hauntingly familiar.

“The shield spells haven’t been tested,” Salim is saying. “And we only have enough repeaters for the palace, not the city.”

The Pontifex is pacing, and he’s chewed his thumb nail down to nothing. “What is the progress on the installation of the repeaters we do have?”

“We are at fifty percent,” Aisha replies. She waves her hand, and a number of spots on the map light up.

“And how many hits could the shields take?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Salim pushes his glasses further up his nose with a shaking hand. “We don’t know. Magical attacks? Physical attacks? I don’t have an answer for you because there isn’t one. This shield system is purely theoretical, we have no idea if it will even work at all at a large scale—”

“Then why are we building it?”

“Because you demanded it!”

“Enough,” Aisha snaps, right as the Pontifex and Salim look about to descend into a new wave of bickering. “We don’t have much time. Have the citizens been alerted?”

The Consul, in the middle of accepting a report from a messenger, speaks without even looking up. “Lady Aisha, we have sent runners telling people to return to their homes. All entrances to the city and the palace have been barred and are under guard, and our troops are assembled and awaiting further orders.”

The messenger gives a shallow bow, then leaves—and Asra can see them reach the door out of the corner of his eye, and can see them pause, then step aside and hold it open with another, more formal bow.

His breath catches in his throat, and he turns just as Kai and Muriel walk through the door.

Kai is wearing one of her formal gowns—deep blue, with ivory accents—and has hastily tied up some of her hair, and just enough makeup not to look suspicious. The only visible jewellery she wears is a pair of ruby earrings, though he can spy a brief shimmer that must be the silver chain of the lepidolite necklace where she’s tucked it into her dress.

Muriel stands behind her, in that guard’s uniform he wears every Masquerade. He appears to have slicked back his hair with water, in a hurry, as it’s already starting to revert to its usual messy state. He does not wear his mask, and Asra can read how overwhelmed Muriel is as clear as day as he surveys the rooms with wide, panicked eyes.

“Oh good,” the Pontifex exclaims. “The spineless one finally decided to show up.”

Kai narrows her eyes at him. She looks about to say something cutting, but she bites her lip instead, her hands balling into fists.

Asra can’t see Cinis, as he’s not riding on her shoulder, but he can hear the cat’s low, angry growl.

“I’m here to help in any way I can,” is what she finally says, her voice shaking.

The count tenses, for half a heartbeat—and then his shoulders droop, ever so slightly, his eyes slipping shut.

“You can help by staying out of the way,” the Pontifex snaps.

“You’ll not speak to my daughter in law like that,” Aisha informs him icily.

“Kalani, I’m glad you’re here,” Salim says. “Could you show me that trick you did with my work lamp? I need to make it work on a much larger scale, very quickly.”

Kai’s eyes grow wide. She takes a deep, steadying breath, then nods. “Of—of course. I’ll try my best. Does anyone have paper?”

As Kai and Salim huddle over the table, Kai drawing on the back of a map with charcoal and Muriel hovering nearby, Asra feels his uncle’s hand clasp over his shoulder.

His uncle is trying to smile—but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Count Sahir,” someone yells from the door. “I have—I have a message from the mercenary army.”

Everyone turns at once. There’s a messenger standing at the door, holding a missive. She hesitates, as the cacophony in the room dies down to an utter silence, before clearing her throat nervously, and looking back to the count.

Sahir nods. “Speak. Please.”

“It’s—it’s the leader. Their… warlord, he calls himself. He says he wishes to enter the city with a small party, for an audience with the court.”

“Interesting.” Sahir’s eyes narrow. “And did he say what he wished that audience for?”

The messenger swallows. “He… he wishes to challenge you to a duel, my lord.”

The room erupts into a cacophony of noise. Everyone seems to be shouting all at once—the Pontifex declares that they will fight in the Count’s stead, and actually moves to draw their sword before the Consul yells to think about where they are. Salim seems to be trying to get everyone to calm down, and Aisha looks to Asra, her face drawn with worry.

Kai is holding Muriel’s hand in a white-knuckled grip, looking at Asra with a frightened expression.

Muriel, however, is looking at the Count—his brows furrowed in confusion.

“That will be enough,” Sahir says, loud enough that everyone stalls, and the noise starts to die down again. “Pontifex, send your most trusted soldiers to escort this warlord to the great hall.”

Aisha looks stricken. “Sahir, you can’t mean—”

“I mean to resolve this with as little bloodshed as possible,” Sahir interrupts her, his hand falling from Asra’s shoulder. “If this warlord wants a duel, then he shall have it—if it means Vesuvia is spared any amount of violence, then that is the course we will take.”

“But, my lord,” the Pontifex starts. “Our armies can handle this. With no danger to you at all—”

“I have made my decision.” The count finally steps forward, and crosses the room in quick, even strides. He hesitates a moment as he passes Kai, though Asra can’t see his expression.

Sahir leans in, a hand on her shoulder, and whispers something in her ear.

And then he pulls away, and walks right out of the room, without looking at or saying anything to anyone on his way.

Cinis jumps up on Kai’s shoulder—and she pets his fur absently, frowning, while Asra makes his way over to her. She doesn’t notice him until he very gently touches her arm, and then she reaches for his hand, squeezing tight.

She’s still holding Muriel’s. Luckily, everyone seems too busy to notice as they file out of the room, following the Count.

“There’s a back way out,” Asra whispers in her ear. “It’s magic, I don’t think anyone knows about it. I can lead you out.”

Kai takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Her hand is shaking in his.

Muriel shifts his weight, leaning closer. “These people… they chased my family away from our home. The Count can’t win against him. We have to go.”

Asra shoots Muriel a grateful glance. “Muriel will protect you, it’s okay—”

“Can you get every single person in this city out your secret back way? Every servant in this palace?”

Asra stalls.

She opens her eyes, and meets his gaze directly, without hesitation. There’s a determination in her eyes he can’t remember ever seeing before this moment—and it burns in her aura like a spark, like a match struck in the dark, a single flame growing brighter with each passing moment.

“This city is my home,” she tells him. “I won’t abandon it. Not when I could have helped.”

She drops his and Muriel’s hands, and in a whirl of navy and ivory fabric she storms off after the Count.

 --

The warlord named Lucio arrives at Vesuvia’s court with two of his own warriors, flanked on all sides by city guards.

He wears a bright red coat, with a dramatic cape hanging over his left arm from a heavy cowl of fur. He grins at everyone he sees as he is led into the room with a too-large smile that does not reach his eyes.

The court is silent as he approaches. No one whispers—no one says anything at all.

Asra keeps looking over at Kai. She’s sitting on her chair next to his, fingernails digging into the armrests. Cinis is perched on its back, and the little cat seems to grow a little larger, his shadow a little darker, and his eyes a little brighter with each step Lucio takes closer to the Count’s throne, and the chairs of his family around him.

Muriel stands off to the side, just in Asra’s line of sight—he had tried to stand behind Kai’s chair, but the Pontifex barked at him to stand with the other guards. He sticks out among them, easily the tallest in the room by far, and every time Asra glances at Kai he can see Muriel too, and he looks terrified.

“Let’s get down to business, then,” Lucio says without preamble, standing before the count.

“I believe expediency would be prudent,” the count agrees.

Lucio flashes that eerie, utterly unfriendly smile. “Alright then, here’s the deal—you have a city. I’ve decided I’d like it. I’m prepared to slaughter every man, woman, and child in it to get it, but I’ll settle for a friendly duel with you. That expedient enough for you?”

Asra’s stomach twists. He glances sideways at his uncle, but the count only nods sagely, and smiles politely.

“Of course. However—as you might have noticed, I am not precisely in as such peak physical condition as yourself.”

Lucio just keeps grinning. “Few are.”

“Would you permit, perhaps, duelling someone from my family in my stead? Any of them would be willing to stand against you in battle—each a talented magician, an equal match for your sword.”

For the first time since walking into the room, Lucio pauses and takes them all in. His gaze sweeps over Asra’s family, one by one—the count, on his left Aisha and then Salim, and then to his right Asra, then Kai.

His gaze rests a moment longer on Kai. His eyes narrow, and he tilts his head slightly before looking back once more to Sahir.

“And I would choose?” he drawls, low and calculated.

A chill runs up Asra’s spine. Faust curls tighter around his neck.

Uncle Sahir’s polite smile has not faltered once. “Certainly.”

“And when I win, you agree to give the city over to me?”

“In the event of your victory, the rest of my family would leave the city immediately and you would be free to do with it as you wished. However, in the event of our victory, you and your army would agree to vacate Vesuvia and its territories entirely, harming none of its lands or people.”

Lucio doesn’t even seem to be giving a thought to the possibility of losing. “And the duel will be to the death?”

At that, his uncle hesitates. Only for half a heartbeat, and his eyes narrow slightly, as if finally pausing to take the measure of the man before him.

“You don’t want to do that, son,” Sahir says, softly.

Lucio’s smile twists, just enough that it almost looks like a snarl of rage, before shifting back again. “To the death. I insist.”

Sahir sighs. “Very well,” he says, gesturing with a sweep of his hand. “Which of my family—”

Lucio draws his sword and, with a grand flourish, points the tip directly at Kai. “That one.”

Asra launches to his feet. “No!”

“Absolutely not!” Salim shouts.

“Coward!” Aisha spits.

Cinis hisses, all his fur on end and appearing nearly twice his normal size as he arches his back. Kai doesn’t even move—she just stares at Lucio with an expression that reminds Asra of when she was brought to court by her father, all those years ago.

Lucio’s grin only grows. “I suppose her little cat can help, too.”

“I’ll fight in her stead,” Asra insists, looking Lucio dead in the eye. “Unless you’re scared of a real challenge.”

“Sit down, Asra,” Sahir says, not even glancing away from Lucio.

“No—”

“Asra,” Kai says, and he immediately turns back to her.

She’s standing, slowly, a growling Cinis already stepping onto her shoulder. She reaches up to touch his fur with a trembling hand, and he gives up on glaring at Lucio a moment to rub his face against her cheek.

“He gets to choose,” she continues, her voice shaking. “Those are the terms.”

“They’re bullshit,” Asra starts to say—but Kai reaches for his hand, and pulls him close so she can tuck their joined hands against her chest.

He can feel the frantic beating of her heart under her skin. He reaches, instinctively, for the small of her back, guiding her closer still—as if this is another masquerade, and they’re just dancing.

She rests her head against his chest, and he buries his face in her hair. She’s not wearing her perfume—she smells like sweat, and dust, and fear—but he closes his eyes and breathes her in all the same, his fingers curling into the small of her back, his heart racing to match the pace hers sets, under their joined hands.

Faust pokes her head out of Asra’s scarf, and tries to nuzzle Kai’s cheek.

“Faust,” she says, her voice breaking, “look after Asra.”

“Don’t do this,” he whispers.

She takes a shuddering breath. “Asra, I—”

Lucio’s voice rings out in the utter silence of the room. “I’m waiting.”

Whatever she had been about to say, her courage seems to have vanished. She shakes her head, and whispers, “Take care of Muriel,” before pulling back with great reluctance.

He tries, desperately, to hold her hand. To keep her close—he tries to say her name but there are so many people watching, both her names just catch on his tongue and he can’t say either. So he just stares after her, uselessly, as his fingertips catch on hers for half a heartbeat before she slips away.

“Finally,” Lucio drawls with a smile, lifting his sword to rest the blade on his shoulder. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Asra perches on the edge of his chair. His fingernails dig deep gouges into the armrests.

Kai stands uncertainly across the marble floor from Lucio. Cinis rubs his face against her cheek, and she takes a deep, unsteady breath, before nodding once.

When the duel is called, Lucio launches himself at Kai without a moment’s hesitation.

She raises a barrier—Lucio’s sword collides against it, sending sparks of magic flying through the air, but it holds.

Cinis darts around her, unnoticed by Lucio as he takes another swing.

Kai’s knees buckle, but again the barrier holds. Asra can see her mouth twist in determination, and her barrier flares as she pours more magic to it.

But Lucio only grins—and he lurches forward, reaching with his left arm, previously covered by his cape. The moment his arm comes in contact with the barrier, Kai’s magic flares—and his cape blows backwards from the force of it, exposing an arm made of metal instead of flesh, and glowing brightly with magic.

It’s hardly elegant. It’s an ugly thing made of large ungainly cogs and unfinished iron. But it is enchanted, and it does function—and each finger is tipped with long, pointed claws, which dig into the surface of Kai’s barrier, no matter how bright it flares.

Kai must see her barrier about to fail, because she sidesteps as she drops it.

Lucio turns on his heel and reaches for her. She scrambles backwards, and his claws tear a long gash through the sleeve of her dress.

As she stumbles away, clutching her arm, Asra sees drops of blood on the white tile at her feet.

Lucio laughs.

“Is that all you have, little magician?” he taunts. He starts to circle her, swinging his sword in a lazy arc. “You’ll have to do better than that if—”

Cinis, nothing more than a tiny streak of black fur and angry orange eyes, launches himself at the back of Lucio’s head.

Lucio screams. He nearly drops his sword, and reaches up with his metal hand to try to get Cinis off—but the cat’s too fast, moving over to Lucio’s right side and shredding the side of his neck with his claws, spitting and snarling.

Kai throws her arm out, and the ground below Lucio begins to shift. The tiles tremble, then crack, and then burst open entirely to reveal old, gnarling tree roots. They snake out of the floor at an unnatural speed, winding around Lucio’s legs. He tries to slash at them, furiously, but the roots snake up and around his arm, surprisingly resilient, and he is forced to let the weapon go as it is slowly, steadily, encased in a living prison.

Cinis sinks his teeth into Lucio’s ear, and tears half of it clean off.

Lucio howls in rage and pain. Now that both his hands are free he reaches for Cinis, but the cat only leaps off his shoulder and dashes away. He spits the ear out on the floor, and Asra swears he’s never seen that cat look so smug in his life, blood dripping from his mouth and claws.

The roots start to wind up Lucio’s sword arm—and he curses, yanking hard, as the roots curl tighter and tighter around him, trying to pin his arm to his side. He claws at them with his metal arm—iron claws raking into the roots, yanking and pulling, but he can’t seem to tear them apart fast enough. They keep growing, and curling, and winding tighter around him, no matter how frantically he tries to free himself.

Cinis jumps on the back of his neck again, tearing into his exposed skin. Lucio snarls, swiping with his claws—but the cat only jumps away again, skidding on the floor, and darting around to Lucio’s back, his tail flicking as he waits for his next chance to strike.

“Yield!” Kai shouts, as the roots finally pin Lucio’s sword arm to his side. “I don’t want to kill you!”

But Lucio only barks out a low, frantic laugh. He holds his iron arm out—and a strange, cold white light begins to seep out through all its seams, casting Lucio’s face in twisted, gnarling shadows.

“You think this is over, little girl?” he taunts. “We’re just getting started.”

He tears through the roots pinning him in place with one mighty swipe of his claws.

Kai takes a step back, startled.

Lucio lunges for her.

She throws up a barrier—but Lucio slams his now-gleaming fist into it, and Asra watches as it simply vanishes. Lucio’s fist carries through, striking Kai square in the jaw. She hits the floor with a cry.

Asra launches to his feet.

Uncle Sahir grabs his wrist. “Sit down, Asra,” he hisses.

Asra yanks once, hard, unable to tear his eyes from the fight—but his uncle does not let go.

Lucio stalks after Kai—and Asra watches as Kai tries to scramble backwards, roots popping up between the cracks in the tile and trying to tangle around Lucio’s legs, but he’s moving too fast for them to find any purchase.

Just as he reaches her, and raises his arm, Cinis leaps up at the back of his neck again.

This time, however, Lucio whirls, striking Cinis with the back of his iron hand.

“Cinis!” Kai screams.

Cinis flies backwards and hits the ground, hard, sliding across the tile. Asra watches, heart in his throat, as Cinis scrambles to his feet, a low and pained growl building in his throat. Louder, Asra thinks, than any cat he’s ever heard before.

Lucio pauses to look down at the cat. And then his face splits into a wild grin, and he starts to walk over to Cinis with heavy, angry strides.

“No!” Kai shouts. She grabs at his heel to try and stop him—only for Lucio to kick back.

Asra hears the crunch of her nose as his metal boot collides with it. She cries out in pain, but tries to hold on anyway—until Lucio stomps on her hand, hard, and Asra hears the bones of her fingers snap before she screams.

The count yanks hard on Asra’s wrist. “Sit down!”

Faust is a writhing mess of wordless panic and misery in his scarf.

Asra watches as Lucio strides over to Cinis—as the cat’s growls grow lower, and louder, and all the fur on his tiny little body seems to stand higher, and higher, and his eyes glow brighter, and brighter.

“Nothing personal,” Lucio tells Cinis. “But you’re putting up a much better fight than the girl.”

Lucio raises his arm, claws splayed.

Kai screams.

Cinis’s eyes go white—and then all of a sudden, he bursts into flames.

It’s like the entire room grows smithy-hot in the space of a single heartbeat. Asra can feel every single person in the room reel back from the intensity of it, of the flame burning where Cinis once stood.

And, as Lucio takes an uncertain step back, that flame grows, starts to take shape—and then launches itself at his face with an ear-splitting roar.

Lucio hits the floor, and there is a massive, white-hot cat pinning him there, flames rolling off his fur as he bares his teeth, molten spit dripping down onto Lucio’s face.

Asra can see Lucio’s armour start to sizzle and melt under the heat of the cat’s paws.

Cinis? Faust whispers with awe, peeking her head out of Asra’s scarf.

Lucio’s grin has only gotten wilder, and more frantic. He swipes at Cinis’s side with his claws, and the cat has to shift to dodge it—giving Lucio the space he needs to roll out from under the cat.

Cinis starts to circle Lucio, growling low in his throat. Lucio scrambles to his feet, and spares a glance backwards towards where the roots still have his sword trapped—close to Kai, out of reach.

Kai has pulled herself up into a sitting position, clutching her hand to her chest, blood streaming down her face, her eyes wide with wonder as she stares at Cinis.

“Alright,” Lucio says. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “That’s a first.”

Cinis snarls—and launches himself at Lucio.

Lucio brings his iron arm up—and he staggers under the weight of Cinis as the great cat locks his jaw onto Lucio’s wrist. Cinis starts to burn brighter, and Asra watches the metal under his teeth begin to burn, orange to yellow to white hot—

Lucio turns as he falls back, swinging his arm hard to the side with a yell. Cinis lands on all four paws, raking great burning claw marks in the tile as he skids to a halt.

Lucio is already on his feet—and as Cinis launches himself again, Lucio grabs the clasp of his heavy red cloak and throws it at Cinis before turning tail and bolting for his sword.

It gives Cinis only a moment’s pause—the heavy fur cowl of the cloak takes a precious minute to burn as Cinis claws at it, snarling. The skin at the back of Asra’s neck rises at the smell of burning fur filling the room, just as Cinis knocks the smoking cowl aside and chases after Lucio.

Lucio reaches the sword. He rips it out of the roots, and whirls to face Cinis again.

Lucio takes a swing—Cinis deflects it with one massive paw, and advances.

Lucio claws at Cinis’s face—and Cinis catches his metal claws in his teeth, clenching down with his massive jaw. He yanks, hard, digging claws into the smoking tile. Lucio falls, sprawling on the ground, and Cinis lunges for his throat—

And Lucio thrusts his sword into Cinis’s side.

Cinis roars in pain.

Kai screams.

Lucio throws the cat off him—and Asra watches an arc of white-hot blood in the air as Lucio pulls the sword out, and he watches as Cinis falls, tries to get up, and then falls again. His flames weaken, then flicker, and then die out—leaving only a black panther on the floor, his side rising and falling in desperate, steadily weakening gasps for air.

Lucio’s sword is twisted beyond recognition—the edge dulled by the heat of Cinis’s blood, and then the rapid cooling as the temperature room in the drops as the cat’s flames fail. Lucio doesn’t look much better: there’s blood smeared all over the side of his face from his ear, down his neck and onto his armour. The armour looks like it’s been crushed and then tossed into a fire it’s so dented and burnt, partially melted in places, and looks to be physically paining him as he rolls his arm, then his neck.

He pants for breath as he stands over Cinis, his eyes wild, his grin splitting his face nearly in two.

“Nice try,” he spits out, raising his sword above his head.

The tiles beneath his feet split open, knocking his balance off-centre, and more tree roots start to grow through the cracks.

As Lucio stumbles back, trying to catch his footing, Kai throws her whole body at his side.

They both go tumbling, sprawling onto the floor. Kai tries to grab his sword, but her broken hand hinders her, and Lucio uses the pommel to hit her in the forehead. It collides with a crack, and she’s stunned enough for Lucio to simply grab her with his metal arm and throw her to the floor.

Asra tries to yank free of his uncle’s grasp—but Sahir is steady, his grip on Asra’s wrist unflinching.

Kai rolls a few feet, before lying still.

Lucio digs his sword tip into the broken tile. He leans on it as he stands, breathing heavily. He’s not so much grinning now as bearing his teeth, as he takes the few unsteady steps that separate him from Kai.

“Bravo,” he says, through gritted teeth. “Bra-fucking-vo. Made me fight for my goddamn city, didn’t you? Made it hard.”

Kai doesn’t move. Lucio kicks her shoulder, and she rolls onto her back with a pained whimper.

Cinis tries to move—his muscles twitch in an aborted attempt to stand, and he lets out a low, ragged breath that sounds like it was supposed to be a growl.

“I was just going to cut your head off,” Lucio says, reaching down and closing his iron hand around Kai’s throat. “But I think I’ll make it hard for you, too.”

“Kai!’ Asra screams.

Lucio lifts her in the air by her throat.

“Hang on!” Asra cries, finally breaking free of his uncle’s grip. “Kai I’m coming hang on—”

Someone grabs him from behind—and he throws out a burst of energy, a wild and unformed spell, trying to throw them back. But they are unaffected by his attempt, only gripping him tighter as Asra’s magic slides off their armour.

“You interfere and you’ve killed us all, idiot child!” the Pontifex hisses in his ear.

He hears a commotion off where Muriel stands, cursing and shouting and scuffling and swords being drawn, and he hears someone big collide with the floor. Muriel, he knows, his heart racing in his chest—but he can’t look away from Kai, her legs dangling in the air, tearing her fingernails on Lucio’s iron arm as he holds her, as her face grows darker, and darker, as her breaths begin to wheeze and her attempts to pry herself free grow weaker—

“Kill me instead!” Asra screams. “Let her go, kill me instead!”

The magic in Lucio’s arm burns brighter, and he tightens his grip.

Asra can’t look away. He doesn’t want to see this but he can’t look away—

She takes one last ragged, wheezing breath. And then her expression falls slack, and Asra can see her eyes turn from umber to orange, to red, to yellow, to blinding white—

Lucio grins and grins—holding her without pause, without remorse, as her limbs go slack and her arms hang useless at her sides. But still she meets his gaze, her eyes burning, holding her breath as Lucio’s expression twists, and his feral smile begins to falter.

“What—” he starts to ask, before he chokes. His free hand goes to his throat, his expression rapidly shifting to confusion, and then alarm, and then terror.

He drops Kai on the floor, and starts to frantically claw at his armour.

Kai hits the floor, gasping for breath. Without hesitating, she starts to crawl over to Cinis, her whole body wracked as she coughs and gasps and tries to breathe, in between choking on her own sobs.

Lucio stumbles backwards. He tries to get off his breastplate, but it’s melted shut. He claws so furiously at his neck that he draws blood—and Asra can see his skin there start to light up, as if there is some light source just under its surface…

He tries to scream—but only smoke pours out of his throat, and light from a flickering flame burning somewhere inside him.

Burning him alive from the inside out.

The entire court watches Lucio claw at his skin. They watch him try to stumble towards Kai, only to fall onto the floor in a heap of metal and writhing limbs.

Kai has reached Cinis, and is halfway through curling protectively over his side as she turns, and meets Lucio’s gaze.

Asra cannot see the man’s expression as the flames burning his insides start to consume his whole body. Asra cannot see what passes over Lucio’s face as his armour melts into his flesh, as the magic in his iron arm burns brighter and brighter before faltering, and growing dark. As the arm itself begins to break in the heat, and twist, before it, too, melts. As the flames course over his entire body, and his skull caves in, and the fire consumes him, down to his last shred of clothing.

Kai does not look away. She doesn’t even blink.

When the fire dies, all that is left of Lucio is melted iron and ash.

Cinis twitches, trying to rise. Kai turns back to him, finally, pressing her shaking hands against his wound, but she does not try to heal him. “It’s okay,” she tries to say, her voice ragged and scraping. “You did so good, I’m so sorry, it’s—”

Asra shakes free of the Pontifex’s hold. He bolts down to Kai, scrambling over tree roots and broken tiles, and he kneels on the floor and reaches for her.

“Kai,” he says, softly. “Kai—”

“Help him,” Kai blurts, her tears mixing with the blood on her face. “Asra, please, help him.”

She takes his hands and presses them to Cinis’s wound. Asra’s stomach turns—it’s a lot of blood, and it feels hotter than blood should be. But Cinis is still breathing—so Asra closes his eyes, and tries to calm his racing heart.

It’s almost a relief, the feeling of healing magic passing from his hands to Cinis. Like a cool wind on a hot day, it steadies him a little. And when he opens his eyes, Cinis gets to his feet and shoves his face right into the crook of Kai’s neck, as if he was still a tiny little cat. He doesn’t really purr—it’s kind of a soft growl, the noise he makes, as if he’s trying to purr but can’t.

Kai throws her arms around Cinis’s neck, weeping openly. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Asra knows he should give her space—but he can’t help himself, but reach for her. He can’t help but put a hand on her shoulder, and try to offer her some measure of comfort.

That’s when she reaches for him with her good hand. She reaches for him, taking the hand in his lap and pulling him closer, so that his hand rests over her heart.

He lets himself be pulled. He tucks himself alongside Kai and Cinis, close enough to feel the heat rising off Cinis’s massive body, and buries his face in her hair as she weeps into Cinis’s fur, and tries to stop his own shaking, his own trembling.

She’s alive. He didn’t lose her.

She’s alive.

—

Content warnings:  extreme violence, stabbing, blood, bones breaking, choking, violence against animals, character death.