#what I do want for this rewrite should I buckle down and do it is really work out that Calia is a deeply traumatized person

[zs-starwars]

Look before the War Within starts and Anduin gets to work on his Shadowlands gotten trauma and development I need to dunk on him (affectionate) for a quick second okay?

So in Before the Storm he has this line:

"Her [Sylavnas's] eyes narrowed. Anduin knew she understood the lesson of this day's tragic events. She was not universally loved among her people. He was. She ruled with an iron fist. He ruled with compassion. (pg347)"

Which comparatively sure, fair. Sylvanas has just put a hard, murderous, stop to Calia's first attempt at girlbossing and killed about half the desolate council. Before the Storm is what it needed to be for BfA and beyond.

But I would like to point out that earlier in the book we have this:

"Anduin had been informed that negative sentiment was not limited to his advisors. Guards and Shaw's people had reported that there was muttering in some of the taverns and on the streets. The guards had been instructed to interrupt such conversations if they verged on sedition or grew violent. (pg 248)"

Baby boy that is not universally beloved and ruling with compassion. Lol. Lmao even.

I've scrawled all in my copy with little notes and I have a messy word document with rewrite ideas for this 6 (!) year old book. I am excited to see what we have going on under Silithus. In the end WoW is a video game that needs to keep selling and making new storylines.

[soo0hee]

Overload

Pairing — Xu Minghao x Reader

Summary — An outing with your coworkers quickly left you spiraling and all you want is to be home...

Genre — fluff, established relationship, idol!au

Warnings — anxiety, sensory overload, alcohol mentioned

Word Count — 1.3k

Rating — pg-13

A/n — The setting is quite literally what i went through yesterday so this is me just working through my weekend... pls bare with me :((

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Going out with your coworkers was something you regularly did. You were a good team, not everyone had the fortune of being able to say that.

You also liked going out with them, however often times, you found yourself overwhelmed by everything around you. It was when suddenly your social switch flipped and everything became to much for you.

The music was suddenly to loud, the crowd of strangers kept getting bigger and the pushing was constantly making you lose your balance. At one point your knees even buckled and you had to hold onto your drunk coworker who kept yelling a jumbled mess of the lyrics to a song you could recognize over her shrill voice that made your ears ring.

You winced involuntarily as another stranger pressed you against the bar as he tried to make his way through the crowd. Flinching slightly you tried to keep the tears threatening to spill over at bay, not wanting to cry in the middle of a bar or in front of your coworkers.

Swallowing harshly, you blindly reached for the stool where you knew your jacket would be and quickly tried passing one of your coworkers who looked as you with a questioning head tilt.

“I’ll be out for a minute!” you yelled over the loud music only to receive a nod in return.

Rushing out and running into more people then you would have liked in the process, until you reached the door.

Cold air engulfed you, chills running down your spine and a few deep breaths later you could feel your racing heart already calming down a bit. The alcohol running through your blood made your mind a bit fuzzy and your skin that was until a few seconds ago tingling uncomfortably now sporting goosebumps because of the cold.

You felt already way calmer then just before, sitting down on a bench just a few meters away to collect yourself.

You didn’t want to go back inside, even if you had fun earlier that night but now, you just wanted to go home.

You wanted to get rid of the make un your face, the glitter in your hair and the sweat clinging to your hairline only to fall into the arms of your boyfriend and not move a muscle for the rest of the night.

It was barely even 10:30 pm but your team had been parting since shortly after 7 pm and you were tired! You huffed quietly, not knowing if you wanted to hear the complaints of your coworkers about leaving already when 2 of them suddenly sat down beside you.

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked, slightly slurring out the words while Yurin giggled and clung to her shoulder.

Giving her a short nod and a, in your opinion, forced smile that you hoped she believed in her drunk state. Seeing her like that you suddenly felt significantly more sober then before.

“Yes, I just needed a minute. You two can go back in I’ll be fine here.” You nodded, hoping that you didn’t need to explain to them what was going through your head. That might be a dick move but what could you say, explaining what you felt was exactly your forte.

“You sure? We can stay with you for a while until you want to come back inside…”

You shook your head, telling them that it was okay and that you would text in the group chat if something were the matter.

They were unsure if they should follow your request, it was night after all but then they went back when they were convinced that you were fine out here alone.

Relieved to be alone again you checked your phone.

10:42 pm

You could just leave and text the chat that you were going home, but then you would probably have to answer a few questions on Monday.

I might be coming home soon – send 10:43 pm

Typing bubble appeared and vanished again.

Something wrong Băo Bèi? – received 10:43 pm

Want me to pick you up? – received 10:44 pm

No no, it’s fine you should be resting! I just- don’t know – send 10:46 pm

Typing…

I’ll wait for you – received 10:47 pm

It was simple, but butterflies still erupted in your stomach.

Yes, you wanted to go home. Now!

A text to the group chat and you were on the way.

Thankfully the bus station wasn’t far and so you sat in the bus towards Minghaos apartment barely 10 minutes later and 15 more and you punched in the code to open the door.

The Tv was running quietly in the bedroom and the soft glow of Haos bed side lamp through the gap was a sure sign that he was already in bed.

On soft soles you went directly into the bathroom where your pyjama was still hanging over the side of the tub from this morning.

You took a fast shower, tub now sparkly and you clean you finished of your skin routine before getting dressed. The clothes you were wearing before, carelessly thrown to the floor, waiting to be thrown into the laundry the next day.

“Hey…” was what you were softly greeted with by your boyfriend who had his glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hands. He looked unbelievably soft swallowed by the fluffy comforter in pillow and quickly you crawled in on the other side.

He put the book aside and took his glasses of so he could comfortably wrap his arms around your tired form.

“hi.” You murmured back, face hidden in his chest.

You felt his hand running down your spine soothingly, causing you to melt against him.

“Tired?” he hummed.

You nodded.

“Did something happen Băo Bèi?”

You looked up, eyes meeting his loving ones and you enjoyed the press of his plump lips against your forehead.

“Nothing bad, at some point I just felt like I needed to get out of there. It just-“

“Got to much?”

“Mhmm, there were so many people who kept pushing to get past us, the music wasn’t my taste after a while and if I ever have to hear my coworker sing again I will throw something! Seriously, my ears are still ringing!”

Minghao snorted at the last part.

He knew how you sometimes couldn’t handle your emotions well, always there by yours side when you had a hard time understanding them so this wasn’t the first time this happened. For you, in those moments, you felt like you had to escape the situation, your skin crawling as touch got to much, the noises surrounding you getting to much and every social interaction became a burden suddenly.

He was actually quite proud that in those moments you like to search for an escape in his arms.

To know that you considered him the place for your ship to seek safety from the storm in, that filled him with immense pride. You could have gone to your own place after all.

“Aigoo my Băo Bèi, sounds like you had an overload… how are you feeling now?”

“Better now that I’m here.” You smiled as you blinked at him sleepily.

Hao’s ears turned red and you giggled at the sight.

“You’re still blushing at this? After all this time?” You teased with a kiss to his now healed collarbone before nuzzling back into it. He shivered at the touch.

“You little-“ his finger poked your side in good fun and you squealed in surprise.

Yes, this felt right again.

[holdmytesseract]

For the drabble/blurb request

Character: magnus

Prompt: "you're ruling the way that I move and I breathe your air, you only can rescue me" from a song called cherish the day by Sade 🙂

Unfixable

Warnings: this got quite sad... 👀 angst, mentions of breakup, sad Magnus hours

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Thank you for the request! I really hope you like this lil' blurb! Kudos to @muddyorbsblr , who helped me along a bit! 🤗

He waited in the shadows of the building across from the house you lived in; too afraid to confront you right away. He hadn't gathered enough strength yet. And besides, he didn't want to scare you. So, he waited in the pouring rain until the light in your apartment flickered to life.

Magnus could already feel the rain soaking through his thin jacket, when he carefully crossed the quiet road.

Taking a deep breath, the young policeman entered the building, took the stairs which led to the second floor and came to stand in front of your door. For a good moment, Magnus just stared at the silvery doorknob; hesitating.

Should he knock? Should he just leave again?

He was on the verge of just leaving again, when somewhere from deep within his subconscious echoed a voice; urging him on to just knock. Man up, Martinsson. Just do it!

Before he was able to think twice about it, a shaking hand raised to knock against the door. Magnus' knuckles kissed the wooden surface and in that moment he knew it was too late to back down. His brain was too caught up with panicking - and therefore he didn't even notice how the door swung open. Only the sweet, angelic sound of your voice caused the warning bells in his head to fall silent.

"Magnus?"

He was very sure that at the call of his name, his heart jump over the cliff; free-falling and landing somewhere on cloud nine.

"What... What are you doing here?"

The blond haired man needed a moment to get a grip again. Puppy dog baby blue eyes met yours. "I-I..." Magnus started to stammer; fumbling with his hands nervously. "I'm sorry for just... barging in, but..." He sighed. "I can't forget you, Y/N. I know I screwed up big time, but please... I beg you... Please give me another chance."

You swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Magnus... We talked this over so many times... I told you I can't do this a second time." Magnus squeezed his eyes shut; shaking his head. "I know, Y/N, but... You don't understand, I- Since months I feel lost. Falling down an endless abyss and you are the only one who can rescue me. I... I still love you."

His words hit you hard. You couldn't deny that they still sent a shiver down your spine, but- No... You reminded yourself. Not a second time.

"No, Magnus. I feel flattered, but we can't fix this. I'm sorry."

His heart broke right in front of you. You saw it - and it hurt you to the core. But you couldn't change the past or rewrite the future.

Carefully, you took his way too big hand in his and squeezed in a reassuring, apologising manner. "I'm sorry..." You whispered - and let go; your hand leaving his forever.

And before the pain could get unbearable, you took a step back and closed the door shut in front of Magnus.

You didn't see how the young man fought hard to hold back his tears - in vain. Or how his knees started to buckle; almost failing him as he found himself staring at the closed door once more. A door which would stay locked for him; not opening again.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @huntedmusicgardenn @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @loz-3 @javagirl328 @icytrickster17 @jaidenhawke @eleniblue @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @km-ffluv @herdetectivetheorist @lokiforever @crimson25 @brokenpoetliz @cakesandtom @vanilla-daydreaming @kimanne723 @glitchquake @lulubelle814 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buttercupcookies-blog @november-rayne @mandywholock1980 @lokidbadguy @smolvenger @vbecker10

[ladyeyrewrites]

Bun in the Oven

Rated M

Chapter 2/4

2496 words

Chapter Two of the trans!Tommy mpreg episode 8X07 rewrite

Chapter mentions dysphoria and centres themes of bodily autonomy and choice though abortion is not explicitly discussed.

Read Chapter One

Read Chapter Two on Ao3 or below the cut

To Buck’s relief, Tommy was still there when he got back from the drug store with three different brands of test. He’d read that it was good to use a variety to cut down on any chance of a false result either way.

Tommy took the Walgreens bag from Buck without a word and went into the downstairs bathroom.

Buck waited.

He paced.

He tried not to hover.

He checked his watch. Minutes ticked by. More than enough minutes for Tommy to have taken the tests and for them to have shown a result.

Buck approached the door, straining his ears for any hint of what was going on inside. Silence. “Need any help?” Buck asked.

“I know how to pee on a stick, Evan,” said Tommy, tone cutting, out-of-control, highlighting just how afraid Tommy was, how uncertain.

It wasn’t a side of Tommy that Buck had been allowed to see much of: only glimpses of anxiety under Tommy’s confident façade. It almost made Buck giddy to know that Tommy was capable of slipping. It made Tommy more real, more loveable – Buck couldn’t help himself.

“I mean do you want any moral support?” Buck asked.

The bathroom door swung open, and Tommy walked out. “I can’t look,” he said, gesturing towards where the three tests lay face down on the bathroom counter.

“Do you want me to check?” Buck asked, gut clenching. He hated how hunched over and small Tommy was making himself. It was like Buck could see Tommy building up his walls, retreating inside thick fortifications as he prepared for the world to lay siege. Buck only hoped he had time to cross the draw bridge and slip through the gate before Tommy slammed it shut and started boiling the oil to fend-off perceived attackers.

Tommy hesitated before nodding.

Buck walked past Tommy into the bathroom and turned over each test one at a time. Joy and fear warred within him as he took in the result. He wasn’t sure which he was allowed to feel right now, not until Tommy had made a choice. “I was right,” Buck said. “You’re pregnant.”

Tommy’s knees buckled and hit the floor. All six-foot-two and two hundred pounds of him collided with the hard wood with a reverberating thud.

Before Buck knew what he was doing, he was sitting on the floor at Tommy’s back, arms wrapped around him while Tommy sobbed into Buck’s forearm, soaking the sleeve of another flannel shirt Buck had stolen from Tommy with tears and snot.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Buck whispered. “I’m here. Whatever you want to do, I’m here.”

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other until Tommy’s tears stopped. Buck didn’t want to let Tommy go, but it wasn’t about what he wanted right now. “You don’t need to make a decision yet,” said Buck.

Tommy nodded. He took a shaky breath. “It never thought this would happen,” he said. “I mean I haven’t had a period in over a decade. I’m on birth control. We were always so careful except the one time we weren’t and that just happened to line up with when I changed doctors. So many little things had to go wrong all at once.”

“The perfect storm,” said Buck. Tommy’s sandalwood cologne tingled his senses, and he had to fight to hold himself back from leaning in and pressing his face to the back of Tommy’s neck and drinking in his scent, chasing the hint of Tommy’s natural musk that hid under the cologne and aftershave and shampoo scents. Definitely not the appropriate time to be doing that, especially since they weren’t even a couple anymore.

Tommy gave a mirthless chuckle. “We should get up before your leg starts to cramp.”

Buck appreciated the thought. “Kinda too late for that,” he said with a groan, tuning into the throb in his calf now that Tommy had mentioned it.

Tommy extracted himself from Buck’s arms, stood and then turned to offer Buck a hand up. Once Buck was standing, Tommy helped him over to the sofa. He pulled Buck’s leg up into his lap and started massaging the calf muscle. “You don’t have to do that,” said Buck.

“I want to,” said Tommy. “As a friend.”

That last part stung, but at least it was better than Tommy trying to run away and shut Buck out, so Buck let himself relax into the massage. He studied Tommy’s face and having a hard time discerning much beyond the fact that Tommy was clearly terrified. “What are you thinking?” Buck asked.

“I don’t know,” said Tommy. “That I’m scared that if I get rid of it, I’ll regret it, but I’m also scared that if I keep it, it’ll trigger all sorts of dysphoria while I’m pregnant. And I’m confused about feeling so conflicted. And angry. Sad.” He sighed. “But there’s joy? Which is even more confusing because this isn’t something I ever thought I wanted. I still don’t know if I do want it.”

“That’s a lot,” said Buck. Though he had some of the same feelings swirling around inside him as well. Scared that regardless of the choice Tommy made, he wouldn’t want Buck to be involved. Regret over not reaching out to Tommy sooner, before they’d found out, because pregnancy would skew everything Buck had wanted to say to Tommy about his thoughts on the future. Confusion about the way they’d broken up and why it had even happened in the first place when everything was going so well. Anger at Tommy – more of that than Buck cared to admit. And he was sad too. Sad that Tommy was sad.

“Yeah,” said Tommy. “And then there’s that voice that’s telling me to wait a second because what if all the tests are wrong and I’m not really pregnant after all?”

“You wanna schedule a doctor’s appointment,” said Buck. After Tommy nodded, he added. “Do you want me there?” And he so desperately wanted Tommy to say yes.

Tommy hesitated. He frowned, eyes narrowing in thought before he finally nodded again. “Yeah.” It came out as the faintest of whispers. “It’d be good to have a friend there and I am not going to tell anyone else about this unless I absolutely have to.”

And didn’t that just make Buck feel all sorts of complicated ways?

He was glad that Tommy wanted him there, but also sad because it sounded more and more like Tommy didn’t want to keep the baby and the more Buck let himself think about it, the more he found himself wishing that Tommy would decide to keep it. Not that that was Buck’s choice to make, but still; the thought was there, and he couldn’t unthink it.

“Okay,” said Buck.

“You can’t tell anyone,” said Tommy.

“I know,” said Buck.

“I mean it, Evan,” said Tommy.

And that just pissed Buck off. “Contrary to popular belief, I can keep a secret,” he said. Not that he could think of an example off the top of his head right now, but he was sure he’d kept a secret successfully at some point in his life. “Besides, if I start acting weirder than normal everyone’s just gonna think it’s because of the break up.”

Tommy winced. “Okay,” he said. “How’s the leg?”

Buck flexed. “Uh, better. Thanks.” He swung his leg out of Tommy’s lap. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, I should go.” But Tommy didn’t move to get off the couch. He just sat there, staring at his hands.

“You don’t have to,” said Buck.

“That’s a bad idea, Buck,” said Tommy. There he went throwing up his defences again.

“Oh, so we’re back to Buck now,” Buck shook his head. “You don’t need to put distance between us just because I’m trying to take care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” said Tommy.

“Yeah, cuz you’re definitely in an emotional state where it’s safe for you to drive.” Buck couldn’t sit still any longer, so he pushed up off the sofa and started pacing around the coffee table.

“I’ll call an Uber,” said Tommy.

“Your phone’s dead,” said Buck.

Tommy sighed. “You’re not gonna let me leave, are you?”

Buck shook his head. “Not this time,” he said. “Not until we’ve booked you that appointment and you’ve gotten some rest, and I don’t know maybe had an actual conversation about why you thought it was a good idea to break both our hearts before I – according to you – inevitably and unintentionally broke your heart.” Buck gave into some of his anger, not all of it but enough to let Tommy know he was serious.

Tommy looked like he wanted to run away again. If the door had been in his line of sight, he’d probably have been eying it.

“We’re not going to talk about it just yet,” said Buck. “You’re going to book an appointment with your doctor.” He fished his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and handed it to Tommy. “Then you’re going to take a shower and go to bed and in the morning, I’m going to make you breakfast and we’re going to talk.”

“You’re not going to let me get out of this conversation, are you?” Tommy asked.

“Nope,” said Buck.

Tommy sighed. “Fine.” He snatched Buck’s phone and booked an appointment for the following afternoon. Luckily both of them were off. It would also give them time to talk.

Then Buck ushered Tommy into the bathroom with a change of clothes and the spare toothbrush Buck hadn’t gotten around to throwing out yet. While Tommy was in the shower, Buck made up the sofa and fished out a charger for Tommy’s phone.

And then, since his kitchen was still a mess, and he had nervous energy to work out, so he started tidying up after his bake-a-thon. The brie had gone cold but was still probably edible, Buck hoped. He wrapped it up and found room for it around all the other baked goods – did baked brie count as a baked good? He stared into his fridge. There really wasn’t much else in there besides the baked goods. Nothing really suitable for breakfast, unless cake and cheese counted but Tommy had been pretty adamantly against the cheese and cake seemed like a poor breakfast choice even given the strange situation, they found themselves in.

So, Buck put in a grocery order to be delivered in the morning.

“I guess you’re not doing the whole keto thing anymore,” Tommy said, startling Buck.

Buck turned to see Tommy topless with his arms cross over his chest, his top surgery scars just visible in the shadows of his forearms.

Ordinarily, this would be where Buck would make some sort of suggestive joke and then Tommy would respond in kind and then what little clothes Tommy was wearing would somehow find there way onto the floor —

And, okay, Buck really needed to derail that train of thought stat before he got hard thinking about having sex with his ex in front of that self-same ex. “Yeah, well, kind of hard to recover from heart break without carbs.”

“Oh, come on, Buck!” Tommy actually yelled. It was the first time Buck had ever seen that, and it was kind of hot and not exactly helping the situation in his sweats right now. “We both know that you’ll be over your infatuation soon enough and then you’ll find someone better than me and I’ll just be a memory.”

“Fuck you, Tommy!” Buck shouted. “You don’t get to decide how I feel about you. Infatuation? Is that what you thought you were to me?” Buck shook his head and lowered his voice, trying to get control of himself. “I thought you were it for me. My fucking last. And you thought you were what? A stepping stone? A place holder for my true love? Just another spin around the hamster wheel? That’s bullshit.” Buck didn’t mean to start shouting again, but he was sick of pretending like Tommy hadn’t devastated him. “I wanted to make something with you, and you got scared and rather than talk to me about your fears, you pushed the blame onto some hypothetical version of me that was just using you as an experiment. And that’s not what you were to me, Tommy.”

Buck stared at Tommy, panting, and more words spilled out. “And you just left. Said what you wanted and left. Didn’t give me a chance to say anything. And that wasn’t fair.”

“I have a house, Buck,” said Tommy, still on his “Buck” bullshit. “You asked me to move in with you when I have a house. How was I supposed to take that seriously when clearly you were acting on impulse?”

“Then you tell me to slow down,” said Buck. “You don’t crash the car. Yeah, I got ahead of myself, I own that. I got excited about the idea of building a life together. And I’ll admit, I jumped the gun. Didn’t even tell you I loved you, because I’m an idiot. But I do Tommy. I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. I love you so much that my fridge is full of baked goods that I made because I can’t stop thinking about calling you.”

Tommy’s breath hitched and Buck realised that he’d gotten ahead of himself.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was going to wait until morning, I swear. And this isn’t me trying to ask to get back together, because clearly there are other things going on, but it is me asking you to stop making unilateral decisions about things that affect both of us.”

“I really fucked up, huh,” said Tommy quietly, arms still crossed, shoulders hunched, head low.

“Yeah, you did,” said Buck. “I’m gonna go to sleep.” Fuck what they said about not going to bed angry. He trudged over to the sofa. Moments later, he heard Tommy climb the stairs and climb into Buck’s bed.

“Why are my shirts under your pillow?” Tommy called down.

Buck winced at his embarrassing break-up behaviour having been revealed. Maybe he could pretend to be asleep. Only Tommy was well aware that Buck took forever to fall asleep especially when he was worked up about something. So, Buck called back. “Finders keepers.”

Tommy chuckled and even though Buck was still angry, that chuckle maybe burned some of that anger away. Enough that he fell into a restless sleep where he dreamt that Tommy had run away again, taking their kid with him and Buck spent the rest of the dream driving across the country searching for them.

He woke with a start to a text alert telling him the grocery delivery was almost there.

Buck scrubbed a hand over his face and forced himself off the sofa, body complaining with every movement. It was going to be a long-ass day.

@silversky9 @unhingedangstaddict @ironspiderdad12 @beanarie @sporadicmakerwerewolf @azaharinflames @aisatsana441 @bugboybuck

[happilychaengs]

The Little Things [Rewrite]

a/n: this is my first rewrite and it's a rewrite of the first fic I've published ever. i didn't proofread because i'm sure i'd hate it but this one is less lighthearted than the original. hopefully i still did it justice.

word count: 944

angst, fluff

minatozaki sana x gender neutral reader

original

Sana was possessive. She knew that. She was overprotective and a 'worrywart' as you called it but sometimes rational thinking is thrown out the window when it comes to you. Her tearstained cheeks were proof of that.

"Where have you been?"

You furrow your brows as you looked at Sana, the look of disapproval apparent on her face as she crossed her arms. "I was out with a friend."

"This late? It's 2 in the morning!"

"I told you before that I'd be going out today, do you not remember?"

"So what? Who in the world would you even be going out with?"

You're reluctant to say the name, knowing how she'd react. "Momo..."

"Momo... As in the Hirai Momo?" She chuckles almost hysterically, her tone was almost venomous as she spoke, the back-handed insults flying straight out of her mouth. "The girl who'd do anything to even be near you? The girl who was so clearly trying to take advantage of you at that stupid frat party one time? The girl that was definitely in love with you?"

"She did not take advantage of me! She was watching out for me! We cleared that up ages ago! You were there!"

"Right, because she being so protective while she practically hit on you as I watched! If you're cheating on me just say it!"

Silence.

She didn't mean that.

Why did she say it?

Take it back.

Her heart hammered against her chest as she saw the look on your face, your eyes turning redder by the second, "You think I'm... cheating on you?"

"..."

Stop it.

Say something.

Anything.

Fix this.

But in the end, she doesn't.

Silence envelops you as you tighten your lips, evidently to stop yourself from crying. You nod briefly as you take your keys, your fingers fiddling with the ring on your left hand. "Okay."

And before she realizes it, you're out the door under the short promise that you're only going out to clear your head.

It's been an hour since then. An hour of hating herself. An hour of worrying where you've been. An hour of sobbing.

How stupid was she? Why did she doubt you? Why did she hurt you in the process?

She gets up to pour herself a glass of water, but the sudden motion somehow makes her light-headed as she grabs the corner of your bed side drawer to support herself. But then she sees something that catches her eye, something she's never seen before. There laid a small brown journal, maybe a diary, under a small stack of your favorite books that you kept to yourself.

She sat down again, debating whether she should reach for it or not, but in the end she does. She lays it on her lap as she turns the blank cover, reading the words etched inside.

"The Little Things I Love About My Sweetheart, Minatozaki Sana"

The words made her heart skip a beat as she turned the page, reading down the next few lines.

"Always love her, never disappoint her"

Oh, but how she disappointed you.

She flips the page, her eyes scanning through the words, quietly reading them to herself.

"Her love is loud and sometimes almost too obnoxious but that's what I love about it. I love those quirky songs she makes up on the fly as I step into the room, never ceasing to make my heart flutter. I love that she's always there and always present.

And then there's her honey-like voice. It has a sweet tone with an underlying huskiness, the mere sound of it making my knees want to buckle. It's worrying how weak I am for her because I'm sure I'd go die if she told me to.

I really never noticed it until recently but she has the cutest habits imaginable. She almost always have to even out her kisses when she kisses my cheeks. 'It'd be unfair to the other!' she tells me.

But all of it really pales in comparison when I see her drop everything for me. Sometimes-"

Your voice abruptly interrupts her as her eyes tear away from the page.

"Sometimes when she notices I come home, she drops everything she's doing and comes to give me a tight hug with a huge smile on her face and I love her for that."

And there you stood, leaning against the doorframe, your nose and cheeks a shade of rosy pink from the blistering cold outside.

"Y/N..."

And in that moment, she really does drop everything.

The bed quickly dips as her hands push her off the bed. Her legs practically get caught onto each other as she rushes off the bed, her whole body crashing into yours. Her arms envelop around you as her head rests on your collar. Her hands ball up bunches of your shirt as tears begin staining it.

"I'm so sorry..." As she spoke, her breath hitched repeatedly, her lips shaking, "I-I didn't mean it any of it... I was scared..."

She bites her lip as she waits for you to say something. Anything. Tell her that she was wrong. Tell her that you were hurt. Tell her that she was crazy.

But instead, she feels your soft lips press against her forehead, the three words ringing inside her head loud and clear. Her worries disappear.

"I love you."

[inquisitornocturn]

𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖆 𝖎𝖓 𝖗𝖚𝖇𝖊𝖔, 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1 - 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔟

“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” – Cesar A. Cruz

⫸ pairing: Cazador Szarr/f!high elf reader

⫸ tags: no y/n used etc, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, canon-typical violence, asphyxiation, physical abuse.

⫸ story summary: Accompanying your father, the General of Baldur's Gate, has always been a duty that bores you near to death, but for first time you feel completely unnerved as you come to Szarr mansion. The family's patriarch is a strange man and so is his wife and son. Son, who seems unperturbed by anything, until he's left alone with you that is. Then and only then, Cazador shows emotion and what kind of a threat he is. You realize soon - behind those dark eyes there's something dangerous lurking and your future soon becomes inescapably intertwined with his.

work contains illustrations, credit at the end

⫸ word count: 5,825

⫸ author note: oh god where do i even start. this fic has been for a very long time in the making, and plot has been reworked so many times i nearly lost count. besides drastic changes and rewrites - he it is. i want to thank artists who kindly worked with me to bring more life to this fic with their skill and as cheesy as it sounds - i want to thank people who constantly supported me through planning and every other agony that i went through while i was figuring this work out. i call this my magnum opus and i can only hope that those who read it buckle up for the journey. it's going to be a wild, dark ride. enjoy♡~

⫸ chapter list: [link]

“Vice is ever most dangerous when lurking behind the Mask of Virtue.” ― Matthew Gregory Lewis

1021DR

A throne, carved from stone and elevated over the rest of the hall with steps leading to it. Steps are draped with red carpet, askew in parts, and there’s candles everywhere. The evening is coming, casting only slivers of orange sunlight through the gaps in heavy bronze colored curtains, making the room sink in darkness if not for the candles and a fireplace. You glance around with only your eyes, feeling unnerved and on edge, not even knowing why.

Your father is on your right, a tall figure with long white hair that he keeps loose on his back, and his silver eyes are looking ahead of him with seriousness of a warrior about to engage in a battle. You have seen this look before, the look that tells you that your father, the recently appointed General of Baldur’s Gate army, is taking his opponent seriously. Except this time his opponent is not a raging zealot or a horde of goblins, it’s a man.

This man, when you finally return your gaze to him, doesn’t look very intimidating except for the throne he’s sitting on and his relaxed pose. With knees parted and his back lazily leaned against the backrest of his seat, this man exudes power through his body language, even with how his jaw is resting easily on his knuckles or how fingers of his other hand tap lazily against the armrest. You take the man in: black long hair, straight, draping to his waist, red piercing eyes gazing down from an upturned, arrogant face. His nose is straight, his lips are pulled into a tiniest of smirks and his garb is embroidered with bronze threads of light gold silk. A garment to show status, not practicality.

“Lord Varitan Szarr, I am grateful you granted an audience.” Your father begins and you glance at him, unable to stop yourself before you do. Granted an audience? You never heard him speak like this before, even to the Duke. “Can I assume you have been informed about the purpose of my visit?”

You look back at the patriarch of the Szarr family. He’s not speaking, not yet, because he’s clearly observing your father with sharp eyes. Led by curiosity you glance at the chair on the left to the throne, noticing a woman there. Her black hair is put up and her dark eyes are watching you. When your gaze meets hers, a shiver runs down your spine. You turn your eyes away, not sure if the woman is trying to provoke you or make you uncomfortable, but either way – you are not willing to play the games of strangers.

When your eyes move to the right of the throne you see a young man sitting in the second hair. He looks maybe around your age, maybe few decades older, you can’t quite tell, but it’s hard to tell such things even among the elves. His uncommon appearance, just like Lord Szarr and the strange woman, tell you that he is related to the man in the throne. Young elf doesn’t seem to see you as he watches your father, his dark eyes fixated on the General, his hands resting on his thighs in a disciplined manner, and you can’t help but notice that he has same length hair as Szarr patriarch. Could he be the young man’s father? The resemblance is definitely there, to the woman as well.

Your observations don’t last more than a long moment and your eyes instinctively snap to the speaker, Lord Szarr, the moment he opens his mouth.

“Yes, I have been informed. I hear you are reforming the army, is that correct, General Cradith Sylven?”

“It is.”

“I hear you want my son to be part of it?”

A pause short as a heartbeat and yet you still notice your father hesitating before he responds with a voice that betrays none of his own thoughts. That’s something you always admired in him as he taught you how to be a soldier just like him.

“That’s correct.” A curt, short reply and another pause before he continues. “I’m sure that young Lord Cazador would benefit from such position.” General gestures to the young man and you follow the direction with your eyes, seeing how the one named Cazador is focused on your father, his eyes watching with silent curiosity.

“Would he now?” Lord Varitan laughs and your eyes are drawn to him when he moves, getting off the throne and making one single step to Cazador, placing a heavy looking hand on the young man’s shoulder, but not receiving any reaction as he does so. “What do you think, child, would military strengthen your character?” Patriarch laughs but nobody else finds humor in his words, not even your father who often jokes with other soldiers about how every child needs a sword in their hand to gain a spine.

Awkward silence is cast upon the hall as only Lord Szarr’s laughter seems to be echoing off the walls, and you notice how he squeezes Cazador’s shoulder, tight enough to turn his fingernails white, yet the young elf seems completely unperturbed by it, sitting in silence before his eyes suddenly turn to you and meet your curious gaze.

You almost lean back from the intensity of his dark eyes that bore into you, and you nearly look at your father, instinctively wanting to ask for help, but then you frown and arrogantly raise an eyebrow at him, as if challenging him, and Cazador’s gaze slips from you to your father once more. You can barely hold your smirk down – a victory, however small.

“How old is your daughter, General?” Lord Szarr speaks again once his amusement settles and you watch the man descent the steps from his throne, approaching you and your father, making you suddenly realize how tall he is.

“Hundred and ninety-seven, Lord Szarr.” Your father replies calmly and the patriarch stops once he’s in front of you. He faces you specifically, his gaze cast down on you as he confidently reaches out and takes a strand of your long hair into his fingers, caressing it without pulling at it.

“Beautiful flower, General. But made of steel, I can tell already. I hear you’ve trained her to be a quite skilled little soldier?” there’s something mocking about how the man talks about you and you frown, albeit you otherwise don’t move a muscle. Your expression is noticed immediately and the Szarr patriarch lifts an eyebrow at you, eyeing your stance as you keep yourself straight and proud, just like your father taught you.

“I would suggest you talk about my daughter in more respectable terms, Lord. I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate such things being said about your wife or son.” Your father immediately verbally steps in and you feel relief. Yes, you could respond, snap back, mock, maybe even physically take down this pompous ruler of his household, but you know better than to act upon your anger. You’ve been taught better than this.

Lord Szarr drops the strand of hair he was holding the moment your father finishes speaking and you watch him turn from you and face your father at last. General Cradith is not short by any means but even he has to turn his face up when speaking to this self-important man.

“My wife wouldn’t mind, I’m sure of it.” He laughs and then crosses arms on his chest. “My son wouldn’t either. Is that right?”

“Yes.” A singular reply comes from Cazador, making you briefly glance at him.

“Good. And you, Donnela?” without being looked at, the woman is addressed, but she slightly bows her head anyway.

“Yes, my dear.” Her voice is smooth, soothing even.

“Good, good.” Lord Szarr laughs and uncrosses his arms to place a palm on your father’s armored shoulder. “Now let us go somewhere more private to discuss your proposition, I’m sure the children will be fine without us.” His eyes snap to his wife. “Donnela, make sure that Cazador entertains our esteemed guest while I talk to General.”

You glance at Lady Donnela and then at your father, question in your eyes but he just nods.

“Get to know the lad, I’m sure he’s a pleasant company.” He says and you immediately want to reply and say that you doubt it, but instead you remain quiet and obediently nod. Not the time or place to be snarky with your own father. This Lord Szarr obviously is a tricky man to interact with, so when your father nods to you in return, you exhale slowly and watch him being led away to a door on the side of the room.

Once the men are gone, with the door tightly shut behind them, Donnela raises from her seat and looks at Cazador with an emotion you can’t call anything but contempt.

“Go, do as your father says.” Her voice is nothing like it was before, not soothing or pleasant anymore, but instead sharp and demanding. “Go, you idiot boy!” She snaps at him before even a moment can pass since her previous words and you yourself nearly flinch at them, but not Cazador. He raises to his feet and without looking at his mother, descends the few stairs and walks to you.

“Come. They will take a while.” He says in a tone that’s quite blank and you frown but nod, following him.

As the young man leads you outside of the hall, you throw one last look into Lady Donnela’s direction, noticing her smoldering gaze that speaks of hatred cast upon her son, and you wonder why, but Cazador opens the door, letting warm evening air enter the chilly room and the sunlight looks so welcoming now, after spending time in the dark hall even for as little as you did.

You two walk out and approach the balustrade of the mansion, glancing upon the fields and the houses down below. You know that Szarrs are building the palace in Baldur’s Gate, but here, in Anga Vled, you find the view quite bucolic, relaxing even. The streets can get so busy after all.

Cazador leans over the balustrade, draping his arms over it and looks into the horizon as you take a spot on his right, looking to the setting sun yourself. Silence follows and how long it lasts you’re not sure.

“She’s not my mother.” Cazador suddenly speaks and you look at him, seeing his long black hair whisp in the light breeze. He’s beautiful in this moment, you admit to yourself. His features so unusual for elves and yet you can’t deny that he’s handsome.

“Really? Lord Szarr seemed to insist that she is.” You comment and you hear the young man scoff.

“He insists everyone is a family.” A puzzling comment, but you don’t have time to think about it before Cazador speaks again. “Well, she is my mother, but she forgets that more often than not.”

Silence.

You don’t know how to reply so you remain quiet for a time, thinking about what he just said.

“I call her aunt, it seems more fitting.”

Ah. You understand now.

Yet you remain quiet for some more time, unsure if you should address what Cazador just said or let your suspicion that his mother is actually also his aunt too go unspoken, so you try to think of something else to talk about.

“Do you want to join the military?” you ask with your throat quite dry and Cazador looks at you, his waist-length hair wisping across his face and he moves his hand to tuck rogue strands behind his pointy ear. A smile appears on his face, tainted with same arrogance his father showed before.

“If anything, it would get me out of this barn.” He smirks and you raise an eyebrow at that. Szarr mansion surely is not as luxurious as some houses in Gate but calling it a barn seems a bit much. And spoiled, it sounds very spoiled to you.

“You’re not going to survive through the training if that’s your attitude.” You can’t help your snark as you smirk back at him and Cazador pushes himself off the balustrade, stepping towards you, his eyes narrowed.

“And who are you to judge me, hm?”

“My father says I was born with a sword holding hand.” You grin at him, feeling superior than Cazador. You’ve been training how to fight since you were a toddler, you’re not sure if Cazador’s pale skin and slender fingers are telling the same story. He seems the type to spend bent over books instead of holding a weapon, but his towering figure does intimidate you to a degree, and you swallow as you look at him, your eyes locked on his while a moment passes charged with tension.

You are caught off guard when Cazador’s hand shoots up, grabbing you by the throat and squeezing so tightly you immediately cannot breathe. Your eyes widen at the assault and you try to pry his fingers away while the young Master begins lifting you as if trying to elevate you to his eye level. Yet when you’re on your toes he bends over you, bringing his face close, and you see a chilling joy in them because of your struggle, because how you gasp for air. His other hand now clasps over your open mouth as if he doesn’t want to risk even a smallest sound escaping you, and a wicked smile appears on his face. Pure, unadulterated delight is reflected on his face, tainted only by how cruel it is. He’s terrifyingly beautiful as he looks down on you like this, like the death itself.

“Quite a little soldier you are.” Cazador hums in near sing-song voice that’s barely above a whisper, you and only you are meant to hear it. “But not quite sharp as you reckoned, don’t you think? You could be dead. You can be dead if I just keep this going for a moment longer.” He chuckles and pure fear begins spreading in your chest. With your eyes still wide you stare at him, gripping his hand and trying to pry it away from your neck while your lungs burn for air more painfully with each passing second. “But don’t worry, you’re too important to damage.” Szarr finishes with a whisper and with one last gleeful look at your shocked, fearful face he releases your neck.

You land on your feet, immediately stepping backwards from him. Your fingers instinctively move to your sword by your side and you tug at it only to stop when Cazador raises his hand at you, smirking with satisfaction at this little display of power he just showed to you.

“Calm down.” He laughs while your heart beats fast in your chest and you gasp for air with your face twisted in anger. Cazador upturns his palm with a wide smile, now looking less cruel but still amused. “Give me your hand.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Yes.”

“You little-“

“Give me your hand.” Cazador’s tone is suddenly sharp, cutting you off mid-swear and if you could frown any more you would.

However, begrudgingly you realize that in the end he didn’t harm you. On top of that, you suspect he’s trying to make a point and, despite your anger and your wounded pride, you are still curious about what that point is. So with some reluctance you release the handle of your sword and straighten your back, showing pride with which you were born when you step closer and place your hand in his. Cazador’s smile is soft when you do as he wants and then he tugs you towards him.

“What are you doing?!” you gasp with sudden blush on your face when you’re pressed chest to chest with him, but young Master just takes your hand more comfortably, placing his other on your waist and begins leading you to music that only he can hear.

Shocked and quite speechless, you try to follow his steps until you recognize the pattern and let him lead you, turning and spinning, dancing with you while he watches you go through several emotions: shock, then anger again for being treated like this, then curiosity accompanied by a slight blush.

“You dance well.” He comments and you smirk at him.

“I’m a noble too, not just a soldier. I attended my fair share of balls and battles.”

“I can tell.” Cazador says and stops, pulling you by your hand and making you spin around, then tugging you to his chest again, this time your back to him as if you’re a marionette he’s controlling, pulling you by your strings.

His arm wraps around your waist and your hand is released only for you to feel his fingers around your throat once again. Your heart skips a beat in fear and he can feel it, because he’s pressing his fingertips against your jugular. You gasp and stay still, with your hands on his arm on your waist, as Cazador makes you look into the horizon, to the setting sun that’s slowly letting the sky become darker as it loses the orange coloring. His touch is firm, yet gentle and warm.

“Look, what do you see?” Cazador asks in a quiet voice and you sweep your eyes over the sky, then over the fields and houses.

“Life.” You respond in a voice that matches his and you feel him begin to rub the underside of your jaw with his thumb.

“Indeed. There’s life. In the sky, on the ground, in the earth.” He continues, the warmth of his chest against your back soothing you, the flicker of fear that you just felt snuffed out at last. You feel strangely safe, even with his hand on your throat after letting you know exactly what he can do. “Do you think you can protect that life, soldier?”

Cazador’s question puzzles you slightly, he’s still getting to the point and you’re becoming impatient. So you turn your head slightly, to look up at him and the dark, calm gaze of his eyes meets yours. The closeness makes you feel flustered but you try to hide it.

“I don’t look to protect life, Cazador. I enjoy the rush of the battle, the feeling of victory, the blood on my hands.” You finally respond and notice a glimmer of surprise in his expression before he grins, obviously satisfied with your answer. His thumb props your chin just a little higher as he leans closer, his eyes not leaving yours.

“I’m sure they scream beautifully when you kill them.” Szarr whispers with same terrifying glee that you saw on his face when he was choking you and you can’t help but find it… appealing. Yes, that’s right. He’s crazy, insane, absolutely nuts, that’s what you tell yourself, but somehow how he acts, how he talks, it makes your blood run faster.

And so you break into a grin of your own.

“They do.” You pause, wondering if you should share the secret you never uttered even to your father and decide that you can, that Cazador will understand the joy of a good fight, the adrenaline of it all. “If I have time, I make sure that they suffer as much as they can.” Your whisper is so quiet that Cazador has to lean even closer to hear it, and when he hears what you’re saying - there’s like a spark in his eyes. He’s surprised, pleasantly so.

“Then I would be glad to ride into a battle with you, my Lady.” He whispers back and you blush slightly, feeling like you both suddenly formed a strange connection, found someone who shares the same view of a good fight and good victory.

But the moment, that is clearly turning intimate somewhat, is suddenly interrupted by the opening door and a loud, angry scream.

“Release her at once!” Lady Donnela’s voice is shrill and Cazador flinches at it, but he doesn’t let go of you just yet. His eyes move from your face and to his mother, a moment passes and you finally feel his hands leave you.

Blushing now for being caught like this you step away from him, your eyes downcast as you don’t want the woman to see that you’re embarrassed, but she quickly walks to you both and then you hear a slap. Shocked, you look up to see that Donnela just slapped Cazador so hard the sound is still ringing in your ears, but he doesn’t look phased. In fact, his face is completely calm and you can only imagine the red mark blooming on the right side of his face as Donnela now turns to you.

For a moment she looks worried as she grips your jaw to look at your face, her eyes scanning your neck, as if she is expecting Cazador was trying to hurt you, but the moment she finally pays attention and notices your blush, Lady Szarr realizes that it wasn’t the case at all. Her expression becomes a painting of rage and her nails dig into your jaw so painfully you frown.

“Stay away from him.” She warns and you blink few times in surprise, not quite sure what she means by that. Stay away for his sake or… your own?

Donnela releases your jaw and looks at her son with anger, then reaches out and grabs his long hair in a fist, beginning to walk back inside and drag Cazador with her. With utter shock at such display of abuse you stand frozen, not knowing how to react, but Cazador himself doesn’t look distressed, if anything his face is completely blank as he follows his mother back inside, and in couple seconds you are left alone, the door closing.

You exhale slowly, trying to understand what just happened, and begin walking to the door yourself when you hear a crashing sound. You run now, swinging the door open only to witness Lady Donnela on the floor, a candelabra broken by her side and Cazador standing over her, with same emotionless mask across his face. Donnela’s face, on the other hand, is both shock and rage.

“Leave! Now!” She shrieks at her son and Cazador only shows a small smirk before he nods and walks off, without giving you or her another look.

You stare at Donnela and finally snap out of your stupor before you rush to help her get up, but she pushes you away with hatred in her eyes.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!”

You recoil immediately and just watch her quickly scramble to her feet, not even giving burning candles on the floor a glance, before she too rushes off out of the hall, leaving you alone. Utterly shocked you stand as you are for a moment, trying to understand what just happened, but when you begin smelling burning wood you walk to the broken candelabra and snuff out the candles. Then your eye catches a glimpse of something, a shine that appears right under the heavy curtain as you are putting out the flames.

After carefully looking around to see if there’s anyone else here besides yourself, you step to the curtain and kneel with one knee picking the shiny object up, then stand up and turn to the nearest candlelight to see better what it is.

You realize that the object you picked up is a pocket miniature, usually meant to portray passed loved ones that their family members can carry with them. You have seen some of your father’s soldiers carry these before and you become intrigued because you suspect Lady Donnela dropped this during whatever altercation happened between her and her son.

When you flip the portrait you see a young man, clearly an elf, sketched with a pencil instead of being painted, situated in a beautiful silver frame. You can’t tell the color of his hair or eyes, the picture carrying only the shades of grey, but you notice an emphasis on white streaks of hair framing his sharp features. What catches your attention most is this elven man’s eyes, because it seems that whoever drew this - they were captivated by the look of his piercing gaze. Regal in outfit, you assume him to be someone Lady Donnela might’ve cherished.

For a moment you just look at the picture, wondering who he is. He doesn’t seem to be related to Szarr’s, they have their unique looks making them stand out among other elves, but whoever this man was, you realize that Donnela is still attached to him enough to carry his portrait with her.

Once again you lift your eyes and look around, finding no one present in the hall except for the sounds of soft crackling fire, and you wonder what you should do while you wait for your father. The answer comes for you in a form of footsteps nearing the hall.

As Cazador returns you notice his completely calm expression. He doesn’t pause before walking to you and you just watch him approach in silence, not knowing if you should address what you have just seen, but before you can speak he’s right in front of you, eyes darting down to the object in your hands and he raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. Without a word he extends his hand, palm up, beckoning for you to place the miniature there. After a glance to his open hand you do as he wishes and young Master quickly pockets the item.

“Who was he?” you speak before you can consider if it’s a good question to ask and Cazador gives you a smile that you can see is strained.

“A friend of a family.” A pause then he clears his throat. “He’s close to Donnela.” You look at Cazador for a long moment, wanting to know more. Not because you’re overly curious about this person, but because you simply don’t know what else to say or do.

Yet before you can formulate a proper thought, the door opens and you both look in the direction of the room where your father disappeared with Lord Szarr. They both exit, smiling and seemingly relaxed.

“Child, come closer.” Varitan waves his son closer once the two men stop and your eyes meet your father’s, but you can’t exactly read his face except for the fact that he seems more relaxed compared to how he was when coming here.

Cazador, without a word, walks to his father and Lord Varitan smirks at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. You realize that they are both nearly exact same height, making even your father stand shorter than them which is usually not the case and you approach as well, not needing permission.

“It has been decided that the boy will join Gate’s army for some time.” Patriarch of the family speaks up again and you watch him, wondering what’s the reason behind his decision because you already learned that Cazador is quick and sharp, even against someone as skilled as you. “He won’t make a military career, but I’m sure that under General Cradith he will learn a lot, won’t you, child?”

“Yes.”

“Since Lord Varitan informed me that you do have a degree of training, which you acquired back in your homeland, it was decided that you will start at the similar position as my daughter.” General says and you frown at that. This… this new recruit is going to have same position as you? You glance at your father but he either ignores your pointed stare or doesn’t see it, because he continues without skipping a beat. “Being a family member of a noble household, I’m sure Cazador knows how to take on some responsibility. Is that correct?”

“Of course he does, he is my son.” Lord Varitan answers and you now look at him, trying to keep your face neutral but finding yourself disliking the man more every time he opens his mouth.

“Then it is settled. When young Lord is ready, please do send me a letter so that we can welcome him appropriately.” Your father speaks and you finally look at Cazador, still finding that mask of nothingness across his face, completely unreadable, completely still. Even his eyes look void of emotion as he stands by his father, frozen like a statue.

You wonder what’s going through his head. You wonder if he’s happy to be promised an escape from his mother, maybe even his father, because the way he gripped Cazador earlier comes back to your mind with vivid intensity. Knuckles turning white, fingers meant to hurt, to remind him of what, his place? Or that he can’t escape, not forever?

“Of course, of course.” Lord Szarr grins and his crimson eyes look unpleasant when accompanied with his sharp smile, making him look more predatory than polite and you want to leave, as soon as possible. This mansion makes you feel like you’re in a den of wolves, or worse.

“Very well then.” Your father goes out of his way to shake Varitan’s hand and you nearly grimace at that without even knowing why, but the idea of touching the Szarr patriarch unsettles you deeply. “Come on then, let’s go.” General turns to you and with relief you nod.

When your father passes you, you turn to follow him, not sparing another glance at the dark-haired elves as you notice Lord Varitan also turn to walk away, but suddenly you hear words spoken to you.

“I guess I’ll see you soon, little soldier.” Cazador’s voice is quiet, meant only for you and you stop, turning just enough to see his face, to see the arrogant smirk on his face and he steps to you, confident and proud, his eyes now burning with excitement.

“Don’t think it’s going to be easy, recruit.” You reply with a grin, not wanting to let him feel as if he’s somehow better than you, stronger than you, and Cazador raises his eyebrows as he stops in front of you. He tilts his head slightly to the side then leans close to your face, staring deep into your eyes as if daring you to step back from him for invading your personal space, yet you stand your ground, letting him get as close as he dares, letting your own arrogance show on your face.

“I’m sure you will make army an interesting challenge to me.” Young Master’s voice is barely above a whisper, you feel his breath on your skin when he speaks, and you begin to feel blush coloring your cheeks, this closeness is too much for you, too intimate, his dark eyes becoming all that you can focus on, all that you can see.

Yet you’re not the one to admit defeat, no matter how perceived or imaginary it is. You stay still, looking back even if your palms begin to sweat. You know he’s challenging you and you are accepting it, he’s some spoiled noble after all, however capable in surprising you he was for a moment, when it comes to real fights you know, you are sure, you would best him. You have no reason to let him think he can intimidate you, so you don’t.

“Don’t make me break your neck on the first day, Szarr.” You taunt and Cazador’s grin widens, he’s pleased with your answer.

“We’ll see about that, Lady Sylven.” He too addresses you by your last name and you raise your eyebrow at him, but pause when you hear your father call for your attention and you exhale slowly, annoyed to be interrupted, but Cazador just leans back from you. “See you soon.” He says with ego dripping of each syllable and you briefly cock your chin at him, then turn and walk off, catching up with your father who’s lingering by the hall door. But entire time you walk away you feel eyes on your back, it makes you grin to yourself.

When you and General walk out of the mansion into a gently dark evening, your father glances at you as you both walk to your horses that you two took to come here from the encampment outside the Gate’s walls.

“What was that about?” he asks and you snap out of your thoughts, giving him a quick look.

“Nothing. He just told me he’s excited to join the defenders of the city, father.” You lie and quickly approach your horse, taking the reins that you tied to a wooden fence, but your father stops you by grabbing your shoulder.

When you look at him, you see that his eyes are serious, his lips pressed into a thin line, worry of a father with seriousness of a General.

“Don’t get involved with that boy, you hear me?” he says strictly and you stare at him completely baffled, not sure how to even react.

“What? Why?” you let out a nervous laugh, unnerved by his sudden mood change, but General’s fingers linger on your shoulder for a little longer before he releases you and gently presses his palm onto your cheek.

“I have a bad feeling, that is all.” Father sighs, making you feel even more confused.

“Surely you can’t judge anyone’s mettle based on what… bad feeling?” you realize you sound defensive, in a moment General’s worried expression is changed by a frown.

“My gut feeling saved my life on the battlefield multiple times before. So did yours. Do not underestimate it just because the boy is charming.” He responds and you know you’re blushing now, but you frown, still slightly defiant.

“He’s not charming, father. We just talked while waiting for you and he seemed like an interesting person.” You lie again, the memory of Donnela’s abuse flashing in your mind and then quickly disappearing. You don’t want to tell him about that either and you realize that you’re lying on Cazador’s behalf already. It makes you feel uneasy inside.

“Heed my warning, child.” Lord Cradith begins and removes his palm from your face, his hard eyes pinning you in place. “Szarrs are bad news. Be very careful with the young Master.”

You can’t argue, not when he’s using his commanding tone, this will not bode well if you talk back, so you just curtly nod and he seems to relax at that, then even smiles.

“Good. Glad you understand.”

With that you both untie your horses and mount them. As your father begins leading towards the encampment you pause and look back at the Szarr mansion, all stone and wood. At the second level of it you notice something in the window: a pale face and black hair, and at first you think it might be Cazador, until you suddenly recognize red eyes and a sharp, unsettling grin.

Grin that looks too wide to be natural.

⫸ end note: thank you @sadist69 and @alienrat-art for wonderful illustrations that helps bringing this story to life♡~

[hedgiwithapen]

WHAT IF HENRY LIVED HUH??!???? WHAT IF THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP ////WAS//// ENOUGH???

(Stargirl 1x10-1x13!)

“Henry,” Jordan Mahkent had said, so gently. “I need you to come with me. It’s to help your father.”

There was an ugliness to his thoughts, but something else Henry couldn’t articulate as they bombarded him along with his memories. Courtney Whitmore, talking about how his father, how Jordan, how they’d wanted to kill her mother. How they’d killed poor Joey Zarrick. Jordan’s thoughts didn’t have that undercurrent of doubt, the waver that indicated a lie. He meant it. Whatever he wanted Henry to do, it would help his dad wake up. It would make everything worth it. Didn’t he have to try?

He went.

He froze on the steps down into the---well, the creepy underground tunnel. There wasn't another word for it. Jordan's hand was still on his shoulder, a steadying presence against the panic Henry felt--sure it was his own. There were so many people down here, all robed and hooded. He was sure that any second, his powers would kick in, louder than any of his classes.

It didn't happen. Henry swallowed, taking another step down, then another, until he stood on level ground. There were still only Jordan's thoughts, and one other's, both thinking about how close their plan had come to failure, just how much they needed him. The other minds were silent.

The quiet should have been comforting. Instead it sat against his gut, making him feel ill.

"I think I need to go home," he said quietly. Jordan's hand pressed down further. 

"There's no need to be afraid, Henry. This is what your father would want." 

"Right," Henry said, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants and hoping he didn't sound as uncertain as he felt. 

"This way," the person under the most elaborate hood said. His voice seemed a little familiar, but He couldn't quite place it. His thoughts--Henry could see scattered images, but he couldn't hear much of anything in terms of words, at least not that he could understand. It was too jumbled. "The machine is ready."

Henry swallowed again.  the room was massive, like a hollowed out globe under--well, under something. There had been so many twists and turns, he couldn't tell exactly...

"You need to sit," Jordan said, holding out a packet of papers. 

"The machine will tap into your prefrontal cortex. It will open a link between you and most of the minds in the area."

"How many is most?" Henry asked, sitting. He flinched too late as the man under the hood buckled his arm into place. 

"many," Jordan said, smoothly. " When it does, you need to push back. You can't let their thoughts in, Henry. You need to push your thoughts out. You can do that, can't you?"

"I," Henry blinked. He had, before, with Courtney. Hadn't he? "I think so."

"Good. And when you do, this is what you need to think at them. every word of it. You'll be rewriting their minds. If you think these things, so will they."

"What?" Henry asked, looking at the papers, feeling like a kid who hadn't studied for a final.

Jordan just smiled at him. 

Henry looked at the papers again, uncertain. How would they help his dad to wake up, things about green energy and equality in sports and... fealty to Jordan Mahkent, willingness to fight and die for the New America..." He shivered, not only from fear but from the ice melting on his skin under Jordan's hand. 

"Every word of it. Say them out loud as you send them. This is important, Henry."

"No," Henry said. "No, I won't. My Dad... he wouldn't have done this."

"This was as much his idea as mine, Henry. And I'm afraid  you can't have a choice in the matter. If you don't do this, your father will never wake up."

Henry blinked at the threat. he loved his dad, didn't he? loved the man he'd...been, anyways. But this wasn't... " she was right," he murmured."

"Who?" Jordan demanded. 

"Henry," the man in the dragon-patterned robes said, "let me put this in terms even you can understand. I am going to turn this machine on. You will do as we have asked. Or every cell in your brain will turn to mush. Is that clear?"

Henry let out a shaking breath. "Yes," he said, fear curling around him with the pressure of their voices and thoughts. It felt like being around his teammates, being around Cindy, but a million times worse. Like he'd do anything to make his thoughts fit with theirs, like that was normal. 

"Good. I believe it's time." Jordan said, and the pain struck.

When he'd been young, back in California, his family'd had a pool. He'd never swum again after his mother had drowned, but before that, he'd swum often. When he'd been very young, just old enough to have memories of it--or maybe younger and he only had the memories because of it-- he'd jumped into the pool one morning before anyone else was done with breakfast. The water had been like ice, the heat hadn't worked. Cold shock, his father had said it was. The second the water had touched his skin it was like he couldn't move, couldn't think. Even before his head had slipped under, his lungs had refused to work. He'd been trapped in his own body, drowning, the water filling his lungs, his nose, his ears even. 

His mother had pulled him out. Somehow she'd known...

He was drowning again now, millions of minds flooding into him to fast for him to do anything but choke. Somehow, splintered, he could still feel the paper in his hand, see the words like they floated in front of them. He couldn't make his mind work, make his mouth open in the right shapes. 

Everything hurt. It was too much. A voice in his ear hissed words, and he grabbed for them, like a hand grasping at air, pushing them along. The pain lessened the smallest pit and he clawed for another fist full--fealty to Jordan Mahkent, to the ISA and the New America, unquestioning and unwavering loyalty.

The minds pushing against his began untangle. Like a mass of cords weaving into a neat braid as more began to think the words he sent them, but too many were still trying to dam the tide, sending it washing back at him, so many thoughts that muddled together.

He might have screamed. He wasn't sure. 

And then he heard a different voice. 

Henry. 

Henry, stop.

Yolanda. Yolanda. He'd never gotten her out of his head. God, he was going to die here without saying he was sorry, without saying he never should have gone along with the jokes, never should have made them. People were monsters because he'd been one.

People aren't monsters. People are Good. People want to be Good. Fight--ISA--save--Pat!

That was Courtney, bright and blazing directly inside his head, thinking hard--he could find her thoughts, next to Yolanda's,not aimed at him but flowing along like a bright stream.

Fight back Yolanda's voice urged. If Courtney was a stream, Yolanda was a life preserver, flung against the current. Fight back. Don't listen to them. Henry.

I can't! he wanted to wail. It's too much, I can't.

Think about something else! Anything else! Courtney's voice and that light pushed. Please!

Jordan's hand gripped his. The words on the paper swam, in and out of focus.

"I will kill your father, and you, if you don't keep going," Jordan promised.

Hold on Yolanda's thoughts came through, blurring with her fear and--what was it? Oh, please, hold on, hold on. Henry, we're coming. We're almost there. Fight back. Let go of his hand!

He'd die.  If he stopped thinking the words of the ISA's papers, he'd drown. 

Maybe that was better, though. 

He tried to make his fingers, clenched in agony, release, and couldn't feel if they did. 

Henry! God, please don't let him die! Yolanda's thoughts were so close. He let the tide close over his head. 

Love. It was love she'd felt earlier. 

The pressure evaporated. The words caught fire--literally. He smelled smoke, blinking as he saw the silver of metal and the gold of the weird glowing stick that had once blown up his father's car-- turning the papers to ashes. Slicing through the leather and wire alike that connected him to the machine. 

He rolled forward, heaving for breath, so close to the edge of the platform. A gloved hand caught him, as the light of the dome died out, flickering into static and then nothing. 

"Henry?" Yolanda's voice matched her thoughts, tearful, concerned. 

"I'm sorry," he managed, his throat feeling scraped and raw. 

"You can be sorry later," she said. "We--can talk. Later."

He nodded, and let her lift him to his feet, let her haul him backwards from the room as the giant satellite came crashing down in the loudest crash he'd ever heard, clinging to the lifeline that gleamed as bright as the claws at her knuckles, or the St. George medallion at her throat.

"I thought. You hated me? But you saved me..." 

She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Her thoughts were clear enough. 

[mistydeyes]

Hi! Would you be interested in doing an angst piece for Gaz?

Gaz ends up in the hospital/med tent and meets reader. They get to know each other until he ships out and reader can't wait to see him again - until he ends up back in front of them with extremely severe injuries...

a/n: i am so sorry this took me so long to get to but i LOVED this request and wanted to do it justice! thank you again for submitting anon :) there are no happy endings here so buckle up

a modern day florence nightingale

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summary: Fresh out of training, your first assignment is at the famous Queen Elizabeth's Hospital in Birmingham. While most of your colleagues dread their first assignment, you find yourself slowing falling in love with your newest patient.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x nurse!gn!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and violence, ANGST

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"Corporal, you have a last-minute transfer to Room 7," the chief nurse paged and you closed out your evening reports. "Thanks, Captain, I'll check in and collect the vitals for you," you replied and made your way down the quiet hall. You were fresh out of training and on your first assignment which met you had the absolute pleasure of collecting vitals and performing monotonous tasks. However, while some other corporals groaned at their placement, you enjoyed finally having hands-on, out-of-classroom experience. As you approached the door, you pulled the clipboard which identified the patient and some of the pertinent medical history. You knocked on the door gently and announced yourself. "Sergeant Garrick, welcome to Queen Elizabeth's," you said as the man sat up in bed, "hopefully you won't have that long of a stay." You said this to all your patients, while you enjoyed the friendly conversations, a hospital wasn't an ideal permanent stay.

"Thank you, Corporal," he replied and the room seemed to light up with his smile, "besides the shrapnel getting dug out of my leg, it's been a pleasant stay." You smiled at his pleasant attitude, it wasn't often you had a patient like this yes. "Well I am happy to hear it, Sergeant, if you don't mind can I take some vitals?" you asked as you loosened the stethoscope from your neck. "As long as you call me Kyle, I have no complaints, Corporal," he responded and shined another bright smile. "Okay, Kyle, just sit up for me and breathe normally," you said as you went to the bedside and manually pumped the blood pressure cuff, and listened for the Korotkoff sounds. "119/78, nearly perfect," you remarked before you held out his hand to place a pulse oximeter. Just like before, his oxygen levels and pulse were ideal. "Look at you Kyle, the perfect patient!," you proudly said, "I'd give you a lolly if I had one." "I try, Corporal, I try," he joked and you checked his vitals on the monitor to make sure he would sleep through the night.

"Alright final few questions, can you rate your pain on a scale of 1-10?" you asked as you pulled out your chart. "Um a 4?" he said with a questioning tone, "Definitely not the worst injury I've gotten but my thigh still hurts like hell." Your smile faltered a bit before you flipped through the pages to see what medications he was put on post-operation. "The medication will kick in soon, it's not the strongest stuff but it should minimize some of that pain," you explained and he nodded in compliance. "Does the area feel hot or pulsating?" you continued with your routine questions. "Dirty wording there," he joked and you couldn't help but let out a chuckle, "can't say I'm experiencing that though." "Just some routine things, trust me I wish I could rewrite a lot," you sighed before finishing your assessment. "That's all for now, do you need anything before you get some rest?" you asked before adjusting the lights of the room and reclining his bed. "Not that I can think of, have a goodnight, Nightingale," he smiled and you exited the room. You closed the door gently and walked back to your station. As you sat down to record Kyle's nightly intake you found yourself smiling in content. Nightingale, you liked the sound of that especially when it was accompanied by his gorgeous smile and eyes.

The next evening, you were happy to see that Kyle was your first official 1-on-1 patient for your residency. His physical assessment demonstrated he would likely be an easy patient to round on and most people appreciated his positive attitude and lack of signs of sun downing. You were ecstatic as most had been giving difficult patients that would test their profession. As you received report from the morning staff, you couldn't help but wonder how to announce the "good news" to him. You didn't want to seem weird as most patients would be concerned at the enthusiasm a nurse showed at their injuries and hospital stay.

As you entered his room, you decided to play it cool and explain it as if it was a formality. "Good evening, Nightengale," he said as you entered the room. "Evening to you as well, Kyle. I'm just here to check on how you're doing and also let you know that I will be your primary nurse for the remainder of your stay," you explained and gave him a small smile. "Better now that you're here," he joked and your face began to flush, "the morning staff woke me by pulling back the curtains and tugging on my arm!" "They're new as well, not necessarily known for their bedside manner," you commented and Kyle could hear the slight twinge of annoyance in your voice. "Oh you're new as well?" he questioned as he complied with the routine of collecting vitals. "Fresh out of training," you explained as you wrote down his oxygen levels and pulse, "this is my first assignment." After going through your typical questions and happily hearing that his pain had decreased substantially, he continued with the conversation. "You're doing a great job, I honestly thought you had been here for years," he commented and you couldn't help but admit you loved the flow of compliments. "I had some experience in civilian hospitals and general trauma care before I decided on the career change," you explained as you prepped him for bed. "I'm sure you'll be able to tell me all about it while I'm here," he said before settling into bed. "I'd like that a lot Kyle, goodnight," you whispered before leaving the room again.

"I'm not joking, I did have the best sutures," you exclaimed as Kyle laughed heartily. Somehow you had gotten on the topic of basic trauma procedures and he simply could not imagine you on the battlefield. "I don't believe it," he said through a string of laughs, "your bedside manner is too good for that." "Who wouldn't want that after a gunshot wound?" you exclaimed, "If I had a bullet lodged in my abdomen, the least someone could do would be to entertain me." Kyle was just about to reply when you were paged to another patient's room. "Well I'll see you for your medication rounds then, sleep well, Kyle," you said sadly as you walked out. "I await your visit, nurse," he jokingly saluted and you turned off the lights. The next few weeks progressed the same, you learned more about Kyle's life before the military and he teased you incessantly about your previous life as a nurse. You even managed to sneak in some takeout for him so he wouldn't have to suffer through the disgusting, bland rations from the dining hall.

As you ate the buffet of Chinese takeout and looked at Kyle slurping the noodles, it was clear neither one of you wanted your time to end. You were cleaning up when you felt his gaze on you. "I think you have something on your cheek," he said and beckoned you to come closer. You felt his warm touch gently wipe away some excess sauce and linger on your face. Before you could speak, he took the moment to say something that caught you off-guard. "You look beautiful like this," he whispered and you could feel your cheeks turn pink. "You look so relaxed, not worrying about vitals and medications," he continued as he held your face softly. "Just wanted to say that," he finished and you felt his hand dropped. There was probably some manual somewhere that said what you did next was a dischargeable offense but you both didn't seem to care. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on your lips or your soft touch to his cheek but the way his lips felt against yours was worth any punishment. It was quick and gentle but you both pulled away with smiles plastered on your faces. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kyle," you whispered as you parted and shared another kiss before you exited the room.

The unit could tell that Kyle's appearance at Queen Elizabeth's changed your mood drastically. Maybe that's why no one told you of his discharge. You happily walked over to his room for an evening chat before you realized the bed was being stripped and prepped for another patient. "Sorry, must have gotten the wrong room," you sheepishly replied as the other nurses looked at you. You walked over to your commanding officer, the head nurse, to find out if there had been a room transfer. "Where's the patient in room 7?" you asked the head nurse. "Oh he was discharged earlier this morning," she replied, looking up briefly from the morning reports. You could feel your smile falter as she spoke. "Did he say where he was going?" you asked her, hoping for something, anything. "You know that information is confidential, Lieutenant," she replied and walked back to her station, leaving you along with a twinge of heartbreak.

Months went on without seeing Kyle. At first, you were saddened he left without saying anything but you gradually became angrier with each subsequent week. You went through all the stages of grief as you wished for any word from him. You thought you honestly had something special with him, he was your first patient after all. Were all the moments you had meaningless? You were at the boiling point when you saw, on your list of patients for the day, a Sergeant Kyle Garrick was in Room 15.

Needless to say, you were pissed when you stormed into the room. You finished your rounds for the day and angrily opened the door to Room 15. It was clear there was tension in the air as your gaze pierced Kyle. "Hey there, Nightingale" the man joked and you lost it. "'Hey there?' that's all I fucking get?" you said angrily. You didn't care who heard. "You sit in this bed for weeks, making me care about you, and then you fucking leave ONLY to come back here like this," you yelled as you eyed his leg casts, black eye, and IV drip. "Why the fuck are you acting like the one who got blown up?" he responded, anger rising in his tone. "I'm not one of your little girlfriends who is amazed that you're in the SAS, Kyle," you said viciously, you could feel hot tears run down your face. "I actually care about you and you fucking left me with nothing." With that, you walked out the door and turned to unleash a final comment. "I'll get another nurse to take care of your sorry ass" you choked out and shut the door on him.

[archersxartxblog]

Light up the night

a short little holiday fic I was working on until my brain suddenly decided I needed to rewrite the hold thing. rather then waste all that work, I give it to you. enjoy.

-

Emmet walked quickly down the steps of the apartment building to the driveway below where Elesa's car was parked. Fjord held in his arms, Ingo and Caleb slowly bring up the rear.

It had been a bit of a day, what with deciding who would sit where, what would be the best rout around the city, if they should pick up something to eat along the way or wait until they got beck to the apartment to order something, and that wasn't even taking into account the time it took to get the car-seats set up.

But all and all, Emmet was excited, it had been so long since he'd been able to partake in this old tradition, and now he not only get to reintroduce his brother to it, but also share it with his young Nephews.

Technically, they could have done this last year, if Ingo had not been recovering from his return from Hisui. Besides, Fjord had been much too young to truly enjoy what they were going to see.

"Everyone ready to go?" Elesa called out from were she stood next to the driver-side door.

"Once everyone is strapped in, we can depart." Emmet replied, sliding Fjord into his car-seat as gentle as he could, making sure the boy was strapped in and that his favourite stuffed toy 'Gannie' the Tepig was tucked in next to him. "All Aboard!"

"All Aboard!" Fjord happily echoed.

"Emmet are you quite sure you don't want me to sit in the back with the kids?" Ingo asked as Emmet made his way to the other-side of the car. "I do not mind if you would like to take the front-seat."

But Emmet just waved him off as he slid carefully past Caleb's seat, strapping himself in to the middle. "Nonsense, you need to have the best view, and I don't mind sharing the back with my Nephews." was it a little uncomfortable? yes. were his legs squished? yes. Did he have to lean forward to see out either window? Yes. Was it all going to be worth it to see the looks on their faces? Yes, of that Emmet was certain.

Perhaps, when the boys were older they might look into getting a van, but for now he was willing to put up with legs cramps.

Ingo sighed, shaking his head as he helped his oldest son into his seat. "If you say so. I still do not understand what this is all about and why we had to wait until night to partake in this little venture."

"Patience, dear brother. you will see." the younger twin simply laughed, as his brother buckled himself in. "Safety Checks complete, now full steam ahead."

"Alright, I know the perfect place to start!" Elesa cheer as she put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway and on to the road.

---

It took time, to get to where they were going. long enough to cause Emmet to wonder if Elesa even knew the way, and he was starting to wonder if he should of taken Ingo up on his offer to trade seats, if only so he could make sure to conduct them properly to their destination.

but soon the car made a turn, and started to slow to a crawl, causing Emmet to look up. a smile spreading quickly over his face as he saw the lights.

"Hear we are!" Elesa called, smiling brightly as she pulled onto the residential road. "Skyla and I, checked out this block last week before that being snowfall, but I gotta saw things look even prettier with a layer of snow down."

Emmet's smile widened as he quickly looked towards his brother, who stared out the window, speechless. his eyes locked on the houses along the street, all decorated with bright, shining lights, that twinkled in the dark.

Some yards at lit up ornaments, others large blow up Reshirams and Zekroms.

Some had stars all done up in lights, some had trees wrapped in lights.

Some houses used one colour, while some used lights that were every colour under the sun.

Some houses, had only a few decorations, while others were monstrosity of flashing lights and colour that honestly made Emmet wonder how the home owners could afford to have them going for more then a few minutes. Even if this was a rather wealth neighborhood.

yet, Ingo sat staring, taking it all in as the car drove slowly pass each house.

A look falling over his face, one Emmet had see a few times over the past year, one that his brother only got when foggy memories starting to make their way to the surface. He could only wonder what his brother had managed to to recall.

"Whoa! Pretty!" Caleb's voice cut through the silence, reminding Emmet that Ingo wasn't the only he was introducing to this little tradition of theirs. the boy, sat forward, pressing himself closer to the window so he could see more of the passing lights. "And look at that one! it's got a Dragon!"

"Dreepy?!" Fjord called out, leaning as forward as the straps of his car-seat would allow him, no doubt looking for his little dragon friend.

"No, no, Fjord, Dreepy is at home, remember?" Ingo chuckled, coming out of his stupor to look back at his youngest. "It's just a blow up of Reshiram. it's not real, it's like one of the balloons from Caleb's birthday, but bigger."

"Oooh" the child muttered, eye wide as he leaned back into his seat and hugging his stuffy close.

with a smile, Emmet leaned into the younger boy's car-seat and pointed out the window, draw Fjord's eye towards the lights outside. "Look, this one is verrry colourful."

"Ooo"

"And look at this one coming up, I love the single colour lights, very classy" Elesa chimed in as she guiding the car slowly down the road.

"Daddy! Daddy! look at that one, it's got candy-sticks coming out of the ground!"

"Yes, I see them Caleb. but what about this one? their light work is most impressive."

"I like this one, over here. verrry decorative."

"eh, it's a little over the top for my liking, but this one is classy with the red and white lights."

"Snow!"

[ii-neg-confessions]

The wrong part about this account is it doesn’t come from a place of genuine concern or a want to help, it comes from a sub conscious perspective where you think your doing something because something everyone liked it and you didn’t, so now you feel you have to find something wrong with it because if there’s nothing wrong with it, it means you just “didn’t get it”.

If you were genuinely concerned about a place of malice made in the show you wouldn’t hide behind other people who also simply feel the need to hate on something others love because, like we said, they didn’t connect with this very popular show, so something MUST be wrong.

Your inability to see the harm you are causing is all because of your unwillingness to acknowledge that your blowing things completely out of proportion because YOU felt left out. You don’t care about this nonsense you made up, you care about being the one “in the right”.

Yes the show wasn’t perfect, it started in an era where information on mental health was completely warped from those who were simply too ignorant to see the harm they caused, but unlike most of those people who buckled down and refused to change their ways, animation epic went above and beyond to rewrite characters that deserved more because they knew the people who connected to those characters, like me, didn’t deserve to feel out of place.

You are not doing anything but using the fact that there are others like you who are too ignorant and incapable of understanding change and acceptance because it isn’t how YOU feel. You made this entire account based on the assumption you knew better than anyone else. You are one person. Your allowed to feel how you feel but taking something that has given hundreds of people comfort and peace is where your going too far. You don’t have an argument you have ignorance. You gave all these anonymous people a platform so they could tear it apart.

You don’t care about anything other than yourself.

what's there to "get" from a show with painful enbyphobic jokes, racism, not-so-subtle misogyny, queerbaiting specifically to buy defective plushies, orientalist tropes and much more? I'm just waking up people about how shitty this show is because so far all of this has been ignored. And, as you can see, I have succeeded in converting these posies who are now realizing the truth. I'm getting them out of Plato's cave.

I never hid behind anyone. I also voiced my opinions on the shittiness of this show, anyone else is either agreeing with me or voicing *their* thoughts.

I *am* in the right.

"animation epic went above and beyond to rewrite characters that deserved more" WHERE? "hey knew the people who connected to those characters, like me, didn’t deserve to feel out of place." yeah, so you could buy their merch???? wake the fuck up

"taking something that has given hundreds of people comfort and peace is where your going too far" If you get comfort from a show with racism, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, orientalism and such then you should re-evaluate yourself and your media literacy. "You don’t have an argument you have ignorance" we have proof of the shitty things AE has done and y'all just choose to ignore it. Who's the ignorant one?

eat shit.

[asknarashikari]

Set just before Da-Paan entered the room but after Kekera told him that there's a new ally.

----

Keiwa: A new ally...

*suddenly the world stops moving and Keiwa is facing a shrouded man sitting on a throne with two torches on each side*

Oma: You can call me Ohma Zi-O, or Ohma, Tycoon.

Keiwa: What do you want with me?

Oma: I'm here to make an offer to you.

Keiwa: An offer?

Oma: I hope you realize by now how your supposed supporter, the woman who craves to see despair, and that game master have sabotaged your wish.

Keiwa: What of it?

Keiwa: Don't tell me, you want me to stop associating with them?

Oma: That is precisely what I want you to do, but I want you to join my side.

Keiwa: What do I get? The only way I can get my ideal world is by working with them.

Oma: And they will sabotage your wish some more.

Oma: Beroba was most likely laughing at your misery when your family was killed for the 2nd time.

Oma: And that Kekera, he would have made a great a jester in my court.

Keiwa: If my wish is bound to go south once again if I'm working for them, wouldn't the same happen if I switch to you?

Oma: I can easily bring back your family to you, I also have the power of creation that Geats has.

Keiwa: Wha-

Oma: I also have the power to rewrite reality to whatever I wish.

Oma: I can give you everything and more.

Keiwa: So, what will I be, assuming you'll take my offer.

Oma: My spy

Oma: or my assassin.

Oma: With Bujin Sword, you can teleport to wherever you please.

Oma: you can cut down anyone you like with that power.

Oma: Think it through.

*suddenly, Keiwa was back with Kekera with the door opening revealing Beroba AND Da-Paan*

----

Geats cast react upon being shown that sequence of events (minus Keiwa but + Sara)

Sara: Aw hell like some demon overlord's gonna take my little brother- Oi, god, give me a Raise Buckle-

Ace: Sara-san, you can't kill him, he's an extradimensional being that exists outside time and space... and kinda my senpai...

Neon: But he's trying to get our Keiwa! Bad enough that Berobitch and that weird frog gnome man has him, but that guy-

Win: Yeah, I gotta agree, he's bad news Ace. If he gets his hands on Sakurai it could get ugly real fast.

Tsumuri: Ace, perhaps we should gather assistance if we were to deal with this... demon overlord...

(And that is how Oma gets told off by his younger self not to go after the tanuki rider)

[alexeiadrae]

Blaster Interview with Hajime Kanzaka vol 13, translated

Original Japanese here. And this is the final Blaster volume. I found the translation QPDiana did of the full one of volume 12 (previous one) and was comparing it yesterday and unfortunately as you can see these online ones leave quite a bit out. Tokitama also had snippets from parts not online, and that lives on as a word document on my computer. Anyway, I’m going to continue to work on the Mega Brand stuff, and there’s a lot of that, and try to track down more interviews.

Also, last but not least, this is a good one for us Gourrina fans, so buckle in! 

Tamiki: Oh, and this time, we did not intentionally organize the questions by content.

Therefore, the same question may appear several times. Also, questions that have been asked in the past have been left as they are. Please understand that I have my reasons for doing so, and I did not just skip them.

KANZAKA: That's what you call an editorial policy, isn't it? I understand.

Tamiki: I'll start with the first question, which has already been asked. “When and why did Gourry’s brother die? And is the rest of his family still alive?”

KANZAKA: Gourry's brother died because of various circumstances in the past. The other family members live on in the hearts of each and every one of you.

Tamiki .......

KANZAKA: To answer seriously, some family members are dead and some are alive, but I haven't thought of a proper setting or anything.

Tamiki: You said last time that at least his brother and grandmother are already dead. Who manages the money when Lina and Gourry travel together?

KANZAKA: Lina, of course, but she also secretly sews things into Gourry's clothes in case something happens to him.

Tamiki: Gourry doesn't even know it's there.

KANZAKA: He probably says, "I feel kind of heavy today.”

 Tamiki: "In the afterword to the new edition of "Hatred in Selentia," you said that there were parts you wanted to rewrite. Is it the part about the runaway Luke?

KANZAKA: No, I'd like to rewrite here and there. No, it's all over the place. In some cases, it starts at the composition level.

Tamiki: Do you mean everything from the first volume? Or do you feel particularly strongly about "Selentia"?

KANZAKA: No, I wrote the afterword for each of the three new editions together, and it just happened to be that volume, so it was not limited to "Selentia".

Tamiki: Did you digest all of Zuma's past settings that you gave to the animation staff? Also, as far as you can tell, can you tell us where you got your ideas from?

KANZAKA: Well, it was a setting that was difficult to incorporate into the work, so it was rearranged. The "Reading" contains a description of how Zuma was set up, so if you compare that with the anime version, you can see how things were changed.

Tamiki: So, everyone should buy and read "Slayers Reading", which should be on sale by the time this is released, and watch the anime "Slayers EVOLUTION-R", which is also being released on DVD. So, that's it.

KANZAKA: Wow, what an advertising slogan. Is he a dog? Are you a manufacturer's dog?

Tamiki Tell him I've grown up (laughs).

 Tamiki: Are there demons outside the wards?

It seems that Lesser Demons or so are naturally occurring, but are there any demons that can materialize on their own that are intermediate level demons or above (Zolom class or above?)? Are there demons that can materialize on their own?

If there were, I have a feeling they would be beaten to a pulp by the gods.

KANZAKA: There are demons outside of the warding. They are much rarer than those inside the wards. Outside of the wards, they are probably treated as a big boss like Seigram (laughs).

However, there are only the remaining three dragon kings, and there are no lower class demons, so it's not like the demons are going to beat you to a pulp.

Tamiki: It seems that the effect on the east side of the "Mazoku Barrier" has been removed.

I think there was a statement in a huge afterword or something that it is currently impossible for humans to go outside, but what about the other way around?

Even if they do come, are the demon tribe working hard (?) behind the scenes to prevent them? What about the other way around?

KANZAKA: No one would immediately notice that the warding has lost its effect, and even if the warding were to disappear, the area is surrounded by desert and ocean and is not an easy place to come and go, so I meant that there would be no sudden impact.

As I mentioned in my earlier question, there are only three dragon kings who are Gods, and it is not as if they would come out saying "Do~re~" just because the wards are broken (laughs).

However, since we are able to use the spells of the Gods, Milgazia actually uses them a little bit in the second part of the book. This area is also mentioned in the addition to the super huge afterword in volume 4 of "Select," so please read it.

Tamiki: "In the original feature, is Xellos damaged by the raw anthem?"

This similar question has been asked several times in the past.

KANZAKA: No, he is not damaged.

Tamiki: "Was Gourry's long hair something you had in mind from the beginning? Or was it based on the drawing by Mr. Araizumi?"

KANZAKA: It was always the image of long hair.

Tamiki: "Do you plan to write the Xellos + Luna short story you mentioned in the past?"

KANZAKA: Not at the moment.

Tamiki: There have been many of these in the past, haven't there?

　There is also a theory floating around that Lina = Shabranigdu.

KANZAKA: No, she’s not.

[samwilsonsbabymama]

Attitude Adjustment

Pairing: Coco Cruz x Plus Size Black!Reader

Summary: Y/n continues to give Coco attitude even though he’s given her multiple warnings

Warning: spanking as punishment (not the fun kind), a few swears

Word Count: 1,000 ish 

A/N: @nxxstybrat​ requested this a few weeks ago and like... i’ve had it written, i just didn’t feel like it was ready to be posted until now lol Hope you like it!

Prompt/Request: Coco getting our asses together (doesn’t necessarily mean smut) more like we’ve had an attitude all day and he’s finally had enough lol with the care to match. 🥺

✨I don’t give anyone permission to copy/translate/repost/rewrite my work. Minors, DNI at all. ✨

Your first mistake was not giving Coco a kiss when you first woke up.

You rolled out of bed and stomped into the bathroom. The slam of the door caused Coco to jolt out of his sleep. He reached out to pull you close and frowned when his hand met the warm sheets.

He heard you slamming things around in the bathroom and he rubbed his face before he got out of bed. 

Coco made his way to the bathroom as well and frowned when he found the door locked.

You grumbled on the other side of the door when he knocked, but you refused to open it for him. 

Coco rolled his eyes and knocked again and you finally opened the door for him.

He asked what was wrong

headed to the kitchen to fix something to eat.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Coco had just finished cooking and Letty had already started eating.

Coco moved closer to you to place a kiss on your forehead before handing you a plate.

You sat down to eat without saying ‘thank you’ and Coco quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

Letty filled you both in on her plans for the day, but you remained quiet.

Coco asked 

When breakfast was over, Coco pulled you back into the bedroom.

“Lose the attitude, y/n,”he stated, but you only rolled your eyes and kissed your teeth.

“Or what, Coco?” you asked and you put your hand on your hip. “You ain’t gon do shit.” you said before you stormed out of the room and back into the bathroom.

Coco watched your retreating form with a confused look on his face before he snatched his keys up and made his way to the scrapyard.

When lunchtime rolled around, Coco realized that he’d forgotten to grab something to eat, so he pulled out his phone and called you.

“What?” you answered when you saw his name.

“Didn’t I tell you to lose the attitude?” the attitude in his voice matched yours and you rolled your eyes.

“What do you want, Coco?” you said in a sickly sweet voice.

He ignored your sarcastic attitude and asked you to bring him something to eat.

You grumbled about always having to stop what you're doing for him and that he should have remembered to bring his lunch.

Coco listened quietly while you ranted. He inhaled his cigarette and exhaled loudly into the phone.

You continued ranting, not picking up on his cues. You ended the call by saying that you’d bring him his ‘fucking lunch’ before you hung up the phone.

When you drove up to the scrapyard Coco was smoking a cigarette waiting for you.

You hopped out of the car and marched over to him. When you reached him, you shoved his food towards him and frowned when he didn’t take it.

“Get back in the car,” he said.

You frowned, “What?”

“Get back in the fucking car,” his voice was low and it sent shivers down your spine.

You took a step back before turning and making your way to the passengers seat. After you had buckled yourself in you began to bounce your knee as you waited for Coco.

You thought about your attitude and how you’d been snippy towards him. You wished that you could take it back, but it was too late.

After a while, Coco made his way into your car. You opened your mouth to apologize, but one look from him had you snapping your lips together.

The ride back home was silent and you knew he was cooking something up to help you fix your attitude.

Once inside the house, you headed straight to the bedroom without any direction from Coco. You knew you were in for it, but you brought this on yourself. You wondered if you could joke your way out of it like you’d previously been able to do.

Coco walked in with his work shirt half buttoned. He walked up to you and caressed your cheek before placing his forehead on yours. He was calm, and that shot a thrill through you. You knew what was coming and you knew you deserved it.

“You need an attitude adjustment, hermosa,” he mumbled before he kissed your cheek.

“Or not,” you said with a smile. Coco could never resist your smiles. It had gotten you out of many situations before, but from the look on his face it wasn’t going to work this time. 

You pouted, “Coco, I’m sorry-”

He cut you off with a sharp look before he took a seat on the edge of the bed and waited for you to approach him.

You stood in front of Coco and watched as he unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down before pulling you across his lap. 

“I warned you, yn,” he said as he caressed your bottom. “Told you to drop the attitude, but you chose to push my buttons; said I wasn’t gonna do shit.”

You sniffled at what was to come, but you’d brought this on yourself.

You winced when Coco’s palm connected with your bare bottom. Each strike brought fresh tears to your eyes, but Coco’s words hurt more.

He reminded you about how you didn’t kiss him good morning, how you didn’t say ‘thank you’ when he made you breakfast, and how you ranted about bringing him food for lunch.

When he called out your behavior you realized just how much your attitude had affected him.

You cried and cried even after he stopped and pulled you into his arms. Once your cries had calmed, you threaded your fingers in his hair.

“I’m sorry, Coco,” you apologized. “I didn’t realize how awful I was being towards you.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” Coco mumbled against your temple. 

He rubbed your back for a few more minutes before he walked you to the bathroom to run you a warm bath

When Coco climbed in behind you, you quickly snuggled in close to him as he held you

As you rested against him,you thought about ways you could make it up to him 

You smiled as his hands roamed your body while a plan began to form

[secondhand-trash]

Lost in Blues

A/N: this is a rewrite of the Oikawa drabble I posted last year. To me, it was one of the things I written that I had a lot of ideas for but ruined because I was rushing it so I really want to give the idea another chance. This does not have nearly the same vibe as the old one and I think I am glad that I decided to rewrite it. I’m still debating whether I would private the old one or not but I’m definitely way happier with how this turns out than the last time round.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x reader

Description: You gave him the most reckless, carefree days of your life and you did not expect to meet him again at a wedding of all occasions after those days were long over.

Word count: 2140

(more lines I like from things I like as prompts for people I like)

-

“Is it ‘running through the airport’ kind of love?”

“The only person I’d run through an airport for is you.”

Season 2, ep6, Fleabag

-

There was nothing you could think of that was possibly worse than sitting next to your ex at a wedding.

The nicely-tailored jacket on your shoulders felt more restrictive than it had been before you looked up when you heard someone asking if it was alright to sit next to you and it was��him. Your eyes widened (just slightly, very slightly and you hoped he didn’t catch it) when you saw him, giving a curt nod before shifting farther away from the empty seat so that there would be a bit of distance between the two of you after he sat down.

You were dressed to the nines, putting in way more effort than you normally would into your appearance which turned out to be a brilliant decision on your part. He looked great, as he used to be and probably always would be, with his dress shirt and polished leather shoes. You would hate to admit that you stole a quick glance at the person you knew so well when the string quartet started playing, losing to your curiosity to know how much he had changed and how much was the same. His hair got shorted, the bangs he had cared for so meticulously before now gone and pushed to the side in a way that finally stopped screaming ‘teen idol’. His jaw grew stronger, the boyish roundness of his cheeks gone without a trace. But he was still loud, even as he sat there in silence and listened to the band. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone, which was already too flamboyant as a wedding guest for your taste. The golden buckle of his belt shined far too bright with each shift of his body and you could not ignore the ring of a matching tone on his thumb as you turned your focus away when you realised you probably shouldn’t be staring at your ex’s belt of all places.

You knew you probably wouldn’t look better or even as good as he was, but you sure was glad that you were at least looking like you had a good life after exiting out of his.

You hoped he would pretend that he does not know you for the rest of the ceremony, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t.

“It’s been a while,” you had to bite back the sigh that nearly slipped from your lips when you heard him, “how have you been?”

See, spot on.

You tried to not make your exasperation too obvious as you turned to his side slightly, putting on a smile that was friendly enough to be polite but also enough distant for him to know that you were not particularly thrilled for this conversation.

It wasn’t that you two ended on bad terms, but the way you slowly drifted apart was nowhere near satisfactory either.

“Good,” you said, “you?”

His throat tightened at your clear disinterested. The more logical thing he should have done when he walked through the door and saw you at the end of the row all by yourself was to sit at the other end of the room, one that made sure you two would not be in each other’s view until the whole ceremony was over. But it had been so long, and his legs were moving before his mind could stop him until he was standing right next to you.

“Doing good too,” he replied, trying his best to keep the conversation going, “are you here with anyone?”

“No,” you swallowed the lump at the back of your throat and kept your smile on, “I’m on my own.”

“Oh?” his voice slightly sharpened, tilting his head in both interest and in shock, 

You shrugged, “My boyfriend doesn’t work here so he couldn’t make it.”

There was a brief pause.

“Oh,” he said, feeling a slight bitterness well up at the back of his throat at how ironically similar it sounded like.

He gulped, debating in his head whether it was worth risking it to say what he wanted to say.

The side that wanted to know how it was different this time won.

“Did you run through an airport for him too?” he said, trying to put on the most charming, non-offensive smile he could manage.

He was relieved that the gambling paid off when you actually let out a snort.

“No,” your shoulder pulled back slightly as you shook your head, your eyes dropping when you felt a hint of fondness welling up at the recall of the piece of memory that had been tugged at the back of your head, “I don’t run through airports anymore.”

You ran through an airport for the man who was now sitting next to you and even though it was an utterly stupid decision on your part, the reminiscence of your naïve romance brought a bitter-sweet sore to your chest. It was 8 years ago but almost felt longer, when he was about to leave the country to go to the other end of the globe. He did not tell you, that asshole who always decided everything for himself and just ran straight ahead for it. You wouldn’t even know he was leaving if you did not get your phone bombed by frantic calls from his best friend who yelled at you when you finally picked up.

“That shithead is leaving for Argentine in a few hours,” Iwaizumi sucked in a breath, sounding out of breath as he spitted words out of his mouth before you could ask him why he was telling you that, “and I know both of you are too fucking proud to say anything but if you come now, you can still make it in time before he needs to board his flight.”

“So just come, just-” you barely heard the last of his call and the sound of boys hollering from behind him when you threw your phone down onto your bag and grab the nearest shirt you could reach, “come.”

You barely made it in time to the airport and almost got lost because, hell, why was Sendai Airport so god damn big for no good reason at all. You had to run just to get there when he was about to walk past the glass walls of the departure hall, his friends holding him back by the arms when his mouth hung open in shock when he heard you call out his name from the far end of the hall.

You almost knocked him down when you crashed into him, his arms waving around aimlessly before he realised he should be holding you back instead.

"Why are you-”

“You’re an asshole and I hate that I’m doing this,” you muttered, fighting back the tears that were welling up at the corner of your eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he let out a soft gasped, but allowing the burst of warmth in his chest to take over when you let out a laugh through the sob that broke through.

It was reckless, it was embarrassing and people were probably staring but you honestly didn’t care less. You were so in love with him and for reasons you could not believe, he was so in love with you.

And at that moment when he ignored how ugly you probably looked with tear and snot running down your chin and kissed you like he had been waiting for this, it seemed like every piece of the puzzle had clicked into the right place at last.

But the fairytale ended right after the climax, when the story had to continue past the point when the prince finally kissed the princess and everyone rejoiced.

At first, the distance didn’t bother you at all. You were okay with calling him every evening to say “good morning” to him, and he gladly did the same when he was walking home to his empty one-room apartment after another rough day at practice. He told you he was tired but he felt energised again when he got to hear your voice and you made fun of him for being cheesy on the tongue while smiling ear to ear. You believed that your love could win against time and distance, he believed that you two could definitely find a way. 

The question of what would happen if this lasted and who should make sacrifices for who hung over the air, but you didn’t care. You were still so young, you had time.

Until waiting for the call to come only to get nothing but a text many hours later saying that practice held him up started to make you feel frustrated and you were tired of being expected to be the considerate one because he was the one with big dreams you should support. The insecurities he thought he could push down turned ugly when you started to have more and more friends that he wouldn’t be notified of until they appear in your pictures, some standing far too close to you that his bitterness seeped through when he couldn’t stop himself from talking about how happy you seemed to be when he finally had time to sit down and take your call.

“And what is wrong with that?” you gritted, and felt even more aggravated when you remembered seeing his teammate tagged him in a picture where they were out clubbing only moments after he finally texted you saying he was too tired and needed to rest instead of having your weekly video call, “Why am I not allowed to be happy with people who are around me?”

And you also had your insecurities, and he was young and in a place where everything was new to him, and you knew he could be having a much more reckless time if he didn’t have to think about whether it would upset you when you found out, and he knew he could not give you a good enough reason to not feel unsafe, and he already made a choice on where way he wanted to head towards when he boarded that plane.

A way that you felt would be better for the both of you if you turn back while you could still think back on the times you did love him with a fond smile.

Running through the airport was so much easier than the rest that came after.

You were still smiling but quiet until you slowly parted your lips and looked up.

“The only person I’d run through an airport for is you.”

He shared the most reckless, the most carefree days of your life but you grew up now, and now you wanted someone who you did not need to run after.

He seemed like he wanted to say something, but the stop of the strings also put a stop to the moment.

“Dearly beloved…”

“It’s starting.”

You did not talk again for the rest of the ceremony.

-

“Are you free?”

You paused your hand that was shoving your phone back into your bag after pulling it out to check what time it was when Oikawa turned to your side. The ceremony ended and it was almost 6, not too early and not too late. The sun was sinking outside and the golden rays shined through the stained glass windows of the ceremony hall. 

You blinked, “After this, you mean?”

“Yeah,” he toyed with the thick gold band on his thumb, “do you have time?”

He regretted it the moment he asked. It had been seven years since you last talked and if he had never once wanted to contact you again then he sure shouldn’t have done it now. You also had someone else, to add to it, someone who you could do long-distance with and not looked distressed when you bring it up, what type of person would he looked like now after he asked his ex if they were free after a wedding?

To his relief, you did not seem too taken aback. You only looked down, pulled your phone out again to unlock your screen and look at the time before locking your eyebrows together, putting it away when you finished calculating. 

“Nah,” you shook your head with a tiny smile, “I have a call with someone later.”

You said ‘someone’ but he caught the hint from the way the corner of your lips lifted up just a little higher. 

Oikawa Tooru laughed, something he did not expect himself to do. 

You were doing well, like him, even though in separate places and with separate people.

That was good.

So he said it, smiling without knowing that he was, “That’s good.”

He meant it.

“Yeah,” you nodded and smiled back, this time at him and with ease, “it is.”

And so did you.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt S5b Plot Bunny, Pt 6

Lena doesn't wake for three days. Kara stays with her, watching for any sign of life beyond the steady beep of the heart monitor. She's almost when she hears a rustle against the sheets, and bolts upright when she opens her eyes to see Lena's head turning towards her against the pillow.

"Lena? Can you hear me?"

"Kara..."

Lena's gaze is blurry, struggling to focus on Kara. Kara takes her hand, doing her best to ignore the straps still buckled around it.

"It's okay, Lena, I'm here."

Blinking, Lena's eyes clear a little, and Kara's heart soars when she sees confusion rather than the cold, cruel regard she'd last seen. It had worked. She knows it in her bones.

Kara fumbles to unfasten the buckle on the strap, only to jump when Lena stiffens and pulls away.

"Don't," Lena says, her voice suddenly sharp. Kara looks up, only to find fear looking back. "I don't want to hurt you."

Reaching for Lena's hand again, Kara doesn't let her pull away. "It's okay. The device is inert. It can't control you anymore."

Lena's breath hitches in her chest, her eyes filling with tears. "I hurt you..."

"I'm okay," Kara promises.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" Lena begins to cry.

Kara leans down, pressing her forehead to Lena's in comfort. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault. There's nothing to apologize for."

What Kara doesn't give voice to are her own apologies. For not telling her the truth sooner, for letting Lex rewrite the universe, for not pressing harder when Lena banished her from LuthorCorp. She should have tried harder. She shouldn't have let Lena go through this alone.

When Lena's tears finally subside, Kara pulls back to begin unfastening the restraints. Lena lets her this time, taking a moment to look around the unfamiliar room. "Where-- where's Jack?"

Panic jabs suddenly through Kara's chest. "You-- you said he was gone," she stammers. "He left..."

Lena pauses, then slumps in relief. "He did. He left-- that was true. It was the only way I could confront Lex."

Kara breaths a quiet sigh. At least Jack was safe.

"We'll stop him," Kara tells her. "We're going to stop Lex, I promise."

Lena looks at her, unable to keep the hopelessnes from her features. Kara takes her hand again.

"We'll stop him together."

Finally, Lena nods.

"Together."

---

When the confrontation with Lex finally happens, Kara and the rest of the Superfriends face him alone, buying Lena time to finish a lexosuit of her own. Only Kara can go head to head with him-- the rest of them handle the goons on the ground.

Only Kara can keep up with Lex, but the modifications to her suit to protect her from his kryptonite only lasts so long before the device ultimately fails. The Kryptonite saps her strength, making her sluggish even as she struggles to fight through the pain.

When Lex finally grabs her by cape and flings her to the roof of LuthorCorp, Kara struggles to rise again. She can't. Lex steps on her back, pushing her to the cracked rooftop.

"You and your cousin are too late," he says. "Earth already has its hero-- me."

Kara hears his weapon charge, but when the whine terminates in an explosion of sound, the weight suddenly disappears from Kara's back. She looks up to see that Lena has finally joined the fray, hovering in her own mechasuit.

Lena sets down and helps Kara to her feet, her helmet retracting to reveal features dark with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kara pants, staggering slightly. Lena helps to steady her. They turn to face Lex as he too rises, wiping blood from his chin. He glares at his sister.

"So you did survive," he remarks. "I had wondered what they did with you."

"You failed, Lex," Lena returns, her voice steady. "And you'll fail now."

Lex's features twist into a scowl. "We'll just see about that."

He fires a burst of kryptonite from his blasters, forcing them to duck and cover as he flies off. Lena takes the blast on her shield, but grounds Kara with a hand on her shoulder before the hero to soar after him.

"The others need help," Lena says. "Go."

Kara catches her armored wrist. "Lena..."

"Go." Lena offers a reassuring smile. "I've got this."

Kara wants to protest. She wants to gather Lena up and ferry her down to street level as well. She wants to be the one to take Lex down-- Lena shouldn't have to do it a second time.

But Kara feels her weakness keenly, and knows shes on the verge of a solar flare. She doesn't have the strength to succeed where she knows Lena will.

She nods.

"Be careful."

Lena's faceplate descends with a clank, shielding her face from view before she launches into the air and goes after Lex. Kara returns to her friends, determined to help as many as she can, even as her heart weighs heavy.

Lena is on her own.

---

Lena pulls up her hud, tracing Lex's energy signature through the city. She's so focused that she doesn't notice the trail curling back on itself until something collides with her from behind. Sensors wailing, Lena tumbles out of control, spinning dizzingly for long moments before her reserve thrusters engage to course correct.

Lex doesn't wait for the world to stop spinning. He blasts her with another burst of kryptonite, then fires a rocket that explodes against her shoulder. The armor holds up but Lena's control of the suit slips as she spins out to collide with a building. Punching through the glass windows, the collision proves to be the reprieve she needs.

When Lex comes looking for her, Lena explodes out of the building, wrapping her arms around Lex bodily. He has better control, having piloted the suit multiple times before, but Lena's got the edge in structural integrity. His attempts to grapple his way out of her grip scrapes off her hull-- she returns each blow by searching for the weaknesses in his suit, tugging at punctures and joints even as they climb higher and higher.

Finally, Lena's armored fingers close on something important. When she yanks, Lex's boot thrusters sputter out. In her moment of victory, Lex elbows her in the side of the head. Her grip slips, and he slides out of her grasp.

She expects him to flee-- to retreat to a safe distance and fire another rocket. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lunges towards her. There's a squeal of metal shearing, and then all Lena can feel is a sharp burning in her abdomen.

Lex tugs his arm free with another squeal of metal, withdrawing the blade that's just pierced through Lena's armor. The blade pulses green with kryptonite, but Lena's greatee concern is the oxygen leaking from her suit in the high atmo, and the blood swiftly soaking through her gambeson.

"I always win, Lena," Lex calls, his voice tinny over the comms channel. "You might as well accept it."

"Not this time," Lena grunts out. Her vision threatens to start spinning again, though her readouts confirm she's hovering steadily. She knows she doesn't have long.

"Then you'll die," Lex snarls.

He jets towards her using the pulse thrusters in the palms of his gauntlets. Lena dodges the thrust of his blade, again hooking her arms around his waist. Without hesitation, she engages every rocket she has and aims towards the ground.

Time to finish this.

---

Kara hears the roar of imminent collision mere seconds before it hits. When she looks up, she sees a glimpse of two armored suits interlocked mere moments before both slam into the ground. The earth shakes with the impact, and a cloud of dust rises thick and heavy from the cratered earth of the impact site.

"LENA!"

Kara charges towards the crater, moving against the flow of fleeing citizens. Her strength all but gone, she coughs heavily, pausing at the rim of the crater to peer through the dust. All she can see is a deep shadow at the center of the crater, and she pelts towards it without a second thought.

"Lena!"

The shadow she sees resolves itself to be a mess of fractured pavement. Struggling to move them aside, she catches sight of Lena's armor.

"Lena!"

Sparks fly as Kara desperately heaves the heavy exosuit into her arms, levering Lena out of the pit and onto a slab of broken pavement. The mangled mess of Lex's own lexosuit remains where it is, unmoving.

"Lena, Lena please..." Kara's fingers scrabble under the chin the of the face plate, searching for the release. When she finds it, she presses it twice, prompting the entire suit to disengage. As each panel separates, Kara pulls them apart, flinging them aside until Lena is fully exposed.

Through the dust, Kara sees the stain of blood on Lena's side. Her blood runs cold.

"No..."

"Lena!" A new voice shouts from behind them. Kara hears the scrape of shoes against the rubble as someone climbs down to join them. She doesn't realize it's Jack Spheer until he falls to his knees beside Lena. "Lena!"

"Jack..." Kara blinks at him, stunned to see him. Lena had said he'd left, but the sweat and blood and grime on his face told a different story. He was here, in National City.

"Is she breathing?" Jack asks. Kara is too slow to respond. "Is she breathing!"

"I-I don't know."

Jack leans in close, listening for any sounds of life. When he presses his ear to Lena's chest, he pulls away in relief. "Her heart is beating. She's alive-- Lena! Lena, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

He cups Lena's cheeks with both hands, not quite daring to move her. Beneath Kara's hands, Lena twitches.

"Jack...?" comes the faint murmur. Jack gasps a shuddering sob.

"I'm here," he says, kissing her forehead in blatant relief. "Lena, I'm here..."

"S'posed... t'go away..."

"I couldn't--"

"How touching."

The rubble shifts at the bottom of the crater. Lex staggers into view, eyes bloodshot and glinting with deranged menace.

Kara stands to face him, stepping between him and the others. "It's over, Lex. Even if you win here today, your reputation is ruined. Everyone knows who and what you truly are. Surrender yourself, and I promise you'll get a fair trial."

"It's not over until I say it is!" Lex bellows. His armor is broken and mangled, yet somehow functional enough that he's able to prime his plasma cannon. "If I'm going down, then I'm taking you with--"

Before he can finish, a pulse of bright hot energy sears past Kara's sense to detonate against Lex's chest plate. The explosion that follows blasts Lex off his feet, throwing him back a dozen yards before he skids to a stop with a singed, smoking hole in his chest.

Kara doesn't need to listen for a heartbeat to know that he's dead.

She turns, and finds Lena with her own plasma cannon outstretched, her aim guided by Jack's hands. When the cannon retracts, Jack rips the guantlet off, tangling his fingers with Lena's.

"Nice shot," Kara tells them both. Jack barely glances at her. Kara looks at Lena, meeting her bleary, exhausted gaze. "It's over."

Lena nods. Her eyes close, her relief plain to see. Kara takes her free hand, offering a gentle squeeze. Lena squeezes back.

They did it.

[cherp-official]

Welcome to the Cherp Special Hell

Hello, everyone! We're here for a Fun Midnight Announcement™️. Just kidding, this isn't fun. Please buckle up!

So, reason the site's down - we got DMCA'd. Long story short, Insolent is Mad™ at some of the staff for personal reasons (we will not elaborate) and has decided to exhaust all resources she has to sabotage the site, so she sent Thell an email demanding the site be taken down. Unfortunately, it was formatted correctly and sent to the right place so Thell couldn't really ignore it. Her basic claim is that the site is running her code and she doesn't want the site to be running her code, so we need to get rid of it - that's why it's a total rewrite. Her code (with a few things Thell bolted on to make it work properly) is the backbone the rest of the devs built on so it can't easily be ripped out.

This is also why the announcement was so short, curt, and gave you all very little time - to be safe from DMCA as a host, you have to comply immediately. Thell had already spent two days researching whether she had a legitimate claim, so as soon as he figured that she did, indeed, have a case, the staff legally didn't have much time to warn you. Failure to comply properly to her request = loss of safe harbour = she could tell his ISP to disconnect his Internet, which means the site would never (or at least, not for a long time) be coming back (and also cripple Thell financially), so he basically legally just had to poke his head in and go "yeah, site's gotta go down", and our hands were tied.

On that note, while we're being transparent about things and letting the shoe drop on one matter, we'd like to address another - the 'freak lightning strike' that occurred on 9/15. We're also largely certain that this was Insolent's doing, based off the chosen date having personal significance and the fact that - aside from Thell - she was the only one with physical access to the servers that he hosts directly at any point in the past. We internally debated whether or not we should express this as intentional sabotage at Thell's behest, but there were some concerns at the time about being able to prove that it was her without a shadow of a doubt and again, concerns about a witch hunt.

What actually happened is what appears to be a code 'timebomb' which effectively wiped and bricked all of the servers that are within Thell's possession. This includes the server which Cherp was on - meaning that a VM had to be rebuilt from scratch, we had to salvage whatever backup had most recently completed that was not directly on the server and make due with it. Thankfully the code is in multiple places as we have several people who have copies - Keys, Hex, Thell, and TTMIYH. Therefore the site could be reconstructed with the remains of what we had (copies of the code and a separate backup uploaded free from the servers themselves).

Why are we just now bringing this up? Because realistically, we still can't be 100% certain that it was Insolent, but given the facts mentioned in the third paragraph and now the DCMA it seems extremely likely. It appears that Insolent intends to continue to escalate and harm the trust that the userbase has in the site by forcing it down until she is content, which at this point we believe is the total end of Cherp.

This is to say the past two incidents were extremely unplanned, incredibly unprecedented, and were entirely and utterly out of our control.

There will be a FAQ underneath the read-more that I will update if we get any particular questions that haven't been answered.

Thank you all for your patience, and apologies once again for the interruption of service.

Q: What is a DCMA claim? A: A DMCA claim, also called a DMCA Takedown Notice, is a complaint made if someone suspects a website of copyright infringement. The Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) is a set of laws that exist to protect copyrighted content on all digital mediums. The DMCA says that, while an Internet Service Provider (ISP) is not liable for displaying information that infringes a copyright, the ISP needs to remove the material from their users' websites if they receive proper notice. A DMCA claim requires that hosting providers, upon receipt of an infringement claim, remove or disable access to any websites that are potentially infringing.

Q: You say you can’t be 100% certain the ‘timebomb’ was Insolent’s doing, so how do you know it was a malicious attack to begin with and not just some hardware/software failure? A: When it went off it deliberately populated a message that said ‘Timebomb lol’.

Q: Why weren't we warned when it initially happened? A: Because we did not want to cause panic in the event that she had no grounds; while she did write the majority of the original site code, Thell was researching to determine if it counted as "under my employ" or not, since she was being paid to write the site and had transitioned the administrator role to me as of 4/25/2020 which might've granted us some measure of legal clemency. By the time Thell had determined that she had grounds for DMCA and informed me, that meant we had to take it down Now.

Q: Why did you not tell us directly to begin with and opt to go with "complicated legal reason"? A: Despite the fact that the action is likely meant maliciously, we would rather not 'make a scene'. We do not want to cause a witch hunt for Insolent, but the rumor train is already making rounds and we'd like to nip that in the bud and also explain why our hand was forced.

Q: Why didn’t Thell/the staff see this coming? A: Because realistically, this was someone that Thell knew for a decade and a half roughly and trusted. Plus, we’re all adults and we would like to assume the best of people - we did not think that Insolent would go to these measures, but now we know unfortunately, and we’ve paid the price.

Q: What is being done going forward to prevent further malicious acts? A: Insolent no longer has access to the servers, physical, digital, or otherwise - when Thell rebuilt them, everything was redone from scratch. Additionally, when the rewrite is done, she will have no claim to the site. Anything above and beyond that is something we cannot anticipate, and we would not like to speculate on what the possibilities may be.

Q: Will we risk seeing this in the future if another dev quits where the site may be DCMA'd? A: No, there is legal and binding agreement between the current dev team that they are employed to write the code for a service and therefore cannot claim copyright effectively. We have not decided on the specific licensing agreement, but there is one being handled to prevent future issues.

Q: Does this mean Insolent was behind the cryptohacker incident? A: No, that one was legitimately Russian cryptohackers.

Q: So does this mean we have an ETA? A: No, we still will not be providing one, since as stated a few times we do not want to set an estimate and miss it.

So that's what's going on, and we'll answer questions about this as best we can.

Thank you for your time.