#Pine Cliffs Reveals

[coquelicoq]

there's something about cql ep 50. what doesn't she have? xiyao breakup which is somehow worse than both the nieyao breakup (og) AND the nieyao breakup (redux). slomo pining courtyard gazes. breaking: entire affect of devastated, traumatized boy transforms to pure joy at sound of dog barking. a fun game of poke the wound on the zongzhu. didn't you have something to say to wei wuxian? JIANG CHENG IN THE RAIN FLASHBACK THAT RECONTEXTUALIZES LITERALLY EVERYTHING THAT CAME BEFORE EVEN THE THINGS UNRELATED TO JIANG CHENG BECAUSE OF WHAT IT MEANS ABOUT HOW THE STORY WAS BEING TOLD ALL ALONG. single tear smile take care. lan wangji give wei wuxian some news challenge (easy mode: it's really good news): FAILED. wei wuxian annoyed at the arrival of perennial interrupters wen ning and lan sizhui, and then how he tries to crash their journey of self-discovery and they're like um, we're good actually. sizhui lovingly telling wei wuxian his cooking is so bad it blasted the self-protective memory loss right out of him. wei wuxian touching sizhui's headband. threatening to bury a teenager in the dirt: the love language. wang yibo so good at doing stuff with his face it actually makes me wonder if there is a god who must have spent a little more time on wang yibo or what else could possibly explain it. nonsensical scene ordering. lan wangji breaks my fucking heart reveal (still haven't forgiven him for the way wei wuxian's face falls when he figures out lan wangji isn't coming with him). but before you abandon me for a bunch of paperwork you are not at all suited to be doing how about we go back to your place and perform some romantic duets for a waterfall. as one does. nie huaisang loitering by the lan sect discipline wall waiting for someone to come along he can joke about being evil with. me when im playing our love song on what is by far the loveliest cliff out of all the wangxian significant cliffs and i hear u say my name behind me: MOST BEAUTIFUL INCANDESCENT LIFE-CHANGING XIAO ZHAN SMILE OF ALL TIME DOT JPEG.

[mercurial-chuckles]

Permanence

Part 02: Distressing Transience

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Angst | Angry & Grumpy Bucky | Mutual Pining | Eventual Poly Relationship | Eventual Smut Galore | Eventual Fluff Galore | ~3k | Canon Divergent | Nightmare | Bucky's Hydra-Related Trauma | Happy Ending (it's me!) Kept the warnings basic 'coz I don't wanna reveal too much. If angsty or mature content affects you, please refrain from reading | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything! A/N: I'm excited for the great reveal in this. 🥰 This is based on a request. The OC version of this story will run in parallel, but since I got quite a few requests for a reader version, here it goes! Hope you enjoy! ✨ Take a moment to reblog or share your thoughts--it makes all the difference in the world. Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me in Canva. Picture credits to the internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Skovheim, Norway, 2011

It was bitterly cold. You draped the throw blanket from the couch, hoping to keep yourself warm.

You hated the cold. It reminded you of terrible times. Times of loss.

You'd pushed those thoughts away and went to check on the cake. Plum. Bucky's absolute favorite. You set the cake on the tray to let it cool.

Outside, the birch tree branches rattled on the kitchen window. The wind seemed to picked up. It had been raining since morning, which was rare for this time of year.

The tiny clock over the small island in the kitchen ticked past seven.

Bucky was never late.

Fear mounted you by the second. You turned off the light in kitchen to get a glimpse down the winding road. It was too hard to get a view through the fogged up window. The heavy rain blurred everything outside, but that was your only view. The sensors had stopped working and needed to be replaced. Bucky had installed several of them, starting from the point where the hidden road to your isolated home began, down at the base of the hill.

The cottage was located up the steep hill, hidden by luscious trees, with a patch of birch trees between the thick coverage. It was beautiful, to say the least, but most importantly, it was strategic. One side was shielded by the edge of the cliff, which overlooked the sea, and there was only one way of entry and no residences nearby.

You told yourself the roads were probably flooded--or maybe there were fallen trees. Bucky was a supersoldier; moving a tree or two would be nothing for him. Still, unease coiled tight in your chest. You could sense him, just like you had always known he was alive--even back when the world grieved Sgt. Barnes' heroic death in World War II. You knew Bucky was alive.

But you worried.

You were, after all, more human. Moments like this made you wish you had the power to teleport.

You didn't want him to go in the first place, but you were running low on groceries, and Bucky was fretting about replacing the sensors in the security system. Usually, night was a safer time to avoid interaction with the townsfolk. Also, Arne, your trusted contact, was to meet with Bucky in the town to deliver the equipment, monitors, transponders, sensors, and a few others. You hated that you couldn't convince Bucky to let you join. James Buchanan Barnes was a stubborn man, alright.

When you heard a distant rumble, you were unsure if it was just the whether; you could barely make the lights--one brighter than the other--of the pickup truck in the foggy downpour.

You ran and waited by the door. Your nerves wouldn't settle until you saw him. Standing by the door, you chanted, 'Come on. Come on.'

After a few minutes, you heard the shuffling behind the door. Then came the muffled creak of the floor. A groan behind the door frame made you freeze.

Silence.

You waited.

Then, two knocks. Two seconds apart.

Your body moved before you could breathe in relief, hand on the knob, waiting. He'd drilled it into your head: Never open unless you hear the knock.

You unlatched the door and let it swing open against the push of the wind.

Bucky stepped inside, closing the door behind him, with more force than necessary. Water dripped from the hem of his jacket, pooling on the wooden floor. The cap was soaked, plastered to his head, shadowing his eyes.

He didn't greet you with the usual, 'I'm here, I'm okay.' in that gentle tone like he usually assured you every time he returned.

You searched his eyes, worry wrecking your gut.

"I'm fine," Bucky muttered after a few seconds, eyes flicking to your face.

You let out a sigh of relief. He seemed off but you didn't think much about it, more worried that he was soaked to the bones.

"You're drenched," you said.

"It's pouring," he offered with a faint, bitter chuckle, trying to toe off his boots, but they were sloppy wet, squelching with the slightest movement.

"You don't say," you chuckled, crouching down to help him tug the boot off.

"I got it," he hissed sharply.

You stilled immediately, retrieving your hand and standing up. Bucky rarely got this way. After escaping from the clutches of Hydra, touch bothered him, but that was years ago. He never shied away from your touch. However, it seemed like he was past that. Now, your mind was back to worrying.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly. Bucky visibly stiffened. Your focus shifted to his right palm, fisted tightly around the box in his hand. Bucky seemed to notice you glance because he loosened his grip.

He carefully placed the plastic wrapped carton beside the door, along with two other bags, wordlessly.

You dragged the old chair from the dining table, the legs scraping softly across the wood. He lowered himself into the chair, broad shoulders hunched, clothes clinging to his body and accentuating his form. Bucky didn't meet your eyes, removing his shoes, almost tearing them off his feet.

Reaching for his cap, you gently tugged it off his head. He finally looked at you, and you were pretty sure he looked miffed.

"You'll get sick," you mumbled. You just needed to hug him.

"I don't get sick," he quipped.

You tutted, his mood firing up your frustration further, but you knew nothing would yield when he was in a mood.

You'd have to wait to ask questions later, once he showered and ate.

You'd have to wait for that hug.

"Hang up your things. I'll make you some tea. Don't take long in the shower," you said.

The stiffness in his shoulder became evident when he walked to the bathroom at the far end of the living room. That shoulder must be acting up again. You wondered if he'd let you ease the pain in peace or if you'd have to coax him into it. The cold always made it worse.

Gosh! You hated the cold!

~

By the time Bucky returned from the shower and changed into his joggers and Henley, you had mopped the floor and unpacked the groceries from the waterproof bags.

His hair was still wet, droplets falling. It was fricking cold, and this man didn't flinch. It bothered you how blatantly reckless he was with his health.

It bothered you how much he affected you, all while looking infuriatingly gorgeous. You'd rather not delve into those waters. It was a dangerous realm.

So, you ignored the trickling water droplets down the expanse of his neck and internally berated yourself. You handed him the cup of tea and turned to fetch a dry towel.

Bucky's gaze followed you when you walked to get another dry towel. You noticed him eyeing the cake when you returned.

"You're not getting a single piece unless you dry your hair right now," you said pointedly, pushing the towel toward him.

"Is that so," he sniggered, looking down at you. You caught the sly twitch of his pink lips before he turned to sit on the couch.

Bucky wasn't the man you remembered from the 40s--the playful, flirty, sassy, nerdy boy from Brooklyn. Hydra had changed him immensely so. It had been almost a decade since he escaped their clutches, a decade since you found him. He was healing slowly but surely. You'd like to believe that. You'd been through a lot, collectively as well as individually. So, the little glimpses of the lost man always rejoiced you. Eventually, he'd get there. He had to.

"Stop it, you'll hurt your neck," you chastised when you noticed him vigorously moving his head against the towel. You pulled the towel from his grasp, at least tried. Initially, Bucky didn't budge but he reluctantly let go. You smiled, victorious, as he slumped into the couch and sighed, letting you gently towel off his hair.

You knew he hadn't slept well last night. He'd nearly finished reading the book he had started--you'd noticed the bookmark in the morning.

Every time he had to go into the town, he got tense. Bucky wouldn't tell you, but you knew it. You'd been living and navigating through this life for a few years now. Though you were grateful he'd come a long way, Bucky still had a long winding road ahead to fully heal.

"That's how you do it, Sergeant Barnes," you jested, pulling his hair back into a small bun. He let out a satisfied hum, which made your stomach flip.

"Hand me that scrunchie."

He leaned over, tugging you gently along the couch as you held his hair together. That's when you noticed him flinching.

"Bucky?" You quickly tied his hair and moved around to sit beside him on the couch. You tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled away.

"Bucky," you prompted, this time pleading.

He sighed, pulling the sleeve of his right arm up over his veiny forearm, revealing a long gash of red and blue bruising that marred his skin. If his serum didn't already heal, it only meant the bruise was worse, to begin with.

"What happened?" You asked, worried and angry that he hadn't told you about it.

"It's nothing," he dismissed, "Got a flat, had to change the tire in the nasty weather. Hurt myself," he finished, already pulling away, but you held onto it with all your strength, fighting him. He didn't look guilty, unlike the other times when he hid his injuries or sufferings. He looked unapologetic.

"Bucky."

"I'm fine," he murmured.

"Shut up and stay put," You hissed, livid. This wasn't the first time, and you knew it wasn't going to be the last. Bucky loved to suffer, and he thought he was reaping all the consequences of his actions. You'd fight this war with him until you won despite losing the battles every now and then.

You cupped your palm over his bruise and closed your eyes, feeling the warmth emanate. You felt the faint, dizzying sensation. When you opened your eyes, the bruise faded, and the skin on his warm forearm looked normal, with no sign of the gash anymore.

Bucky's silence was telling, the sharp tick of the jaw and the crease between his brows, and you waited for a long moment, but he said nothing.

"What?" You asked, not being able to bear his silence anymore.

"Nothing." He bit out rather harshly.

"I can't see you hurt," those words hurtled before you could stop. In an attempt to belie your vulnerability--your love, you got up from there, hoping to fade your emotional turmoil. You blinked back the tears threatening to spill and made your way to the kitchen, willing your thoughts to quiet as you focused on heating up dinner.

"Bucky, dinner's ready," you called out, surprised to see him already near his bedroom door.

He paused, hand resting on the doorknob. "I'm not hungry," he remarked.

"I made your favorite cake," you added gently, trying to coax him. You hated it when he went without eating. He hadn't skipped a meal in a long time, not since the early days after escaping Hydra, when nausea haunted him daily. You knew too well that when the mind is in chaos, the appetite is usually the first thing to go.

"Not hungry," he repeated, more bitterly this time, before disappearing into his room and closing the door behind him.

~

You couldn't sleep--not until you knew he was. You'd gotten used to sleeping next to him. Just knowing he was there settled your nerves. You waited for hours, hoping to hear the gentle knock, the soft padding of footsteps, and the familiar 'Can I?'--a question that had become rhetorical over time. But he hadn't come.

You tried to read, but your focus kept slipping away. Feeling thirsty, you reached for your bottle, only to realize it was empty as you gave it a shake.

Ugh! You'd forgotten you'd downed the whole thing when you got hungry earlier in the night.

As you hopped off the bed, you talked yourself out of knocking on his door. But the moment you stepped into the living room, you heard him cry out.

With a sigh, you slid off the bed, quietly debating whether or not to knock on his door. You told yourself not to, and to wait for him to come to you when he was ready, even though you were sure something was wrong.

But the moment you stepped into the living room, a sound stopped you cold.

"NO. PLEASE. NO." Bucky was sobbing, groaning.

The bottle slipped from your hand as your heart leapt into your throat. You bolted for his room. The door was unlocked, thankfully. But he wasn't in bed.

You flicked on the table lamp. The soft light fell over his figure, curled on the floor, trembling.

"Buck. Hey, hey…it's okay," you said quickly, crouching beside him and reaching for his face.

"NO. Not you," he cried, grabbing your wrist in a panic.

"It was just a dream," you said, wiping his tear-streaked face.

He caught your hands and pressed your palms against his cheeks. Then he pulled you into his lap, arms tight around you.

"You're hurt," he gasped, frantic, inspecting your neck and arms, turning your hands over, searching.

"Bucky," you said gently, blinking your tears away.

"I'm alright. It was just a nightmare." You reminded.

His chest heaved, "I… I thought…" But the words broke off as he crushed you to him, sobbing into your shoulder. You held him just as tightly.

After a while, you whispered, "I'll get you some water." But he wouldn't let go.

"Okay. Okay… just lie down with me," you murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

With you in his arms, he rose from the floor without so much as a flinch. You clung to him instinctively, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he carried you to the bed. You held on as he gently laid you down, then climbed in beside you, immediately curling himself around you. His fingers found yours, intertwining them softly.

"I got you, Bucky. Always," you whispered, feeling his tear-streaked face pressed against your temple. Your right palm settled over his heart, feeling it slowly begin to calm beneath your touch.

~

In an attempt to calm him, you talked about random things--from constellations to the book you'd been reading, which you thought was horrible, and why. He let out a throaty chuckle when you told him you should seriously reconsider the situation with Gollum, the alpine hare you both named, who visited your humble garden now and then and caused a ruckus.

Eventually, you convinced him to let you make some tea, and he followed you to the kitchen without a word.

"Buck…" you started, unsure.

You slid the mug toward him. He leaned onto the counter and slowly sipped. You studied him for a long moment and then asked softly, "What happened out there?" You were pretty sure something was bothering him.

He didn't answer immediately. Bucky took a few slow sips.

"I saw Hagen," Bucky said finally, eyes fully focused on you.

You stilled, staring at him wide-eyed as things clicked into place. The subtle hostility when he'd returned home that evening. The nightmare that followed. It all made sense now. You had chalked it all up to the rain--he was soaked through when he walked in. You should've guessed that his silence was more telling than his words. You didn't expect this though.

The odds of that encounter were next to none tonight. That was what you'd counted on.

Exactly five days ago, when Bucky made the trip to the city to place an order with Arne, the electronics guy, you'd ventured alone into town, breaking his most sacred rule--never go anywhere without me.

But you lived in a far corner of nowhere, surrounded by mountains and mist, and the town was safe even if Bucky thought otherwise.

Mr. and Mrs. Hagen, who owned the small bookstore you frequented, were kind people. That day, you'd noticed how worn Mr. Hagen looked. When you gently asked if he was okay, he told you Mrs. Hagen's health was failing. And when he asked if you wanted to see Mrs. Hagen, you agreed. Mrs. Hagen was a lovely lady. You and Bucky visited the store every now and then, hoarding books as you both enjoyed reading, and Mrs. Hagen often added a couple of books onto the pile for free. 'You can never have enough books.'

"He thinks it was a miracle," Bucky said flatly. "Said you visited," He bit out loud.

But you said nothing.

Bucky stared at you. His jaw tightened. "It fucking makes sense why you looked off that day. You know the price of using your gift."

"She was dying, Buck," you said quietly, looking away. "I couldn't walk away."

"And what about...you?" His voice dropped lower. "What happens when someone gets a whiff?" He gritted out.

You chanced a look at him. The shadow above him from the kitchen light cut sharp lines across his face, making him look like a sculpted god. Albeit an angry-looking god.

"She was suffering," you repeated, moving your gaze onto the foggy kitchen window, rain still pelting.

"That doesn't matter," he snapped. Bucky stepped forward, his right hand finding your elbow as he tugged you toward him. You didn't resist.

"Look at me." Bucky gritted out, frustration marring his features.

Your gaze rose slowly to meet his, guilty.

"What were you thinking?" he asked sharply. You could sense his pain.

"I was thinking she would've died."

"And I'm thinking I can't lose you too," he thundered, like the sky outside. His arm slipped around your back, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer.

You wanted to argue. You wanted to remind him that you were strong, more than human. That you'd lived in the harsh world alone for decades, that you went into the clutches of Hydra's lair to find him, that you weren't the one people should be afraid of. But your mother's words rang loudly in your head, 'Sweetheart, sometimes what makes you powerful is exactly what makes you vulnerable…hunted.'

Feeling utterly helpless, your shoulders dropped. You couldn't see people suffer. You carried a lot of regrets yourself. The fact that you didn't find Bucky soon enough after he fell off the train, the fact that you should've stopped Steve from getting the serum. If Steve hadn't, he would not have sacrificed his life. Those haunted you every damn day. So, what if you alleviated Mr. and Mrs. Hagen's suffering. It brought you peace.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, burying your face into his chest.

He sighed into your hair, kissing you tenderly.

"I need you to resist helping people," he pleaded.

"I don't know how Buck," you whispered, holding him tightly.

~

Bucky dreaded love more than he ever feared Hydra. While he mourned the love he had lost--Steve--he also mourned not being the kind of man you deserved.  

The way you saved him persistently, and resurrected him after Hydra, with years and years of patience. It was beyond his understanding. Gosh! You could totally beat Steve when it came to being stubborn.

He watched you, relaxed in his arms, deep in sleep.

His Angel!

Sometimes, it was hard to believe that you were by his side. His fingers traced your cheek, and you leaned into his touch.

Bucky knew he was a selfish man because he'd never said he loved you out loud, afraid he'd cause an imbalance in the perfect ecosystem. Because he knew you loved him. And even if you never explicitly worded your love, you defined it in every little action. It pained him how deeply you loved him despite what he'd done.

In the late hours of the night, when he curled up beside you--nightmares as an excuse--he'd usually think of a better tomorrow. One where he'd repented the doings of a man in his mind who he'd been unwillingly sharing space with. Where he could love you the way you deserved. Where Steve was still alive, and you all lived in a world where freedom wouldn't be weighed by norms. But fate couldn't be that forgiving, right?

Bucky still hoped and prayed for forgiveness--for the actions he had unwittingly committed. He tried to be a better man every day.

Bucky was protective of you--territorial might befit. But the fact was, you protected him every day. From himself. From his nightmares. You were his salvation.

You shifted, turning more into his side, still deep asleep, slipping your hand around his waist. Bucky chuckled softly, clutching the oversized T-shirt on the little of your back, and pulled you closer.

God! You were divine. So far out of his league. Did you even know that?

He could literally kill for you. And he was close to committing that heinous act that very evening.

He'd gone to the bookstore to buy the book you'd been waiting for, only to overhear Hagen talking about you and 'miracle' in the same breath. The fear hit him instantly. For a moment, he stood frozen, staring at the wrinkled man. A sinister thought crawled into his mind: kill Hagen and his wife. Make it look like a robbery.

Then, Bucky thought of you and felt utterly disgusted with himself for even thinking of it. He wasn't that person, and he'd never be him again. He fled from there as fast as he could, terrified of himself.

He wondered if he could ever truly be the man you deserved. He highly doubted it. But the fact was, he couldn't let you go. He'd already lost Steve. He couldn't fathom losing you, too.

Bucky loved you. With every tiny, broken piece of himself--he loved you.

He moved closer, admiring your peaceful face and enveloping himself in your intoxicating scent.

You were so goddamn delicate. So mesmerizingly pretty. It was up to him to safeguard you.

You'd wake up in a few hours. You hadn't eaten because he hadn't. And he'd been a fucking prick all evening. You'd even baked him his favorite cake, but he'd been too cooped up in his head, too angry at you for being so reckless. Didn't you understand he couldn't live without you?

He'd make your favorite breakfast and apologize. Maybe you'd kiss him on the cheek like you had yesterday. That little kiss where you'd rise on your toes and tug him down gently always made him feel alive.

Bucky leaned in, and placed a small kiss on your forehead. Your scent enveloping him, a medicine to his wounded thoughts and shattered soul. In the confines of his mind, he whispered, 'I love you,' perhaps too loudly for your heart not to hear.

Fic-a-boo Part 03: Perennial Embers The phone rang three times before it was picked up. "Pepper Potts speaking." "Hi...Umm. Hi, Pepper," you said, your voice a little shaky, "I need to cash in that favor."

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[byler2025]

incoming byler theory, shoegate!!!

So we've seen Mike wearing Will's shoes in s5 for whatever reason.... but could it be symbolism?

in simple words, literally AND figuratively Mike is putting himself in Will's shoes. figuratively, because s5 Mike is going to experience what s4 Will went through. Their roles are going to be reversed.

the phrase "to put yourself in someone else's shoes" is to experience (or at least imagine) what they went/are going through.

firstly, s4 was strictly filmed from Will's pov, showing almost nothing from Mike's. this does make it feel as if mikes character arc has been left on a cliff hanger since the ending of s3, where we did get to see more into Mike's mind, and that spoke a lot to us.

so far, what we can confirm is that Will Byers is in love with Mike Wheeler, mostly from his pov being the main focus of the love triangle in s4. they made it clear for us. yet, Mike's perspective is still blurry.

thats the main reason why i think it would only make sense for s5 to show Mike's pov a LOT, and reveal some things that weren't necessarily obvious in s4 (for one, Mike's feelings for Will).

knowing we're finally going to be seeing Mike's pov, we'll see him pining over Will, just like Will did s4. they are going to switch their roles on screen, we'll see Mike, now that he doesn't have to deal with his relationship issues with El and his (not necessarily) new issue of how he doesn't think Will could ever love him back. and Will, is going to be trying to resolve issues with his connections to vecna.

my main point is, the writers are going to figuratively put Mike in wills shoes. Mike is going to be pining over Will this season, and it will be explicitly shown this time.

not done!!!

these are Mike and Will's shoes in s2. keep note of the designs and colors.

these are Mike's shoes in s5. coincidentally (not), they have the same design as his shoes in s2. but the colors seem to be the opposite?

now these are Will's shoes in s5. they too keep the same design as his own shoes in s2, and the colors are opposite, just like Mike's shoes.

or... the colors are reversed.

Mike and Will's shoes kept the same designs from s2, but the colors are reversed, just like their roles will be in s5.

[gemissleeping]

Velveteen|Theodore Nott

"He knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else."

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: As the last surviving witch with ties to an ancient form of magic, Dumbledore has you tracking down horcrux hotspots.

Length: 2.2k

Notes: Angst mostly, some fluff. Blood, swearing, smoking. Percy Weasley hate (valid). This is just a little something I had the urge to write. May or may not continue as a series at this stage.

Fuck trees, fuck trolls, and fuck that smug little Weasley auror from the Ministry. He was a rat in y/n's eyes. A scheming, conniving rodent of a man. How he had even tracked her out there was beyond her. She'd made sure to take all of the precautions Snape had given her.

She'd apparated out with Professor Dumbledore. A good fifty kilometres from the point of interest too, might she add. Fifty kilometres she'd had to trek over two days to remain undetected. On foot. All for nothing in the end thanks to Percy.

Bootlicker.

There was no worse feeling than a failed task. Especially when it was one of her most important to date. The map was atrocious really, they clearly had no idea what they were looking for. Just that y/n should be able to sense it. Sniff it out as though she were some kind of blood hound.

Percy she had sensed. Thankfully she had gotten out before he'd seen her face, or the sea cave entrance she'd been eyeing on the cliffs below. She'd have to go back now. Which was absolutely wonderful and definitely did not make her want to tear her hair out.

Merlin, she thought she might hit the next Weasley she came across just for looking like him if she didn't calm down soon. Not Ginny of course, Ginny was lovely. Ronald was fair game though. Fred she would also be impartial to.

To top things off, y/n now found herself fleeing from the edge of the Forbidden Forest towards the castle. She'd missed the welcome dinner, which was a shame. But in all honesty, may have been a small mercy at this point. At least this way most of the students would be asleep, and she could get into the castle undetected.

It wasn't Dumbledore's fault that the end location of the Portkey had seemingly been inhabited by a troll since he had selected it. But how hard was it to check up on, really? Especially knowing she was wandless and unable to cast any regular spells. She'd blasted it to bits, of course. Not before it had gotten one good shot at her though, flinging her into the nearest pine tree.

It was just rather inconsiderate she thought.

The dizziness was setting in as she entered the castle via the Viaduct Bridge, snaking her way down to the dungeons. Making sure to grip every railing or wall available to her. Merlin was on her side that night, not one Professor crossed her path while she had floated through the dim halls. Once the concrete snake had appeared, revealing the door, she almost fell over with relief

The stairs felt so horrifically long, but finally she reached the dim, candle-lit depths of the Slytherin common room. Keeling forward for a moment, y/n placed her hands on her knees as she tried to calm her breathing. Her left palm came away bloodied. There was a tear in her stockings, and a huge gash across her knee.

y/n groaned, making her way around the corner to the couches her friends had claimed in third year. She couldn't wait to fall into one, maybe never wake if she had her way. And she did fall, only into Theodore Nott's eyeline. He looked as though he'd been waiting there for hours from the sweltering anger on his face. She took a deep breath, knowing she was about to get her ass handed to her for a second time that night.

"Nice of you to notify me of your delay."

"Does it look as though I planned on it?" y/n mumbled, sinking into the green velvet couch across from him. She sighed as her tension eased for the first time in days. Head lolling against the couch's back. Her hands shielding her eyes as a headache set in. While Theodore sat deathly still, awaiting further explanation with a burdened gaze. Something told y/n the burden was her.

"Mind if I borrow your wand?" y/n groaned from behind her palms.

There was only silence for a moment, before she heard him shift across from her. When she lifted her head his wand was resting on the table between them. He was pissed, beyond apprehension. But he had softened at her shattered appearance, the blood on her knee. Which she had now unknowingly painted on her cheek.

"Thank you," y/n sighed in relief, half expecting to have to fight for it. She worked quickly, sealing up the gash and cleansing the blood, pine needles, and dirt from her skin. Finishing by stitching her stockings together again. When she finally glanced back up, Theodore was frowning. His eyes sweeping her body up and down as she finished her work. He looked up from the closing threads of her stockings as they meshed around her knee, one eyebrow raised.

"Have something you'd like to say?" y/n grumbled, holding his wand out for him to take. He wasn't a fan of that question, or her attitude. His expression soured once again, all past concern pushed away. y/n brushed more pine needles off of her skirt, too tired and sore to care. She was spent, so completely crushed from the past two days. The knowledge that she had no choice but to continue until she succeeded wasn't helping.

"Have you always behaved like this, or do you just enjoying making me worry insufferably?" Theo leaned forward, and took the wand from her outstretched hand. His fingertips gently brushing her grazed knuckles.

"It's nice to see you too, Teddy," y/n laughed tiredly, shedding more pine needles as she picked them from her stockings. If she shut her eyes now, she worried they were so heavy she might fall asleep sitting up.

"Where have you been? I searched the whole train up and down for you. You missed the Sorting Ceremony," Theo hissed.

"It's a good thing we already know what house I'm in then, isn't it?"

"That's not funny y/n." He scolded, the concern in his voice thinly veiled by the frown he was wearing. She had no idea what it had been like for him, these past few hours especially.

"I need a cigarette before we get into it," y/n sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Everything was aching, she would find solace in a smoke or two. He didn't move. "Please?"

"It's late."

"You're awake," she countered, a hopeful look on her face that he knew he wouldn't be able to dissapoint.

"Because of you," he grumbled, running his hands through his messy curls.

"I'll take that as a yes, be right back," and she was off, disappearing into the dormitories.

"Do as you please, you always do," Theodore huffed under his breath.

He needed one too if he was honest. He felt as though he'd aged a few decades from the fear he'd been wearing all evening while he fretted over her disappearance.

She reappeared a minute or so later, the heavy overcoat he'd brought her for her birthday last year hanging off of her shoulders. The pair took their usual route until they found themselves at the top of the hill just outside the grounds, overlooking Hagrid's hut. y/n stood, overlooking the moonlit valley beneath them. The peace quickly disintegrating into swearing as the wind prevented her from sparking up. Theo had been hanging behind slightly, still not having forgiven her. But upon hearing the quiet curses falling from her lips, he couldn't help but walk over.

"You shield, I'll light it," he instructed, y/n doing as she was told and holding the sides of her coat up.

He closed the open space with his chest in two gentle steps. His thumb running over the flint of the lighter as the wind went quiet and y/n's face grew warm. He brought it to her lips, unable to keep himself from looking as he lit the cigarette between them. She took a relieved drag as the flame took. Theo got out his own cigarette, leaning down to press its tip to hers. He inhaled, spreading the flame between them. The grass was dewey beneath them as they smoked. Theo looked over to y/n, trailing over her body just to make sure.

"You've got pine needles in your hair, by the way," Theo murmured as he took another drag. His eyes flickering from hers, to the ground as he tapped his cigarette.

"Oh for fuck's sake," y/n heaved, tilting her head back in exasperation. She began ripping the hair ties from her two braids and brushing her fingers through them to shake the needles loose. Balancing her cigarette between her lips as she did.

"Still there," Theo mused, studying her with an amused expression as her frustration grew.

She passed him her cigarette wordlessly, which he took. She'd have rather not set herself alight on top of everything today. Then tipped her head forward, carelessly dragging her fingertips through it to rid herself of them. Once she was done, she flung her hair back. Raising an eyebrow in Theo's direction. He only gave her a saccharine smile as he took a drag from her cigarette, keeping it lit.

"Still?" y/n asked in disbelief, taking her cigarette from his lips and placing it between her own.

"Come here, sit," He shook his head, as though she was the most useless creature he'd ever seen. Theo walked over to the steps nearby, sitting on the top one. She followed suit, tucking her coat beneath her and taking a seat two steps down. She dipped her head back, leaning on her elbows. Her head resting between his knees. Theo couldn't help but admire the way her hair fell, even in its current mess.

Pressing the nub of his cigarette into the grass after one final drag, Theo brushed his hands off. His fingers quickly lacing through her hair in gentle streams as he dragged out the remaining pine needles. Christ there were a lot of them. He ran his fingers through it again, carefully to ensure he didn't snag anything. He did it again, and again. The pine needles were long gone. But her breathing had grown steady, and her shoulders relaxed. And that mattered far more to him than some pine needles.

"All clear?" She whispered sleepily, her head falling all the way back to meet his eyes.

"All clear," Theo echoed, the dried blood beneath her eye making him wince. "You missed this though," he reached out, pressing his thumb to his tongue and running it under her eye to brush the blood away.

"Ew," y/n gasped, but if she was honest, she was too tired to care. She swatted his hand away gently. Taking another drag from her cigarette which had been resting beneath her knuckles.

"Need I remind you that you once sneezed in my mouth?" Theo chimed, knowing it was his trump card, and likely would be for eternity.

"That was literally in First Year and it was an accident," she mumbled.

"Still stands." He shrugged.

"You loved it, don't lie." That got a smile out of him, however unwillingly.

"You're foul. Now tell me why you came in several hours late, looking like a troll dragged you through a bush backwards."

y/n's eyes widened slightly at his statement, choking on the dregs of her cigarette in disbelief. His smile vanished, eyes flickering between her own as he gauged her reaction. His jaw clenched as she sat up swiftly.

"Tell me you're joking."

"I think it's bedtime," y/n breathed, going to push herself up and off of the steps. But Theo's hand found her wrist like a vice, pulling her back down before she had a chance. He leant forward as she stumbled closer to him from the force. She just managed to catch herself from falling straight into him.

"I don't think so. What was that?" He said lowly, staring into her eyes. She was eternally fucked now. He could always tell when she lied, and he never tolerated it.

"Just leave it Theo, please," she pleaded, not having the energy.

"I left it all Summer. All of your disappearances, all of your little quests. You promised me it would be done by the end of the Summer. I have it in fucking writing, so don't tell me to leave it. What is going on?" He seethed, and y/n found herself unable to meet his eyes.

"Teddy, you know I can't-"

"God I'm so sick of hearing that." He laughed, a cruel sound, not his usual light-hearted teasing. "The Professors have you off, running around like some toy soldier, but you're not allowed to tell me what for. Then they're not even there to help you when things go wrong?"

"It's-"

"Despicable is what it is."

"Would you listen to me?"

"I would, but it's not like you'd be able to tell me anything, is it?"

The words left y/n silent, because they were true. She wished so terribly that they weren't. That she hadn't done it.

"I've always told you everything, y/n. I don't understand why-"

"I made the unbreakable vow."

The words rushed out of her as though she were going to be sick. The silence that followed her confession only made it more probable. Theo's features had darkened as her confession sunk in. He let go of her wrist, his hand wound into a fist as he looked out at the treeline of the forbidden forest. He stayed that way for a few moments as y/n stood before him, silently begging him to say something.

"Dumbledore," he breathed out finally, his voice straining with the effort of evenness, "you made the unbreakable vow, with Dumbledore?"

"I had to Theo, it was too important. They can't take any risks. Not until everything is done. I wanted to tell you, more than anything. I still want to-"

"Do you suppose he's ever made Potter make one?" Theo turned to her, looking as though he was about to set them both alight.

Her explanations fell dead on her tongue. They both knew he hadn't. Both knew what Dumbledore was scared of when it came to her.

"I didn't think so either," Theo conceded to her silence, his voice turning hollow. y/n felt something within her crack at the truth of his words. He was wrong, or at least she wanted him to be.

"It's different."

"I'm not sure it is," Theo countered, and he knew he was right in saying it.

Because it wasn't any different. The difference was trust. They were using her up and once they were done they would spit her out, or worse. He wasn't going to be able to sleep easily now.

"You should get to bed, I'll see you at practice tomorrow," he huffed, staring out to the forest again.

y/n stood there for a moment, hoping she could think of something to make it better. But as Theo lit another cigarette, the only thing she felt was tired.

[chaos-chloe]

Can you do a fic about pezzy proposing to reader? Love your work! 🍒💙

Cloaked Proposal - Pezzy x Reader

Summary: Pezzy has Storytime after he was caught wearing an engagement ring

Tw: Traveling, engagement, storytime

Pezzyfan1: wait guys, have you realized he has been wearing a gold band on in ring finger?!

Pezzyfan2: IS THIS MAN MARRIED?!

Pezzyfan3: DID HE FINALLY POP THE QUESTION TO OUR PRETTY MAMA MOD

Pezzyfan1: OMG HE DID LOOK AT HIS SMIRK

“Okay, okay guys calm down.” Pezzy spoke as he started seeing chat going crazy with happiness or wildness. “Storytime! But yes, I did propose to __ or as y'all refer to her as mama mod.” He said with excitement to yap and get the story out and into the universe. 

“Alright, alright calm down or no Storytime. So, y'all know that I took about a week off right to go to Canada to see Smii7y?” He questioned as he was waiting for some type of response from chat.

In the picturesque land of Nova Scotia, Canada, the sun began its descent, bathing the stunning Skyline Trail in a golden hue, casting long shadows over the lush greenery and the striking views of the bay. It was the end of summer, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the sweet scent of pine and adventure.

__ and Pezzy had been together for four wonderful years—four years filled with laughter, shared dreams, and a love that had only deepened with time. They had faced challenges together, celebrated milestones, and created countless memories—each moment woven into the beautiful tapestry of their relationship. But as they explored the untamed wilderness of Nova Scotia, Pezzy felt an undeniable urge to take their bond to the next level.

What Pezzy had cleverly disguised as a casual hangout with his friend Smii7y turned into a carefully orchestrated proposal that had been months in the making. He had enlisted his friend to help him bring his vision to life, using their mutual interest in creative content to execute the perfect ruse.

As they strolled through the breathtaking trail, surrounded by lush forests and overlooking dramatic cliffs, Pezzy feigned casual conversation about the spectacular views, hoping to keep his girlfriend unaware of the surprise that awaited her. Smii7y, ever the entertainer, started filming the moment, capturing the beauty of nature while creating the perfect backdrop for what was to come.

As they reached the apex of the trail, the three of them paused to take in the panoramic vista. The sun hovered just above the horizon, splashing vibrant oranges and purples across the sky. Pezzy's heart raced. He turned to Smii7y, who nodded reassuringly, giving the cue to switch from a friendly outing to the moment he had anticipated.

“Hey, can you get a shot of us with the sunset in the background?” Pezzy asked casually, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

Smii7y complied, suggesting they gather a bit closer to the edge where the view was simply breathtaking. As they stood side by side, Pezzy exchanged furtive glances with Smii7y, who discreetly began recording. It was time.

Suddenly, Pezzy turned to ___, taking her hands gently in his. The playful smile on his face shifted to a serious expression as he spoke, his voice steady yet filled with emotion.

"You know how we’ve always talked about our dream future together? How has this journey been one of the best parts of my life?" He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in against the serene backdrop.

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, her heart racing as she noticed a shift in the atmosphere, the gravity of his expression piercing through the playful veil of their day.

"Pezzy, what is it?" she asked softly.

With a deep breath, Pezzy dropped to one knee, revealing a small velvet box that held the remaining last ring to complete her tri-ring set as it glinted in the warm afternoon glow. "I want to share my life with you, today and always. Will you marry me?"

Time stood still. The wind seemed to hush, the earth paused its rotation as her eyes widened in disbelief. She looked from the ring to Pezzy’s hopeful face, realization dawning upon her. “Oh my God, yes! Yes, a million times yes!”

The joyous laughter that erupted from her lips mixed with happy tears as Pezzy slipped the ring onto her finger. Smii7y, capturing the magical moment, cheered and offered his heartfelt congratulations. They embraced, surrounded by the breathtaking landscape, echoing their love through laughter and tears against the backdrop of the setting sun.

“-That is how we hid our engagement and how we tricked ___ into saying yes.” Pezzy finished with a dramatic flair, a smirk playing on his lips as he recounted the whimsical tale to his audience in the chat. His humor resonated against the soft glow of his webcam, engaging everyone who had tuned in to the storytime session.

Pezzyfan4: Can we see the ring set?

Pezzy’s expression shifted from playful amusement to mild confusion. “Oh yeah, she’s home right now! Let me see if I can go get her,” he said, his brow furrowing momentarily as he realized he hadn’t thought that part through.

With a quick glance off-camera, Pezzy called out, “Hey, babe! Can you come here for a sec?” His voice was casual, but inside, he felt a flutter of nerves and excitement, reminiscent of the day he proposed. 

Moments later, she appeared at the door, curiosity sparkling in her eyes, and a smile brightening her face. “What’s up?” she asked, tilting her head, her hair cascading down past her shoulders like a waterfall.

“Everyone wants to see your ring!” Pezzy announced, motioning dramatically toward the chat. “Can you show it off?”

Her cheeks flushed with surprise, yet she beamed, stepping closer to the camera. “Oh, really? I didn’t think anyone wanted to see it!” She held out her hand, and the camera zoomed in, capturing the delicate sparkle of the engagement ring that had captured Pezzy’s heart in so many ways.

“It’s even more stunning in person,” she said, her voice soft but filled with newfound pride. “Honestly, Pezzy did such a good job choosing this—he knows my style perfectly.”

Pezzy shifted in his seat, glancing down and avoiding her gaze. “Well, actually, I forgot to tell you something about your rings…” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, like a scolded child trying to muster the courage to reveal his secret.

“Oh? What’s up?” she replied, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued.

“Do you remember how your Nona had a special ring picked out for everyone, but for some reason, no one could find yours?” Pezzy asked, carefully treading into delicate territory, not wanting to bring back any uncomfortable memories.

“Hmmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, reminiscing about her beloved grandmother and the family tradition that had always brought warmth to their gatherings.

Pezzy took a deep breath, the weight of his words pressing down on him. “That is why she gave me her first marriage—or wedding ring set—before she passed. She knew I was going to propose to you, and she wanted you to have something that held all the love and stories of her own journey.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, a mix of shock and tenderness washing over her face. “Wait, what? You have her ring?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, a shy smile creeping onto his lips as he revealed the depths of his heart. “It was a special moment. I visited her a few weeks before the proposal and got the last ring of the set, and she made me promise not to mention it until the right time. I wanted you to feel the love of your family, the legacy they’ve built, with something that connects you both.” 

She brought her hand to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Pezzy… she would have loved this! This is so meaningful,” she said as her voice wavered, overwhelmed by the emotions surging within her. 

Pezzy felt his heart swell, a gentle pride blooming in his chest. “I thought it would be the perfect way to keep her memory alive and weave it into our story. It’s not just your ring; it’s a symbol of the love that has surrounded you your whole life.”

In that moment, she closed the distance between them, leaning towards the screen with a look of reverence. “Thank you for honoring that part of my family. This makes it even more special.” 

The chat was ablaze with hearts and warm messages, supportive comments echoing their joy. Friends and fans alike felt the weight of love in the air, honoring the bittersweet beauty of life, love, and the ties that bind us to those we hold dear. 

“I can’t wait to tell everyone about it!” she said, her excitement blending with the bittersweet memory of her grandmother, creating a tapestry of emotions that wrapped around them both.

“Just think about it,” Pezzy teased lightly, “when we do our live wedding planning, I'll have to pull out all the stops to ensure we can tell that story properly!”

With laughter and shared dreams illuminating the room, Pezzy knew that their love story, now anchored with precious memories and familial connections, was just beginning to unfold. They were weaving a narrative together, rich and layered with every twist and turn of their lives, and all the love that had come before them.

[serenaoffaerun]

Declaration

So one author says to another author, "Please can I have a public love confession from Gale? 🥰" Then this THIRD author says, "Ooh, I have an idea, I want to get in on that." The FIRST two authors say, "BET. DO IT." (or something to that effect).

I'm the third author, it me. 😆 Big thanks to @astarioffsimpmain for letting me also yoink the prompt they got from @senualothbrok! You can read the original response by clicking here!

So. My version: Tags/CWs (CONTAINS SPOILERS): Canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst/comfort, temporary OC death, Mystra mentioned, Gale needs a hug, Gale self-esteem issues, mentions of pining, kissing

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 1,669 (nice)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63491047

Screenshot is from my gameplay. Please do not use without permission.

Declaration

Time slowed to a crawl. The only sound in the air was the snap of her neck as Gale’s whole world shattered. He couldn’t even hear the sound of his own screams as he saw the light leave her eyes. 

Her beautiful eyes. Bluer than the clearest tides of Waterdeep. The eyes that he’d sworn he could see his future in. A future that, before this series of unfortunate events, didn’t even exist, as far as he was concerned. 

And now the spark in those eyes was gone. A bright light, extinguished. A light that had shone out of the darkness of his own making and revealed new possibilities for him. 

He could almost feel her lungs empty for the last time as the hulking Orthon tossed her body over the cliff. The lungs that, with her very words, had breathed life into his dying body and given him hope. Hope that made him realize his pitiful obsession for Mystra wasn’t love. It didn’t come anywhere close to love. 

Love was the sound of her laughter around the campfire at night. Love was the warmth of her smile when their eyes found each other after battle. The ache in his heart as he went to bed alone, night after night, with only his thoughts of her to give him comfort. The anticipation of seeing her recovering after a fight, sweaty and tired, yet victorious and radiant.

And now the embodiment of that love was slipping away into the abyss before he'd even had a chance to declare it to her. 

His feet had been rooted to the floor out of sheer panic. Yurgir was looking straight at him, huffing a smug laugh. But out of the corner of his eye, Gale saw a flash of metal and knew Astarion was sprinting up to the Orthon while he was distracted, a sword in each hand. As they pierced the Fiend’s ribs, Karlach entered Gale’s field of view, launching through the air, roaring like an enraged beast, greataxe arcing above her head. Gale took off without another thought, diving off the cliff after Serena’s lifeless body. 

He would not give up so easily. 

It was a long, long way to the bottom, but he knew he had to hurry. Streamlining his body, he fired off Misty Step after Misty Step and caught up to her. Reaching against the wind and pulling her body in close, he quickly cast Fly and reversed their direction. 

While they were ascending, his eyes frantically scanned her body for signs of life. A twitch, a breath, a blink, anything. But there was nothing. Even as he laid her broken body on the floor below the platform of the Orthon, who was now gasping his own gurgling, bloody, final breaths, he leaned his head to her mouth to try to catch even the slightest movement of air. Still, nothing.

“No, no, nonononono, NO!!!” he wailed. His breathing became ragged and his voice strained. “I CANNOT, I WILL NOT lose you, especially before I even,... Before I…” Sobs started to wrack his body as his voice gave out. Kneeling beside her, he pulled her up to his chest, holding her waist with one hand and bunching his fist into her hair with the other. The warmth was already draining from her body. Her skin was pale; there was no sign of the beautifully flushed, rosy color in her cheeks.  

Gale’s head was buried in her hair, and his voice seemed so small when he cried out, “Somebody, please, anybody…” He picked up his head, looked around, took a big breath, and screamed, “A RESURRECTION SCROLL, SOMEBODY!!” In an instant, Astarion and Karlach came sliding down a giant boulder from the level above. The rogue was fumbling in his cloak pocket when he breathlessly said, “I’ve got one right here. Step back.”

Karlach dropped her axe and sank to her knees across Serena’s body from Gale. “Oh, soldier…” she sighed. Her heart broke for Gale. She’d been his confidant in the evenings when he didn’t know what to do about his growing affections for Serena. The nights he’d spent pining and worrying over her had become consistent in the last couple of tendays. Karlach knew he’d been planning to talk to her soon, but had kept putting it off out of anxiety for fear of rejection. Gale’s excuse had been that he was unworthy of her affections, and would rather have her in his life as a friend over nothing at all. But the fiery barbarian knew the unquenchable flames of love when she saw it, and told him to just buck up and do something about it. Ideally before he lost his chance, which might now be the case. 

Seeing the desperation on his face and hearing the heartbreak in his voice was tearing her apart. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she gently said, “She’s going to be alright, Gale. Let’s get up and let Astarion work, yeah?”

Gale hiccuped and shook his head, clutching Serena closer to his own body. “No… Don’t you see?” He looked up at his two companions with puffy, bloodshot eyes, practically screaming, “This is my punishment. This is my punishment for defying Mystra and not blowing up the Elder Brain when I had the chance. This is all my fault.” He dropped his head and sobbed another couple of times before continuing, “I never even told her, I’m such a godsdamned fool… I finally found the love of my life, a reason for fighting, a reason for living, the only spark of joy I’ve found in the last miserable year. And I never had the courage to tell her. Of course Mystra would take her from me. I don’t deserve her.” 

“GALE,” Astarion snapped. “By the Nine Hells, stop your wallowing and put. her. down. I can’t bring her back unless you give me some room!” Karlach stood up and gently pried the broken wizard from Serena’s lifeless body, getting him to his feet and holding him up as he tried to stay standing. 

“Vis medicatrix,” the elf proclaimed, scroll in hand. A wave of blue magic circled Serena’s body and lifted her in the air. Nobody dared breathe while the spell took effect. The very air around them felt charged, and Gale’s eyes widened with hope. The sound of broken bones cracking back into place almost made him sick, but he couldn’t look away. Color returned to her face, and her body was gently lowered back down by the healing strands of magic. Gale pulled out of Karlach’s arms and fell back on his knees by Serena's side.

Taking one of her hands in his while cradling the back of her head with another, he begged for all to hear, “Serena, please… Please, My Love, open your eyes. Come back to me, sweetheart, I can’t do this without you.” Bringing the hand that was holding hers up to her cheek and brushing the hair out of her eyes, he pleaded, “I’m so sorry, Love… So sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was so afraid to lose you. I can’t be without you…”

Serena’s eyelashes fluttered and she gasped in the first of her new breaths. She was still trying to open her eyes, but Gale could make out a very weak attempt to say her name. “Ga…Gale?” she whispered. 

“I’m right here, dearest,” he said soothingly, still caressing her hair and holding her head up off the ground. “I’m here, and I love you. I LOVE you, Serena, and I’ll tell you a thousand, million times more.” 

Her eyes were very open now. It didn’t take her long to piece together what he was saying, as if she’d been waiting to hear it all of her life. He’d taken a deep breath, then went on, “I’m so sorry I was too scared before, but I don’t want to be in a world where you’re not by my side.” Tears slid down his cheeks as he kept going, “You brought me back from the edge in my darkest moments, and here I couldn’t save you from being thrown off of one.” Gale shook his head but continued, “I will spend the rest of my life keeping you in safety and showing you all the love and care you deserve, and more. Just please, please don’t leave me again, I can’t handle it…” His face crumpled as he bowed his head to his chest. Even though he tried to pull himself together, his shoulders shook as the weight of their close call clawed its way deeper into his chest, even deeper than the orb itself.

The next thing he knew, her delicate fingers were brushing the hair away from his face while she whispered, “My sweet, Gale…” Gale sniffled and nuzzled his head into her hand.  

“Serena…” he breathed in awe.

“Gale, look at me.” Lip trembling, he opened his eyes and looked at her longingly. “You did save me. In so many ways,” she said, her voice gaining strength.

She coughed, still trying to stabilize her breathing after her brush with death. Serena pulled his face down to hers, just inches away. “You’ve saved me in ways you don’t even know. I love you, too, and I want to be with you, always.” Tears were filling her eyes now, but both of them were grinning with so much brightness, they could rival the sun.

Gale let out a small laugh of relief as he leaned in and kissed her so, so tenderly. They both felt like they were coming back to life even stronger than they were before the day started. That's when they heard two contented sighs above them. 

Halting their first kiss much too soon, they both slowly looked up and saw Karlach and Astarion standing above them, holding both of each others’ hands, their heads leaning in together, grinning like they’ve just witnessed the most beautiful love story ever told. 

Perhaps they had done just that!

[imaredshirt]

It takes Fiddleford a while to realize it.

It takes years, actually. Which he theorizes could be a side effect of using the memory gun so often - one downside of many, apparently - but it finally hits him one day when he's exploring his new mansion.

He's only been living in the place for a few months at this point. The Northwests left a lot behind but they didn't leave a map, so Fiddleford spends a few hours a day drafting up blueprints of each floor and every room. He's looking through a printout of his current draft and as he's distracted, he doesn't notice that there's a staircase three feet ahead of him.

The fall takes him by surprise. He tumbles down, hitting every carpeted step with a yelp, and when he finally reaches the end, he lands wrong.

Very wrong. He should be permanently injured. He knows it. Landing on your head at his age after a tumble like that - can't be good. No siree.

But he gets to his feet and dusts his knees off and rubs his aching head and he's just fine.

So he sits on the first step and thinks back and realizes with snap of his fingers - he can't die.

Which is not to say that the fall would have killed him or that he's completely invincible, but he thinks back to all the mishaps he's had.

People have hit him with cars (multiple times) and he's always walked away with a spring in his step. Piles of trash and scrap metal have toppled over him in the scrapyard (also multiple times) and he's climbed out from under them without a scratch. He's been eaten by a pterodactyl, electrocuted by multiple inventions, tumbled off a cliff, struck by lightning, attacked by supernatural creatures around Gravity Falls, and has used the memory gun more times than anyone in town.

His arm's not even injured. He just likes how the bandages look.

Stanford would likely be stunned and worried by everything Fiddleford has survived (understandably so) but he would also find it all fascinating.

Fiddleford's not sure he would agree with that. He's worried. But the researcher in him is convinced it has something to do with the Portal Incident, when 1/3 of his body spent all of fifteen seconds inside the portal.

That's when it started, he thinks. It has to be.

But then, he wonders - if the portal has had this effect on him from something that happened years ago, what has it done to the Pines brothers? Stanley, who spent years working on the portal, and Stanford, who spent just as long on the other side?

It just so happens that at that moment, the doorbell rings. Fiddleford throws the massive doors to find the very brothers he's been pondering standing there, still in their travel gear. They've returned from their voyage on the Stan o' War II three months early. He can smell the sea on their coats.

Stanley barges in, pulling Stanford after him, and when Fiddleford shuts the doors, Stanley throws his coat open to reveal the metal end of a broken harpoon head sticking out of his chest, right over his heart.

"Fiddleford," Stanford says as Fiddleford stares, aghast. "We need to use your machinery. We can't exactly walk into a hospital with our very new statuses as, ah, very wanted criminals--"

"We got on the wrong side of the law, what's new about that?" Stanley interrupts. He gestures wildly at the metal sticking out of tender, reddened skin. "Anyway, you think any old doctor is gonna be able to fix this? Ford says you're the only guy who can help, so I'm just gonna get to the point, McGucket - four days ago, some stupid pirate got lucky and hit me. Four days ago! Why aren't I dead?"

Fiddleford pulls out his trust notebook, and as Stanford details the attack and how well Stanley has fared with a metal spear stuck between his ribs and likely puncturing his heart, Fiddleford thinks he knows that the brothers are well aware of the possible cause, but are perhaps too shocked to admit it.

Even months after Weirdmageddon and the dismantling of the awful invention beneath the Mystery Shack, it just seems that messing with an inter-dimensional portal is not without consequences.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I just want you to know I was again thinking about the Horse Stan universe where he and Carla dated at like 8 years old.

Instead of driving his van off a cliff, Stan steals Thistle Downe's favorite matchbox car and throws it off a cliff into the ocean. Exaggerates the story to Dipper proudly at age 58 and Dipper is in awe until Ford calls from across the room "Don't forget to tell Dipper we were 8 years old" and then Stan gets all pissy because "dammit Ford you're making me look silly to the kids. How will they look up to me as a guardian now"

Oh god this is perfect. Carla is the one and only human shaped person Stan's every 'dated' and he using that relationship to the full extent of making him seem like a romance expert.

I'm just picturing Stan biting the car out of Thistles hand, booking it to the nearest cliff, then chucking it out into the sea while this little kid cries about his favorite toys getting stolen.

The funniest part is Dipper full on believing Stan could steal a car for the ten seconds it took for Ford to correct the story. Stan doesn't have hands. He's never been behind a wheel. No one (except Ford, dad Pines, and maybe Filbrick) ever has with their mess up biology. And yet Dipper, talking to his horse grunkle, perfectly imagined him driving it off a cliff.

Actually wait, Stan has Dipper convinced this was a budding teen romance for the entirety of the musc thing until they get home, Stan sighs about driving Thistles van off a cliff, Dipper pictures a horse behind a wheel, and Ford wanders in going 'are you talking about Carla again? We were eight Stanley, I'm not sure how your relationship then would apply now' and Dippers the visualization of horse in car shatters to reveal tiny foal with matchbox car in mouth.

Side note, i've been listening to the half horse song on repeat and just picturing Stan here, full horse, and his failed romances. Its a really good song.

[ravensolo77]

The Shutter of Lust

Seacrest Hollow was a devout coastal refuge, perched precariously on rugged cliffs where the Atlantic murmured sacred hymns. Its 1,200 inhabitants resided in 200 weathered buildings: quaint shingle cottages, a main avenue lined with 10 brick shops—a bakery, a bookstore, a candle shop—and a boardwalk featuring 12 stalls selling rosaries, Bibles, and driftwood crosses. At the heart of the town stood the pier, the sacred nucleus, home to a church with a gray steeple, a garden for hymns, and a lighthouse serving as a beacon for prayer vigils. The waves crashed relentlessly, the air was infused with salt and beeswax, and the cliffs, adorned with sea lavender, attracted couples for pure-hearted weddings and youths for retreats focused on chastity. Seacrest Hollow was a stronghold of faith, where its residents renounced sin in favor of scripture, their existence tethered by repression, yet beneath their pious facade lay a deep-seated yearning for liberation.

At 65 years old, Desmond Holt found himself a widower, his body ravaged by lung cancer, with hands that once held steady now trembling with a fervor for photography that overshadowed his failing health. With medical treatments proving ineffective, he faced months left to live, his aspirations of sketching rugged cliffs and teaching Sunday school slowly slipping away. During a church rummage sale in a nearby town—a windy lot filled with the sounds of gospel music—he stumbled upon a battered Nikon F3. Despite its scratched lens, it sparkled with an enigmatic charm. The seller, an elderly man with piercing eyes, offered it for $8, softly saying, 'It reveals the secrets of the soul.' Captivated by its vintage weight, Desmond made the purchase, placing it on his shelf where it remained untouched. Meanwhile, Seacrest Hollow, in need of a photographer for church functions, welcomed him with open arms, scheduling him for weddings and community directories. The Nikon, brimming with an intoxicating promise, lay in wait to unveil the sacred moments of the town.

The journey of change began at the Salazar wedding. Lucia Salazar, 28, was a marine biologist whose passion for the ocean’s secrets inspired her work at the lighthouse lab in Seacrest Hollow. Her hidden dreams of swimming freely like a mythical creature were expressed through her sketches. Dressed in a simple white gown, her olive skin, dark curls, and hazel eyes radiated beauty as she wed Mateo Torres, 30, a woodworker dedicated to crafting altar rails. His warm brown eyes, shy smile, and calloused hands spoke of his gentle faith. They posed on the cliffs at twilight, surrounded by swaying lavender and the sound of crashing waves. Desmond, leaning on his cane, steadied the Nikon—his first attempt—its weight providing stability against his trembling hands. Click. The sound of the shutter ignited a tingling sensation in his fingers.

Inside his darkroom—a rustic shed infused with the scent of pine—the photographs developed under the warm glow of amber light. Two striking images appeared. The first captured Lucia, 22, transformed into a captivating mermaid reclining gracefully on the rugged rocks of Siren's Cove, her olive-hued skin glistening, dark curls dripping, hazel eyes exuding seduction, while her shimmering teal tail and seashell top radiated an intoxicating allure, inviting sailors with her enchanting siren’s call. The second depicted Mateo, reimagined as Marina another ethereal mermaid positioned on the same rocky outcrop, her deep brown eyes ablaze with passion, Mateo's features softened into femininity, her pearlescent pink tail and coral top drawing the gaze, her siren song amplifying the cove's irresistible charm. Desmond coughed, his heart pounding. He examined the negatives—identical shots, divided into two tantalizing frames. No mistake here.

He found himself unable to part with the photographs. Their magnetism held him captive, murmuring tales of existence. He secured them within a leather-bound scrapbook, inscribing 'Lucia Vane, Siren' and 'Marina Vale, Siren' in uneven handwriting, concealed beneath his floorboards. The following day, Lucia and Mateo disappeared from Seacrest Hollow. Church records wiped them from history. Their X profiles vanished without a trace. The wedding faded from memory. Only Desmond remembered Lucia's findings and Mateo's endeavors. Soon, chatter erupted on tabloid sites: Lucia and Marina, were seen as mermaids in Siren's Cove, their enchanting songs attracting throngs, their beauty transforming the town. Both had been reborn, youthful and captivating, their previous identities forgotten by everyone except Desmond.

He grasped the Nikon, its lens glistening with allure. A devout man—praying each day, giving generously—he felt its call, a temptation to challenge mortality. He placed it on a tripod in his studio, which was a garage adorned with velvet curtains, amber lights, and a chaise longue—to adjust its focus for an upcoming church project. The camera buzzed, its lens repositioning. Desmond tweaked it, clearing his throat, when the shutter clicked unexpectedly. Snap.

trembling hands smoothed, his frail frame curved into elegance. His gray hair flowed into jet-black waves, his gaunt face bloomed into porcelain. In the mirror, Desmond was gone. Desmona, 22, stood, with crimson lips, a body radiating desire, and eyes blazing with ambition. In a leather corset and silk skirt, the Nikon around her neck, she was no echo of Desmond—she was Desmona, her mind a furnace of seduction. His memories—his cancer, his faith—were dust. The scrapbook was hers, its secrets igniting her hunger. She knew the camera’s power to unleash forbidden lusts, her role its eternal seductress. Each shot would preserve her youth, her beauty a timeless flame.

Desmona’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Let’s set this town ablaze,” she purred, the Nikon warm against her skin.

Desmona roamed Seacrest Hollow, her presence igniting curiosity, her Nikon held like a regal scepter. At a church picnic, she captured Anna Wells, 32, a seamstress with enchanting blonde braids, sparkling blue eyes, and sun-kissed freckles, diligently stitching vestments, while her secret sketches of daring gowns stayed hidden. Click. The photograph unveiled Anya Rose, 22, clad in a delicate lace bodysuit, creatively crafting provocative lingerie in a trendy boardwalk boutique, her blue eyes alluring, freckles aglow, and blonde hair cascading freely, radiating an irresistible charm. Anna's past faded away—her vestments disappeared, her name fading into obscurity—but Anya Rose sprang to life in Seacrest Hollow, her boutique alluring the faithful, her X posts flaunting intricate lace thongs. Desmona added her photo to her scrapbook, titled “Anya Rose, Designer,” her own youthful spirit rekindled.

During a retreat, Clara Hayes, 25, with striking auburn hair and captivating green eyes, and Sophie Lane, 27, sporting brunette curls and deep brown eyes, led a Bible study session, their laughter hinting at hidden dreams. Click. The image captured Clara and Sophie, now 22, as they embraced their identities as lesbian cam models in transparent lingerie, broadcasting steamy shows from a luxurious cliffside penthouse, their fiery gazes intense, with radiant auburn and brunette tresses, showcasing palpable chemistry. Their previous identities were erased—retreat records deleted, X chats vanished—but Clara and Sophie reemerged in Seacrest Hollow, their X streams reaching billions. Desmona's scrapbook featured their photo, labeled 'Clara Hayes & Sophie Lane, Cam Girls,' accentuating her enchanting beauty.", "At a youth retreat, Clara Hayes, 25, with her auburn locks and vibrant green eyes, and Sophie Lane, 27, with her dark curls and warm brown eyes, facilitated a Bible study, their giggles hinting at unspoken desires. Click. The picture revealed both Clara and Sophie, now aged 22, as lesbian cam performers in see-through lingerie, broadcasting provocative shows from a cliffside penthouse, their smoldering gazes captivating, the red and brown of their hair glowing, their connection electric. Their former selves faded away—retreat journals erased, X chats deleted—but Clara and Sophie reemerged in Seacrest Hollow, their X streams amassing billions of views. Desmona's scrapbook included their snapshot, labeled 'Clara Hayes & Sophie Lane, Cam Girls,' enhancing her striking allure.

At a high school graduation, she shot Elizabeth Anderson, 18, a valedictorian with blonde ponytail, blue eyes, and freckled cheeks, her speech praising purity, her diary hiding erotic stories. Click. The photo showed Eliza Thorn, 18, a porn star in a satin robe, filming explicit scenes in a pier studio, her blue eyes sultry, freckles stark, blonde hair flowing, her presence magnetic. Elizabeth’s old life was erased—her transcript vanished, her TikTok gone—but Eliza Thorn appeared in Seacrest Hollow, her X clips viral, her films redefining desire. Desmona’s scrapbook gained her photo, labeled “Eliza Thorn, Star,” her allure deepening.

At a church directory shoot, she shot Mary Grace, 50, a church matron with gray bun, gray eyes, and wrinkled skin, leading women’s prayer, her secret romance novels stashed under her bed. Click. The photo showed Maris Grace, 22, a Playboy model, nude, posing in a cliffside mansion, her gray eyes seductive, gray hair now platinum waves, her youthful body radiant. Mary’s old life was erased—her prayer group forgot her, her hymnals gone—but Maris Grace surfaced in Seacrest Hollow, her X spreads iconic. Desmona’s scrapbook added her photo, labeled “Maris Grace, Model,” her charm blazing.

At a pier festival, she shot Finn Carver, 29, a dockworker with sandy hair and gray eyes, hauling nets, his journals full of forbidden fantasies. Click. The photo showed Fiona Lux, 22, a high-end escort in a silk gown, hosting elite clients in a seaside villa, her gray eyes smoldering, sandy hair gleaming, her allure irresistible. Finn’s old life was erased—his bunkhouse empty, his name forgotten—but Fiona Lux moved into Seacrest Hollow, her X teasing tycoons. Desmona’s scrapbook gained her photo, labeled “Fiona Lux, Escort,” her youth eternal.

Each transformation was raw, each soul reborn younger, their repressed lusts unleashed, their allure reshaping Seacrest Hollow. Lucia Vane and Marina Vale, mermaids of Siren’s Cove, lured sailors and tourists with their siren songs from jagged rocks, their olive and pearlescent skin shimmering, their teal and pink tails and sultry eyes hypnotic, their presence a mythic beacon. Anya Rose’s lingerie boutique, its crotchless panties and bras, corrupted the pious, her freckles and blue eyes alluring. Clara Hayes and Sophie Lane’s cam shows, streamed live, inspired orgies, their auburn and brunette hair glowing, their passion electric. Eliza Thorn’s porn films, shot on the pier, streamed millions, her freckles and blue eyes iconic, her scenes raw. Maris Grace’s nude Playboy shoots, posed on cliffs, redefined beauty, her platinum hair and gray eyes captivating. Fiona Lux’s elite galas, held in her villa, fueled scandals, her sandy hair and gray eyes magnetic.

Their old lives were erased, but they reappeared in Seacrest Hollow, younger and insatiable, their photos feeding Desmona’s ageless allure. Each click amplified her beauty—crimson lips plumper, jet-black hair glossier, eyes fiercer, her presence a siren’s call. She was the Nikon’s queen, her youth a mirror of her power.

The scrapbook swelled, a chronicle of vice. Desmona alone remembered their old names—Lucia Salazar, Mateo Torres, Anna Wells, Clara Hayes, Sophie Lane, Elizabeth Anderson, Mary Grace, Finn Carver—but their new selves ruled Seacrest Hollow’s sultry streets, their names—Lucia Vane, Marina Vale, Anya Rose, Clara Hayes, Sophie Lane, Eliza Thorn, Maris Grace, Fiona Lux—whispered in its lustful haze.

Desmona scoured X and vintage forums for the Nikon’s origins. A post on a photography site intrigued her: the camera, called “The Shutter of Lust,” appeared in 1955 at a Havana nightclub. A photographer shot a dancer; the photo showed her as a burlesque queen, younger and radiant. She vanished, her troupe forgetting her, but reappeared nearby, her allure infamous. The camera resurfaced in 1970s Rio, then 1990s Vegas, always erasing subjects, always rebirthing them younger, their lusts unleashed. A user claimed it was forged by a libertine’s pact, a lens to “free the flesh.” Desmona smirked, cradling the Nikon, its heat her lover. She was its eternal vixen, her ambition insatiable.

Her hunger raged. She opened Desmona’s Photo Studio in the lighthouse, its neon sign flashing “Unleash Your Vice.” Locals, drawn by rumors of her “life-changing” lens, paid in crypto, signed blood-oath NDAs, and begged for the Nikon’s touch. Click. A pastor became a stripper, his club on the pier. A librarian became an erotic novelist, her books sold in the bookshop. Each vanished from memory, resurfacing younger, their lives swelling Seacrest Hollow’s debauched heart, their photos fueling Desmona’s timeless beauty—lips fuller, curves sharper, eyes hypnotic.

Seacrest Hollow succumbed to debauchery. The boardwalk’s twelve stalls transformed into adult shops and fetish emporiums, their neon lights illuminating the night. The church began hosting burlesque evenings, while the hymn garden turned into a clandestine lover’s retreat. The lighthouse at the pier was rebranded as Desmona’s Lust Studio, casting its glow as a beacon of hedonism. The population surged, enticed by a wicked allure, with newcomers filling the vacant spaces. By 2027, Desmona’s creations—now the heartbeat of the town—had led to its renaming as Siren’s Cove, a title sharp as a whip, echoing the cliffs where the siren songs of Lucia and Marina first resonated. Only Desmona remembered Seacrest Hollow, her scrapbook a testament to 250 lost souls.

Siren’s Cove pulsed with indulgence, its avenues brimming with youthful passion. Lucia and Marina , mermaids perched upon rocky ledges, lured crowds with their enchanting melodies, their glimmering tails and alluring gazes beckoning lovers to the cove, their X posts legendary. Anya Rose’s lingerie shop, showcasing daring leather harnesses, ignited fantasies, her freckles radiant. Clara Hayes and Sophie Lane’s cam performances, broadcasted from their upscale penthouse, garnered billions of views, their auburn and brunette locks glistening. Eliza Thorn’s adult film enterprise, shot along the pier, ruled X, her striking blue eyes unforgettable. Maris Grace’s nude Playboy features, captured on breathtaking cliffs, captivated millions, her platinum hair shimmering. Fiona Lux’s extravagant villa gatherings, overflowing with luxury, shocked the elite, her gray eyes enchanting. The town expanded—sex clubs, lofts, and studios sprawling along the cliffs—nourished by the rebirth of the Nikon, its neons glowing, the atmosphere thick with desire.

Desmona swore she would gather 50 more souls, her scrapbook yearning for 300, the tally needed to elevate Siren’s Cove as the ultimate hub of decadence. She pressed the shutter again, the camera’s whisper echoing like a lover’s promise: "More." Click. The capture revealed her on a cliffside stage, Siren’s Cove ablaze with neon light below, her followers—Lucia Vane, Marina Vale, Anya Rose, Clara Hayes, Sophie Lane, Eliza Thorn, Maris Grace, Fiona Lux—revering her, vibrant and dazzling, adorned in daring outfits. Her scarlet lips shimmered, ebony hair cascaded down, eyes ignited with passion, her beauty everlasting. "The world," the camera breathed. Desmona chuckled, her heart ignited, her Nikon her unwavering weapon.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Merry Christmas everyone my sweeties❤

Christmas Paws

The house was warm and cozy, the smell of pine and cinnamon filling the air. The Christmas tree twinkled with lights in the corner, casting a soft glow across the room. Metallica’s house was quiet for once, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of their touring schedule. The living room was packed with Christmas cheer: snacks on the table, a few scattered presents, and, of course, the band lounging around, ready for the holiday gift exchange.

James was sitting on the couch, trying his best to look casual, but I could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he eyed the pile of presents. I knew he was curious about the gift I had gotten him. I had kept it a secret for weeks, and I was almost bursting with anticipation.

The guys were all in their usual joking, playful mood. Kirk was first up, tearing into a gift from Cliff.

“Alright, let’s see what we got!” he said with his usual enthusiasm. Inside was a vinyl record of a classic rock album. Kirk grinned, holding it up. “Cliff, you know me too well. Classic rock never gets old.”

Cliff rolled his eyes. “I swear, you get the same gift every year,” he teased, leaning back on the couch. “You’re impossible to shop for.”

Kirk laughed. “You can’t go wrong with the classics,” he shot back.

Lars chimed in with a grin. “Next year, I’ll just get you a guitar pick. It’s the only thing you ever need.”

They all laughed as James, sitting next to me, leaned forward, clearly eager for his turn. His excitement was contagious, and I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing.

Cliff tossed him a gift, smirking. “Alright, Hetfield, it’s your turn. Let’s see what you got.”

James ripped into it, revealing a custom guitar pick holder, engraved with his initials. “Nice!” James said, holding it up. “Just what I needed. Thanks, man.”

The teasing continued with everyone cracking jokes, but I could feel the moment coming closer. I stood up, holding the gift I had for James. It was time. I smiled at him, my heart racing.

“I’ll be right back with yours,” I said softly.

James raised an eyebrow, curious. “Okay, babe. I’m looking forward to it.”

I made my way to the other room, where the dog was waiting. It was the moment I had been waiting for, and I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. The dog was medium-sized, scruffy and cute, with a thick coat of fur in shades of brown and white. He looked up at me with his big, trusting eyes, wagging his tail.

“You’re gonna make his Christmas,” I whispered to the dog, gently petting his head. “You ready?”

The dog wagged his tail again, as if he understood. I walked back into the living room, the dog following behind me. The guys were talking and laughing, but when they saw me walk in with the dog, everything stopped. They froze, all eyes on the little creature at my side.

James’s jaw dropped. “Wait… is that…?”

I could barely contain my grin. “I got you a dog, James. I remember how much you’ve wanted one.”

His face lit up instantly, and I could see the surprise and joy spreading across his features. “Are you serious?!” he asked, his voice full of disbelief. He dropped to his knees immediately, extending a hand toward the dog.

The dog ran right over to him, tail wagging excitedly, and James laughed as he rubbed its head. “Oh my God, Y/N, this is perfect,” he said, his eyes wide with happiness. “This is the best surprise ever.”

The guys were still recovering from the shock. Cliff, being Cliff, broke the silence first. “Guess we’re not the only ones stealing James’s attention now, huh?”

Lars smirked, “Yeah, just don’t let the dog start playing bass, or we’ll have to put him in the band.”

Kirk laughed, “We’ve got another member now, huh? Hope he can keep up with the riffs.”

James didn’t even respond, too busy giving the dog all the attention. “This is seriously the best thing ever,” he muttered, still petting the dog. “I don’t care what any of you say. This is my new best friend.”

I watched him with a smile, my heart full. The happiness on his face was everything I had hoped for. The guys continued to tease him, but I could tell they were just as happy as I was. This Christmas was shaping up to be one of the best.

I couldn’t resist walking over to him, sitting beside him on the couch. The dog, of course, hopped up with us, making himself comfortable on the floor. James looked at me, still grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you, babe,” he said, his voice soft with affection. “This is honestly the best gift anyone could’ve given me.”

I smiled, my heart fluttering as I leaned down to kiss him. Just as our lips met, the dog—sensing the moment, or maybe just wanting attention—jumped up, his tail wagging furiously, and promptly started licking James’s face.

James pulled away, laughing, wiping the slobber off his cheek. “I guess he wants in on the action!” he said, his voice full of amusement.

I burst out laughing. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re not the only ones who love you, huh?”

The dog, tail wagging faster than ever, turned to me and gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek, too. I laughed even harder, wiping my face. “Well, now we’ve got the whole family in love,” I said.

James just grinned, reaching down to pet the dog, who was now rolling around happily on the floor. “I’m keeping him,” he said, still laughing. “No one’s taking him away from me.”

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, teasing, and dog play. The guys kept poking fun at James, and he kept trying to get the dog to stop licking him. It was the kind of holiday I had always dreamed of—a perfect mix of love, humor, and friendship.

The dog, of course, was the star of the show, but I couldn’t have been happier to see James so genuinely happy. It was the best Christmas ever, surrounded by my favorite people and a dog who, I had a feeling, would be just as much of a character in our lives as any of us.

[catrionaalexandra]

Chapter 5 — The Longest Night

Resident Evil: Sable Dawn

“Not every battle is about victory. Some are about making it through, and some farewells take everything you’ve got left.”

Swiss Alps – 12 Hours Later

The snowcat’s engine hummed through the quiet, barren stretch of the Alps as the wind battered the dense pine clusters, while the fading sky burned a strange, unsettling orange.

Just beyond the next ridge stood the forgotten NATO facility, once abandoned but now run by Margot.

Leon remained silent as he drove, his focus solely on the slippery ice trail ahead.

Y/n sat beside him, adjusting her gloves and keeping her expression unreadable. Their objective was clear: infiltrate the lab, shut down hybrid production, and if necessary, eliminate Margot Cross.

However, clarity didn’t make it any easier.

“It’s cold up here,” Leon said, his voice a low-controlled whisper, trying to ease the quiet.

Y/n offered a small smile, “Gets colder the closer we get.”

Leon flicked his gaze towards the h/c haired woman before looking back in front of him, “Like Siberia…”

“Not quite,” she said, her gaze drifting to the window. “Siberia was survival. This is… grief waiting to happen.”

Leon looked at her again, but said nothing.

He could still hear her screams echoing through the stairwell in Geneva after Margot disappeared. Y/n never cried; instead, she stared and screamed as if her entire past had unraveled before her eyes.

Flashback – London, 2000

Eight-year-old Y/n crouched inside a closet, her nose bleeding.

Outside, floral wallpaper slowly peeled and fell from the drywall, stained and discoloured. The voices were muffled by the floor below.

And then—

The door creaked open.

Twelve-year-old Margot stood there, scraped up and holding a crowbar, her eyes burning with a rage Y/n had never seen before.

“He touched you?” she uttered, her grip tightening around the carbon-steel.

Slowly, Y/n nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

Margot left without a word and kept the door ajar.

What followed was a sound Y/n would never forget: the cracking of metal against bone, their stepfather’s screams, and Margot’s screams echoing louder.

Later that night, they sprinted through rain-soaked streets, holding hands tightly.

“I’ll always protect you, Y/n,” Margot had promised, “Even if the world burns.”

Present – Alpine Drop Point

The snowcat halted near the B.S.A.A. drone drop. Y/n opened the crate, revealing a variety of weapons: incendiaries, EMPs, and adrenaline shots.

Leon checked his ammo, but his stare kept wandering back to her. “Are you okay?” he finally asked.

“No,” she replied, meeting his eyes. “I’m ready.”

He paused, a stiffness spreading through his chest, “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I’m not,” she mumbled, “You’re here.”

That hit him somewhere deep.

Without much thought, he reached up and brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “I’ve seen people lose everything, and seen what it does, but you… you never fold.”

She leaned into his hand, just a little, “I learned from the best.”

He should’ve kissed her. God, he wanted to, but the mission loomed large.

And the dead don’t wait.

—

As they neared the hidden NATO base, night cloaked the mountain. Drones circled above, their turrets tracking movement from the cliffs.

“EMP first.”

Leon tossed the charge, and the turrets went dark.

They slipped through a crumbled hangar shaft, the corridors bathed in flickering lights and infested with something alive—organic and pulsing.

The virus had claimed the facility, it was a part of her now.

“Jesus,” Leon spoke, “She turned this whole place into herself.”

“She always needed to have control,” Y/n replied, “Now she has it.”

A rusted monitor flared to life ahead,

Welcome Home, Ivy. –M.

Flashback – Two Weeks Before Montreux

Margot paced in front of the containment unit, her arms crossed, “They won’t understand, Ivy. The B.S.A.A. only sees threats, but what if we could control the virus and use it to heal?”

Y/n stepped back, her heart pounding in her ears, “You’re playing god.”

“I’m trying to end the suffering we’ve both lived through.” Margot’s eyes darkened, “I can’t protect you if I’m weak.”

Y/n’s last words before walking out still echoed, “I don’t need a god, Margi. I need my sister.”

Present

The core chamber whizzed open, revealing Margot standing at its centre—transformed. Her beauty remained, yet she was monstrous. A hybrid of human and virus, her skin shimmered like obsidian glass, and her eyes held a mix of pain and brilliance.

“Ivy,” she said, and her voice—somehow—was still hers.

Y/n stepped forward, “You called me.”

“I needed you to see,” Margot said, “I became this to never be helpless again, to protect you, to protect them all.”

“This isn’t protection,” Y/n said quietly, avoiding her sister’s look, “It’s control.”

“I did it for you,” Margot said.

Leon raised his gun, “You tested on civilians, released hybrids on city streets.”

Margot turned to him, “Still following the rules, Leon? Still trying to fix the unfixable?”

“Not anymore,” he said. “I fight for people now.”

“For her,” Margot said, eyes back on Y/n. “You love him.”

Y/n didn’t answer, she didn’t have to.

Tears welled in her e/c eyes as she raised her own weapon, “I loved you more.”

The chamber erupted in light, and the virus shrieked in response.

Margot attacked, but Y/n didn’t flinch.

Their battle was savage—gunfire, broken glass, screams of pain and grief.

Machines crumbled around them.

Then, Y/n shot a single bullet straight through Margot’s heart, causing the virus to disintegrate like ash.

The stronghold began to fall, and Y/n dropped to her knees, catching Margot’s frail body as it collapsed.

She was human again, but she was dying. Her eyes were distant, but they were soft,“I never meant to hurt you,” Margot choked.

“I know,” Y/n murmured, holding Margot close, “You never did.”

Margot gripped her hand one last time, “I just… wanted to protect you…”

“You did,” Y/n cried softly, “You always did.”

Margot Cross took her last breath, and was gone.

Y/n held her sister, who once saved her from monsters, long after she became one herself.

Leon knelt beside her, offering no words but wrapping his arms around her and holding her through her sadness.

<- Previous Next ->

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Aug 11th

~*~

1. Hi guys! This will probably I think goes in the fic finder.

So all I remember is wangxian had gotten together, it was post cannon I think? And they go on a hunt together along with Jiang Cheng or maybe they meet Jiang cheng on the way but either ways, things go wrong and the demon slashes wwx's neck and somehow they all fall down a cliff where lwj and jc try to keep wwx alive.

Thank you!

FOUND? The Warmest Hands by AvoOwO (M, 46k, wangxian, JC & WWX, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character injury, hurt WWX, blood & gore, heavy angst w/ happy ending, blindness, PTSD, alcoholism, fights, JC & WWX reconciliation, non-sexual intimacy, tenderness, WIP)

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2. Hi! I hope you are doing well. Please help me find this fic. Wwx erased himself and travel back in time. Wwx saw his parent and they have a little bit conversation, such why the couple never had a child or something. I remember there is a scene where wwx ask ‘how do you know I’m your son?’ then I think csr said ‘I always recognized my husband face everywhere’.

Please help me. Thank you!!!

FOUND? This unrolled threadfic by cerbykerby (WIP)

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3. For a fic finder:

It was during an AU version of the sunshot campaign where people thought that WWX and YLLZ were separate people and LWJ had fallen for both. LWJ decides to gently let down YLLZ but realizes that the two are the same person because he played/recognized wangxian. Thank you for all the help you provide

Number three on the current finder “The Scarlet Lotus” is wrong, the fic im looking for was a one shot. Thank you for the suggestion, may read the suggested fic later to try it out

NOT FOUND The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

FOUND! Found the fic, it’s Lan Wangji and the Love(s) of his Life by baobeibaobae (T, 4k, WangXian, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Kissing, First Kiss, Marriage Proposal, Love Confessions, Happy Ending, Oblivious WWX, Flirty WWX, Jealous LWJ, Courting Rituals, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, JC is a Good Bro). Thank you anyway and have a nice day

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4. Hello! I'm trying to find this fic where WWX was transported into the body of a female Mo Xuanyu and promptly feels dysphoric about it. When LWJ finds him and takes him back to the Cloud Recesses, he helps WWX feel more comfortable and even allows him to change Mo Xuanyu's name into something else. Somewhere by the end of the fic, it's revealed that the reason why LWJ knows so much about "gender cultivation" is because he himself is trans and found ways to help himself transition.

I can't find it anywhere and I don't wanna lose hope in case it's deleted. Thank you for your help!

FOUND! In Reflection, Truth by Shadaras (T, 55k, WangXian, WWX is summoned into a woman's body, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Gore, this is a story about being transgender, Dysphoria, Misogynistic Slurs, Ableist Language, it's not slow burn if it's going to be faster than canon, Trans Male Character, Trans wish fulfillment, Canon Divergence - Yunmeng Brothers Have A Real Conversation)

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5. Hii hope you're having a good day!! I was wondering if you could find a fic where wei ying gets his original body back, completely unrecognisable, and decides to stroll around gusu in lan zhans clothing. People see lan zhan and wei ying together and assume that wei ying is a new consort. They later go together to a conference meeting where everyone gets mad because they think lan zhan is cheating

FOUND? Is Your Old Body Considered a Halloween Costume? by The_peregrine_falcon (G, 3k, WangXian, WWX's original body, Junior quartet makes an appearance, LQR's blood pressure is going up, LWJ is chief cultivator, Fluff, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon)

FOUND? How Odd by bedheadrat (M, 35k, WIP, WangXian, Case Fic, Fluff and Smut, BAMF WWX, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Rich LWJ, Genius WWX, Separation Anxiety, Demonic Cultivation, Evil Plans, Touch-Starved, lwj’s white robes kink, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Seduction, Misunderstandings, Not Cheating, Threats, Vandalism, Stealing, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon)

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6. Hello! I sent in this ff a couple months ago with no luck. Hoping to try again to find it! The fic was set during the Cloud Recesses Lectures era and WWX was cursed to lie. Everyone else mistakenly thought he was cursed to only tell the truth, so when he says things like “I hate you” they believe it. WWX gets really depressed that everyone believes that he doesn’t care about them. The curse is eventually broken when LWJ realizes it is a lie curse not a truth curse. If this sounds familiar at all please let me know!

FOUND! A Kiss of True Love to break a Curse by Wangxian101 (T, 5k, WangXian, Teenage Wangxian, Not Canon Compliant, kiss of true love, curse of lies, truth curse, Angst, Fluff, When the only way to break the curse is to kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Teen Angst, They are in love your honour, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, there is only one brain cell in this group and it belongs to JC, LXC is the biggest wangxian shipper, jc is a good bro, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Gremlin WWX, Happily Every After, LXC will gut anyone who hurts his precious little brother, True Love’s Kiss, JC is an awkward bean, LWJ POV, WWX POV, WWX is a closet romantic, WWX loves his romance novels, Protective JC, JC loves his gremlin brother, Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, it all works out in the end)

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7. About 4-5 years ago I read a fic where WW awoke as a god of luck/fortune/fate after the siege. He ends up saving a-qing and she ends up following him after "fixing" XXC's soul, as well as XY's soul being stuck in a sword. God!WWX also ended up saving MXY too. The fic is also very long. the first couple of chapters are average length, but the last few are between 30-70k each. @annacakes2

FOUND? despite it all by novalotypo (T, 292k, wangxian, canon divergence, god of luck WWX, memory loss, non-linear narrative, WIP)

FOUND? Wuqian, the Local God of Yiling by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (M, 80k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character death, canon divergence, angst w/ happy ending, god WWX, Chinese mythology & folklore, pining, temporary character death, WIP)

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8. looking for a fic where jin zixuan is a demonic cultivator? it's an au or canon divergence fic where it was him who got the sword in xuanwu. appreciate all the help you give us <3

FOUND! no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence) most likely not this one, as JZX doesn't go full modao (or even guidao) in it, but he does certainly pick up the sword and is influenced by it; just in case this IS the right one, tho, JZX's bit comes up in chapter 3

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9. Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much because i read that around 3 years ago. I hope this is not a mix between wo fic. I think its an arranged marriage story between Wangxian. Every month WWX leaves CRRS to visit the wen without anyone knowing but LWJ (i think he noticed) because LWJ make some arrangement that allows WWX leaves anytime he likes. 1 month and WWX still come back. Just like the following months until LWJ noticed WWX is not coming back. I think before that the two of them has a fight (? Not sure about this). LWJ search for WWX and found him. Instead of make his presence known, LWJ follows WWX in secret. WWX noticed of course and ignore LWJ. A few days like that and WWX relenta and calls LWJ to follow him without hiding. Thats all i can remember. I dont know if its an ao3 fic or thread fic. Thank you @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

9 is right. For the first half is right (wwx leave every few months) but not the second half (LWJ followed wwx while hiding). I think i mixed two different fic. But the "Light of Stars (and the Destroyer)" Is the one i meant. Thanks

FOUND! 🔒 Light of Stars (and the Destroyer) by Sanguis (T, 22k, WangXian, Legends, Arranged Marriage, Pining, Pining for your spouse, Adoption, Canon Divergence, Married Couple)

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10. hello! i was hoping you can help me find this fic where jiang cheng finds wwx’s journal in the burial mounds and he ends up experiencing(?) the events there. i read it ages ago and can’t find it. thank you!

FOUND? Waiting On You by SmellsLikeDeanSpirit (M, 26k, JC & WWX, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depicitions of Violence, Major Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Memories, Time Travel, Sort Of, the characters watching the show trope but different, WWX has magical diaries that force the reader to experience his memories, JC finds them and reads them, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Bad Parent YZY, YZY Bashing, Canonical Character Death, he comes back tho, JC regrets, JC Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Hug)

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11. Thank you for all the work you do!! I've been driving myself crazy trying to find this fic. All I remember is one scene. At the Jin banquet, Jiang Cheng allows (sends?) WWX to dual Jin What's His Face. WWX obviously trounces him, but nearly has a flashback, prompting JC to pull him back when he realizes that maybe sending his traumatized brother into that situation wasn't the best plan.

It was either a canon diversion or a JC goes back in time fic, but I can't remember which. It was relatively long and it isn't recent.

Ring any bells for anyone? Thanks!! @kirk-spock-in-the-impala

FOUND? Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It) JC went back in time and he realized his mistake about the skirmish like right after it happened. The part that they are looking for is in chapter 2.

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12. Hiii thank you so much for the hardwork you do and I enjoy the fics here. I haven't seen this in fic finder yet. I remember lwj leaving gusu for yiling he brought his own money and it was used to buy food and stuff I think. By the end they sell at the market with kids styling lwj hair and gusu saw this the elders was mad mad with the vanity. Lxc asked for bunnies cause the ones in gusu dissapeared(. Thank so much be well.I wrote this today and there was error if there is two pls ignore 🙏) @ladyxyraine

FOUND? 🔒 Share Your Silence series by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (E, 138k, WangXian, Romance, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, LWJ Has Feelings, Protective LWJ, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, WangXian in Love, YLLZ WWX, Lan Clan Elders are Assholes, Minor Transgender Character, Qiongqi Path Divergence, LWJ loves his bunnies, Explicit Sexual Content, Burial Mounds, OCs, Drama, NMJ Qi Deviation, Awesome WQ, The Wen Twins, Wen JunZhu | MinYue (OMC), Wen YanJeng | MinYi (OMC), Fluff and Humor, WWX Has Feelings, Lotus Pier, mention of non-con roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, NMJ Needs a Hug, Nie clan sabers, baxia, Unclean Realm, Protective NHS)

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13. Hi im looking for a specific fic. The fic was on ao3 and was a modern au where Wei Ying realizes he might be a bit gay and kisses lan zhan but then freaks out, and they get a bit awkward. He then goes on to forums to see what others might think of his situation, he tries watching gay porn etc. and finds that he's dreaming of lan zhan. He ends up being jumped by homophobes goes on a drinking binge for the next few days as a result and hears that lan zhan has been staying in his room and hasn't been doing well, wei ying thinks it's because he kissed him but later finds out he sent lan zhan a homophobic message when drunk. Any help would be appreciated!!! @livesformitski

FOUND? it's always open by ScarlettStorm (E, 60k, WangXian, Modern, vague north american setting, First Time, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Some angst, Happy Ending, not straight boy WWX but not NOT straight boy WWX, not practice kissing but not NOT practice kissing, that feeling when you know you're making bad decisions but keep making them anyway, LWJ FUCKS, Sexual exploration, demi WWX, not that he knows that yet, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, confused but enthusiastic consent, WWX's not sure about all his options but he's got the spirit, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, truly absurd amounts of naked pillow talk, switch rights)

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14. Hi!! Thank you for all you do 🫶

I’m looking for a fic that was on ao3. It was one where I think WWX was brothers with Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe and I believe he was a god or something of higher power and as a trial he was born as the WWX we knew and he went through everything he did in canon. When he died he ended up back with Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe but LWJ couldn’t move on and he tried to find him there?

Thank you for your help!! @bigmeatycl0ws

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15. Hi! Kindly help me finding this fic. Wwx teaches the lan juniors to solve arrays. He makes it diffucult to solve so that he can have time with his husband. I think I remember they was a scene where JL ask the Lans how they can easily solves the arrays and then got jealous when he learn it was wwx who taught them.

FOUND? 🔒 A More Practical Approach by Elhana (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, Teacher WWX, Humour, POV Multiple, Implied Sexual Content, when you just want to get frisky with your hot husband but your in-laws crave their peace and quiet, huge conflict of interest right there, WWX is resourceful, wuxia magic shenanigans, Post-Canon)

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16. Hey, this is for the fic finder!

I'm trying to look for this specific Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue fic where NMJ gets reincarnated as NHS' cousin's son and promptly falls in love with LXC all over again. I can't remember the title and I've been trying to look for it so I can reread it ;w; I think Age Difference was tagged and there's scenes where LXC tries to dissuade NMJ from getting together but in the end they get married and NMJ recovers his memories from his past life.

Thank you in advance ;w;

FOUND? Song of us by Ziane (E, 142k, LXC/NMJ, JC/NHS, Post-Canon Fix-It, Explicit Sexual Content, Reincarnation, Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Soulmates References, Pining, Canon-Typical Gore, Novel Spoilers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Implied LSZ/LJY, Porn with Feelings)

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17. Hi!! I’m back with another request!

It was an ao3 fic where WWX had left the cultivation world behind because he/she (there was a male and female version I believe) was pregnant with A-Yuan and Jingyi and he/she wanted to give them a better life. LWJ does find them eventually (he’s the father) and he gets to meet the kids. They end up staying together and raising the kids there after LWJ fakes his death @bigmeatycl0ws

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18. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where LWJ and WWX have a sex and a love confession during the sunshot campaign. LWJ visits WWX during one night and asks to let him help WWX with his health after using demonic cultivation. WWX , in a fit of rage and a desperate act to drive away LWJ, behaves crudely and proposition him.... I think the name of the fic was "fool for you"? I'm not sure.

Thanks in advance! @grrumpywoof

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19. Hey! Thank you so much for your hardwork 😊😊

Im searching for a fanfic which is completed

Yu ziyuan is present in the sunshot campaign and wwx invents turtle shields. Yzy tries to show wwx as a traitor but fails.

Can you please help me in finding this fic?

FOUND? Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

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20. Hello! Could you help me find a fic where pre sunshot campaign ends up in a room to watch the future and 4 juniors from the future join them. The main pairings I remember are Wangxian where Sizhui is there biological child. XiCheng Jingyi is their biological child and of course XuanLi with Jin Ling. No one believes them until they pull their parents swords from their sheaths and explain because Wangxian and XiCheng have high cultivation Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng got pregnant. @megdbrew

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[lisenberry]

Over the hills and far away

E/7.2k

Arranged Marriage/Mail Order Bride Western AU

Haladriel Valentine's Week💕

(CW for gun violence and some gore.)

February 1872

Galadriel from New York City writes: “I am a young woman, of great intelligence and refinement, with no fortune save my good looks and warm heart. Any gentleman who could appreciate these few qualities will find me an affectionate and docile wife.” See the editor for inquiries.

It had all been meticulously arranged via extensively detailed correspondence. Upon receipt of his funds for the agreed upon amount, Galadriel Noldor promptly bid goodbye to what was left of her family and began the long, arduous journey to California.

To meet her new husband.

However, when she arrived at the camp, after two weeks of travel by coach, then train, and then coach again, she was met with a most unwelcome sight.

Mud, as far as she could see. The landscape was harshened even further by tall, wiry pines and stark, rocky cliffs. She’d heard California was full of sunshine and gold. And all she wanted was to be warm and dry, and clean again, but it seemed fate had other plans. For there was only cold and damp to greet her.

From the first step out of the coach, she nearly sank to her knees in filth. Her finest dress, that she saved for the day of her arrival, now bore the stain of three inches worth of dirt. Clouds darkened ominously overhead, threatening to rain down another torrent.

Surely, her bridegroom did not expect her to arrive pristine, but it stung all the same. She wanted to be perfect. To make a good impression. He confessed to having read Richard III and Dante’s Inferno. He studied at one of the finest universities in the country and spoke of bringing enlightenment to the great Wild West.

Galadriel had envisioned they’d be throwing grand dinner parties and hosting businessmen and politicians who traveled on their way to the neighboring San Francisco.

There’d been almost 200 responses to her advertisement in the paper. She’d been most scrupulous in her dissection of each. Many wrote of superficial things, like acreage and good breeding.

Her Halbrand spoke of connection. He quoted poetry and claimed to be in a position of high esteem among the settlers at the bustling fort of Ostirith. He desired a companion by his side. Someone to share in his love and his good fortune.

And of course, he’d offered the most in funds. His check cashed for half of the agreed upon amount without issue with the backing of the prestigious Wells Fargo Stagecoach Line, and her poor mother was to be well taken care of in her grief. The second half of the money would be wired back east after the marriage certificate was signed.

Galadriel had dutifully done her part.

But in person, without the trappings and promises of her suitor’s beautifully written words, her ankles nearly shook in her boots. Perhaps she had made a grave mistake.

Ostirith wasn’t an established city, as she’d been made to believe, but a simple mining camp. There were no buildings or avenues of commerce. Just a hastily assembled collection of meager tents, a shabby mercantile and a saloon. It stood half-charred like it had been licked by the flames of hell itself.

“Sir, could you please direct me to the clerk’s office?” Galadriel asked of a man who hobbled past with a slight limp.

“Clerk’s office?” He looked at her as if she was speaking in tongues.

“Yes, is this not Ostirith?” Her letters had been addressed there. It was a known stop on the coach line. Surely it existed and she wasn’t deposited in the wrong location.

“We call this place Mordor, miss. You’d best be on your way.”

“No, I’m looking for the esteemed Mr. Halbrand? Perhaps he’s the law around these parts? The mayor or the sheriff?”

He turned to her then, revealing a grizzled and pocked face behind his stringy grey hair, and only cackled toothlessly at her distress.

“Ain’t no law around here.”

As if to prove his point, the door to the nearby saloon swung off its hinges, and a pair of bodies splashed forth into the soggy street. A blur of fists and blood landing mere steps away from where she stood.

“Don’t you know who I am?” One of the men had the other by the front of his shirt, and was pummeling a fist into the side of his head with a sickening crack. “Think you can steal from me!”

He was poised to deal a final blow until he looked up, straight to Galadriel. Hand raised mid-strike.

“You,” she thought she heard him whisper, his brows drawn in confusion. Or perhaps guilt.

The moment didn’t last long enough to be sure, as the man beneath him sprang to steal the advantage with an elbow to his face. It knocked him back enough for the other to break free and run towards her direction.

“Help me! Please!” he begged, just before a shot rang out and a mist of crimson spattered across her face and chest. The bullet exited the man’s skull and landed somewhere behind her. His features contorted in horror as he passed from life to death.

Shocked, she could only blink as he hit the ground with a thud.

“Welcome to Mordor,” said the one who’d done the shooting, as he replaced his pistol in his holster, and his hat on his head. Tipping it in her direction politely, he added, “Wife.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[destiis-wayfarers]

My main exchange piece for the @wayfarer-exchange! This piece is for @oncemoretoseayou, for their lovely Wayfarer, Levy Marcellis. I really enjoyed getting to know them and reading all the tidbits you've dropped about them over on the Discord server. I hope I did them justice!!

The whole piece is below the cut, but you can also read it here on AO3.

Summary: With Rona's climate, getting sick was inevitable. Levy is stuck in bed, bored and overthinking, until Aeran returns to their luxurious apartment for a delicious meal. Rating: General Characters: Aeran Kellis, Levy Marcellis, Rindan Cenric, other OCs Tags: Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Family, Found Family, Secret Crush, Nightmares, Comfort Food, Pining, Love, Romantic Friendship, Trauma, Childhood Trauma Words: 4,221

Of Gossamer and Steel

Levy held their breath as they peered through the crack between the ornate door and the hallway wall. Hunkered down to make themselves as small as possible, they tilted their head to the right to get a better view. Their mother was sitting at one end of the long dining table, a delicate glass of wine in her hand as she listened to the stranger sedately. Their father stood beside her, listening with his hands folded behind his back. His face had a distant look. Something about the tension in his body, about the way his jaw was set, made Levy's heart race in fear. 

What's happening? Levy knows what's happening; they just don't want to admit it. Maybe, this time, it'll be different.

"The apprenticeship lasts for around eight to ten years, depending on the child and their aptitude," the stranger said. Levy twisted their head, shifting their weight and wincing at every tiny scuffle of feet that might reveal their snooping. The stranger was a dwarf, sitting at the opposite end of the table as though their parents wanted to keep him as far away from them as possible. He gestured as he spoke, going into detail about the mysterious apprenticeship they were discussing. Training regimes, lessons, even lodgings and travel. 

Levy can't remember the words, but they know what they're saying all the same. 

Their mother listened impassively, sipping on her wine now and then, giving a slight raise of an eyebrow in that disdainful way she did when she saw something she didn't approve of. 

Levy crouched there, breathing shallowly, heart pounding as they struggled to fit the puzzle pieces together. It wasn't until they started discussing a price that everything became as clear as a bell ringing in their ears.

It was happening again. Again and again and again.

"So, you'll take them?" their mother asked.

"And... It'll be a good life for them?" their father added, which was met with a little tut of disapproval from their mother.

"Becoming a Wayfarer is one of the best options for Levy," the stranger said in their deep, gruff voice. Levy's heart skipped a beat, and their stomach flipped sickenly at the mention of their name. They'd been talking about them this whole time... All that about travelling, about training, about being far away from their family? Levy wanted to move, wanted to run away so their parents couldn't find them and they wouldn't have to go. But their legs suddenly felt like rocks, the weight dragging them over the edge of a cliff. The ground had fallen out from under them, they were plummeting and the dark waters were going to swallow them up.

'Please stop it,' Levy pleads with themself, 'don't let them do it again!'

"How much?" their mother asked, and Levy wanted to sob.

"I can give you 100 crowns," the stranger said.

"Ha!" their mother's voice cracked, smarting as surely as a slap to the face. "You said yourself that magiani are rare. You think I'd let them go for so little? I won't accept any less than 500 crowns."

The adults were haggling for Levy like they weren't even a person, like they were a particularly choice cut of meat at the market. Levy wanted to throw up. The threads that wove between them and their parents were thin at best, fragile as gossamer, tested and strained over the years. They knew that their mother never liked them, regarded them as a failure. 

But their father... Their father was just going to stand there and say nothing as their mother sent them away for a few crowns? The betrayal was too much. It manifested as a stabbing pain in their chest that burned through their little body and became an all-consuming self-righteousness. Even as the stranger gave their counter-offer, Levy surged up, bursting through the door with balled fists.

"What are you doing ?" They yelled, their body quaking. All heads turned to them, a mixture of emotions cast toward them like stones. Their mother stood, glass abandoned as they crossed the space between the table and Levy. She towered over everyone in the room, her melusine height as catastrophic as a headsman's blade swinging down upon them.

Her face was like a summer storm, beauty twisted into vitriol as she looked down at Levy. Their father followed close on her heels, panicked, mouth agape, swallowed up by her shadow. Even the stranger stood, barely taller than Levy, glancing between the others in the room.

"Levy..." their father said gently, voice full of sadness. 

"Daddy...?" Levy replied pitifully, pleading with him for the last time. He didn't reply, just closed his eyes and turned away, head bowed and brow furrowed. Somehow, that hurt more than anything else. Levy could feel tears burning at the corners of their eyes, but they forced them back. They refused to cry; they wouldn't show weakness, not now.

"Levy Marcellis," their mother said, taking a step to the left to block their father from their view, "go to you—"

" No! " Levy screamed, surprised by their courage. They'd never been so bold before, but what was the point of holding back now? "You're sending me away? Why ? What did I do ? Do you hate me that much?"

There's no changing it. It's done now. Levy can't go back.

"You will not raise your voice to me!" their mother shrieked, her lips curling into a grimace that revealed her fangs. Her long, cerise twists bounced about her face as she tossed her head. Her hands were turning into fists, balling up in her skirts. She bore down on them, looming over them like some undefeatable monster ready to swallow them whole. Levy stood in her path, but they weren't sure if it was fear or rage that made their hands shake and shivers tingle across their skin. 

"Why not?" Levy demanded, "you're getting rid of me anyway!" they screamed, every ounce of resentment and pain that had built up over the years bubbling to the surface.

"Because I am your mother! " she shouted back, eyes blazing, almost snarling as she bared her fangs at them. Levy bared theirs right back as the delicate threads connecting them to their family finally snapped, falling in tatters around them.

"No, you're not! You never were!"

***

Levy blinked open their eyes, breathing heavily as the ghost of the nightmare raked its clawed fingers across the back of their mind. They pulled the covers over their head, cocooning themselves in rough fabric and blocking out the late-afternoon sun that glinted through the open window. Their entire body ached, and they were shivering violently despite the way the sheet stuck to their sweat-damp skin. This sickness was exhausting.

Levy turned onto their side, restless and uncomfortable. They normally relished extra hours in bed and would love the chance to laze until the afternoon. But memories swirled in their mind and threatened tears that Levy had thought were long since dried. How often had they experienced the same dream since leaving their birthhome? Too often. But they hadn't really thought about their family in years, having watched them float away like flotsam on the ocean. The Order had become their home, the Wayfarers their family. Now, that was all gone too, washed away in the rain that was the shitstorm of their life. Still, they had Aeran now... The one solid foundation through everything. The one thing that pulled them out of the hole they'd crawled into after The Spire. 

They owed him everything.

Knowing Aeran was out there, working to keep them both fed and a roof over their head in this god's forsaken backwater whilst Levy was lying here useless... It left an ache in their gut like they'd swallowed a sharp stone. Still, he'd made it clear that he was happy to shoulder the burden while they were sick. He'd been insistent that Levy rest, even when Levy tried to protest that they could still work. Levy smiled in their little bedsheet cocoon, fingers inching out to twirl in the fabric idly. Despite everything, despite the grief and pain that Levy still carried, they couldn't help but feel a tiny mote of warmth in their chest whenever they thought of him.

With the dream finally fading from thought, Levy threw the blanket back, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the wan sunlight. They shuffled back, pushing themselves up on shaky arms until their back hit the wall. The room they were renting was sparse. Rona's finest, of course. Levy smiled ironically at the thought, shaking their head and immediately regretting it as the room spun around them. 

Two pallets served as beds and took up most of the room. Aeran's was pushed up against the wall, the bedding piled on top in a feeble attempt to keep out bugs. Against the far wall was their paltry collection of medicinal herbs and dried food, half of which had been decimated on the days they couldn't find work. Above that, there was a small window with thick, wooden shutters, which were half-open at the moment to let in whatever passed for a breeze in this place. 

Levy usually relished heat — a result of their Coverern blood — but Rona's sticky humidity and incessant rain were starting to lose their novelty. All in all, this place was thoroughly miserable. Still, Levy had been stuck in worse locations before. And being here with Aeran made it all a bit more tolerable. 

Levy stretched out one of their long limbs, reaching for their pack and dragging it toward themselves. With nothing better to do, they could at least keep themselves entertained until Aeran got back. Levy rummaged in their bag, fingertips brushing up against various shapes as they hunted for their journal and a pencil that was rapidly becoming a stub. 

Pulling the items from their pack, they settled their aching back against the wall once again, drawing their knees up toward their chest to become a makeshift table. They ran their hands over the smooth leather of the cover, fingertips catching the rough edges where the item was showing wear and tear from bouncing around in their bag for months.

They were only just getting back into journaling. Before... They would write often and fill little journals with drawings and notes. But they were gone now, and Levy's desire to write had died with them. But the last two years had changed things. They'd decided to get a new journal some time ago, and they were steadily filling it in, documenting their travels and experiences with Aeran. They flicked through the pages, reading their past thoughts with an idle interest, taking more joy in looking at the drawings of creatures they'd encountered or slain, of people they'd met. Aeran's face featured here more often than they'd like to admit... Gods, that was kind of embarrassing. 

They hadn't written much since they'd arrived in Rona. They'd spent most of their days hustling for a few crowns just to eat in this place, no time for sitting still and thinking. Well, now was a better time than any. Picking up their pencil, they bent their throbbing head forward to start a new drawing. Slowly, a gruff-looking dwarf took form in the upper corner of the page, accompanied by some notes on the mannerisms of their grumpy landlord. He was always badgering them to pay their rent, using his dog as a threat if he had to. Levy sketched out Worm too, bigger than Oleander just because they liked his three-headed pup far more than the dwarf. 

They stayed that way for a while, sketching and writing about the last few weeks, adding as much detail as they could remember but trying to keep it contained on as few pages as possible. They weren't sure how much time had passed by the time they were done, but when they surfaced and blinked out at the room, they suddenly realised how dark it had gotten. Dark and cold.

Levy shivered as they shoved their journal back into their bag and fumbled around in there for something to light the single lantern hanging from a hook on the wall. They kept the blanket wrapped around their shoulders as they stood on shaky legs, their entire body protesting at the movement. A wave of dizziness rushed through them, and they had to stand still until it passed, hand braced against the wall to stop themselves from collapsing. 

With a small sigh, they readjusted the sheet and deftly struck their flint until a flame caught in the lantern and the room was bathed in a warm glow, thin as it was. Then, they shuffled over to the window where a misty rain was blanketing Rona. It drowned out the sunshine from earlier, steel grey clouds covering the sky and turning everything in sight into a muddy brown or grey-green. 

This was the usual for Rona, though. Its citizens carried on their business in the streets below, passing between collapsing buildings on rotting walkways like this was a perfectly acceptable way to live. Levy usually loved light, warm rain in the middle of summer. But, gods, not here. Here, every kind of weather just seemed to highlight a different flaw. 

As Levy stretched to close the shutters, they heard hurried footsteps on the walkway outside their door and, for a terrible second, they wanted to dive across the room for Lifeblood, their sword, which was lying on the ground next to the pallet. But no sooner than they began to move did the door open, Aeran shouldering his way into the room, a bundle covered by his cloak in his arms and rainwater dripping from his hair.

Levy stopped in the middle of the room, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as the anxiety in their chest slowly eased. Was it the dream that had gotten them so on edge? Their sick-fog mind? Or maybe it was just this place? 

No... Nothing had really been the same since The Spire...

"Vye?" Aeran asked, concern obvious in his tone as he stood in the doorway, watching them, "what are you doing up?"

"Oh, you know, just waiting around to make you worried," Levy replied with a small shrug, throwing Aeran a forced smile as they clambered back onto their pallet. Aeran rolled his eyes and smiled back good-naturedly.

"Feeling any better?" he asked as he turned away to hook a foot behind the door. Levy appreciated that he didn't press the matter any further. They really didn't feel like talking about the Spire right now. And they knew Aeran sure didn't want to either. He'd been tight-lipped about it ever since they'd found each other again. But Levy didn't want to pry; some things were just too painful. 

"If I die, promise not to bury me in the swamp?" Levy shot back, pulling the blanket tight around their shoulders and wiggling on the pallet to try to find any form of small comfort.

"It'd be rude to ignore the local customs, Vye," Aeran replied as he shoved the door closed with his foot and began to make his way across the room. He carefully settled the bundle down on the floor before pulling off his pack and bow.

"What have you got there?" Levy asked, changing the subject from death and decay to something, hopefully, a little lighter. Levy crossed their legs, pulling them back obligingly to make space for Aeran as he sat down on the end of Levy's pallet. 

This close proximity was normal. They'd slept practically back-to-back in rooms smaller than this over the last two years. And, yet, Levy's heart fluttered as Aeran shuffled toward them and closed the space until their knees were almost touching.

"Brought you something to eat," Aeran said simply, seemingly unfazed, as he pulled the cloak away and folded it up neatly, laying it on the dusty floor.

"Oh wow, how did you know I like my soup extra watery?" Levy asked sarcastically, eyeing the two wooden bowls Aeran had revealed. 

"It's the best soup in Rona, judging by the queue to get any," Aeran said, leaning forward to pick up one of the bowls and press it into Levy's hands. Honestly, they could barely stomach the idea of eating right now, but Aeran had obviously waited in the rain for a while. The line for the soup kitchen was always long, even though the slop they gave out barely passed for food. But it was all they could afford these days. And he'd walked all the way back here without a cloak just to keep the soup warm and rain-free. Not that there was much point, judging by how thin the broth was already.

"Thank you," Levy said, truly meaning it, lifting the soup to their mouth and taking a tentative sip. "Ah, my favourite: hint of nothing," they concluded. Honestly, a little rainwater might have added some actual flavour. 

"Bland is better than disgusting," Aeran replied mildly. Levy screwed up their nose, reminded of all the times they'd both choked down the most despicable meals just for the sake of having something in their stomachs. 

"I'll take the small wins," Levy said with a nod.

"Just wait," Aeran said, pulling a brown paper pouch tied with a string out of his pack and handing it over, "I got you a treat."

Levy frowned, putting the bowl down on the ground to take the bundle. A treat? What could possibly count as a treat in this place? Opening the pouch to peer inside, they saw many light brown strands, like fibres mixed together. Anyone might be forgiven for thinking it was some kind of herb or medicine, but Levy recognised it immediately.

They glanced up at Aeran who was smiling at them nervously now, on the edge of anticipation, waiting for their response. Surely, this wasn't what Levy thought it was, right? Levy bent their neck forward, drawing the item up to their nose and giving it a cursory sniff. Gods, it was .

"Dried squid?" Levy asked incredulously, "where did you find this? How did you even pay for it?" Levy had been craving squid for weeks now, missing the food of their homeland. But, whilst Rona was next to the ocean, they didn't actually have much in the way of cuisine. Plenty of fish, but well-seasoned squid was a rarity. And certainly not cheap either.

"You don't wanna know," Aeran said with a small grin, finally picking up his own bowl and taking a spoonful. Levy levelled him with a steady gaze, but Aeran didn't break, just smiled placidly at them. Levy shook their head, dropping a handful of the squid into their soup. If he wasn't going to talk, Levy wasn't going to push. They knew what kind of work was available around Rona, and almost none of it was pleasant. Something small and vulnerable deep in Levy's core grew warm and tight at the thought of Aeran working hard just to get them something nice to eat.

"Here," Levy said, offering the pouch back over to Aeran, "share with me?"

"Sure," Aeran said, holding his bowl out for a handful of the dried strips. Levy watched as the squid slowly soaked up the soup, rehydrating. They were half-concerned that they were wasting the snack, but once they took a tentative first bite, all their worries melted away. 

The squid was deliciously tender, the seasoning seeping into the rest of the soup and actually making it taste like something. Finally, some flavour. It was hot and comforting, soothing their raw throat and lending some much-needed heat to their core as it settled in their empty stomach. 

The two of them ate mostly in silence, both of them too tired to talk, but it was a companionable silence. They knew each other well enough that there was no need for words, no need to fill the air with pointless noise. Just being close to each other was enough.

Once they were done eating, Aeran set the bowls next to the door. No doubt they'd be taking them back to the soup kitchen tomorrow if they wanted to eat. Still, there was enough squid left over for at least one more delicious meal. Levy carefully folded up the paper pouch, making sure it was properly sealed with the string before putting it into their pack. They'd save it for a special day, or maybe a particularly bad day.

"Here," Aeran said, pulling a tiny jar from his pack and handing it to Levy. Levy took it with a soft frown. Was this another gift? 

"What is this?" Levy asked, holding the jar up toward the light of the lantern to peer through the dark glass. There was some kind of syrupy liquid inside, moving sluggishly as they turned the jar one way or the other.

"It's medicine," Aeran said casually, pulling his pallet down to set up his bed for the night, "Emari said it should help with the fever."

"Aeran..." Levy breathed through a suddenly tight throat, hot tears gathering at the corners of their eyes. They cuffed at their face whilst Aeran's back was still turned. 

"What?" Aeran asked as he finished laying out his bedding and plopped down onto the pallet. The room was so small that it butted up against Levy's and when Aeran stretched out, propped up on one elbow, he was less an a foot away from them.

"How many crowns did you spend on me today?"

"Don't worry about it, Levy," Aeran said, rolling onto his back and shuffling down under his blanket. How could they not worry about it? Every day here, they were fighting to get enough gold just to eat, just to pay rent. Every day, it seemed like getting out of this town was further and further away. But Aeran was willing to waste crowns on them? On medicine for a fever, on squid just to make them feel better? 

Aeran was never a man of many words, never great at expressing his emotions. But the way he was looking after them, the things he did to show he cared, it filled Levy with more love than they knew what to do with. 

"Vye," Aeran said into the silence that was stretching between them. He reached out a hand, laying it lightly on Levy's knee through the blanket. It was just a few seconds, just a moment of touch to get Levy's attention, but it made Levy's heart beat faster, and their palms suddenly became sweaty. 

"You're sick, it's okay. Just take the medicine and get some rest." Aeran insisted, his face serious as he looked up at them, sandy brown curls haloing his face. Levy wanted to grab that face and kiss it. But they wouldn't. They couldn't. Not now, not yet. Not til they were sure he felt the same way...

Levy forced a small smile, unstoppering the jar to take a tentative sip. The medicine was bitter and thick, coating the back of their throat. They took a deeper draught, hoping it would help them sleep soundly. Afterwards, they stoppered the bottle and set it down on top of their pack. Aeran closed his eyes then, shifting his head left and right on the pallet to get comfortable. 

Levy lay on their side under the blanket, watching Aeran quietly. He looked as exhausted as they felt, dark circles under his eyes and his breathing growing deeper already. He hadn't even bothered to remove his leather armour. He lay on his back, one bare arm under his neck, and the blanket pulled haphazardly over his chest. 

Levy couldn't help but smile as they looked at him. They felt guilty for all the work he'd been putting in whilst they lounged around but, despite that, there was something else smouldering in their chest. A kind of warmth that wasn't from the soup, or even Aeran's body heat in the small space.

It was gratitude and longing and joy all at once. It was an intense kind of happiness that made them want to grab Aeran by the hand and dance, even in this dingy little room. They wanted to experience everything with him at their side. All the good and bad of life. They knew that, with him, they could face anything.

Tentatively, Levy pushed a shaky hand out until their fingers brushed up against the side of Aeran's arm. The feeling of his smooth skin under their fingertips was almost paralysing, blood wooshing in their ears and a jolt of adrenaline rushing through their veins. Aeren hummed a small noise in the back of his throat, and Levy almost yanked their hand away in panic. But Aeran pulled his other arm out from under his head to lay his hand over Levy's, trapping it, wordlessly, between the warmth of his hand and arm. 

Levy breathed shakily, shivering from fever and exhilaration. This thing between them was unvoiced, unnamed. It was special, precious and delicate. But it was as strong as alassar steel, unbreakable. As they slowly fell asleep beside Aeran, Levy knew that, together, they were family. Not by blood, perhaps, but they were the kind of family that truly mattered: one bound by love.

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Mastelist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 14: Church

"Yes?" Bradley looks up at you to be sure. Afraid that maybe his ears are playing tricks on him.

"Yes, Bradley. I'll marry you." You assure him. He jumps up from the floor and kisses you. You lean forward and wrap your arms around him. You lose your balance, and both of you tumble to the title in a heap of giggles. Hyrda and Cerberus come to see what is going on, looking at the two of you more confused than anything.

"Wait! I haven't shown you the best part!" Bradley shoots up and darts back to your bedroom. He comes back moments later and reveals that he has already bought a matching band for your ring, and one for himself.

"You already bought bands? What if I had said no?" You ask him.

"I guess we'll never know." He replies with a smirk. "I know we can't have a real wedding, but I thought maybe we could go to Lookout Point, say some vows and exchange rings. If you wanted." He looks at you shyly.

"That would be nice, but, actually—I might have a better idea." You say to him. "What, Angel? I'm all ears." He tells you.

"I never thought I would get married, but even so, I always wanted a traditional wedding. In ancient Greece, weddings were a three day event, and technically, according to ancient customs, we are already married because we live together, but I'd like to have a semi-tradional ceremony. Could we do that?" You look at him sheepishly.

"Absolutely, just tell me what I need to do." Bradley smiles at you.

"Go put on something nice, and get the keys to my Cobra, and leave the rest to me." You tell Bradley. He nods his head and takes off to the bedroom.

Once he's dressed, you grab a scarf and blindfold him. His confused at first, but you assure him that it's in the name of tradition. He can't see you in your wedding attire beforehand. You sit him on the couch before returning to your closet. You go to the back and find the dark garment bag tucked away.

You unzip it and pull out a beautiful black lace dress with long, off the shoulder sleeves. You put it on along with sandals and simple makeup. You don't have a veil, so you find one of your driving scarves that match it the best. You tie it around your hair before going to the kitchen and grabbing a ceramic plate.

Once you have everything you need, you carefully lead Bradley, who is in a black suit with a crisp white shirt to your car.

He spends the entire drive, giddy, and talking to you about how happy he is and how excited he is that you're going to be his wife.

We you turn into Lookout Point, you're thankful that no one else is there. You quickly cast a cloaking charm so that it stays that way. Once you're parked, you help Bradley out of the car and walk with him towards the cliffs.

"Alright. We are here." You say to him. He unties the blind fold and his eyes light up when he sees you. A few tears spring forward, and his breath catches in his throat as he takes sight of you, his bride, his Angel.

"You look—wow." He tells you, unable to find the right words. "Thank you." You tell him with a teary smile.

"I know I told you that I wanted this to be as traditional as possible, and for that to happen, a high priest or priestess has to marry us, so I called in a favor." You tell him.

Moments later, Hecate and Minthe materialize before the two of you.

"Your Grace." Both of them curtsy to you. "Ladies." You acknowledge them warmly.

"My Lady, what a joyous day that it is. And I am honored that you called on me, but—but we are not at an alter of the Gods. Your marriage—it will—it will not be valid in their eyes." Hecate says with concern.

"I've spent too long caring what they think. I do not need them to tell me how to live my life. I love this man, and I intend to take him as a husband. Alter be damned." You tell Hecate. She smiles at you and nods her head.

She and Minthe both look to Bradley, who is beaming at you. "He is a fine man of pure heart." Minthe says. "Yes, yes he is." You affirm.

"Well, then, let us begin. Please join hands." Hecate says as you and Bradley turn to face each other.

Hecate recites marriage verses that have been used since ancient times. Bradley removes your makeshift veil from your hair. Symbolically saying that he takes you to be his forever. The two of you smash the plate you brought to ward off evil spirits and symbolize a new beginning.

Finally, Hecate turns to Minthe. She comes forward, holding a red box with gold stitching. Minthe carefully opens the box, revealing a small obsidian blade with a pearl handle neatly nestled in gold silk.

You could feel Bradley's hands tense in yours as Hecate took the object in her hand.

"Do you trust me?" You asked Bradley. He swallowed and nodded. "Good, give me your palm, and do what I do." You instructed him. Bradley nodded again and stretched out his left palm to face you.

You took the obsidian and made a small cut on his left wrist, not too deep, but enough that there would be a small scar. Drops of his scarlet blood rushed to the surface, and he winced slightly but didn't pull away from you.

You then dipped your fingers in the fresh blood and marked a crimson line from his forehead to the tip of his nose. "Your turn." You told him as you stretched your arm out to him.

Bradley took the blade from you and repeated the action.

Once he was done, you placed the cut he made on your wrist, directly over the one you made on him. "Now say what I say." You told him. He shook his head and before you spoke.

You looked him in the eye and held tightly to his arm before saying, "Eísai aíma apó to aíma mou, kókalo apó to kókkaló mou. Sou díno to sóma mou, na eímaste éna. Sou díno to pnévma mou méchri na teleiósei i zoí mas." Bradley, unsure of exactly what you said, still happily repeated the words after you.

Once you were finished, Hecate blessed your wedding bands before you and Bradley slipped them on. You had experienced many amazing things as a Goddess, but kissing Bradley—your husband, for the first time —was the most amazing of all.

"We are so happy for you, My Lady, and well, My Lord, now." Minthe said as you and Bradley broke apart.

"My Lord?" Bradley asked, highly confused.

"Yes!" You told him. "Minthe, did you bring the other thing I asked for?" You turned to her. "Of course." Minthe replied, producing an object covered with a black silk cloth.

"Perfect." You smiled. "Bradley, kneel." You told him. Still unsure what was happening, Bradley did as you asked and kneeled on the sand. You uncovered the object in Minthe's hands and smiled.

It was just as you imagined it, a crown, fit for a king, your king, your Bradley. It was forged from dark silver, moulded in a perfect circle with seven points around the diameter. Obsidian, rubies, and pearls adorned it, and sculpted into the silver were several beautiful poppies. You picked it up and turned toward Bradley.

"Bradley Alexander Bradshaw. Since I, Hades, Queen of the Underworld, and all its realms have taken you as a husband, and sealed our marriage with a blood oath, I can now bestow upon you a most prestigious honor. By the power of my hand, on this day, I crown you King of the Underworld and all its realms forevermore." You say to him before gingerly placing the crown atop his golden curls.

Bradley looks up at you and smiles. "You may rise, my King." You tell him as you help him to his feet. "Thank you, my Queen." He replies as he leans down to kiss you.

"Well, Your Graces, as much as we would love to say, we must return to the Underworld." Hecate says after a few moments. "I understand. Take these with you. We don't need them right now." You say to her as you had her the crown from your head and Bradley's. "Of course, we will keep them safe until the two of you can join us and wear them on your thrones." Hecate says as she accepts them. Then, just as quickly as Hecate and Minthe appeared, they vanished.

"So I'm King of the Underworld now?" Bradley chuckles. "Yes, but only a consort. I'm the regent. I make the laws. You just sit there and look pretty." You tell him with a smile. Bradley lets out a deep bellied laugh as he takes your hand, and both of you start walking to your car.

"So, I know I told you that I've been working on my Greek, but I didn't understand everything in our vows. Can you tell me what they were?" Bradley asks you.

"Of course." You smile at him. "They said, 'You are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my body so that we two might be one. I give you my spirit until our lives are done."

"That's beautiful." Bradley breaths out. "And the wrist thing, and this?" Bradley asks as he traces his finger over the blood stain on your face. "In the ancient world, we sealed important promises with a blood oath. What promise is more important than marriage?" You say.

"You're so right, Baby. I can't believe you're mine forever now." Bradley blushes as he pulls you back to him and sweeps you off of your feet. "I was always yours forever, Bradley. I never believed in soulmates until now. But, I believe that we were supposed to find this—us. Even in a different life, you still would have been mine, and I would have been yours." You smile at him as he carries you to your car.

Bradley drives both of you home that evening. And that night, you make love to your husband until you're both too tired and breathless to move.

................

Sunday was a day to be lazy. You and Bradley had nowhere to go, and the only thing on your respective to-do lists was each other.

You wake up before Bradley does. Normally, you're an early riser, never one to be able to fall asleep and stay asleep. But with Bradley, you find more and more how easy it is for you to relax around him and let sleep come to you. More often than not, since you've been together, he's the one who is up before you, very true to his call sign. Though you have a sneaking suspension, his sleeping habits weren't what earned him the name.

You stretch your arms above you, wiggle your fingers and toes, and then turn onto your side. The soft sheets of your bed are loose around your bare skin from last night's activities.

The sun is just peaking through your curtains, casting a golden halo around Bradley. You look over at him. He's sound asleep on his back. Covers low on his hips. He has one hand tucked under the pillow behind him. He left hand is splayed out on his bare chest.

You trace the delicate gold band that live there now, grinning to yourself. You sigh as you admire your husband.

Husband. You husband.

What a beautiful thought. Just as beautiful as Bradley himself. He looks so calm as he sleeps, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. He lets out a small sore every now and then, which he would vehemently deny if you ever brought it up.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your hand over his. You smile again as you trace lazy shapes over his tanned skin. Your fingertips grazed over the toned planes of his abdominal muscles through the dusting of hair that covered his chest, permanently bleached from the sun, up to his pectorals and then to his collarbone.

You chuckle as you notice what is nestled right between his clavicles. "Oh, Bradley." You sigh as you trace your hands over the small golden cross that dangled from the chain he always wore. His father had one just like it, and Bradley wore it as a tribute to him.

You laugh to yourself as you push yourself up to place a good morning kiss on his lips. "Good morning, my husband." You breathe out as you kiss his lips, his nose, his forehead, and his cheeks.

"G'morning, my wife," Bradley rasps out, his voice still thick with sleep. He encircles you with his large arms and pulls you flush against him. Be pulls himself to a sitting position and props you up alongside him. "How did you sleep?" He asks you as you lay your head on his shoulder.

"Very well." You reply as you slip your arms around his torso.

You rest your head on his chest as Bradley just holds you there, enjoying the calm, the quiet—the peace that only he can bring. Your eyes are closed as you take a deep breath and inhale the scent of him. You're not sure how he does it, but your husband always smells like sunshine.

When you open your eyes, you are met once again with the sight of that golden cross resting on his tanned skin. You can't help it, but a laugh bubbles out of you. "What's so funny?" Bradley asks you as he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes

"Nothing." You snicker. "It's something. I can tell by that mischievous look in your eye." Bradley presses.

"Fine." You sigh. "I just think it's funny, you knowing what you know about me, that you still wear your cross necklace. Like I get, it's a tribute to your dad and all, but it's just funny." You try to explain to him. Bradley furrows his brows and looks down at you.

"Listen, I know you were probably raised to be a good Christian boy, and you were taught that if you prayed hard enough to God or Jesus or whomever, that you would go to Heaven, well, newsflash, that's not how it works." You say to him.

"What do you mean that's not how it works. Are we all damned to burn in the Underworld?" Bradley asks you.

"No, ugh, the Underworld isn't all flames and screams. It has two parts. Paradise and Purgatory. When you die, your good acts and bad acts are placed on a scale and weighed against each other. From there, I get to decide where you end up." You huff out.

"And all those prayers that people pray about where they want their soul to end up, they come to me. I hear them all—well—I did until I left the Underworld." You sigh.

"So you're telling me that you are the God I prayed to growing up? The one my mom asked to save my soul when I was a wild teenager?" Bradley asks you with a chuckle.

"I know you were expecting someone else, sorry to disappoint." You laugh at him as you sit up and swing your legs over him, the sheets falling loosely to your hips. You grab the thin chain of the gold cross around Bradley's neck, the object that had started the whole conversation, and wrap it around your fingertips.

"Oh, I'm not disappointed by any means." Bradley breathes out as he closes the distance and kisses you. "I just wish I could go back to Saint Greg's and tell my teachers they were wrong." You throw your head back in a breathy laugh. The irony of your husband attending Catholic School as a youth isn't lost on you. You move to kiss him again, but without warning. He flips you off of his lap and drops to the floor. He grabs your ankle and tugs you to the edge of the bed and parts your naked thighs.

"Bradley, what are you doing?" You ask him. You lean up on your elbows to see that your husband is kneeling before you.

"Growing up, I was taught that the best place to worship was on your knees. And, well, I haven't been on my best behavior lately, and it's been years since my last confession, so I came to the alter to repent." Bradley tells you as he leans closer, lips just centimeters from your core.

"Though, I'm not pretty sure this isn't what Father MacKenzie meant when he told me to recite my Hail Marys." Bradley smirks at you before flattening his tongue along your seam.

You throw your head back and gasp as he makes contact with your clit, the feeling sending shockwaves through your system.

Bradley pulls both of your legs over hus shoulders as he feasts on you. That may be a crude way of describing what he is doing, but you can't think of another word to describe it.

His hands find the swells of your ass and grips tightly. pulling you closer to his face as he drinks you in. His nose bumps over your clit with each stroke of his tongue deep into your core.

You grip his curls for dear life and tug at them sharply as suckles on your clit, earning a high pitched whine from you. "Oh Gods!" You cry out as he dines on your cunt like it's a five star meal.

It hurts you to think about the other lovers Bradley had before you, but you sincerely want to thank whichever of them taught him how to do this, because Bradley is particularly attentive when he goes down on you.

You cry out his name again as you feel the band winding tightly in your lower stomach. You're a sopping mess as Bradley licks long, purposeful strokes.

He loves the way you taste, sweet and tangy, like ambrosia on his tongue. From the first moment he tasted you, he knew he would never tire of it. Gluttony may be a sin, but Bradley would glady spend hours on his knees between your thighs if you would let him.

He knows that you're close. He can feel the way your thighs quiver around his head, desperate to close around him and keep his head in place, but he's holding you open.

Bradley takes his thumbs and parts your fold even further, granting him better access to your sensitive bundle of nerves. He takes it between his teeth and rolls it, and that's the final straw.

You cum hard on his face, and he laps up your arousal, drinking in everything you give him. He continues to assault your center, drawing out your high until you're grabbing him by his curls and pulling him away.

You sit up and meet his eyes, one hand still gripping his hair.

You look at him, cheeks flushed, ears tipped pink. His mustache is glistening in the sun, coated with a mixture of your release and his saliva. It's downright erotic the way he looks sitting there in his knees.

Without warning, you surge forward and kiss him, knocking him down to the hardwood floor of your bedroom. Your kiss with him is all teeth and tongue as the two of you grab at each other's flesh, aching to be as close as possible.

You hook your thighs over his, and you can feel just how hard Bradley is. His cock is press right against your ass, dying to be inside you.

"Angel—Angel—" Bradley murmurs against your lips as he pulls back slightly. He takes in the sight of you. Your lips are swollen and slick with spit. Your chest is heaving as you take in air. Your hair is wild, and there is absolutely desperate look of desire in your eyes.

"Bradley—I need you." You state. "Will you have me?" You plead with him. "Yes—yes I'll have you." Bradley assures you.

You waste no time rising up to your knees and gasping his firm length. You guide the head of him until it's perfectly lined up with your dripping center. You sink down on him with ease. You hiss at the stretch once you are full seated around him.

Bradley's hands quickly find your hips to help guide your movements. You start out slowly, barely rising up before dropping back down.

Once you're comfortable with your rhythm, you speed up, lifting almost all the way off of him each time and circling your hips as you do so. Your clit catches against Bradley's pubic bone with each connection, heightening your pleasure.

Bradley groans as he leans up, causing him to shift deeper inside of you.

"Fucking floor is killing my back." He says as he tightens his grip on your waist. "Oh, can you not keep up with me, old man?" You tease him. There is no malice behind your words. "Who are you calling old?" He teases right back. And he isn't wrong, but you still enjoy picking on him, even in moments like this.

You roll your eyes as he hits a particularly deep spot inside you, causing your his to stutter and your breathing to falter. "That's what I thought." Bradley smirks at you as he does the same movement again before leaving forward and taking a nipple in his mouth with a cocky grin.

You rolled your hips faster and pushed your chest against Bradley's warm, welcoming mouth. You sighed. Everything felt amazing, but you still needed more.

One of your hands anchored itself at the back of Bradley's neck. You could feel the cool metal of his golden chain between your fingers. You weren't sure why you were so fascinated by it, but you couldn't help yourself.

Your fingers twisted around it and and you pulled it taught against his throat. Bradley let out a gasp of surprise and pulled off your chest. You both froze. You quickly let go of the chain as you searched Bradley's eyes, afraid you'd gone too far. Neither of you had really discussed your thoughts about choking during sex. You worried that you'd crossed a boundary.

"I'm sorry—I—I don't know what came over me." You apologized as you waited for your husband to say something.

"Do it again." Bradley replied. "What?" You looked at him confused. "Do. It. Again." He punctuated each word with a snap of his hips as he grabbed your hand and returned it to its previous position.

You rolled against him before wrapping the golden metal around your fingers and pulling it again. Bradley growled as you tightened your grip.

"Oh, fuck baby, that's it." Bradley gasped out as the chain dug into his skin.

"You like it when I choke you? Yeah, you do. I can feel your cock trembling inside of me when I do." You moaned out. You let go of his necklace before bringing your hand to wrap around Bradley's throat.

Your thumb and forefinger settled over his airway before pushing him back to the floor with a thud.

You them swatted his hands away from your sides before stilling completely. A needy whine escaped his lips. You leaned down and placed your mouth close to his ear. "Tap my thighs twice if you want me to stop." You breathed out before sitting back up. Bradley nodded in understanding.

You smiled at him before tightening your hand and riding him.

You rode Bradley in earnest, keeping just the right amount of pressure on his throat to make it pleasurable, but also to let him know that you were in charge. He planted his feet on the ground and used that leverage to thrust up into you.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through your bedroom and mixed with the scent of sex that hung thick in the air.

You looked down at Bradley and admired just how fucking pretty he looked under you. "Oh, Love, you have no idea how good you look under me like this." You praised him before letting go and bracing both of your hands on his thighs as you continued to ride him.

While you were telling Bradley how good he looked, he was mesmerized by how ethereal you looked on top of him. He wishes he had a camera to capture how you look right now. Head thrown back, neck arched, and body flushed. You were every bit a Goddess in this moment, and Bradley felt so lucky to see you like this.

He loved watching you use his body, taking from him just as much as you were giving. You were close, and he could tell. One of your hands snaked its way to were the two of you were joined.

You drew tight circles around your neglected nub as Bradley continued to meet your thrusts. He couldn't help it, but his eyes were glued to the sight of you touching yourself.

He felt the beginnings of your second orgasm. Your walls fluttered around him before gripping onto him like a vice as the waves of pleasure cascaded over you with a cry of his name. Bradley only lasted a few more moments before his cum painted your walls white.

You collapsed on his chest. Hot, sweaty, and satisfied. Bradley would have loved to have stayed there with you all day, but he wasn't kidding about the floor killing his back.

After much protest, he got the two of you up and into the shower.

Both of you spent the rest of the day curled up on your couch with Hyrda and Cerberus.

"Angel, what are we going to do about work tomorrow?" Bradley asked you later that evening.

"What do you mean?" You asked him. "I mean, we can't show up with wedding bands. People will ask questions." Bradley explained. There was a beat of silence before you answered him.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. I've been forging paperwork for centuries. If anyone asked. We eloped over the weekend." You smile at him as you hold up your wedding rings to admire them. Bradley looks at them with you, but he notices something new, just peaking out from under yours.

"What's this?" He asks you as he takes your hand and slides the rings up to reveal a neatly tattooed "B" on your finger.

"Oh." You breathe out. "So, I only tattoo things that are important to me on my body. You're the most important thing to me, Bradley, so I wanted to have one for you." You say shyly.

Bradley sits there speechless with a few tears in his eyes. "When—when did you even have time to get this done?" He asks.

"I can't go to a tattoo shop and get them done. Mortal objects can pierce the skin of Gods. The blade we used at our wedding was a specially forged one. I give myself the tattoos. I just think about what I want and where I want it, and then touch that place and it appears." You tell him.

"Does it hurt?" He asks you. "No, it doesn't. See for yourself." You say as you touch his ribs. Bradley lifts up his shirt, and a neat spray of poppies is now etched on his ribcage.

"Wow." He gasps. "It is pretty cool. Don't worry, I'll take them off." You assure him as you reach forward to touch the area again. But Bradley grabs your hand and stops you.

"No, don't. I want to keep them. And can you—can you put an "H" on my ring finger too?" He asks you. You nod your head, and soon the black ink appears.

..............

On Monday, both you and Bradley head to Maverick's office first thing in the morning. You have your neatly forged wedding documents tucked away in a folder under your arm. Both of you are waiting when Maverick's comes down the hallway with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Oh no." Maverick groans when he sees the two of you.

"Whatever fuckery you have brought to me this morning, can it wait until after I've had my coffee?" Maverick asks the two of you. You and Bradley both shake your heads. "I was afraid not. Come in." Maverick sighs as he opens his door.

He takes a seat behind his desk. You and Bradley sit across from him. You open your mouth to speak, but he puts a hand up to silence you as he takes a long sip from his mug.

"Alright, Bradley, what did you do?" Maverick asks him. "Why do you assume that I did something?" Bradley defends himself. "Because I know you, Kid. I've known you your whole life. You've given me almost every single one of my grey hairs." Maverick says with a matter of fact tone.

"Actually, Captain Mitchell, we did something." You say.

Mav looks from you to Bradley several times before swallowing thickly. He inhales deeply before letting out a sharp breath and standing up.

"Bradley, I made your mother two promises before she died. Two! I failed at the first one, and now, if I have failed at the second one—I— Bradley Alexander Bradshaw, so help me, God! If you have gotten Commander Kolasi pregnant out of wedlock, your mother is going to come back and haunt me. I don't care if you are almost thirty-six. It was the only other thing she asked me!" Maverick rants before flopping back down into his chair and covering his face with his hands.

"Mav, I'm not pregnant." You tell him. "And even if I was, Carole Bradshaw wouldn't come back to haunt you." You tell him. "What do you mean?" Maverick asks as he slowly slides his hands down.

You and Bradley both hold your left hands up as the look on Maverick's face goes from one of horror to surprise.

"You two—you got married? When? Where?" He asks as he leans over his desk.

"Over the weekend. I had a couple of friends who were coming into town, and one of them is ordained. Bradley set everything up. He proposed to me over breakfast Saturday, and we got married at sunset. Here is all the paperwork you will need, as well as an official submission to change my name from Kolasi to Bradshaw." You slide the folder over to Maverick.

"It's that your mom's ring?" Maverick asks Bradley as he takes a look at your hand. "Yes, sir." Bradley nods his head.

Maverick smiles, obviously trying to fight back some tears.

"You did good, Kid. They'd be proud of you." Maverick says as he gets up to hug both of you.

The rest of the squad takes your news very well, and you and Bradley spend the first week of your new lives together as husband and wife in wedded bliss.

All was well in the house of Bradshaw. The two of you didn't seem to have a care in the world when you laid your heads down Friday night after celebrating at the Hard Deck.

What a shame that the two of you didn't realize that the stroke of midnight brought with it the first day of spring.

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[s10127470]

Team Flux Reboot Concept

So.....

Does anyone remember this?

This was Team Flux, a fan concept created by Deviantart user BreakoutForever.

The concept was about Doc Brown (depicted as he is in Back to the Future: The Animated Series) forming a team in order to battle the forces of his longtime rival Walter Wisdom, who formed a group of various villains to help him in his ongoing scheme to steal valuable artifacts and treasures throughout history.

This team initially consisted of his best buddy Marty McFly, Kitty Katswell from T.U.F.F. Puppy, Ace Hart from Dog City, and Earthworm Jim.

Though the team would be expanded as time goes on to include the likes of Coco Bandicoot, Brandy from Brandy and Mr. Whiskers, Dr. Zoidberg from Futurama, and Jack Spicer from Xiaolin Showdown.

The concept started back in December 2012, but Breakout would sadly discontinue it in May of 2014.

He did eventually reveal the concept of a reboot, which would follow a similar premise to the original, but slightly tweaked.

Along with a new team and new outfits for them.

This new team would only have four members again like before.

With one half consisting of OG members Marty and Jim, and the other half consisting of Crash Bandicoot and Sally Acorn from Sonic the Hedgehog.

Unfortunately, Breakout hasn't really done anything with that reboot.

And thus, Team Flux has pretty much been dormant for nearly a decade now.

As for me, I was introduced to this thing back in early 2018.

I was in my freshman year of high school, and was going through a massive Back to the Future kick.

I had watched the entire trilogy for the very first time and I had started watching the animated series.

When looking up some fanart for that series, I found the Team Flux fanart.

And ever since, I've been intrigued by this concept and even attempted to continue it.

And with the 40th anniversary of BTTF this year, I figured now would be the best time to do so!

So sit, grab a snack, and join me as I share my idea for a Team Flux reboot!

The reboot's premise is largely the same as the original, but with a few changes.

This concept would be set in one world, as whereas in the original, the characters came from separate dimensions.

I figured it'd help makes this less potentially confusing.

Like in the original, a group of villains have been traveling through time to steal valuable treasures and artifacts.

But that's not all.

They're also even altering history for their own benefit.

Making up this group is N. Tropy (who serves as the leader of the team), Dr. Cortex, Biff Tannen, Bertram (from Family Guy), Petra Fina, Dino, Mite (all three from Flint the Time Detective), Mad Jack (from The Time Warp Trio), Vlad Plasmius (from Danny Phantom), Cyrille Le Paradox (from Sly Cooper), Magneto, Quicksilver (those two specifically being their iterations from Wolverine and the X-Men), Cliff and Flynn (from the All Grown Up! episode "Rat Traps"), The Shredder, Bebop and Rocksteady, Kraang, Baxter Stockman (all those guys being their 1987 cartoon iterations), Kang the Conquerer (specifically the iteration from The Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes), Mr. Ross (from Regular Show: The Movie), DOR-15 (from Meet The Robinsons), and Belos (from The Owl House).

In retaliation, Doc forms his own team of heroes.

This team consists of himself, Marty, Dipper and Mabel Pines (from Gravity Falls), Mr. Peabody and Sherman, Time Patrol, Stewie Griffin, Brian Griffin, Chris Griffin, Flint Hammerhead, Rocky Hammerhead, Sarah and Tony Goodman, Time Squad, The Time Warp Trio, Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher, Danny Phantom, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Jazz Fenton, Valerie Gray, Crash and Coco, The Cooper Gang, The X-Men, The Rugrats (the All Grown Up! variants specifically), The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Avengers, The Park Workers, Jughead Jones (from Archie Comics), Doraemon, Noby, Lewis and Wilbur Robinson, and The Hexsquad.

All of them were recruited either because they either had experience with time travel, experience with members of the villain team, or both.

The team uniforms are the ones made for the reboot pitch.

Their main method of time travel is warping via pad.

Though they will use other methods like The DeLorean, The Wayback or The Book if the pad isn't working.

Their primary devices are wrist communicators and The Weaponizer 3000.

The Weaponizer 3000 is a device that able to turn into just about any weapon it's user can think of.

This thing is especially useful for the members who have little to no combat experience whatsoever.

And lastly for their base of operation: The Institute of Future Technology in Hill Valley, California in the year 1991.

Well that's about it!

I know this was a lot shorter than expected, but this was just going over the details.

Let me know what you guys think about this concept and what else you want to know about it!