#for someone who is demi i sure do love grabbing two (or more) characters like dolls and making them kiss

[bubba-draws]

What fandoms are you in? And what ships from them?

Oh! Glad u ask! I'm into many of them (mostly animanga/videogames), so the list is kinda big, but the ones I keep rotating in my brain are Jojo's Bizarre adventure, Demon slayer, Chainsaw man, Touhou, Pokemon, Hollow Knight and Stardew Valley! It's mostly boiled down to "if you give me enough world building material to make ocs then *I will*" (On this note, I used to be a big BNHA fan at the beginning of the series, no longer one though, but I have over 100 ocs from that time lmao)

As for ships! The rarepair/less popular ones I made art for are Gionara (jjba) rengiyuu (demon slayer) and nowadays grollow (hollow knight), shout out to ItaJun from jujutsu kaisen

If u want an entire detailed list of ships I like.... That's gonna be a long ass post HAKFHSKFHSJFJ

Edit: can't fucking believe I forgot Undertale/Deltarune oh my god

[piratesfromspace]

Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw.  Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are. 

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

[volterran-wine]

Relationship Headcanons || Felix

"Oh once in your life you find someone Who will turn your world around Bring you up when you're feelin' down Now nothin' can change what you mean to me" ― Bryan Adams, Heaven

Requested by Anonymous: "Hey hun! I was wondering if you could possibly do a romantic headcanon for pretty boy Felix like you did for Demi? If you're up for it, that is. Thank you! - 🦨"

Hello there SkunkAnon! I have to say, I'm happy to see some love for Felix in my inbox. I definitely think he is an underrated guard, and deserves much more love than he gets. Felix is one of those characters I just love writing for because he is just such a likeable person in my worldbuilding? I also imagine he has some fun dynamics with various parts of the guard. But; this time we dive deep into how this wonderful man would make his mate swoon.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

In comparison to his best friend and brother in arms Demetri; Felix is of a much more accepting nature. He has been waiting for this day, wondering when a potential mate would cross his path. Felix is over two thousands years old, and has seen many bonded pairs find their way to one another. He didn't necessarily feel distressed about not having a mate at his side, but he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like. To have someone look at him in that way, with such utter devotion and love.

Now, do not get me wrong; Felix has not sat around and simply waited for his mate. He has engaged in dalliances and casual enough relationships through the years, but nothing was ever permanent or official.

So, a September morning he finds himself on a mission together with Demetri. They were out doing some reconnaissance on a couple of nomads that were moving a little too close to Volterra. And for the very first time Felix feels that pull when his eyes meet one of the nomads, he can't help the smile that spreads on his face. Luckily, his potential mate ends up returning it; albeit a little unsure and confused about what just happened. They would agree to come back to Volterra with him and Demetri, wanting to see where this could lead just as much as he did.

One thing he might be worried about is his reputation as the Volturi's executioner. In truth, Felix often look scarier than he actually is. Yes, he is an exceptional fighter and a soldier through and through at this point; but he's not going to be a brute. He is quite dependable and well liked, and he wanted nothing more than for his potential mate to have the same impression of him.

Felix is a big flirt, but unlike Demetri's flirtations that can come across as a bit hollow; Felix's are so sincere. When he compliments someone or engages in a conversation he is genuinely interested in that person. When it came to his mate, they truly were destined to fall for this smooth talking gentle giant; it would be a shock if they didn't. The palace would watch as the couple steadily fell in love.

There was one thing Felix was mildly stressing about; and that was if his mate and Demetri would get along. His bestfriend was known for not letting just anyone close to him. His mate was quite understanding and sweet, but you could not force chemistry between two people. Imagine his relief when he one day walked by the library and overheard his two favourite people in a heated yet fond debate about some kind of book. His joy was unimaginable.

The first time he kissed his mate he was so ridiculously nervous he needed three pep talks from Demetri before his romantic outing. In the end the midnight stroll through the garden had went far better than he had imagined; Felix was on a high. As they rounded the fountain he brought them down to sit besides him at the edge. Their conversation naturally halted and they found themselves sitting in comfortable silence. Felix would reach out and gently grab their chin, tilting it as he leaned down to press his lips against theirs. When they reciprocated he would pull them into his arms and make sure they knew exactly how he felt about them. He had found his other half, and would not let them go.

Felix is exceptionally gentlemanly, definitely appreciates the code of conduct that comes with chivalry. He has been drinking Respect People Juice all day every day, and has done so since 53BC. If there ever is an issue or something his mates needs to bring up; Felix is there to listen and work on this with them.

Would be that type of man that just brings up his mate whenever something makes him think of them, in time, it becomes an inside joke among the guard. Felix doesn't particularly mind that they tease him from time to time, he will gush about his mate regardless.

"You know this reminds me of-" The rest of the guard in a bored, yet loving tone "My dear mate." "... Do you have to say it in unison?" Everyone: "Yes."

PDA: Felix is a high standing member within the coven, with that comes a lot of respect and responsibility. He will keep things professional when he has to. Whenever he is off duty however, it is quite common to see him walk hand in hand with his mate. If he finds himself in the guards recreational room he will not hesitate to pull his significant other into his lap, wrapping big strong arms around them as he leans in to place a kiss against their temple.

Terms of endearment Felix would use: Dear, Sweetheart, I can also imagine Felix adopting the term Babe if his mate happens to be from our time period. It is such a versatile word that can be said in so many different ways.

Anyone who would observe the couple would be moved by the utter devotion that Felix would show his mate. He truly looked at them as if they hung the stars in the sky.

In the end, Felix had earned himself both a pillar and a soft place to fall for all of eternity.

[randomprose]

title: the one where jiang cheng is the Mom Friend (and says the L-word) | AO3

summary: jiang cheng absolutely hates it when he is forced to be the Adult to make wei wuxian do Adult Things like do homework or eat or shower or do his fucking laundry that’s been piling up for weeks.

characters/pairings: jiang cheng, nie huaisang, wei wuxian, lan wangji | wangxian (pre-getting together)

more of this series: here

“Wuxian, what are you doing?” Nie Huaisang asks, phone in his ear. He’s talking to Jiang Cheng and asking him to grab some milk and eggs from the store but Jiang Cheng says he’s far off so he tells him to tell Lan Wangji instead. 

Jiang Cheng asks what else do they need. Didn’t Wei Wuxian said he was doing laundry? Do they still have enough detergent after he’s finished? Nie Huaisang adds detergent powder to the list to send Lan Wangji for good measure.

“I’m trying to teach my son how to be a gamer,” Wei Wuxian says from the couch where he’s lying on his stomach and playing AC on his Switch. Said son is Suibian, a black cat he rescued a month ago and took home despite their apartment building’s no pets rule, currently napping in the circle of his arms. Beside him, on the floor, is a huge sack of what looks like probably a month’s worth of dirty clothes. “I’m doing laundry right now I swear.”

[“He’s not doing laundry, is he?”] comes Jiang Cheng’s staticky voice from the phone. 

“How did you know?” Nie Huaisang’s tone is wry.

There is a sigh and Nie Huaisang removes the phone from his ear at the heavy static noise it makes. 

[“I’m on my way home. if I catch him there with his sack of rotting clothes I’m gonna throw his ass out the window.”]

They live in the fourth floor. Jiang Cheng makes the same threat at least five times a week.

Later when he gets back to the apartment, Jiang Cheng tries to haul Wei Wuxian off the couch and out the door along with his sack of laundry.

Suibian has leaped to Nie Huaisang’s lap on the adjacent arm chair. He instinctively pets the cat and turns up the volume of the TV to drown out the racket his roommates are making. Adventure Time is on.

Jiang Cheng truly hates this part of himself and truly hates how Wei Wuxian always brings it out of him. The one where he has to be the Adult because someone has to be in their group and Nie Huaisang is currently not being helpful. Jiang Cheng hates how he’s almost always the one making his brother (his older brother, by just months but still—Wei Wuxian is older, ergo should be more responsible, but chose not to be) do the Adult Things like do homework or eat or shower. Sometimes Lan Wangji helps but more often succumbs to his brother’s will because he’s so fucking whipped.

“Why do you insist on making me suffer?!” Wei Wuxian whines as he clings to the couch. 

“How is making you do your laundry making you suffer?!” Jiang Cheng shouts as he pulls at his brother’s shirt stretching it out. “I’m doing this because I love you and I care about you!” 

Well, it’s a stretch—a long stretch—but it works well on Wei Wuxian. At least it used to. 

“Shut the fuck up! You only say you love me when you actively plan my demise!”

“Demi—what are you talking about?!”

This is the scene Lan Wangji comes home to:

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian caught in a tug-of-war as Wei Wuxian clings to the couch in earnest. They’ve managed to pull the couch halfway out of the living room space and it’s now in an awkward diagonal angle. Wei Wuxian’s sack—a large black garbage bag he snagged from the kitchen to put the clothes normally just scattered around his room—of dirty laundry has come untied and his clothes have spilled halfway out of it. Jiang Cheng is stepping on his boxers. 

Wei Wuxian let’s go of his hold on the couch. Jiang Cheng slips on his boxers and they both fall back. The large garbage bag of clothes cushions Jiang Cheng’s fall while he cushion’s Wei Wuxian’s.

“Hey, Wangji,” Nie Huaisang greets from where he’s seated not bothering to turn away from the TV. Peppermint Butler has just summoned a demon to possess Cinnamon Bun. “Did you get the things I asked?”

“Yes. I also bought bread and coffee. We ran out this morning.”

“Mhmm. Great. Thanks.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian calls leaping off of Jiang Cheng who throws the boxers he slipped on at Wei Wuxian’s back. “Let’s do laundry together.”

“I already did mine two days ago.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian visibly depletes. “I don’t like doing laundry alone.”

“That’s what you get for always putting it off.”

“I’ve been busy okay! Finals was hell!”

“It’s been two weeks since finals. You aced all your exams.”

“Your point?”

Jiang opens his mouth to argue before closing it and narrowing his eyes upon realizing who he’s talking to and feeling stupid for trying to reason with a sociopath. 

“I will accompany Wei Ying to the laundromat,” Lan Wangji says striding into the living room after putting away the groceries. “If you want?” He asks Wei Wuxian.

“Stop spoiling him Lan Wangji.”

“It is fine. I do not mind.”

“Yes, I want!” Wei Wuxian beams and throws his arms around Lan Wangji. “You’re the best Lan Zhan!”

Wei Wuxian crosses the living to where Jiang Cheng is in two quick strides. He picks up the boxers Jiang Cheng threw at him earlier and gathers the other clothes that spilled out before abruptly snatching his garbage bag of dirty clothes from under Jiang Cheng in one swift tug. 

Jiang Cheng lands on his ass on the floor with a dull thud and a curse kicking Wei Wuxian in the shin as the latter stuffs the clothes back in his garbage bag. Wei Wuxian just pokes his tongue out at him with a ‘bleh’ pulling down the skin below his eye like the five-year-old that he actually is. Jiang Cheng makes a face and pokes his tongue out at him like the other five-year-old he is too. Wei Wuxian just laughs.

Lan Wangji appears from the bathroom holding their container of detergent powder, the bottle of fabric softener, and his own hamper, no doubt for Wei Wuxian to put his clean clothes in afterwards because he’s Lan Wangji and he thinks of these things.

And because he’s Lan Wangji, he offers to help Wei Wuxian with his sack of dirty laundry, too.

Wei Wuxian declines but his smile is wide when he links an arm around Lan Wangji’s—the one that isn’t holding the hamper and the detergent—and drags his sack of laundry with his other hand as he guides them out the door.

The ending theme song of Adventure Time rolls on the TV. There is the sound of shuffling as Nie Huaisang transfers to the couch—which is still in an awkwardly askew position in their living room space.

“Do you think they’ll ever figure it out?” Nie Huaisang asks as soon as the door closed, leaning over the back of the couch and looking down at Jiang Cheng. 

“That’ll be the day,” Jiang Cheng, who is sprawled on the floor behind the couch deciding to lie there for a while, lifts the arm he’s put over his eyes to stare back up at Nie Huaisang. “That’ll be the day for sure.”

“It’s been seven years. I hope they figure it out soon,” Nie Huaisang says with a sigh turning back to face the TV. “In this lifetime preferably.”

“Preferably.” Jiang Cheng continues to lie on the floor. The rug feels soft against his back. “For all our sakes.”

Suibian has come to rest on Jiang Cheng’s torso and his hand comes up on instinct to pet it.

[ikevamp-shrine]

Sleep Over Part 2

Word count: 1151

Characters: Le Comte, Leonardo, Dazai, Sebastian, Isaac, Arthur, Theo, Vincent, Mozart, Napoleon, Jean, William

Warnings: none

I freaking love the ending- just so y’all know.

                                                            ~*~

A soft melody shifted through the air growing in volume the closer Gwen came to Mozart’s music room. The piece he was playing had a light, airy tone and Gwen could feel herself bouncing her head along with the beat. The usually cold musician seemed to be in good spirits today, assuming by his music, which is something Gwen would definitely be using in her favor. Standing outside the door for the music to stop, and gently swaying to the beat, Gwen found herself raising her hand up to knock after the music did stop- but before she could hit the wood the door swung open revealing an blank faced Mozart. 

“What?” He asked, his voice steady. 

Gwen shifted the sliver tray in her hands the treats, consisting of chocolate, coffee just the way he liked it, and rogue, on the plater grabbing the vampire’s attention. Gwen could practically see his mouth watering. He reached out to relieve the girl of the tray when she suddenly stepped back, just out of arms reach to Mozart, and said, “uh, uh, uh... the only way you’re getting these lovely, tasty, mouth watering treats is if you do something for me,” in a teasing sing-songy tone of voice.

Mozart’s face crumbled in disappointment at her statement. Taking on a hesitant expression he asked the girl he had grown to tolerate what she wanted. 

“Good question Wolf, well you see there is an... event... of the sorts occurring tonight and I would appreciate it if you would attend... and you kind of can’t say no because Le Comte said you had to come,” Gwen rushed at, smiling, stumbling over her words, and whispering the part about Comte saying Mozart had no choice in the matter. 

“So be it.” 

Scoffing, Mozart yanked the tray out of Gwen’s hands and slammed his door irritatingly. A loud bang and the once happy song turned violent resonated from behind the closed door.

Outside the music room Gwen’s face lit up like a little kid on Christmas as she skipped down the hallway towards the kitchen to retrieve another round of treats for one of the more stubborn men. 

And that’s how the majority of the conversations between Gwen and the other men went- her bringing treats to bribe them with before telling them that they can’t refuse because a pureblood told them they couldn’t.

Arthur was easy to get to agree as well as Vincent, Dazai, and Napoleon. Isaac got flustered and whispered he would come, but only because she brought him a pie before slamming the door on her face. Theo had made her bark once and agree to making three times the normal amount of his favorite pancakes the next morning.  

Sebastian would be forced to come to insure the happiness and wellbeing of the attending residents. Poor man.

All it took for Leonardo to come was a kiss on the cheek, but Jean was probably the most difficult to convince. Jean was not a social person, anyone could see that. He tended to avoid any sort of interaction with everyone, and saying that Comte told him to come would make him want to not show just to piss the master of the mansion off. Gwen also had no idea what treat he liked or what to get him to bribe him with. Jean was like a wall- a hard, unmovable, brick wall. But after many minutes of deflecting his self-depreciating comments and refusals she finally managed to get him to agree.

“If you come I swear I will leave right now and clean out your portion of the stables for a week... you do not have to talk to anyone and I promise to try to keep Arthur away from you during the event,” Gwen pleaded glancing up at the marble statue look alike through her eyelashes. Poking out her lip for an added touch. 

Once Jean’s stone cold façade fell Gwen knew she had him. 

“If you wish, mademoiselle, but please leave the stables to me, I shall not ask such a woman to dirty her hands on my behalf,” Jean responded after kissing the back of her hand and taking his leave, the shadows seemingly swallowing his form as he quitely walked away.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Gwen whispered while pumping her fists in the air and doing a little celebratory dance in the middle of the hallway before suddenly freezing her motions and gasping out, “wait I haven’t done the sheets.”

.

.

.

It was already dark by the time Gwen had finished preparing for the sleep over.

“Okay, so blankets, pillows, snacks, beverages, a mountain of pancakes, alcohol... what else am I missing?”

“Perhaps the guest, luv.” 

Arthur’s voice startled Gwen causing her to whip around in his direction all while almost knocking over one of the piles of neatly folded blankets. 

“By Jove Gwen some would think you were providing warmth for an entire army with that amount of blankets.” Arthur’s flirtatious laugh hung in the air.

“Thank you for putting so much effort into this for us Gwen. Theo what do we say?” Vincent said walking through the opened door, past Arthur who was currently walking over to the small selection of adult beverages, and straight towards a somewhat worried Gwen at Arthur’s display of licking his lips and hands reaching out to grab for a bottle. Her attention was quickly stolen away from the author by being hugged by Vincent, his warm body and sunflower scent washing over her. 

“Yeah, thanks or whatever Hondjie,” Theo’s gruff voice was muffled, distracted even, as he made a beeline for the pancakes.

A little while later almost everyone was in the same room, including a certain William Shakespeare who randomly showed up to talk to Comte but quickly regretted the action as he was now sandwiched between a smirking Leonardo and a glaring Theo. Everyone who was currently in the room could feel the tension between the trio, it was suffocating.

Isaac was quietly chatting with a barely awake Napoleon who was slumped in a chair his head falling back every once in a while. Le Comte was gracefully resting in a comfy recliner beside the roaring fire place, drinking a fruity smelling tea. Arthur was seeing how fast he could chug a bottle of wine after Theo said he couldn’t do it in under thirty seconds. Jean was huddled in the corner of the room appearing more like a scared cat on attack mode than an actual man. Mozart was leaning on the wall close to Jean with a disgusted expression on his dedicate featured face as he took in the other men’s actions. Sebastian was helping Vincent, who looked ready to burst into tears, untangle himself from about three blankets. All they were missing was the eccentric Japanese author. 

“Hey Cara, if Shakespeare starts ruining your time do not hesitate to call for me... I’ll make sure the little devil learns his lesson,” said Leonardo, the snugness in his voice was almost laughable, but the threat hanging in the air caused William to gulp and find his shoes incredibly interesting. 

“...truth or dare? What in God’s name is that Sebastian?” Isaac’s questioning voice rose above the rest of the chatting residents. 

“It is a children's game, Master Isaac. One person asks another ‘truth or dare’ and the person being asked has to pick one of the two actions... pick truth you get asked a question, and you must answer, pick dare you must do the dare someone gives you,” Sebastian responded while helping Vincent to his feet after they killed the blanket monster that attacked the painter. 

“Let’s do it,” hiccupped Arthur as he wobbly flopped on the floor swinging his feet back and forth in the air, and laying on his stomach in front of a disappointed looking Comte.

“Gwen truth or dare?” Arthur continued.

Gwen thought for a minute and choose the safest option, “truth.”

Arthur’s smirk spelled trouble. 

“What’s one thing that gets you hot and bothered every time?”

“Easy. Handcuffs.” 

The reactions of the men in the ranged from almost spitting out their drinks, gasps, knowing and dirty smirks, blushing faces, and Arthur saying, “you kinky girl.” While chuckling devilishly. 

“Napoleon, truth or dare?” Napoleon only responded to Gwen’s question by cracking his eye open and whispering a sleepy, “dare.” 

“I dare you to pin Isaac.” Napoleon eyes shot open as mischief ran ramped on his expression.

“You vile woman-” was all a horrified Isaac could get out before he found himself wrestled to the pillow and blanket covered ground. Isaac’s yelps and screeches merged with the demi vampire’s full blown laughs as Napoleon pinned Isaac’s wrists above his head all while sitting on the physicist’s waist, successfully leaving the smaller male to his mercy. 

“Curse the day you were ever born Gwen!” Gwen just smirked at Isaac’s cursing.

“Leonardo truth or dare?” Napoleon questioned while glancing up at Leo, Isaac still pinned under him.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to jump completely clothed in the thermae.”

Leonardo came back a few minutes after standing up and walking out of the room, completely soaked, clothes sucking his skin, and dripping water onto the floor. He walked over to Le Comte, who stared at Leonardo with an don’t-you-dare glare, plopping himself down on the arm of the recliner and leaning against the golden pureblood and saying, “old friend... truth or dare?”

Comte growled out, “truth.”

“Who in this room do you find attractive in a sexual way?”

“Sebastian, Arthur, Isaac, William, Gwen, and you. Jean, truth or dare?” Comte said those names so nonchalantly Gwen almost missed the fact that her own name was included in the list.

Jean appeared incredibly startled at being asked but non the less picked truth. Le Comte in return asked if Jean had ever been kissed before causing Jean to turn bright red and huff out, “...no.”

The next few minutes consisted of the rest of the present men being asked the same question and doing whatever they were told... until Isaac thought it a good idea to dare Vincent Van Gogh to bake a cake with no help which lead to the men and Gwen to all trudging their way to the kitchen and pilling themselves in a corner.

“Oh my god... he’s putting both self rising flour and baking powder in the-” Gwen stopped her rushed, worried whispers towards Sebastian to gasp and tug on the butlers coat sleeve, continuing by gritting her teeth and rushing out, “Sebastian that was a cup of baking powder. Sebastain he’s pouring white vinegar in the liquid's bowl... oh shit... Sebastian this is going to be so much to clean up.” Gwen took to hiding her face in the impassive butler's shoulder as he patted her head while screaming internally.

“... and now to pour the liquids into the dries... or wait is it pour the dries into the liquids? Oh well,” Vincent mumbled to himself as he suddenly took both bowls, one in each hand and suddenly dumped both into an even bigger bowl. 

“There that should do the trick.”

There was one second of peace before all hell broke loose. 

Vincent’s concoction exploded as batter was sent flying. The slicky, goopy liquid stuck to the walls, the cabinets, the residents, the vegeables, the spices, the utensils, cups, bowls, plates... everything. 

“.....what the hell Vincent?” Gwen wasn’t too sure who said it, but she couldn’t agree more as she slowly wiped off the batter from her exposed cheek.

.

.

.

“So are you still enjoying the thought of a ‘sleep over’?” Comte questioned Gwen as they both stood off to the side, watching as chaos reigned free in front of them.

“I regret everything.”

Back in the room they started the sleep over in 

A well known Japanese man threw himself through the window against the wall, stumbling and looking around confused at the lack of people in the room.

“Huh. Guess I’m early... Yay sake!” 

Closing the opened “door” behind him Dazai didn't notice his sleeve getting caught in the window as he all but tried to sprint over to the alcohol only to be tugged backward and fall hard against the floor with a thud.

[acowat]

You’re My Mate-Elorcan

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are owned by Sarah J. Maas.

Elide woke up, heart pounding and sweat running down the back of her neck as she shot out of bed, her head swimming with visions of Lorcan, her Lorcan, turning his back to her, his arm around a woman who was somehow faceless and breathtakingly beautiful at the same time.

She thought about laying back down, cuddling into Lorcan’s side, and drifting back to sleep. She wanted to, more than anything. But she knew she wouldn’t fall back asleep, hadn’t fallen asleep after one of these dreams in weeks.

She slid her feet onto the cool stone floor, the chill grounding her in reality for a moment. Elide thought about going outside to clear her head, but a glance out the window showed a summer storm unleashing its torrent on Perranth. The queasy feeling in her stomach reminded her that she’d barely eaten anything since lunch the previous day. The council meeting had run all afternoon and long into the evening, occupied by the needs of the city, of her people, during the rebuilding.

Deciding to head to the kitchen for an early breakfast, Elide slid her slippers on and padded out of the door, careful to shut it quietly behind her, to avoid waking the sleeping giant. As she wandered the hallways of her family’s home, restored to its former glory by the hard work of her staff and husband, the Lady of Perranth couldn’t stop herself from dwelling on her dreams.

For weeks, she’d been having recurring nightmares of her husband wrapped around an anonymous seductress who had turned his head and stolen his heart. At first, she tried anything to distract herself during her waking hours, but in the weeks since she’d had her first dream, Elide had learned that nothing worked, so she succumbed to the anxiety immediately now.

Elide knew she should talk to him about it, about her anxieties that his mate would come along and steal him away from her, from their life together in Terrasen, but their days were so completely filled that she struggled to find the time. She would also be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was using the rebuilding as a distraction, so she didn’t have to have the difficult conversation with Lorcan.

The warm smell of baking bread, never quite gone from this corridor, snapped Elide out of her thoughts, if only momentarily. She pulled open the wooden door and crept into the dark room, mapping out the counters in her mind as best she could remember. Though she’d spent many hours here when her parents were alive, helping the cooks as much as she hindered them, it had been almost 2 decades since then and her memory failed her occasionally. Like when she misjudged the length of the island and snagged her hip right on the corner, pain flaring up in her joint. Elide’s breath flew out of her in a curse, as she backed into the solid weight of the counter behind her, knocking a pot or two off the ledge as she fell.

She froze against the counter, waiting with baited breath to see if anyone came running to investigate the disruption. When she didn’t hear anything for 30 seconds, Elide stepped carefully around the fallen pots, her eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, and grabbed a loaf of berry bread that was cooling on the counter next to her. She cut herself a slice but froze with the slice halfway to her mouth when she heard the whisper of the kitchen door closing. Elide turned around slowly, eyes wide, feeling guilty, even though she logically knew she hadn’t been doing anything wrong. She was a grown woman now. She was entitled to a late-night snack if she wanted it.

Lorcan slipped silently into the kitchen, his stupid demi-Fae agility preventing Elide from hearing him come down the hall. He raised a single eyebrow at her before plucking an apple out of a bowl and sinking his teeth into it with a crunch. Elide munched on her snack for a second, aware that she shouldn’t get her hopes up about her chances of avoiding an interrogation. Lorcan, for all of his bravado, was very concerned about Elide’s feelings and never let anything even remotely suspicious or unusual slide, if he could help it.

He starts off casually.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Elide shrugged, hoping desperately Lorcan would just drop it. She knew she needed to talk to him, tell him what had been worrying her for so many weeks, but they had been married just 2 months. She didn’t really want to outline her anxiety that he would leave her so willingly someday. That was the worst part for her: no matter how much he loved her or their hypothetical children or the life they’d built together, he would willingly walk away from it all for her, his mate, if she ever found him.

“Elide,” Lorcan started, eyebrows raised and voice promising he would not let it go. “You haven’t slept through the night in weeks. Tell me what is troubling you.”

Elide briefly debated just walking away, calculating how quickly she could get to the door before Lorcan caught her. Even without her limp, she knew she didn’t stand a chance. Lorcan, having finished his apple, crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, staring unrelentingly at her face. Elide braced her hands against the island and let her head fall, staring at the dark stone. Their stand-off lasted a few minutes, Elide trying to figure out how to put her feelings into words, into something concrete and Lorcan refusing to break the silence.

“This is too good,” she finally whispered.

“What?” His voice cracked through the quiet like a whip.

“This,” Elide finally looked up at her husband, his dark eyes bewildered. She gestures at the air around them. “This is all too good.”

Lorcan, looking taken aback, takes a moment before responding.

“You’re unhappy?”

“I’m too happy. That’s the problem!”

“What the hell does that mean, Elide?” Lorcan yelled back at her, the crinkle between his eyebrows deepening as he stalked toward her. Though she knew it came from a place of frustration, his rage only fueled the irrationally angry parts of her soul, the ones that wanted to lash out at the gods for putting someone in this world who could turn Lorcan from her. He didn’t even have to look down to avoid kicking the pots she’d dropped, it just pissed her off more.

“I’m too happy! The rebuild is progressing faster than we expected, I have friends I can call on if ever I’m in need, and, best of all, I just married the love of my life. So what am I supposed to do when you leave, huh? How am I supposed to just go back to the other things and pretend I’m okay living without you?”

Lorcan backed her into the counter behind her and braced his hands on the cool surface, his arms caging her in. She sank into his chest, the fight leaving her as fast as it had come. He leaned his forehead against hers, his dark hair falling to curtain their faces on either side, his breath fanning across her face.

His voice was unnervingly soft when he replied.

“Elide, I love you so much more than I ever thought possible. Why do you think I would ever leave you?”

She stared into his dark eyes, so expressive when he was vulnerable. Only with her.

“What if you don’t have a choice?”

His mouth raised in a half smile, though it looked more bemused than amused, and he snorted out a breath.

“What are you talking about?”

“What if your mate comes?” Elide felt Lorcan’s body tense under her hands, his chest turning to stone beneath her fingertips. “What if you meet her someday? You won’t stay here, we both know that, as much as we may want it now.”

Lorcan closed his eyes, hiding his expression from his wife for a moment, breathing deeply, before taking her hands in his and pressing a kiss to her soft lips.

“I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, my love.”

Elide’s heart rate skyrocketed, the pounding so loud she was sure Lorcan could hear the shift.

“I’ve already found my mate.”

Her heart, so close to racing from her chest a moment again, plummeted into her feet. Elide closed her eyes, wanting a moment to collect herself--and think of something to say, anything--before she could look at Lorcan again. When she opened them, she found his dark eyes boring into hers, imploring her to understand. She tried for a sympathetic smile, but based on her husband’s reaction, she’d landed on more of a grimace.

She took a steadying breath and found it did little to stem the flow of her thoughts.

“Who is she? Did you meet her in Doranelle? Is she--”

“It’s you, Elide. You’re my mate.”

Her mind was buzzing, thoughts flying through so quickly it made her head spin. She felt elated, she felt confused, she felt angry. She didn’t know how to feel, but her mouth seemed to figure out what she wanted before her mind did: answers.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lorcan had the decency to look chagrined, his regret plain on his face.

“I wanted to be sure before I raised your hopes, only to dash them if it wasn’t true. I needed to know before I told you.” Lorcan took Elide’s face in his rough palms and kissed the bridge of her nose. She wrinkled her nose at her husband, and the laugh bellowed out of his chest before he could stop it. “I’ve never been so sure in my life. You are my mate.”

Although she was angry at him for keeping this secret, she couldn’t ruin the moment with anger. She’d punish him later for his omission. Right now, she just wanted to bask in the warmth of him, her mate. Elide pressed up onto her toe to slam her lips against his, slipping her tongue into his mouth when he yanked her closer, his hands on her waist. She felt his hands slide to her butt before he lifted her onto the counter, his hands tightening around her waist.

She wasn’t sure how long they were there, making out in the kitchen like they weren’t a lady and her lord, but when she finally pulled away, his wide grin knocked the breath right out of her, and she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him again.

“Let’s go back to bed,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Thank the gods. I’m still dead on my feet.”

Elide slid off the counter and sauntered away from Lorcan, the rising sun throwing rays of light across the kitchen. She bent over, making sure to take more time than was strictly necessary to return the pots to the counter. She could feel Lorcan’s eyes on her backside as she straightened. She turned her head to look at her gorgeous husband.

“I wasn’t talking about sleeping.”

His groan might have echoed through all of Perranth.

[carewyncromwell]

Back with another installment of the POTC AU...and we have entered mermaid (and men) waters, folks. These two lovely creatures are Merman!Kai Williams and Mermaid!Keira Jones, owned by @hphm-brooke, based on their designs here, but with more of the “fishy” look the mermaids have while underwater in Pirates 4! (They look much more like Brooke’s concepts, when they’re above water.) I hope I did your kids justice, cherie! Yes, I know this visual logically doesn’t work at all as neat as it looks, since Carewyn should be drowning if there’s a hole in the ship she can see through: I was stupid and half asleep when I originally drew this, but I went ahead and conjured up an explanation for it for the actual writing section, so indulge me. XD;;

Some LGBT+ headcanons of mine for the HPHM cast are also featured here -- namely, McNully as gay, Skye as lesbian, and Charlie as aroace. (I also personally see Carewyn and Orion as ace/pan and gray-A, respectively. ^.^) Feel free to ignore them if you see these characters differently than I do...goodness knows I understand why plenty of people would want to hook up with Charlie!! He can always be interpreted as demi, gray-A, or just a late bloomer here too, if thou dost prefer. <3

For the previous part of this AU, click here -- for the full POTC AU tag, click here -- otherwise, enjoy! And beware any siren song you may hear...

x~x~x~x

The Revenge was an even more oppressive prison than it was when Carewyn was a child. Charles Cromwell had always been a very controlling, cruel man who only saw someone’s value based on what they could do for him. Even when you were family of his -- or, one could argue, especially if you were -- you were expected to never say “no” to him and to always put his desires over your own. So it was when she and Jacob were under his control way back when, and so it was now that Carewyn was alone.

Interestingly, despite Charles’s clear disdain for Carewyn having become a Commodore of the Navy, he actually seemed very coldly pleased by how she’d grown.

“The Navy may be a pathetic institution,” Charles said very coolly as he strode leisurely in a circle around Carewyn, “but at least fighting in the War toughened you up. You’re strong -- ruthless -- talented in swordplay and willing to do whatever it takes to defeat your enemies. You’ve been taught and trained to kill.”

He stopped right in front of her, his cold almond-shaped blue eyes boring into her as his lips spread into a smile.

“You are far from the weak, bleeding-heart little girl you were before, Carewyn. Before, you could only be useful in persuading other men to join my crew -- now, once we’ve finished at Isle de Muerta...you’ll be able to join your aunts by doing that and helping us with our plunder.”

Carewyn’s eyes, which were the same color and shape as Charles’s, met his gaze head-on with just as much coldness, but with no hint of a smile.

“I have no intention of being anything like Pearl or Claire,” she spat, “least of all by being one of your pawns.”

Pearl made a violent move forward, but Blaise grabbed her arm and gave her a dull warning look.

“Pawns?” repeated Charles. “I’m wounded, child. We are family -- we are blood. I raised you and your brother. I provided for you.”

“After killing both Mum and Dad right in front of us,” Carewyn said very coldly.

Charles feigned an empathetic expression, but it only came across as incredibly condescending.

“Yes -- it was a horrible thing. But your parents thought to abandon the crew, our family...to take you two children away from me, your grandfather, who loves you so dearly. And deserters and traitors must be held accountable -- any good leader knows that. It’s awful that it had to happen...but they left me no choice.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed with hatred.

“First of all...our parents thought to protect their family -- Jacob and me -- from you. Second, any good leader knows that true loyalty is accrued through respect, not fear. Third, you always have a choice to do what’s right, and you didn’t. Fourth, I will NOT hear you try to tell me that my parents brought their deaths upon themselves when you pulled the trigger. And fifth...”

She took a step forward, aiming to get right up in Charles’s face -- Claire Cromwell grabbed her harshly by the arm and held her back, but Carewyn was strong enough to push herself forward right up into her grandfather’s personal space anyway.

“...you don’t know what love is,” hissed Carewyn venomously.

Charles’s face lost all hint of a smile or warmth, instead becoming oddly mask-like and detached as he considered her. The stillness was far, far more intimidating than his attempts at pleasantry -- it was like he truly felt nothing...like all possibility of persuasion or appealing to his better instincts was hopeless.

“It seems freedom has spoiled you, my child,” he said softly. “I suppose I’d have to blame your brother for being such a bad influence on you...at least while he was still alive.”

Carewyn’s face blanched and her eyes widened. ‘What?’

“Oh?” said Charles, raising his eyebrows in mock concern. “Were you unaware? I thought for sure something would’ve trickled back to you through the Navy. But I suppose if they had told you, you’d have had far less reason to be loyal to them. After all...the pirate who killed him ended up getting a full pardon from the crown, and now works alongside the new Lord Cutler Beckett at the East India Trading Company...a thoroughly prosperous woman, by all accounts.”

Charles’s face again grew much mask-like as he stared down at Carewyn.

“One would never know such a woman could be capable of shooting a man square in the back and then pushing him overboard into the ocean...and just when he’d returned from Port Royal, to find that his sister was gone...”

Carewyn could feel her shoulders quaking. Her eyes had fallen away from Charles and down to the deck a while ago, as she struggled to contain her emotions, but what he said --

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. Jacob, dead -- Jacob, having gone to look for her, and not finding her because she’d gone off to War -- Jacob, being murdered right after he tried to come home --

“You’re lying!” snarled Carewyn, but her voice quaked with pain and grief despite her best efforts.

Charles didn’t answer. Clearly he didn’t think he had to. The silence was infinitely worse than if he’d chosen to mock her further -- it forced her to solely focus on the terrible doubt and pain flooding her chest and making it hard for her to breathe.

Charles’s gaze flickered up to Claire still holding Carewyn’s arm.

“Get Carewyn out of that Navy filth and into some proper clothes,” he said almost boredly. “Make sure to pick something that shows off her assets -- she comes from fine breeding, and we want the men of Tortuga to see that first.”

His gaze then rested on Carewyn again, twinkling with a cruel kind of satisfaction, as Claire yanked Carewyn away. Carewyn fought against her grip, but before she could pull out of it, Pearl grabbed her other arm and, with considerably more strength, helped Claire drag her away.

Carewyn was soon forced into a pair of men’s knee breeches so tight that they felt more like form-fitting stockings than trousers; tall black boots; an off-white sailor’s shirt identical to Pearl’s with such an oversized neckline that her chest was largely exposed; and an R-standard dark red coat just small enough that she couldn’t button it around herself to hide her chest better. Pearl had also pointed a pistol at Carewyn’s neck while Claire applied eye-make-up and bright red lipstick. Carewyn normally wouldn’t have minded wearing make-up -- she may have had to dress like a man out of necessity, but she liked women’s fashion a lot. Under the circumstances, though, it was impossible to enjoy it.

Needless to say, Carewyn was in no mood to take orders from Charles or exchange so much as a word with any member of his crew, whether it was her uncle, aunts, cousins, or in-laws. At one point, one night, one of those such cousins -- clearly very amused by how unhappy Carewyn was with her new “look” -- decided to try to force himself into her personal space, and Carewyn was so disgusted that she grabbed his own pistol out of his belt and pointed it right at his head to threaten him to back off. Rather than scare him, though, the cousin merely laughed.

“Go ahead!” he jeered. He clearly thought Carewyn was too much of a “good girl” to do it. “Go ahead and shoot me. Right in the head, come on -- ”

Carewyn pointed the pistol down at his thigh instead and fired.

BANG.

The younger man collapsed in on himself with a cry as his leg collapsed out from under him, the bone clearly blasted open from how close the pistol had been. Carewyn then gave the pistol a light shake to clear the smoke.

“Seems to me that place is closer to where you do most of your thinking than your head,” she said very coldly. She looked around at the rest of the crew, who’d stopped to watch, and added, “Now, all of you, stay away from me -- AHH!”

She suddenly felt a hand seize her around the neck and hoist her up off the ground.

The younger man somehow was back on his feet again, as if he hadn’t been injured at all. Carewyn’s shock only seemed to make him smugger still, even though his smile was oddly humorless.

“You’re so cute, little Winnie,” he said. “Thinking you can hurt somebody who feels nothing but pain already.”

At that very moment, the clouds parted, to reveal an eerie silver-white moon. And it was in that terrible, paralyzing moment that Carewyn saw why everyone said that the crew of the Revenge was cursed.

It seems that the medallion Jacob had stolen from Charles’s office wasn’t just a pirate trinket. It was one of 100 identical pieces from a cursed chest that once belonged to Cortez himself. Anyone who stole but one piece from the chest was cursed trapped between life and death, unable to enjoy any earthly pleasure -- food, drink, or otherwise -- with their true decaying form only revealed under moonlight. Jacob had taken the medallion with the thought that Carewyn could always sell it if they ever got really desperate for money -- Carewyn had kept it because it was one of the only things Jacob had ever been able to give her before he disappeared, and she cursed herself eternally for the sentiment now. Still, she told herself, it also hadn’t seemed safe to try to sell something that so clearly looked like a pirate medallion anyway -- just about anyone would ask where she got it, and that would’ve opened her up to a million more questions. In either case, that medallion Carewyn had was the last piece that Charles Cromwell needed to break the curse -- and thanks to her fame as the newest Commodore in the Navy, one of her portrait miniatures had found its way into Charles’s hands, revealing to him where his granddaughter had vanished to. And now he had both her and the medallion -- in short, everything he’d wanted.

Charles Cromwell decided to punish Carewyn for her little act of defiance by locking her in the brig. It was a very wet and mildew-stained place -- clearly it had been host to more than a few leaks. One hole in Carewyn’s cell in particular even showed clear blue ocean water -- she suspected that the Revenge had been patched up with quite a few spells to keep it from sinking, over the years. She remembered there was a witch on Tortuga that her grandfather sometimes made deals with -- maybe she’d given him something to keep the sea water from rushing in.

Carewyn could’ve easily broken out of the brig, but under the circumstances, she decided it wasn’t worth it. Not only did she not want to show off all her tricks yet, but the cell door would at least serve as a barrier between her and everyone else, for now. And that was what she’d wanted -- to get as far away from them as she could. Jacob would’ve understood. Jacob had always been there as a protective wall between her and the rest of their family, in the past...

The night in that cell was one of the coldest, darkest, and loneliest of Carewyn’s life. Her heart ached at the thought of Jacob -- of Percy, his face white with upset and terror when she told him to retreat -- of Bill and Charlie -- of Jules. She missed them so much, and yet she knew...she would likely never see them again. Charles Cromwell wouldn’t tolerate her insubordination for long, and if she failed to escape -- rather likely, considering that neither he nor the rest of her family could be killed, at this point -- she’d be murdered just like her parents.

...At least then...she’d see Jacob again...

She didn’t know when or how she’d fallen to sleep, but it was in her sleep, when she was most lonely, that Carewyn found herself again in her and Jacob’s tiny, old house in Port Royal, sitting at the side of her own bed, which currently held a young man with a worn brown bandana around his head, a black eye, and bandages around his arms. He looked up at her, his dark eyes rippling like the darkest sea -- and then, he rose from the bed. As he did, he changed, becoming older, with tanner skin and dreadlocks under an emerald green bandana. Orion didn’t say anything in the dream -- instead he held her gaze, drowning her in it as he gently held her hands in his...

When Carewyn awoke, she found her face wet with tears. Wiping her face clean, she sat awake for a while, revisiting Orion in her mind. As bizarre as it sounded -- just like he had many times in the past -- the thought of Orion seemed to bring her a sense of peace and focus she couldn’t quite explain. And it was for that reason that she found herself singing one of the songs she used to sing Orion to sleep, all those years ago...for the thought of him, if not for the man himself.

Abroad, as I was walking one evening in the spring,

I heard a maid in Bedlam who mournfully did sing.

Her chains she rattled on her hands, and thus replied she:

"I love my love because I know my love loves me.

Oh, cruel were his parents who sent my love to sea,

And cruel was the ship that bore my love from me --

Yet I love his parents since they’re his, although they've ruined me...

I love my love because I know my love loves me.” 

As luck would have it, however, her song attracted some attention. For the waters surrounding the dreaded Isle de Muerta contained merfolk -- specifically a mermaid called Keira and a merman called Kai, who hunted as a pair and had heard Carewyn singing through the hole in the ship’s hull.

“Was that you singing?” asked Kai. He seemed the more sociable of the two -- the red-haired mermaid behind him called Keira was staying at a distance.

Carewyn rested a hand beside the hole, trying to peek out at who was speaking. She couldn’t see them very well, but from what little she could see, they didn’t look like how she’d always heard mermaids described. They appeared human enough on top, of course, but she could see scales on their faces and there was no white in their eyes. Kai had one completely brown eye and one completely blue eye, while Keira had completely blue.

“Yes,” said Carewyn.

“I could hear the longing in your voice,” said Kai. “Like a woman in love.”

Carewyn’s face flushed, but she kept as proud of an expression as she could manage.

“...Are you merfolk?”

“Why, yes,” said Kai with a smile. “And you? Are you a pirate? Or perhaps you’re a maid from Bedlam, awaiting her love’s return?”

“Neither. My name is Carewyn...but most people call me Carey Weasley.”

Keira looked at Carewyn through the hole, clearly interested despite her distance.

“You’re different than the other humans on this ship,” she said thoughtfully.

Carewyn scoffed. “I’d certainly hope so. I suppose my grandfather and his crew fear you?”

“Fear, yes,” said Keira in an oddly stiff voice, “but we don’t approach them.”

The memory of her disgusting pirate cousin as a molting skeleton rippled over Carewyn’s mind and she grimaced.

“...I don’t blame you for that. I wouldn’t be here either, if I had a choice.”

Kai raised a curious eyebrow. “You’re a prisoner, then.”

Carewyn sighed and nodded. Kai’s eyes flickered over to Keira before returning to Carewyn.

“...Perhaps we can get you out.”

Carewyn was startled. “What?”

Kai’s lips turned up in a smile. “Come with us...we’ll help you escape.”

It was strange -- Carewyn hadn’t known these two at all, but something in their voices sounded so kind. Despite everything she’d ever heard about sirens, they seemed oddly persuasive...it was like even they were singing beautifully, even while talking...

But...

“No,” she said. “My grandfather and his crew can’t be killed. I’d never be able to defeat them, while they’re like that...and anyone who tried to help me would be killed right along with me.”

Her eyes softened. “Thank you...but I have to stay here.”

Both Kai and Keira looked genuinely startled. Kai seemed to rest on his stomach in mid-air, his tail flopping up over his head as he rested his chin on his fist, his lips spreading in a much fuller, fanged smirk.

“...Well, now,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone saying ‘no’ to one of our kind in order to protect them before. He shared a glance with Keira. “You truly are different, Carey Weasley.”

Keira exhaled tiredly. “Come on, Kai...let’s go.”

“Coming, coming,” said Kai in amusement, as Keira began to swim off. He added to Carewyn, “Guess we’ll never know if we would’ve been able to tempt you, if we’d met you above water...oh well. Best of luck, little Bedlam maid -- thanks for the new song!”

Kai swam in a circle to follow along after Keira and disappeared into the dark blue depths.

Back on the Artemis, the days of their voyage dragged. Jules had heard all sorts of exciting stories about pirates since she was a child, but now that she was onboard a ship with them, she found that it was far less glamorous than one would think. There was so little to do to pass the time, aside from trimming sails or swabbing decks. Charlie and Bill admitted that was a lot of what sailing on board ships was like in general -- there was plenty of excitement, sure, but only inter-spliced briefly between long stretches of nothing. On top of that, the water on board went sour before long, making it so everyone had to drink rum instead, since it was the only drink that didn’t go bad at sea. The best thing by far for Jules, though, was that there was no dress code -- and so she ditched her fancy dress as quick as she could, traded them in for a pair of men’s breeches, and then belted her chemise around her waist so that it fit more tightly like a shirt. She’d be a little embarrassed walking around in her underwear for a while, but after a while, she concluded it really wasn’t any more revealing than the loose-fitting shirt and men’s breeches Skye was wearing. Bill’s ears turned a very dark red when he first saw Jules out of her dress, though.

Their first real burst of action came when they had to battle a torrential storm that had blown in. The Artemis had been tossed about as if it were a toy in a bathtub, sea water splashing onto the deck with full-bodied waves that could knock a man off their feet. It was likely only thanks to Orion’s bizarre idea to tie everyone securely to the mast with a long piece of rope that served as a life line that no one was thrown overboard. The following day, the storm had fortunately cleared to leave an almost surreal calm. Soon everyone returned to the boring routine of before, mending torn sails and swabbing the deck, as if nothing had even happened.

The helmsman solely followed Orion’s direction of where to go, rather than using a map, so Bill, Jules, and Charlie had assumed he already knew where the Isle de Muerta was. One could therefore imagine how horrified Bill was overhearing McNully talking offhandedly to Orion one afternoon about his compass “not working right for him” -- Jules recalled that it didn’t work at Port Royal either. When the three confronted Orion about it, the Captain responded rather cryptically.

“Lieutenant Weasley said that my compass didn’t point north, Miss Farrier. That doesn’t mean it’s broken.”

Orion turned on his heel and headed back up to the helm. “A bit more to starboard.”

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but McNully climbed down one of the loose ropes enough to pat his shoulder.

“Easy, Mr. Weasley.”

He lowered himself back down into his chair and rolled it around to properly face them.

“The Captain’s compass isn’t like most compasses -- just like Orion himself isn’t like most captains.”

“But you said it wasn’t working right,” Charlie said angrily. “And all he ever seems to look at is that compass. How do we know we’re even heading the right way? Does he even know how to get to Isle de Muerta at all?”

Jules had to admit, she had doubts too. Orion had sounded pretty confident that he’d be able to find Carewyn -- but how could anyone do that, when they didn’t even have a compass that could point north?

The dispute was interrupted, however, when Orion abruptly called out from the helm.

“Put out the lamps!”

The crew immediately tensed up, and bolted around, putting out every lamp. Jules looked around in confusion.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “It’s almost dusk -- we won’t be able to see!”

“The water is darker and colder here,” said Orion solemnly, “and there’s a song on the air. The lamps would only antagonize them further.”

“‘Them?’“ recurred Jules.

“Mermaids, of course,” said Skye impatiently.

“Mermaids?”

“I heard those tales when we were all in the Navy,” said Bill, glancing at Jules a bit uneasily. “Mermaids are attracted to singing and lamplight.”

"Right,” said McNully. “There’s still a 32% chance they might show up even without those, though, so you’d best keep your wits about you.”

Skye nodded. “Mermaids are no joke. They might look beautiful above water, but they don’t look half so pretty under the water when they pull you down to the depths and eat you alive.”

Jules cringed.

“If they’re that dangerous,” she said slowly, “why don’t you do what Odysseus did, to escape the sirens? Just have someone else tie you up really tightly on the mast, and you can’t jump overboard.”

“Yeah!” Charlie piped up. “I reckon Jules, Skye, and I can handle running the ship for a bit on our own -- pretty faces don’t really do much for me.”

McNully laughed. “If being attracted to gorgeous women was the problem, then I’d be a better choice to help than Skye.”

Skye rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“Mermaids don’t just tempt you with sex,” the quartermaster explained. “They’re temptation itself. Everything about them draws you in, makes you open up to them and talk to them...lets them look right through you. They’ll try to tempt you with whatever they think you want most in the world -- and when you give in and get too close...”

She made a knife-like gesture across her throat with her finger.

“There’s only one person on this ship that’s known to have ever said ‘no’ to a mermaid before,” said McNully, and he nodded up at the helm. “And that’s the Captain.”

Bill, Charlie, and Jules all looked up in surprise. Orion had his back to them and was looking out to sea with narrowed, unreadable eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, the crew could just barely make out a eerie, beautiful song, which seemed to float on the wind itself.

“...her chains she rattled in her hands and thus replied she...”

“Stopper your ears!” McNully said urgently. “Quickly!”

The crew hurriedly did as they were told. Orion, however, did not do so. Instead he darted down to the main deck, grabbed one of the lanterns, and set about relighting it.

“Orion, what are you DOING?!” bellowed Skye.

Orion didn’t answer her. McNully rolled hurriedly around the deck as he tried to make sure everyone blocked their ears, but Orion completely ignored him, instead rushing over to the side of the ship with the lit lantern.

The singing was getting louder now.

“Yet I love his parents since they’re his, although they've ruined me... I love my love because I know my love loves me...”

Just as Bill had finished helping Charlie and Jules completely stopper their ears, he caught the sound of a low male voice singing the next line.

“With straw I'll weave a garland, I'll weave it wondrous fine...”

Bill looked up in alarm at Orion. He had a hand cupped over his mouth to magnify his volume as he sang over the ship’s railing.

“With roses, lilies, daisies I'll mix the eglantine...”

“Stop!”

Bill barreled over, grabbing Orion’s shoulder and trying to pull him back away from the edge.

“What are you doing?! Singing and lanterns attract mermaids!”

“That’s the plan,” said Orion, his voice almost frustratingly calm.

Bill saw the water burbling up beside the edge of the ship. His heart clenched with fear.

Orion, however, paid him no mind -- he turned right to the form burbling under the water, his hand beside his mouth again as he continued,

“And I'll present it to my love when he returns from sea... I love my love because I know my love loves me."

Jules quickly grabbed Bill’s arm, pulling him back away from Orion. Bill looked at her anxiously, but she merely reached up to stopper his left ear with some fabric she’d ripped out of her chemise. Orion wasn’t going to explain, so all they could do is get ready.

Within moments, a woman with red hair had appeared out of the water. Her chin and neck were still largely submerged as she blinked up at Orion.

“You know the words,” she said almost shyly.

“Yes,” said Orion. “Where did you hear that song?”

The mermaid blinked slowly. “A maid imprisoned in the brig of a pirate ship.”

Jules had been just about to stopper Bill’s right ear when he straightened up sharply. He turned his head sharply to better listen to the conversation.

"What did the maid look like?” Orion asked.

The mermaid’s eyes flickered over the pirate captain’s face carefully as she eased her head and shoulders out of the water.

“I could not tell for sure. The brig was dark. The hole looking into it was small.”

“Yet you spoke to her?”

“Yes. She was a selfless woman. Very selfless.”

“When did you see her?”

“Very early this morning...before dawn.”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed. The mermaid reached out to grab onto the edge of the Artemis so as to slide herself out of the water and closer to Orion.

“You know her,” she said.

“Yes,” Orion answered quietly.

The mermaid’s eyes seemed to soften. “...You love her.”

Bill, who had been listening carefully, looked quickly at Orion’s face for some sort of reaction -- but once again his face was remarkably calm, and he didn’t respond.

“I could take you to her,” the mermaid said sweetly. “I know where she is...”

Bill felt his mind drifting slightly, as if he’d suddenly become very sleepy -- her voice sounded almost soothing -- and she knew Carewyn? She could take them to Carewyn?

“No, thank you,” said Orion with the kind of polite finality one would more likely hear at a Christmas function than to a creature that wanted to eat human flesh. “If you saw her this morning, we’ll be caught up with them soon enough. The wind will take us where we need to go, if only we have our sails pointed in the right direction.”

He inclined his head respectfully.

“Best of luck finding your next meal elsewhere.”

The mermaid frowned in immense confusion at him, looking almost put-out.

“You and Carey Weasley are both very strange humans,” she said. Her lips then curled into a faintly wry smile as she added, “She was not tempted by our call either. That should please you.”

And with that, she splashed back into the dark water and disappeared.

Orion blew out the flame on the lamp and turned back around.

“It’s all right now!” he bellowed loud enough that everyone could just barely make out his voice through the stuffing in their ears. “It’s safe!”

Everyone little by little unblocked their ears. Bill turned around to face Orion properly, his brown eyes rippling with amazement and a bit of guilt despite himself, as the pirate captain walked past him.

“You did know what you were doing.”

Orion turned to Bill. The eldest Weasley rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I misjudged you.”

Orion inclined his head slightly to Bill, his lips touched with traces of a smile.

“A common enough thing, for people to do,” he said patiently. “Think nothing of it.”

He strolled back up to the helm, leaving Bill and Jules alone.

Jules turned to Bill. He still had his eyes on Orion’s back.

“Bill...is everything okay?”

Bill glanced at Jules and then back up at Orion, and he swallowed.

The mermaid had said Orion loved Carewyn. He didn’t make any kind of reaction that would prove it was true -- but he didn’t deny it either. And more importantly, back at the church, he’d said he wouldn’t have hurt “either Bill’s or his lady,” when talking about Jules and Carewyn. And immediately after, he spoke of Carewyn’s past, of her history with him...of details even he didn’t know, like her apparently having worn a red ribbon in her hair since she was little...with such a soft voice that it wouldn’t be a stretch to think there was something fond in it, under that detached affect..

Bill hadn’t had a real friend in his life until he’d met Carewyn. They’d connected almost immediately out of their mutual desire to protect and nurture others, and they always seemed to be in sync whenever they had to battle together. Bill had always been a shoulder for others to cry on, but it was Carewyn who had first offered her shoulder to him, while they were fighting the Spanish together. The friendship and caring she’d shown him made her family to him more than her using his name alone ever could have. She was a sister to him -- his best mate -- someone he loved and cherished like few others in the world. And he wanted every happiness for her, just as he knew she did for him...

But what happiness could there be for her, with Orion? He was a pirate. There’d be no way the Navy would pardon him with the East India Trading Company breathing down their necks -- and would Carewyn truly be happy living the life of a pirate, after having been raised on a pirate ship like the Revenge? She’d built up a stable life for herself in the Navy, and Bill knew how much Carewyn loved being able to come back to Port Royal after a long expedition -- to come home, after being at sea. But pirates had no home. There was nothing anchoring a pirate. And no matter what Orion’s feelings were, and how much Bill suspected they might actually be something genuine...it didn’t mean a thing if Carewyn didn’t feel the same way.

“Jules...” he said at last, very quietly, “...is Carey...in love with Amari?”

Jules was startled by the use of her nickname. She glanced from Bill to up at Orion at the helm and back, frowning deeply. 

“...Love, I’m not sure, but...back at the fort, before Captain Amari rescued me...Carey told me that she’d bandaged him up and hidden him from the Navy, when they were young. So when Captain Amari figured out who she was...he let her go. I reckon they probably just made it look like Carey broke free.”

This information startled Bill. His brown eyes brightened in understanding.

“He owed her a life debt,” he said softly.

Jules smiled. “No. I thought the same thing -- that it was gratitude, on Captain Amari’s part. But...”

Her dark eyes softened.

“...Carey said...that he was simply a good man. And I don’t know...but the look in her eyes, as she looked out to sea...I’ve never seen her eyes look like that before.”

She reached out and took Bill’s hand. Bill gave it a squeeze.

“The water temperature has returned to normal,” announced Orion from the helm, emptying the bucket of sea water he’d filled earlier over the side. “Go ahead and relight the lamps -- we should approach Isle de Muerta within the next day or so.”

[adhd-demetri]

First things first, love the new url, it's super you. Second are you working on the story for your oc? I actually want to read more on it -Jane

Yep and after thinking about it, if you have a twilight oc, message me and I'll add them into the story :) but this is it so far. Consider this a free sample

~Breaking news~

Things are getting pretty wild in ohio near cowan lake campgrounds. Two coyotes and wolf have been spotted in the area roaming around together wrecking havoc and panic. Biologists are baffled by the sudden appearance of a wolf in ohio with what is supposed to be their enemy.

No one knows where the trio came from but police and wildlife officials are urging people to haze them away and for parents of pets and children alike to keep a sharp eye on them.

Witnesses say they have been seen near dumpsters and trash cans tearing open bags of uneaten food-

-Click-

Demi turned off his phone as he took a bite out of a sub he and his mate had dug out of the dumpster. He snickered at the thought of him, his little brother and his mate 'wrecking havoc' over simply digging in dumpsters for goodies people through out. Like phone chargers, towels, clothing, sleeping bags and even small one person tents with easy fixes.

People are so wasteful. Throwing away perfectly good treasures. Oh well, they were now theirs.

Casper walked up behind him and threw down a tent that he just patched up. It was a cheap green and beige 4 person tent that had a hole in the roof of it. It wasn't nothing special truthfully.

"What do you think? Nice patch work right?" He said looking very proud of his work. Demi turned around and ran his fingers over the the patch, inspecting the delicate stitching and the vinyl that protected them from wear-and-tear.

"Looks good Cas, can't imagine why someone would get rid of this for a easy fix!" He shrugged, oh well. It now belongs to his younger brother.

As he got up from the forest floor, he dusted off the leaves and dirt that clung to the back of his pants. Grabbing the tent, he headed to Caspers car that was parked by an abandoned entrance way that led to overgrown trails leading to their little hideout.

"Hey alex. Check it out, Cas fixed you a tent. Now you can go camping with us instead of sleeping in the car." He said giving his 10 year old little brother the now fixed up tent.

Alex was sitting in the back playing mario kart tour on his phone. He glanced down quickly and laid his phone down. He picked up the tent bag and looked at its contents. His baby blue eyes started to widen with excitement.

"Th-this is for me? My own tent? Wow this is so cool!" The little blond was practically jumping up and down in his spot with pure joy and happiness radiating off of him. He was so happy to have his own tent finally.

"Yup, tonight Cas and I can teach you how to put it up and when we leave, take it down. Sound good?"

"Yes! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!" He suddenly slammed into Demi with a tight hug. Demi patted his head and pulled the excited child off of himself.

Alex went back to playing his game. Demi went back and sat on the ground to join Casper in the small clearing while he was redoing the zipper work on one of the sleeping bags. Casper nearly had this one finished up and planned on giving it to Alex since it had Kion and other lion guard characters on it. Casper concentrated as he worked on stitching the zipper to the sleeping bag.

"Soooo Alex loved his tent. Thank you for fixing it up for him."

"No problem. Seemed better than sitting in the car ya know? Oh hey look I finally got it stitched. You know these zippers are so hard to fix now a days." He said zipping up the bag and admiring his work.

He looked up and noticed the sun was starting to paint the sky in a beautiful array of oranges and pinks mixed with some purples and blues. The air felt slightly cooler than it did before.

Demi rolled his eyes and simply smiled.

He knew it was time to get going and head back to the campgrounds.

Casper followed right behind him and started up his car. They headed back to Cowan Lake campgrounds tenting area.

"Hey alex! Buckle up bud!" He yelled getting back up and getting into the car to leave.

The ride there was quite relaxing as the trio was simply jamming out to some music on their way to the campgrounds. They didn't have a care in the world it seemed.

They finally made it back to their spot. Alex quickly hopped out along with his tent and claimed a spot right next to where Demi and Casper's tent was. He started to pull everything out of the make shift bag that he had stuffed it in previously.

Demi quickly got out and ran to him. He didnt want Alex to lose anything.

"Hey bud slow down, We still got to help you put it up. Cas you want to get the fire going? We can roast some shmellows and some hot dogs. I'm starved!" Demi quickly started unraveling the tent and pulling out the poles, laying them nice and neat.

While they did that, Casper started up the fire. It roared to life after a few moments of poking and prodding it with fiery paper. He grabbed all the goodies, the roasting sticks and a mini table from his car.

The sun sunk down below the trees as the beauty of the moon rose to the sky. She bathed the area in a soft ghostly white glow.

Meanwhile Alex and Demi finally got his tent all nice and set up. It looked a little worn down but it was definitely still usuable.

"Hey who wants shmellows? We got some dogs that need roasting too!" Cas called out to Demi and Alex. He laid out the marshmallows and chocolate along side the hotdogs, gram crackers and bread. Alex and Demi joined him by the cozy fire grabbing a few bits of food and wolfing them down like ravenous animals.

Demi shushed him real quick. He didn't want to disturb others and cause any unnecessary commotion. The last time that happened didn't end well .... for the other person that is.

Around them other campfires crackled and popped while kids and couples alike told stories and roasted foods. Some saying goodnight while others stayed out.

"So when the fire goes out, do you two want to go on a run? I'm pretty sure that stupid Cullen family is out hunting and I do NOT want him near our area." Demi asked Casper and Alex.

Casper thought about it for a moment and mouthed I dont care while shoving a hotdog in his mouth. Alex simply shook his head yes as he ate a burnt gooey marshmallow.

"Yeah it's a full moon tonight! And I haven't ran with you guys in forever!" Alex shouted a tad bit to loud grabbing the attention of a few nearby campers.

"Let's wait till 10. Most of the other campers will be asleep and in their tents by then. It would be the perfect time to slip out." Demi said leaning into his mate's embrace.

No one screams at his little brother for being excited.

"Yeah, it has been awhile hasn't it? It's about time we run and get a good idea of how big our territory is too if this is our permanent home." Casper said.

Demi nodded in agreement as he got up. He went to his and Casper's tent and stripped down to just his incredibly warm out pants. He didn't care if these pants got destroyed while shifting. They've been through so much and it was time to finally to get rid of them.

Casper got up from his spot and joined Demi in the tent. He wrapped his arms around Demi's midsection, pulling him into a warm hug.

"So when you want to head out love?" He whispered.

They both sat down on their makeshift bed. Minutes passed as they simply stayed still together.

A sense of euphoria enveloped him. What a lovely feeling it was.

He got up quickly, peeking out of the tent entrance way.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

His little brother crossed his mind. He left him out there by the fire by himself!

Hide and seek

Thankfully the fire was dying since no one was paying it any attention.

His brother was lying down on the grass. His headphones over his head and his hand tracing the stars as he sang a familiar song quietly. His head bobbing in sync to the beat.

Reason and rhyme

Grand and glorious

Living the dream

yours and mine

~ Euphoria!

As he sand the last part, his arm fell to his side. A smile was spreading across his face as he lost himself in his own little world of euphoria.

Demi felt his body shift quickly. Thankfully his pants were worn enough to not make hardly any noise. Brown, orange and white fur littered from his skin quickly.

The feeling of happiness and joy could be felt radiating from him once again.

Demi sighed to himself, grateful his brother was ok.

"Everything alright love?"

"Yeah, just got worried about Alex but he's fine. He's in his own little world right now."

"I can tell. I can feel it from here."

Demi went back and sat down. He searched for his phone to check the time.

9:57 PM

All of the other campers were asleep by now. The only ones awake at this point was the trio.

Casper's body morphed as well. Silvery gray fur with white swirls that resembled a starry galaxy painted his skin. His body shifted and the shorts he had were ripped quickly.

And just like that, a coyote that could blend in with the autumn themed environment stood before Casper.

The air swirled around Demi. With it, The smell of wet leaves and smoke with sugary delights. Demi inhaled the savory scents before making his way to the child that was still relaxed on the grass.

And just like that, a wolf stood above Demi in the 10 person tent.

Giving his mate a quick nuzzle, Demi slowly crept outside the tent. He didn't want to wake anyone or draw attention to himself. He still had to get Alex into their tent.

Demi nudges Alex with his snoot, urging him to get up. Alex realised it was time and ran to his brother's tent as there would be no room to shift in his own.

Soon after a small blondish white coyote pup came out. His ears and tail were probably the most unique feature both the wolf and coyote have ever seen.

Casper ran out of tent to give Alex some privacy.

'So Cas, did you hear what they said about us on the news? They think we are trouble makers!

Just were the ears attach to the head, Alex's fur was a shiny metallic gold color. His tail was the same way.

He jumped up into the air and started to run a tad bit. The excitment seemed to rub off on Demi. He too started to jump around with his little brother. Together their energy seemed to wile them up even more.

With a burst of energy, the trio took off onto the road. Demi and Alex yipped along the way down the road. Casper's tongue lulled out of his mouth while he ran.

Alex on the other paw didn't want to go digging like his older brother. He was more interested in the playground that was close by and the toys that had been abandoned there as well.

Ha! Can you believe that? Let's give them real trouble!'

Cas nodded in response. He started to slow down as they approached the dumpsters. The overwhelming smell of garbage that has been marinating all day under a scorching hot sun wafted around the trio.

Demi charged ahead of them. He loved digging in the trash, all kinds of goodies people would throw out for no reason was calling his name!

He chased after his brother though.

[pies-writes-and-more]

Jealous (Strong) Steve

Word Count: 2,462

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nothing besides some swearing

EDIT: Thanks to LucyDelacourt on AO3 for requesting this jealous Steve over ThorxReader fic!

Steve stared at the broken phone in his hands, already dreading the conversation he’d have to have with Tony about getting a replacement.

“What, were you watching porn and didn’t want anyone else to see?” Tony would smirk, to which Steve would roll his eyes.

“I just need a new phone, Stark. I’m not hiding something.”

“You crushed it with your bare hands, Cap. My guess, you let your emotions get the best of you.”

And Tony would be right. Steve sighed as he leaned against the kitchen island, the crushed up phone lying in front of him.

"You know, when I first met you, I never would’ve dreamed of seeing the day that Captain America loses his cool,” Sam quipped, having just come in from the downstairs lounge. He gave his friend a smirk before searching the fridge for a beer. “Want one?”

“What’s the point? Won’t do anything,” Steve mumbled, sighed as he pushed his broken phone away slightly. 

Sam shrugged and opened a can for himself, leaning his back against the island as he stood next to the first Avenger. “You’ve had a lot of these crazy emotional instances a lot lately huh?”

Steve just stared at the countertop, thinking about the past week. It had been terrible.

First it had been the punching bags down at the gym. Tony threw a fit because he’d have to order more and find someone to clean up the mess since Steve tore holes through every single one of them in one night. 

Then, it was the plates from yesterday. Steve had been doing the dishes and while scrubbing one of them down, snapped it in two. Tony hadn’t been too happy about that either.

Next came his motorcycle handlebar, which he had snapped right off the bike. Of course, it had to have happened while he was riding it into the garage and ended up throwing him off balance and caused him to scrape up his shoulder and the side of the bike pretty bad. Thankfully, he had enhanced healing. The bike on the other hand, not so much.

Steve took a deep breath as he thought about all the instances, avoiding Sam’s eyes. “Hasn’t been my week.” He commented, tensing his hands into fists and then relaxing them again as he attempted to control his anger.

“I have a solution for you,” Sam offered.

“Sam, I’m not-”

“Tell. Her. How. You. Feel.” Sam clapped back, snickering as he saw just how annoyed Steve was getting with him. “I said it before, I’m saying it again. The girl’s got it bad for you. But you ain’t going to get anywhere with her if you sit around and sulk 24/7.”

Steve shook his head, standing up straight as he stared out the nearby window. “What kind of girl would pick an old man over a Norse god?”

“Demi-god,” Sam pointed out to deaf ears as Steve thought about the common denominator in each of his anger outburst instances.

He had specifically gone to the gym to get rid of some of the anger and jealousy pumping in his veins. But even over the loud thumps of his fists against the punching bags, he could still hear the melodious sound of (Y/N)’s laugh and the grating sound of Thor’s loud boasting voice. It had drove him mad, thinking that (Y/N)’s smile wasn’t directed towards him. That Thor was the reason why she was so happy. Before he knew it, all the bags were torn apart, but his jealousy still wasn’t gone.

When he had been washing the dishes, he had made the mistake of glancing over at (Y/N) and Thor in the nearby sitting area. (Y/N) offered to show the god some new app on his phone and leaned over Thor to look at the screen. Steve couldn’t stand the thought of Thor being so close to her, being able to feel her skin on his, smell her shampoo. It made him snap. And the plates too. The crack was so loud, (Y/N) and Thor looked over and even asked him if he was okay. Steve stormed away before he had to give an answer. 

His poor bike had gotten the worst of it. Steve had been coming into the garage from town on his bike and saw Thor helping (Y/N) out of her car. He couldn’t help but tighten his grip on the handlebars as he thought about how it’s such a gentleman-ly thing to do. How (Y/N) deserved a partner who would do all those kinds of cute cheesy things for her. It made it worse when he saw the blush on her cheeks. God she was so fucking beautiful- and the next thing he knew, he was groaning with pain on the ground, his bike whirring beside him.

Tonight had been going just fine. Steve figured if he just stopped thinking about it, he would stop overreacting. But then Tony and Pepper put some music on, (Y/N) started to sing along (and Steve died over hearing her voice), but then Thor got up and asked her to dance. That did it. Steve crushed his phone in his hands and didn’t even realize it till after he stormed out of the room and into the kitchen.

Steve closed his eyes, his jaw tightening slightly as he thought through each and every one of the scenarios. He could feel the jealousy and anger starting to pump through him again as if he was reliving each one.

“Red alert,” Sam muttered quickly and Steve’s eyes shot wide open.

“Stevie? Sam?” (Y/N) called, coming up the stairs to the kitchen and peering in. “You guys okay?” she asked with a smile.

“Just getting some refills,” Sam shot her a grin, grabbing some more beers and headed towards the stairs. He nudged Steve on the way, giving him a wink before disappearing.

“Steve?” (Y/N) repeated, seeing how agitated he looked. “You alright?”

Steve glanced at her and was thrilled to see Thor wasn’t trailing behind her. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? I know you- oh my god, Steve, your phone!” (Y/N) exclaimed, coming over and picking up the crushed piece of tech. “Damn, you really are strong huh?” She giggled, smiling up at him. “What happened?”

Steve swallowed hard hearing her giggle. Seeing her smile. Fuck, he thought to himself, trying to think of a good excuse. “Just... not my week,” he said slowly.

“I’ll say,” (Y/N) agreed, leaning against the other side of the island so she was facing him. “You’ve been acting really weird.”

Steve dropped his gaze to the counter, biting down on his lip. (Y/N) watched for a moment before walking over to his side and touching his shoulder, “Can I see it? Is it still bugging you?” She asked, tugging at his shirt sleeve.

“I’m fine-” he started, pulling away slightly.

(Y/N) glared at him, sending a shiver down his spine. She had been worried sick when she had seen him fly off his motorcycle. “I told you those things were dangerous,” she commented as he complied, pulling his sleeve up.

Steve grunted in response, letting her see the practically healed over scar. “You know I heal fast, (Y/N), what’s the point of seeing it?” He asked, feeling her eyes running down his arm.

“I just like to look at your arms.” (Y/N) responded simply, a mischievous smirk on her face. 

Steve’s eyes shot over, blinking in surprise as he wondered if he was hearing things, “S-Sorry?”

“I. Like. To. Look. At. Your. Arms.” (Y/N) repeated, emphasis on each word. She giggled as she sat up on the island, looking him in the eye. “You going to tell me what’s up with you, Captain? It feels like you’ve been avoiding me this week.”

Steve stammered as (Y/N) pulled on his shirt, tugging him closer to her. “I-I don’t know what you mean. I told you, h-hasn’t been a good week for me.”

“Why?” She pressed, tilting her head up at him. “Wouldn’t... have anything to do with me would it?” She asked, batting her lashes innocently.

Dammit, Steve thought to himself. He was literally becoming jelly at the knees. His heart was racing so fast, he was sure he was going to have an asthma attack, which he hadn’t in years. He leaned against the counter to prop himself up, his hands on each side of her hips as he watched her eyes. “Why would it have anything to do with you, doll?”

(Y/N) smiled at the nickname, playing with the edge of his shirt. “I dunno, it just seems like I’m always around when you have anger issues. I thought maybe you weren’t enjoying having me around.” She admitted.

“No, of course not!” Steve shook his head quickly, touching her hand. “I love having you around-” he hesitated, watching her eyes. Was she toying with him? Was she trying to get this confession out of him for a laugh?

(Y/N) giggled as she watched the supersoldier, this normally super calm and stoic character, falling apart in front of her, “Did I do something to make you angry, Cap’n?” She asked softly, taking his hand and playing with his fingers.

Steve swallowed, watching her. Keep it down, now’s not the time, he was trying to tell himself, but he felt the words bubbling up his throat. “I can’t stand seeing you with him!” He blurted out and immediately regretted it. (Y/N)’s face was surprised with his outburst. He pulled his hand away from her, stepping away from the island. 

(Y/N) thought hard for a moment, a little unsure of what he meant. “Wait, him who?” She asked, confused.

“Thor,” Steve sighed, running a hand through his normally perfect hair. “I know I’m not a god of Thunder or anything, doll, I know I don’t exactly stand as competition, but it’s hard not to be jealous.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. The serum definitely didn’t enhance his brain, that’s for sure. “Steve, are you telling me you’re jealous? Of Thor?”

Steve nodded slowly, “I know, I’m dumb,” he huffed staring at the ground. “Bold of me to assume I’d have any chance with a gal like you.”

(Y/N) watched him with wide eyes. Did this man not see himself every time he was in the mirror? Did he not know that people literally fell at his feet? Begged for some sort of attention from him? Did he not know that his heart of gold was literally the biggest turn on for her? “Steve-” she started, trying to somehow make a sentence that would explain how she felt.

“It’s fine, (Y/N). I don’t need a pity explanation. I just can’t handle my anger around you and him,” Steve commented quietly. His heart was sinking. He knew this wasn’t going to work.

“Steve-” She started again, earnestly trying to grab his gaze.

“I just couldn’t help but fall for you!” Steve was explaining, caught in this wind of admitting his feelings. He was on a roll and his mouth just wouldn’t shut up. “Every time you look at me, I feel like I lose all serum in my body and I’m going to pass out any minute. Every time you laugh, I can literally feel my heart trying to escape out of my chest. Is that even possible?! I-”

Before he could go on and on and on, like the dramatic shit he is, (Y/N) jumped off the counter, grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him down to kiss her. Their lips crashed together and Steve made a muffled surprised sound that made her smile. She giggled as she felt him kiss her eagerly, pulling her waist so her body was pressed up against his.

“You good now?” (Y/N) asked, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“Mm, not yet,” he muttered, reaching up to pull her chin in again, kissing her deeply. “Fuck,” Steve groaned, his stomach doing flips.

“Captain!” (Y/N) burst into laughter, slapping his chest gently. “Watch your language!”

“I can’t help myself,” he smiled bashfully, looking at this gorgeous girl in front of him. His eyes widened as he realized what just happened, blinking in surprise, “W-Wait, but Thor-”

“Thor’s my best friend, you dummy. He knows I’ve been head over heels in love with you since I first met you.” (Y/N) smiled, watching as the realization dawns on Steve’s face. 

She’s in love with me? Steve’s mind was going crazy. “But... you two are always laughing together...” he grumbled, biting down on his inner cheek.

“He’s an idiot, it’s hard not to laugh with him,” (Y/N) shrugged.

“And you’re always helping him with things...”

“I’d help you too if you weren’t so damn stubborn about doing things on your own!”

“...What about in the garage? You were blushing when he helped you out of the car?”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, not even going to question how he had seen that, “You really want to know?” Steve nodded innocently and (Y/N) sighed. “Thor was teasing me about what it’d be like to date you. He insisted you’d be a perfect gentleman because you’re from the ‘olden days’, how you’d help me out of the car, make sure to open doors for me,” (Y/N) explained, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down a little closer as she talked.

He was going to hyperventilate for sure. He swallowed hard as he tried to grasp his thoughts, trying to figure out what to say next.

“You going to stand there all gobsmacked? Or are you going to ask me out, Cap’n?” She teased, her lips dancing along his slightly.

Steve blinked, stammering over his words as he attempted to string a sentence together, “W-Would you go out with me, (Y/N)?” He babbled, groaning internally at how high and nervous his voice was.

“Hmmm,” (Y/N) smirked, teasing him as she pretending like she had to think about it. “Kiss me once more, just so I’m sure.”

Steve laughed nervously at how bold this girl was, staring at those lips he was hungry for, “Doll, if it works out, it’ll be more than just once more.” He whispered as he lifted her up and kissed her, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“Thank fuck!” Tony’s voice made the two of them jump, blinking in shock as they looked over to find their whole group of friends in the doorway. “Now that you two have finally admitted your disgusting feelings to each other, Steve can stop breaking all my shit!”

“Yeah about that,” Steve blushed, glancing at the broken phone on the island.

“Goddammit, Rogers!” Tony groaned loudly, staring at the piece of broken tech.

Steve grinned widely as he tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s waist and rushed past the group to his room, the two of them giggling like a bunch of teenagers.

Masterlist Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added :) ) @kaytizzle​ @steverogersxreader (Not my gif! Creds to the original creator!) 

[angelanimedesaray]

A Quest for Gods

AN:  This is an inherited request for a DemiGod!Reader, child of Hades, going about the task of reviving Erwin after the events of season 3.  This turned into far more of a behemoth of a part 1 than I’d been expecting, and wow did I love writing this.  I’m playing with the idea of a part two, but if I do a part two, then unlike this one, it will be more pairing centered, and yes, I already have a pairing in mind.  But that’s entirely up to how this part 1 is received and the feedback I get.  Also, yeah, this part is pretty much pairing free because there was already SO MUCH TO DO WITH THIS IDEA without adding a pairing into the mix.  Finally, I tinkered with some of the Underworld myths because there’s different variations/conflicting stories, and here and their I wanted to tweak the narrative to fit my needs :)

Characters:  Demi-God!Reader, Levi, Hange, Erwin (?), Hades, Charon

Warnings:  Language, Death, angst

Word Count:  9930 (Sweet Merciful Glory, this is the size of my longer AO3 fanfic chapters O_o)

Part 2 --->

(I reached a dead end trying to find who made the gif)

“He’s already dead.”

The solemn finality that settled over the group of five--now four--was crushing, the weight of the yawning unknown in front of them causing a suffocating pressure to build in your chest.  The grim air cloying around those gathered near Erwin’s body was in stark contrast to the reunion happening several houses over.  As glad for Armin and the others as you were, Erwin’s loss hung too heavily over you for you to join those feelings.

You didn’t envy Levi having to choose between Erwin and Armin, something telling you that if you’d only had those two choices, you wouldn’t have been able to choose.

If you’d only had the two choices…

Your gaze slid towards Erwin’s body, the inkling of a dangerous thought starting to tickle the edges of your consciousness.  Before the idea could form into a solid thought, Levi’s words about why he’d chosen Armin despite his earlier stubbornness to save Erwin echoed in your mind.

He had no choice but to become a devil.  It was us who wished for that.  And in the end, when he had finally been set free from hell, we wanted to bring him back once more.

But I think...it’s time to let him rest.

You snapped your gaze away from Erwin with a guilt starting to eat its way through you at feeding the thought that hadn’t even completely formed.  How could you even start to consider doing such a thing to Erwin?  Floch had said the reason he didn’t kill Erwin upon finding him was because Floch wanted Erwin to suffer more.  Part of Floch’s argument had been to make Erwin suffer more.

Surely, whatever it was that awaited them in the abyss of the unknown, was something they could navigate without Erwin having to suffer on this Earth any longer.  The few Survey Corps that were still alive would find a way.

Somehow…

And yet...I can’t quite bring myself to believe it.

The basement didn’t bring enlightenment.  It brought darkness and fear, a frightening reality that made frightful questions plague your mind.  Yes, Armin was a genius in his own right, and he was valuable and still had so much to live for...but with possibly the whole world against your people…

How were any of you going to survive without Commander Erwin’s leadership?  You all had thought he could finally rest--whether or not he’d earned it wasn’t in questions--but it seemed now you all needed him more than ever.

But could you justify pulling that man out of what very well could be true rest after the hell of this world?

Your eyes stared unseeing into the darkness of your room as thoughts, ideas, theories, all angles of the moral dilemma in front of you churned in your mind.  It was an unseen wrestle of the soul, and when at long last you decided you would not come to a conclusion on your own, you threw the covers aside and felt your feet touch the cold floor.  You subconsciously made yourself decent, your still-bare feet carrying you out the door as you strode with a purpose through the halls.  You didn’t even fully realize where you were going until you were standing outside the door and were halfway through four quick knocks.

You needed another opinion if you were going to break the pattern of indecision.  What better place to go than to someone who said things as he saw them, blunt, and the one who’d already made the impossible choice?

There was a moment of complete silence that made you briefly worry that you had just knocked on Levi’s door one of the few nights he’d managed to fall asleep.

“Who is it?”  After giving your name, you heard shuffling inside, and then a follow up, “come in.”

Levi’s office was almost as dark as your own room, except for a single candle on his desk lighting the small area.  Levi was still in uniform--minus the cloak and jacket--and leaning against the front of his desk, a faintly steaming cup of tea in hand.  Beside him, sitting in the chair normally placed in front of his desk, was Hange, a glass of what was most likely alcohol gripped in her hands.  She was leaning forward, tired eyes focused on you as you slipped inside and shut the door behind you.

“What is it?” Levi asked, the hint of a worn note reverberating in his curt question.

Fuck, what were you doing?

You were already here, the door was shut behind you, there was no going back.  You might as well--

“Spit it out,” Levi commanded as an awkward silence started to fill the room.

Don’t even think about it, just say it and get it over with--

“If there was another way to bring Commander Erwin back, would you do it?”

Another, this time painful, silence fell over the room.  Levi’s eyes widened in surprise, and Hange leaned back in her chair.  The urge to squirm under their intense and shocked gazes was hard to resist, but you didn’t want to give them any more reason to keep giving you those looks.

“What the hell kind of a question is that?” Levi eventually snapped.

That piercing gaze was not one you wanted to meet right now, considering Erwin had just died and the pain was still fresh, and here you were asking this.  Instead, you looked either at the ground or at Hange, even if her gaze was also quite piercing.

“It’s just something I need to know,” you said softly.

“Tch.” Levi turned aside, placing his cup on the desk with more force than necessary.

“There’s no way to bring the dead back to life, y/n,” Hange said in a serious tone you were still adjusting to hearing from the woman.  The new Survey Corps Commander...she had a lot of weight on her shoulders, now--you might be seeing this serious side of her far more often.

“It’d be a pointless conversation,” Levi cut in with a tone that suggested there would be no more discussion of the matter.  “If that’s all you wanted to ask, then you should leave.”

You stood your ground, summoning up the courage to meet Levi’s gaze head on, even if you wanted to squirm or dash away.  “Just answer the question.”

The faintest smile appeared on Hange’s face, while Levi scowled and turned away, walking around his desk.  He paused at the desk’s side, his back still towards you, and started to speak.

“It’s like I said...Erwin’s earned his rest.”

“We might need him more than ever, now that we know what’s out there,” Hange pointed out.

“But would you want to take that rest from him?” Levi asked sharply, head turned to Hange as he addressed her.  He turned just enough to face you, part of his face cast in shadow.  “Does that answer your question?”

No, it didn’t.  It was just the simplified version of what you were struggling with, and didn’t give you the solid answer you needed.

It seemed you were only going to get the sure answer from one person.

Your frustration bubbling, you hoped the dark of the room hid your feelings and the serious contemplation you were still struggling with.

“Thank you, Captain.  Commander,” you said suddenly, re-opening the door to make a quick exit before things could get any more awkward.

As the door shut behind you, Levi and Hange shared a look.

It was depressingly easy to sneak out with so few Scouts left.

Upon returning to your room, you had simply stood in the center of its darkness for a few moments before stirring to action.  After pulling on your green cloak and some socks and boots, you grabbed a pouch you’d been keeping hidden under a loose floorboard, tied it onto your belt, and hurried back out of your room, drawing your hood to hide your face.

Outside it was a little easier to see with the moonlight filtering down through light canopies of the trees instead of peeking through the occasional window of the Survey Corps headquarters.  Your steps were sure and quick, your destination firmly in mind as you moved in the shadows--just in case someone who was still awake like Levi and Hange happened to look outside.  This was something you needed--or, at least, wanted--to do alone, and prying eyes was the last thing you wanted on you.

A couple miles away from the Survey Corps headquarters, you finally saw the outcropping of rock you’d been looking for.  Walking up to the exposed rock wall, you placed a hand thoughtfully against the cool, smooth surface, your other hand reaching into the pouch you’d brought with you.  After a quick inspection of the rock, you pulled out one of the small medallions your father had given you long ago for emergencies only.  You hesitated for one brief moment, then carefully pressed the medallion against the surface of the rock.  The metal-wrought image of an ancient helm placed in front of a bident suddenly sank into the surface, a dark red glow appearing around its edges.  You stepped back as the medallion seemed to melt, the trickles of metal turning to thin lines that shone like obsidian framed by magma in the night, forming the outline of a slim, arched doorway.  The rock within the outline started to crack, then suddenly crumbled with a burst of steam to reveal a dark, cavernous passage leading steeply down into the earth.

You hesitated at the entrance for a moment, wondering if you needed to brave the depths alone or if you needed to wait for…

Movement in the darkness caught your eyes, and you stepped back from the entrance at the sight of silver streaked white hair.  The figure emerging from the darkness was an elderly man dressed in tattered, simple clothes, a sturdy, long rod in hand that he leaned upon in the doorway of the newly formed entrance.

A gnarled hand reached out towards you, held out as if expecting an offering of some kind.  His eyes were dull and haunting, framed by a tangle of long, unkempt hair the same silvery white as his patchy beard--but his eyes also held danger, a threat, even for you if you made a wrong move.

Reaching back into a pouch, this time you pulled out a handful of ancient silvery coins, dropping three into his hand.  The man quickly clamped down on the obol coins, tucking them away as you spoke up.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“You’ve been gone a long time--he would not miss your arrival.”  As he spoke, his eyes shifted, looking at something behind you.  A shiver went down your spine, hairs standing up on the back of your neck.

“And who exactly is waiting for you?”

The low, dangerous tone had you backstepping before you’d even finished turning around.

Captain Levi, the one who just spoke, and Commander Hange were both standing directly behind you, a look that matched the dangerous tone darkening Levi’s face.

The reality of just how bad this all looked, considering what they had learned today, struck fear in your heart, even if you knew you weren’t doing anything wrong.

All they knew was that you’d snuck out in the middle of the night, opened a hole in the earth by means unknown, and were talking about some mysterious individual you wanted to see.  Considering you’d all just learned about a world of unknown capabilities beyond the walls that was out to destroy everyone in the walls...you understood why Levi was pinning you with such an expression.

Lying right now was only going to get you killed.  They would know you were lying, and at the very least, the fact you were trying to lie might condemn you if the ‘you wouldn’t lie if you didn’t have anything to hide’ philosophy applied here.  The truth was your best option, no matter how outlandish it may seem.

At least after today, after all the information that had been dumped on everyone, they might be more liable to listen to the outlandish and insane.

“My father--I wanted to try asking for his help,” you said quietly in the face of their suspicion, doing your best to stay calm.

Levi’s eyes narrowed.  “Your father?”

“I know this looks bad, but I’m trying to get help, not fetching another threat,” you said, glancing between the tense Hange and Levi.

“Your behavior suggests otherwise,” Hange pointed out.  “Sneaking around, keeping secrets--it’s in your best interests to start explaining.”

“It’s a lot to explain, and a lot to believe…” you said with a hint of hesitation, conscious of the fact you’d already paid an increasingly impatient Charon.

“I would not keep your father waiting.  Not on account of these mortals,” Charon said behind you, his annoyance clear.

Your father’s anger, or Levi’s…

Your father could wait a few moments longer.

“Look, I don’t have the time to explain right now,” you said, drawing Levi’s and Hange’s attention back to you and away from the fact they’d just been called mortals.  “But, if you think you can trust me enough to come with me, I’ll try to explain along the way.”

There was understandable hesitation from both of them.  Considering the current situation and the recent betrayals even among former Scouts, you weren’t expecting these two to trust you immediately, no matter how many fights and near-death situations the three of you had been through in the past years.  Frankly, you’d be disappointed if they hadn’t hesitated, or didn’t even try to question you to some extent, first.

“How do we know you won’t lead us into a trap?” Levi asked.

“I suppose that’s part of the trust.  You’ll have to trust that I don’t mean either of you harm, or anyone within these walls, for that matter.”  You put your hands up in a proffered silent offer.  “You can frisk me for weapons if it will make you feel better.  I don’t have any--considering I’m going to meet my father, I didn’t think weapons were needed--but you can still check.”

Not one to disappoint, Levi checked you over anyway, fingers prodding in places you hadn’t even thought of for any kind of hidden weapon.  While Levi searched you, Hange asked questions.

“Who’s your father?”

“Hades.  Just Hades,” you said simply.

“You say that like it’s supposed to mean something to us.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t--it didn’t mean anything to me the first time I heard it, either,” you admitted, finally putting your arms down as Levi stepped back, finished firsking you for weapons.  “If you’re satisfied I’m not going to try stabbing you in the tunnel, I’ll explain who he is on the way there.  If I keep him waiting any longer, he’s going to be furious...and that’s not something I want to be on the receiving end of.”

They didn’t say yes, but they didn’t say no, either, so you assumed they were willing to follow you, turning back to Charon and digging back in your purse, pulling out six obols this time.  Charon didn’t reach out to take them.

“Your father will not be...pleased that you’ve brought mortals into his realm.”

That earned a bit of a glare from you as you dug back through your bag and pulled out two golden drachmas to add to the obols.  Now that you’d tripled the fare, Charon accepted the coins and turned to face the depths below them, already starting the path down.  You turned back to Levi and Hange, neither of them looking pleased to be following you down into the unknown.

“Stay close to me,” you told them seriously.  This was uncharted territory for them, but somewhere familiar for you, and considering all the dangerous things the three of you could run into on your way through the Underworld...you’d rather keep an eye on them, for their sakes.

With no torch lighting your way, the three of you followed the narrow tunnel, the sound of Charon’s rod tapping against the rocky ground acting as an audible guide through the darkness.  You had a hand pressed against the wall on your right as a way to stabilize yourself.

“Where does this even lead?” Levi asked, his voice coming directly behind you.  Hange was probably walking behind him.

“The Underworld...not to be confused with the Underground, that’s entirely different.”

A few moments of silence, then, “Start explaining.”

Here we go…

“Before the walls were put up, there used to be this ancient civilization known as the Greeks.  They believed in many different gods and goddesses, but the most important were the Big Three: god of the sky, lightning, and thunder, Zeus; god of the sea, earthquakes, storms, and horses, Poseidon; and god of the dead, hidden wealth, the Underworld, and some would also say regret...Hades.  My father.”

“You want us to believe you’re the brat of some ancient god?  You do know how insane that sounds?”

“Even though we live in a world with Titans, and after everything we’ve learned about what’s outside the walls, is it really that hard to believe?” you asked, noting that the ground beneath you seemed to be leveling out once more.  “Besides, you’ll see it for yourself soon, anyway.”

Light started to filter into the tunnel, a faint bluish light that made it possible to see the ground beneath your feet and Charon walking a few steps ahead of you.  If you turned your head, you could see Levi indeed walking only half a step behind you, Hange only a step away from Levi.  At least they were staying close, like you’d asked, though you had the feeling part of it was in preparation for an ambush or trap of some kind.  Especially since you were officially claiming to be the offspring of a god.

“And the Underworld would be what, exactly?” Hange asked.

The light grew brighter, an indication that you had at least made the on foot part of the journey.  You were about to come to the part that made Charon invaluable to anyone who wanted to travel through the Underworld.  In fact, it was close enough you made Hange wait for an answer until you’d gone down the last few steps and could finally see the beginning of the Underworld, moving aside so that Hange and Levi would be able to see as well.

“The land of the dead.”

They had entered a vast cavern that was bathed in the etheral blue light.  The tunnel ended in a small cliff that jutted out into the cavern, the rest of the space made up of vaulted natural ceilings and a bottomless pit instead of a smooth rock floor.  As for the light, it came from a flowing silvery blue river that touched the lip of the cliff before disappearing down into the dark depths below.

And it was suspended in nothing; just a stream of ethereal water thick enough for a narrow boat to sail, winding forward and curving out of sight, deeper into the realm.

It was all they could see at the moment, though considering it was a glowing river suspended in the air, you figured it would be enough of a first sight of the Underworld to get them thinking you were telling the truth.

Hange gasped behind you, pushing her way to the front so she could get a closer look at the river, peering over the edge to gaze at the water disappearing below.  She got close enough to the edge you saw a slightly wide-eyed Levi shift closer, ready to catch her if she leaned too far over the edge.  As you watched, Charon’s boat started to make its way towards you as if it had a mind of its own, Charon’s gaze focused on the boat and ignoring the three of you entirely.  Hange was momentarily distracted from the river by the approaching unmanned boat, eyes wide.

“Ooh, you have to tell me how it’s doing that--and this river--”

“Most of what you’re going to see down here I can only explain by calling it magic or divine...or infernal, whichever you prefer.  I don’t think you can call some of the things down here divine.”  Maybe if you said that now, it would save you from having to explain things you really didn’t know how to explain later.

The boat reached the cliff, causing Hange to step back as Charon reached out a hand and placed it on the boat’s figurehead of a screech owl, bringing it to a stop and steadying the boat in place.

“Come on--we need to keep moving,” you said, already climbing onto the boat, watching the other two as they climbed aboard.

Hange was studying everything, from the figurehead carving as she climbed into the sides of the boat for any kind of visible mode of movement--finding none--and still gazing at the glowing water, an arm resting on the side of the boat as she did so.  Levi was far more cautious, approaching the boat like he expected it to tip over and drop all of you into the bottomless chasm below, leering at the glowing water--he probably thought it was poisonous or tainted in some way.

Sadly, he wasn’t wrong.

Charon was the last one to get in, the rod in his hand dipping into the shimmering waters and pushing off the cliff to get the boat started forward.  It glided through the waters without any kind of turbulence or resistance, making it deceptively smooth sailing into the land of the dead.

“I don’t see many dead people for a land of the dead,” Levi pointed out, leaning back in his seat at the end of the boat opposite from Charon, his back against the bow and other carved figurehead.

“We haven’t even gone through the entrance yet,” you defended, watching Hange as she leaned over the edge of the boat to get a closer look at the water.  “That tunnel only brought us over the boundary river Styx.  This river is going to bring us past the actual entrance.  Don’t worry, you can’t miss it, there’s a three he--don’t touch the water!”

Your hand shot out before you even finished speaking, lunging forward to stop Hange from plunging her hand into its glowing current.  You had her by the wrist, your eyes wide as you pulled her back into the boat.  Levi was half out of his seat from your sudden shout and movement, but Hange was looking at you startled and with an expression that clearly asked ‘why not?’

“This is the Lethe, river of forgetfulness.  Souls drink from this river to erase the lives they’ve lived from their minds entirely.  So unless you want to forget everything you’ve ever known, I’d resist the urge to touch it...or any of the rivers, on that note--none of them are good.”  You let go of her wrist.  “It’s best to just steer clear of the waters down here.”

Levi pulled Hange down into her seat by the back of her shirt after your explanation.  “This place isn’t curiosity friendly, four-eyes, try to keep yourself under control.”

Hange pouted.  “But I wanted to get a closer look…”

“Sorry, Hange, but this is as close as you’re going to get in this stage of existence,” you said with a bittersweet smile.

“This is all...interesting...but why did you come down here?” Levi asked.  “This isn’t just a family visit.”

You looked away, choosing to look at the glimmering water below rather than at your companions.  “No, it isn’t.  Ever since we found out what was in that basement, I’ve been thinking, and I want to try…”

You really hoped they weren’t going to take this badly.  Especially knowing Levi’s thoughts on the matter.

“I want to try asking my father if he’ll let Erwin come back.”

There were a few beats of silence with you refusing to take a peek at their reactions, just in case their reactions weren’t pretty.  Your eyes were fixed on the water until you finally heard Hange speak.

“So you are trying to raise the dead, essentially.”

Your question in Levi’s office had been rather obvious and odd, hadn’t it?

“Sort of.  I personally can’t do anything more than get down here.  My father’s the one who can do it, if I can convince him.  I wouldn’t dare try this without his permission--”

“Were you listening to anything I said?” Levi interrupted, voice low, his body taunt and his eyes stormy.  Predictably, he wasn’t happy about your rushed scheme.

“I was.  I put this whole notion aside several times listening to you.  But knowing our situation, knowing we might need him, and hearing conflicting opinions left and right…”

Turning the bend, the actual entrance to the Underworld loomed overhead.  The sight made you trail off as you rose to your feet, exuding calm in the hopes your companions would retain their calm.

Trying to attack the Titan sized three-headed black dog pushing to his feet would not go well.

A snarl reverberated around the cavern, causing Levi and Hange to reach for what you could only assume were concealed weapons.  They really had been prepared for the worst, for a possible betrayal, when they’d followed you tonight.

“Steady,” you admonished, trying to carefully step around Hange to get a little closer to the massive dog.  “Cerberus might be a big, scary guard dog, but he’s got a soft spot for my father and his children, which includes me.”

As you spoke, you reached out a hand as the boat came close enough for Cerberus to be within arm’s reach.  Levi rose partially out of his seat while Hange leaned closer…

The snarls resided when Cerberus got a whiff of your scent, lowering his heads as you came within range.  The left and right you gave affectionate rubs along the sides of his faces, while the middle you nuzzled against affectionately.  The head on your right nudged your pouch in askance, prompting a small chuckle out of you.

“Sorry, Cerberus, I don’t have any treats for you today.  Maybe another time,” you told the giant hound with one last affectionate rub on two of his snouts before pulling away, the boat already drifting past the giant hound.

Turning back to the other two, their expressions were rather priceless.  Hange seemed like she was about to burst at the seams with questions--when was she not?  This place was like a eutopia of question provoking things for her--and Levi...well, his reaction had been fleeting, and he’d already schooled his expression back to its usual neutral state.  He’d definitely been watching you treat the giant hellhound like a fluffy puppy, though.  You must have been quite the sight.

After passing Cerberus and continuing past a passage on the opposite bank, a jagged opening in the cavern appeared around one last bend, a cacophony of ethereal lights emanating just beyond the exit.  The Lethe grew wider, and as the boat passed under the opening, divided into three separate directions.  To the right, the Lethe continued with its glowing blue waters.  The left melted into a seething river of fire that winded over the immediate landscape and towards a jagged collection of sharp rocks that reached towards the skies like broken blades, a hellish red glow emanating from something unseen within their center.  Down the center, the glowing blue rivers melted into waters blacker than ink and appearing bottomless even though it wound through the air--at least at the beginning.  At points, the waters of the different rivers dipped low and ran along the ground before reaching back into the air.

At the moment, the only thing of the land that was visible was a stretch of field that seemed endless in its bleak, grayish appearance, devoid of most color, only a few of the hoards of wandering souls below appearing to retain faded memories of color in them.  In the distance to the right, the Lethe melted away into a river dark red and thick as blood, the border to an area of land draped in a heavy fog and darker than the rest, no other definite features visible from such a distance.

As the boat continued forward along the black waters, you shuffled back to your seat, gaze searching the horizon for your destination.  Hange and Levi were both looking around, taking in the sight of the actual Underworld as you waited for them to process their surroundings.

“A little grim for an afterlife, especially compared to what you normally hear,” Hange commented, gazing over the edge of the bow into the colorless fields teeming with aimlessly wandering souls.

“Most of it is, yes,” you admitted before launching into an explanation of the Underworld’s regions, Levi and Hange both letting their gazes roam to follow your explanation.  “There is a better corner of the Underworld, it’s just on the completely opposite side.  What we’re going over now is the Asphodel Meadows, the largest portion of the Underworld, that acts as a sort of in between--no one down there did anything exceptionally bad or extraordinarily heroic or good.  They fell into a middle ground.  Those jagged rocks at the end of the Phlegathon--the river of fire--cover Tartarus, where the especially nasty beings go.  We’re on the Acheron River right now, river of sorrow and pain--it winds through most of the Underworld.  That foggy place over there is the start of the Fields of Mourning, a place specifically for those done wrong by love who never recovered, framed by the Cocytus River of lamentation and sorrow...Then somewhere off in the distance, on the other side of the Underworld, is the Elysian Fields and the Isles of the Blessed.”

“That sounds much better than Fields of Morning and River of Fire,” Hange said in a tone so deadpan that for a moment you thought it was Levi who’d spoken.  It definitely wasn’t Levi who spoke, though.  He was looking up at the rock ceiling high above--almost out of sight--with an expression that disgust and trepidation only began to describe.

“They are.  The Elysian Fields are for the truly exceptional--the heroes, the ones who made a difference, the truly good.  And the Isles of the Blessed are for...the cream of the crop, I suppose.”

“Then you’re going there.  For Erwin,” Levi cut in.  You would have assumed it was a question, but it still sounded like a statement, which was a little confusing for you.  Thankfully, whether it was a statement or a question didn’t matter, because he was wrong.

“Actually, no.  I am not about to presume where the judges decide souls go, that’s not my area--even my father rarely pulls strings for who goes where.  And I’m not about to piss off my father by trying to sneak a soul out of here, either--not that it would even be a successful endeavor,” you said with a shake of your head.  You weren’t about to be pretentious or foolish enough to think you could do anything successfully down here without the permission of Hades...or Persephone, but it wasn’t winter, so she wasn’t down here and wouldn’t be any help.  “Which is why we’re not going to any of these fields--we’re going to my father’s palace.  I’m going to talk to him, see if he’ll be willing to make some kind of deal or arrangement.  And if he is...I’ll ask Erwin himself if he’d be willing to come back.  Since everyone else can’t seem to agree, I figured why not ask the man himself instead of assuming what he’d want.”

After your explanation, you settled down leaning against the side of the boat, eyes cast in the general direction you knew the palace was, letting Hange and Levi gaze at the Underworld around them to their heart’s content.  You were simply waiting for your destination to come into view, eyes glazing over as you eventually stared off into nothing, the subconscious squirm in your stomach at the thought of asking such a big thing of your father coming to the forefront of your mind.  You could probably count the tales you’d heard of someone successfully bringing a soul back from the Underworld on one or two of your hands.  And most of those had been because Persephone gave permission, not your father.  Perhaps you should have waited until winter, until Persephone was in the Underworld as well--maybe then she could have been a mediator.

You could feel Hange’s gaze lingering on you after some time traveling down the river, and you looked up a split second before her question burst out of her.  “So how long have you known your father was this Hades guy?”

You grimaced at her casual use of his name, a little tingle on the back of your neck as you wondered if he’d sensed it.  “Ancient Big Three Greek God of the Dead...best not to speak casually about him, he won’t like it.”  You saw Levi roll his eyes behind a once again pouting Hange, but you ignored him and continued.  “I was about fifteen when he sent one of the truth Oneiroi--daemons of dreams--to find me and bring me down here so he could explain my heritage to me.  It’s not exactly the olden days when everyone knew about the Greek Gods--well, at least everyone in the Greek area--and he could just give some sort of well-known sign to claim me as one of his children.  A lot more explanation was needed.  I knew nothing about any of this until that explanation, other than the fact I was a little...different.”

As you spoke, you could finally see Hades’ palace appear in the distance, the Elysian Fields visible a little ways to its left, a stark contrast to the rest of the Underworld, with its rich color and brighter atmosphere.  You also knew, from the few times you’d been allowed in--no matter how briefly--that there was a sky visible in those fields.  You weren’t entirely sure if it was an illusion or some kind of magic or bending of the cosmos, but you knew the sun shone on the fields and the waters, and the stars blazed in a night sky in those fields.

But that wasn’t where you were going.  Even though the Acheron River twisted and split in two separate directions low to the ground to form a border between the Elysian Fields and the Asphodel Meadows, Charon was guiding the boat to the right, closer to the palace of ebony, obsidian, and marble intricately carved in an ancient Greek style.  Columns lined the front of the first floor of the soaring building, the top and bottom of every pillar containing tales from ancient Greece, tales of heroes dying, of the toppling of the titans, of the legends Hades and Persephone were both well known for such as Hades taking Persephone to the underworld, and Orpheus attempting to lead his wife out of the Underworld (one of the unsuccessful stories).

Charon brought the boat to a stop at a bend in the bank that brought the three of you as close to the palace as you could get by boat, his staff planted firmly against the loamy soil of the bank where the river briefly met with the earth.  You climbed out first, taking the lead since this was your mission, your father’s palace, and you knew where you were going and what you were doing.  As soon as the three of you had your feet planted in the ground, Charon pushed off of the bank with his staff, already making his way back down the inky river.

“No second thoughts or going back, now,” you murmured to yourself.  You took a deep breath, and strode the last few steps to the onyx pathway that led all the way to the marble steps of your father’s palace, steeling your resolve.

(Levi POV)

The increasing tension you were radiating with every step towards and into the looming palace of marble and dark stone did nothing to put Levi’s mind at ease about this entire...bizarre situation.  They way you talked about your father--about Hades--you had more fearful respect of the--man?--than anything else.  Him being the apparent ruler of such a grim afterlife and the god of the dead made your mannerisms make sense, but even then, if he was your father, Levi might have expected those feelings to be a little less...intense.  But they were cloying with how strongly they radiated from you, and did nothing to reassure him this entire idea wasn’t as stupid as it had initially sounded.  At first he’d simply thought you were talking nonsense, but now he kept waiting for this rushed, half-baked idea to go south, ready to claw his way out of whatever bad came even if he didn’t understand half of what was happening.

One worldview altering information dump was already a lot to handle, but this was getting ridiculous.

He still wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t some crazy drug-induced dream or hallucination caused by Hange slipping something in his tea to try and get him to sleep.  Of course, he hadn’t seen Hange put anything in his tea--which he would have if she’d tried--but at least that would give him a more logical explanation for everything going on from the moment you’d opened a hole in the goddamn ground.

They passed the columns and approached the main entrance, Levi taking in the carvings--warriors dying in battle; a woman eating what looked like an apple, tomato, or maybe a pomegranate--some sort of fruit; a man holding some sort of instrument watching a woman disappear in a wisp of smoke--after he’d established there wasn’t anything dangerous lurking in the shadows.

As your hand settled on the ebony double doors, you paused and turned around to fix Levi and Hange with a serious gaze.  “Whatever happens in there, just let me do the talking, okay?”

Hange shrugged.  “He’s your father.”

Your gaze moved to Levi, who still hadn’t said anything, clearly waiting for him to give verbal confirmation he agreed.

“Are you going to keep us standing out here all night, or are you going to go inside already?” Levi asked eventually.

He wasn’t about to make any promises.  If things started to go bad, he was going to do what he had to.

You gave a little huff as you turned back around, prompting the faintest smirk to flash across Levi’s lips.  You knew he was dodging making the promise, but you also knew you weren’t going to win if you tried to press the issue.

The ebony doors opened with a groan, and Levi followed close behind as you strode confidently inside despite the slight tremble of your hand he’d caught as you’d passed the doors.  They immediately entered the main chamber, a vast room of marble and obsidian and doorways along the walls that signaled different halls leading to different parts of the building.  At the far end of the room there was an intricately carved ebony throne, and sitting in it was a man reclined like a cat about to pounce and radiating raw power, a two-pronged bident weapon glinting in his hand with the blunt end resting on the ground, grasped--at the moment--more like a scepter than a weapon.

More came into view the closer they drew--he was wearing a deep, dark red suit jacket that hung open over a dark grey button up shirt and black pants, his long black hair was unruly and falling just past his shoulders, a carefully kept full goatee and mustache of a matching black, and the rest of his jawline cleanly shaven.  He had a bolo tie loosely around his neck, the pendant the exact same symbol that had been on the medallion you’d used to create the tunnel.  Then there were his eyes--a piercing, all-knowing ice blue, which when matched with his stern and serious expression, gave the impression he was gazing into the very soul of whoever he cast his eyes towards, weighing its very value.

It was unsettling when that gaze was turned on Levi, but he refused to look away.

When you came within a few strides of the throne, you dropped to one knee and gave a respectful bow of your head.  Normally, Levi would have stayed standing...but you had said god of the afterlife, and if you, his own kid, was kneeling, then clearly it would be expected for Hange and himself to kneel, too.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

After all three of you were kneeling, Hades leaned forward in his seat, that sharp gaze watching Hange and Levi while he spoke to you.

“I was under the impression you were coming alone.  Why are these mortals with you?”

Again with the mortal thing.  And you still weren’t being included in that address.  So, since your father was a god, did that mean you weren’t mortal?  You were immortal because of your parentage?

No, that wasn’t right.  Levi had seen you injured before, even close to death.  You weren’t immortal...but clearly you weren’t quite mortal either.  Somewhere in between.  He’d have to ask after all of this and try to get some clarity on the matter.

You raised your head from its bowed position, meeting your father’s gaze head on once it returned to you.  “Unforeseen circumstances.” You answered Hades’ question like it was an afterthought, trying to redirect the conversation towards the whole reason you were here.  “What’s important is why I came down here to see you.”

Hades leaned back in his seat again, sizing you up where you were still kneeling on the ground.  “The last time you were here you were quite adamant that you needed nothing from me.  Are you already swallowing your pride?”

Levi saw a muscle in your jaw twitch at the allusion, his curiosity rising once more.  There were so many things he wanted to ask once the three of you--maybe four--left this place.

You ignored what Hades had just said, speaking as if the veiled taunt wasn’t there and rising to your feet.  You were also tense again, which gave Levi the impression that Hades was not going to like what you said next.

“I came down here to ask if you would make a deal to allow me to return a soul to the living.”

In the next moment, Hades was on his feet, eyes flashing with a fire in stark contrast with his cold tone.  “What?”

As if the man--being, god--hadn’t had a presence before, now the power crackled in the air, the smell of ozone accompanying it.

To your credit, you didn’t back down in the face of Hades’ anger--Levi had never known you to back down in the face of anyone’s anger, even his own.

“There’s someone who just died that we’re going to need in the coming war, and I wanted to see if we could come to an arrangem--”

“No soul that comes down here is allowed back.  There’s a balance that must be kept, death must be final.  I would have thought one of my own would know this.”

“I do know--I know it’s happened in the past, some of the legends are carved right into this palace’s columns outside.”

The light in the room seemed to be dimming as Hades’ anger grew, a black fog rising in the room.  Levi’s breath misted in front of him as the temperature in the room dropped, something that, now that he thought back, was similar to the chill in the air the few times he’d seen you angry.  At the visible proof of Hades anger, which was directed at you, Levi and Hange both got to their feet.

“If you’re so knowledgeable, you’ll remember those were also instances where the Olympians meddled in the nature of things, or Persephone made the deal without my knowledge,” Hades growled.

“But it has been done, and I’m willing to work out a deal, something that will get us what we need without disrupting the balance of things,” you returned, stepping closer to the angry god of the dead.  “Maybe something like the deal with Iolaus--”

“Iolaus,” Hades hissed, turning away.  “The Olympians plucked him from the Underworld without any cares for the balance and the chaos their interference caused down here until he was returned.”

He turned back to face you again.  “That kind of deal would give me nothing, except the chaos of disorder.  If I was to allow a soul out of the Underworld, a price needs to be paid, one that preferably serves my own interests.  Besides--you were so intent on doing things on your own the last time we spoke.  Even if I was delusional enough to agree, another Iolaus arrangement would be too much of a gift, even by your apparent standards.”

Levi saw your fist clench at your side as you let out a long breath, suddenly falling silent.

Hades turned his back, already making his way towards one of the halls as the fog receded and the chill started to dissipate.  “If that’s all--”

“What about more of an...Orpheus, Alcestis kind of deal?”

Hades paused, a tense silence falling over the room.  Levi’s gaze was fixed on you, though, not on the god.  Instead of trying to figure out what was going on in Hades’ head, he was studying you, a foreboding feeling starting to grow in his gut at the reluctance he could hear in your voice.  That wasn’t a good sign, not with all this talk about balance and prices for reviving the dead.

Hades faced you, his composure back to the calm and calculating demeanor he’d had when the three of you had first entered the room.  “A little more promising.  I’m listening.”

You started to turn towards Levi and Hange, but stopped yourself, squaring up to Hades and centering your gaze on him.  “This may take a while.  Let’s find somewhere to discuss it,” you said with a detached air.

You didn’t want to get into the details in front of Levi and Hange.  Now he really was worried.

Before Levi could do or say anything, Hades was already turning back to continue his way down the hall he’d already been heading towards.  “Then let’s talk,” he said, melting into the shadows with you close behind.  You only turned back long enough to give Levi and Hange a brief ‘wait here’ gesture before you’d disappeared as well.

“I don’t like this,” Levi said bluntly once you and Hades had disappeared.  “Whatever deal they’re making can’t be good.”

“What are you going to do, fight the god of death?” Hange returned, jumping up the steps to take a closer look at the ebony throne, running her hands along the woodwork and intricate carvings.

Maybe.

“Besides, whatever they’re talking about we clearly don’t have a say in--there’s not much else to do but wait,” Hange added.

“You don’t believe that.”

“This time, I do.  He’s a god, Levi, one we know nothing about, and we’re in this Underworld--the afterlife.  We’re getting a glimpse into the afterlife, Levi!” Hange said, her voice bubbling over with excitement as she continued to examine the throne.

“Some afterlife,” he muttered, finding a spot against a pillar on the opposite side of the room he could lean against while he watched the hallway, waiting for you and Hades to reappear.

After what felt like hours listening to Hange rattle excitedly about everything they’d seen and come up with theory after theory, Levi finally saw you and Hades return to the main room.  Thankfully, Hange wasn’t ogling over the throne anymore, so they didn’t have to worry about raising Hades’ ire for playing around with his throne.

Levi studied your face, trying to get an idea of what had happened while you were gone from your expression.  You seemed relieved, which was a good sign...but there was also a slight wilt in your movements, a slight dimness in your eyes, and it worried him.

You stopped as Hange and Levi both approached you, Hange clearly anxious to hear the outcome, while Levi kept his thoughts to himself and simply watched you closely.

“Both my father and Erwin agreed.”

Wait, you’d already seen Erwin?  Without them?  Where was he?  Especially if Hades agreed to let him go, why wasn’t he with you?

“The deal involves us leading him out of the Underworld, but the two of you cannot look back until you’ve returned to the surface world and you see the sun clear the horizon.”  While you explained, Hades passed the three of you and headed towards a smooth section of the wall on the right side of his throne.  “No looking back, even for a glimpse--you’re not allowed to see him until then.”

“What about you?” Levi asked sharply.  You didn’t hesitate in your reply, which was, admittedly, a good sign.

“I’m taking up the rear.  I’ll be guiding you through the tunnel from the back.  Special child of Hades privileges.  Plus, I felt it would help put your minds at ease if I could see it was Erwin we were leading to the surface.  That way you’re not tempted to look back to make sure it’s him.”

A sudden clang of metal on stone rang through the vast chamber as Hades planted his bident firmly in the ground, drawing everyone’s attention.  A beam of silvery light emanated from between the two points of the weapon and cast onto the smooth wall he’d been approaching, a new tunnel appearing within the confines of the light like a billowing curtain being blown back.  Once the tunnel appeared, you made your way towards it, gesturing for Levi and Hange to follow.

You shared a glance with your father, stopping just shy of the tunnel and placing a hand briefly on Levi’s shoulder to stop him from starting down the tunnel.  You were fiddling with the pouch on your waist that you’d pulled the coins and medallion from, undoing the strings and handing it over to Levi, who clutched the bag tightly in his hand as his sharp gaze tried probing you once more.  Why the hell were you giving this to him?

“You guys are in front--I just want you to have it in case you need it on the way up.  To open a passage or pay a guarding being or something like that--I don’t know if we’ll run into anything like that, but just in case.”

...something about your voice was off.  The timber, maybe, but whatever it was made it hard for Levi to believe that was the real reason.

You waved a hand impatiently.

“Come on, we’re on a time limit here, we have to get going.  You two walk side by side up the tunnel, I’ll be right back here.”

Hange shared a worried glance with Levi.  So she had her suspicions as well.  Surely this wasn’t the whole deal?  Did Hades really think it would be a challenge not to look back?

The image from the columns outside of the man looking over his shoulder as a woman faded away entered Levi's mind, and for a moment, he wondered if it was more the fact that Hades knew eventually it would be difficult to not look back.

After that shared glance, they started forward.

The darkness was quick to swallow them up, no light to even guide their footsteps and forcing them to reach out for the walls to steady themselves.  From behind, you had already started to speak.

“The tunnel should be on level ground at first, but eventually it’s going to start climbing up, you’ll feel it.  Just so you know ahead of time.  And stick close, there’s going to be a few forks I’ll have to tell you which turn to take, and we don’t want either of you wandering down the wrong path.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Hange said rather cheerfully.  “Since we have quite the walk, do you think you could answer some questions for me?”

“I’ll try to.  I don’t know how well I’ll be able to answer, but I’ll try.”

With that, Hange started pelting you with most of the questions she’d been babbling to Levi about while the two of them were waiting for you and your father.  You did your best to answer most of them--there were three demi-gods who judged the souls while your father supervised them, Hades was the god of the dead but not of death, Olympians were twelve gods that got to live on Mount Olympus and were considered the main twelve gods, Hades wasn’t counted as an Olympian despite being the oldest male god because he was never at Mount Olympus since he spent all his time in the Underworld--but other questions you admitted to having given little thought or knowing nothing about.  Two or three times you interrupted Hange’s questions to tell them to go right or left, but other than that, most of what you were saying were answers to Hange’s questions instead of directions.

Until…

“Wait, wait, wait, stop...but don’t look back.”

Levi sighed.  “We know that part--what is it?”

You didn’t answer.  Instead, he could hear you shuffling around in the dark, moving first to Hange, who gasped.

“Hange, don’t look back!”

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t look, though!  Is that--”

As you shuffled towards Levi, he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulder--currently a light weight, but it still felt like a fairly large hand.

“All right, you can start walking again.  Just keep those eyes forward, we shouldn’t have much longer, now.”

Levi started forward, a little more hesitant this time, surprised that Hange even seemed to have grown quiet beside him.  But the further they went, the heavier the weight on his shoulder seemed to get, like something was solidifying behind him, or gradually leaning more and more weight on him.  He felt his heartbeat pick up as he realized it was Erwin behind him, Erwin’s hand he could feel on his shoulder.  You would have said something if it wasn’t Erwin.

This was happening.  The deal was paying off, whatever its details had been.

Feeling Erwin’s hands on their shoulders seemed to make the situation feel that much more real, enough so that even Hange fell silent and no longer bombarded you with questions about everything they’d learned tonight.  The four simply walked in silence up the steepening tunnel, with your voice giving directions every now and then about particularly steep parts that were coming up, or forks in the tunnel.

Then, at long last, light began to filter in--faint at first, but growing in strength as they neared the surface.  It seemed the sun had started to rise above ground, which thankfully meant that they wouldn’t have to wait too long to turn around and see the results of their patience.

Of course now Levi also knew that if he looked back, he might be able to see Erwin.  He wasn’t going to, he wasn’t about to break the deal--he trusted you, so he knew it was Erwin behind him.  It was just that he could feel the impatience to see Erwin starting to settle in, and finally he was starting to understand what was so hard about not being able to look back--especially when the person you were trying to bring out was right behind you.

Levi squinted against a sudden piercing light as they climbed up a particularly steep patch of ground and made a turn around a slight bend, bringing the mouth of the tunnel into view.  Outside he could see the sun making its rise above the horizon--not clear of it yet, but getting there.  Would they have to keep going once they were out of the tunnel or would they simply stand there right outside of it until the sun had fully risen?

“All right, this part,” you said from your spot at the back of the group.  As you spoke, the group came closer and closer to the mouth of the cave.  “Once you pass the tunnel’s threshold you’re going to keep walking--doesn’t matter how fast or how slow, as long as you’re still moving--until you can both visibly see the sun clear the horizon.  You both might want to check with one another until you do, just to be safe.  Once you both can see that, you’ll be able to look back.  Understood?”

“Perfectly,” Hange answered.

Levi hummed in response, his feet finally carrying him out of the tunnel and back onto the grassy surface, gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Good.  Then just keep going, no matter how tempted you are to look back.  Keep going.”

Levi sucked in a breath.

Your voice...was getting farther away.

Levi’s step faltered at the realization, his head starting to turn, to make sure you were still right behind Erwin, that you were still with them, with hi--

“Don’t look back.”

Your sharp words pierced the air in startling clarity, admonishing and firm.  Levi grit his teeth, fixing his eyes forward and berating himself for almost losing Erwin for his moment of weakness.

But he hadn’t been wrong.  Your voice sounded farther away with every step they took.  He needed to look back, to make sure you were there...but he would wait until the sun cleared the horizon, just like the deal required.  That way, if his growing worry was unfounded, he wouldn’t screw this up because of a moment of weakness--he was not going to be the reason Erwin died again.

Levi and Hange both shared a look, the two of them both appearing tense and on edge to the other, but neither of them daring to look back as the weight on their shoulders grew more and more real.  They couldn’t turn around, as much as they wanted to, even as your calls to ‘keep going, don’t look back’ grew fainter and fainter.

“I see the sun’s cleared the horizon, what about you?” Hange said suddenly, reaching out a hand to place on Levi’s arm.  He didn’t answer the first few moments, gaze still on the horizon, waiting, watching…

“Yes,” he said briskly as soon as he saw the sun completely break away from the visible edge of the earth.  He’d hardly finished speaking before both of them finally, at long last, looked back.

Levi turned sharply around, hand instinctively reaching out to steady a perfectly healthy and whole Erwin Smith as the man staggered from a disorientation Levi wasn’t even going to try and understand.  Erwin was alive, resurrected from the dead, and no longer missing his arm, either--something made obvious by the fact the once-missing hand was the one buried into his blonde hair as the Commander uttered a low groan of discomfort.

Levi wasn’t paying much attention to him beyond that.  His wide eyes were instead fixed on the now-distant rock outcropping behind him, no sign that the tunnel had ever existed...and no trace of you ever being there, aside from the small pouch that now hung heavy at his waist.

He finally understood what had made Hades accept the deal, despite the resistance and displeasure at the simple suggestion of letting someone return to the land of the living--or rather, what had made him accept the trade.

Why the fuck did you do it?

Part 2--->

AN:  I was going to write the discussion between Reader and Erwin about whether or not he even wanted to come up to the surface, but this was already sooooo long and I didn’t feel confident enough to do such a discussion justice, so it got chopped.  If I do a part two, I might have the deal discussed in hindsight so I can cheat and talk about the spirit of the discussion without struggling for days with writing the discussion itself, heh.

Tags: @mysteriousmagicx @humanityshottestsoldier @final-fantasy-xv-nut

[scruffyhappaboreherder]

This is for @thereigning-lorelai, who supplied this prompt:

When your soul finds the soul it was waiting for When someone walks into your heart through an open door When your hand finds the hand it was meant to hold Don't let go

(from Demi Lovato's "Heart by Heart")

Content and other warnings

soulmate AU, with soulmarks caused by a virus

author knows very little about virology

among other issues the reasons for the creation of the virus were eugenicist and so there is some of that rhetoric

allusions to unethical medical experimentation

author quotes some canon dialogue and rewrites other parts

mention of characters from Rebel Rising

minor reliance on the novelization

~2k words.

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

Whatever I Do

At first, it seemed like a mild, ordinary skin condition.

The index case appeared on Coruscant.  A few senators and some members of their staff reported an itching sensation, followed by a rash, usually appearing on the arms.  Physicians and med-droids examined them, but the tests they ran were negative for all known pathogens.

After a few days, the rash healed.  In most cases, there was nothing left to show that it had ever been there.  In one out of a hundred cases, however, vividly contrasting marks remained even after the itching subsided.  It was only when one of the doctors attached to the Senate noticed that two of her patients had identically-shaped marks that it attracted any particular attention outside the medical community.

The two patients, a senator and a diplomat from planets in the Mid Rim, were married within a year.  Others found that they developed marks after months or years, and a few other such matches were made.

As the phenomenon spread to other communities on other worlds, some wondered if it was a manifestation of the Force.  Others argued against it: the marks only appeared on the arms of human couples.  Invariably, the couples comprised a male-assigned and a female-assigned member.  While there were no Jedi left to consult, the lore of most sects held that the Force acted upon beings of all races.

Still, those who ended up with identical marks on their arms seemed to share a romantic compatibility.  The marks were dubbed soulmarks, the couples who bore them were popularly referred to as soulmates, and the speculation about the cause of the phenomenon continued.

Almost no one noticed the disappearance of research scientist Galen Erso and his family shortly after the first soulmarks appeared.  Those who did knew better than to speak of it.

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

As the child of a project member, Jyn Erso had been infected with the virus shortly after laboratory testing indicated that the latest version was stable and would behave as expected.  This had been done without her parents' knowledge, but soon after she was infected, her parents had fled Coruscant.  He wondered, as he had before, if they had absconded to keep their child out of the reach of the project, or because Galen Erso no longer wished to participate, and knew that resignation was not an option.

It didn't really matter, in the end.  It had taken years, but Jyn Erso was available to the project again.  They could question and study her.  They had questioned and studied the young man they had captured with her, but it seemed that there was nothing special about him; for Jyn Erso, he was the sort of partner choice that the virus had been designed to prevent.

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

"What have you heard?"  Cassian tried to keep his voice soothing.

"It's a virus."  Tivik's steps sped up.  "I have to leave."

"What kind of virus?"

"I don't know!  A cargo pilot defected.  He says it has to do with soulmarks.  That it's a virus that makes them."

"Soulmarks?"  What did soulmarks have to do with anything?

"The pilot said Galen Erso sent him.  An old friend of Saw's."

The sound of stormtroopers' boots approached, then paused outside the alleyway he'd drawn Tivik into.  "What's all this?"

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

Jyn slumped on the bench in her cell.  The light was glaring, as it almost always was.  She'd lost track of how many days it had been since Hadder had disappeared from the cell across from hers.  Akshaya had been taken away weeks before that.

The door beeped as its reader granted someone access.  She didn't bother looking up.

"Stand up."

"You can take my blood without that."

"I'm not here for blood.  You need to come with me."

Jyn looked up.  It was a man she hadn't seen before, wearing an ill-fitting orderly's outfit.  "Fine."  She stood and let him steer her out of the cell.  When they were in the main hallway, she broke out of his hold easily and elbowed him in the face, and ran away, toward the emergency evacuation door.

She'd just flung open the door when something grabbed her by the throat and flung her to the ground.

"This is an extraction.  Please do not resist."

She stared up at the droid, unable to speak.

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

The man looked at her like she was something he'd stepped in and needed to scrape from his boots.  "Jyn Erso.  Daughter of Galen Erso, known collaborator in Imperial biomedical research."

"Who are you?" Jyn asked warily.

"The Alliance to Restore the Republic," said the woman in white.  "We hope that we can help eachother."  Mon Mothma.  That was Mon Mothma.

Jyn snorted.  "Are you looking for some blood samples?  There are more of you than there are of me.  You'll get what you want eventually, one way or another."

The woman left her place at the table; Jyn watched her approach with narrowed eyes.  She pushed up the sleeve of her gown, and Jyn saw a mark shaped like a rough quarter-circle with three spiky rays issuing from it.  "The exposure of my connection to the Alliance wasn't the only reason I fled Coruscant."  She put her sleeve back into place, and glanced away.  No: toward the man who stepped from the shadows where she'd been looking.  

"We want to make contact with your father," said the man from the shadows.

"This is Captain Cassian Andor, Alliance Intelligence," Mon Mothma explained.

"I haven't seen him in fifteen years.  As far as I'm concerned, he might as well be dead."

"Better dead than an Imperial collaborator?"  He paused.  "When was the last time you had contact with Saw Gerrera?"

"Years ago."

"But he would remember you, speak with you.  If you came as a friend."

"We don't have time to chase stray nerfs, girl, so if you won't cooperate, we'll put you in another cell."  That was the disdainful man who'd spoken first.

"I don't know where to find Saw."

"We know where he is," said the captain.  "We need someone who he'll talk to, and not shoot out of hand."

"You're all rebels, aren't you?"

"Saw has refused to work with the Alliance since it was formed.  His extremism has rendered the Alliance illegitimate in the eyes of many.  But we have no choice, now.  He has crucial information about your father, and we need to find him."  Mon Mothma looked at her gravely.

"What does my father have to do with anything?"

"There's an Imperial pilot in Jedha who was captured by Saw Gerrera.  He claims the Empire is creating a virus that has something to do with the soulmarks.  The pilot says he was sent by your father."  The captain's sharp eyes watched her for reactions; she held herself still.

"We don't have a clear picture the Empire's motivations in creating the virus, but we know that it reduces freedom of choice in many areas.  We can't allow it to spread throughout the galaxy, especially if they've developed a more effective version."  Mon Mothma rubbed her arm.

"Captain Andor's mission is to confirm the pilot's story, and to trace your father, if possible."  As if I care, you sneering creep.

"Our intelligence suggests that your father is the chief designer of this virus.  We hope that you can persuade Saw to help us locate your father, and bring him before my colleagues in the Senate to testify."

"Why should I do it?"

Mon Mothma rubbed her arm again.  "We'll make sure you go free."

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

Cassian shook his head as they took off.  He had Kay for backup, but he was going into a war zone with a woman who was clearly traumatized by medical torture.

He would treat her like any other informant: try to put her at ease and make her feel like she could trust him.  He brushed the thought of Tivik away.

He turned to look at her and saw that she was sleeping.  Well, if she needed rest, it was best that she get it.

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

Once they were walking toward Jedha, he decided to start a conversation.

"I'm glad you can use a blaster," he allowed.  "You're right that we're heading into a war zone."

She shrugged.

"Thank you for proving Kay-Too wrong and not using it against me."

"I wouldn't have gotten very far if I did.  Your droid demonstrated that when your guy showed up to break me out."

"Kay has been good backup ever since I reprogrammed him.  I hope he didn't hurt you."

"I've had worse."

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

Jyn shuddered involuntarily as the hologram of her father appeared.  She was frozen, immobile, as he talked about loving her and missing her.

"There is a countervirus," he was saying.  "And a vaccine.  Krennic's superiors insisted that I make one, just in case the virus was transmitted to someone who they thought was unworthy, or to someone who could insist on their freedom of choice.  The records exist, in the Citadel Tower on Scarif."

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

"We can stop this," Jyn Erso insisted.  "They call it the Choice Virus.  But they have no idea that my father is telling the Alliance how to stop it.  You're wrong about him."

"He did create the virus."

"He knew they'd do it without him.  He made a choice.  He sent Bodhi with the information that there's a vaccine and a countervirus."

"Give me the message."  

"It was a hologram," she said desperately.

"You don't have it."

"You don't believe me."  Her voice was flat.

"I'm not the one who decides."  He's going to have to follow orders and kill her father.

"You said there was a countervirus," Baze Malbus observed.

"A countervirus and a vaccine.  The records are on Scarif.  You need to send word to the Alliance."

"I have."

"They have to know there's a way to stop the virus.  They have to go to Scarif."

"I can't send that.  We're in the heart of Imperial territory."

"Then we'll find my father.  And bring him back, and he can tell them himself."

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

Jyn clambered up on the platform and ran to the motionless man.  "Papa.  Papa, it's me.  It's Jyn."

"Stardust."

"I've seen your message.  The hologram, I've seen it."

"The virus must be stopped.  For you ... for everyone."

"I know.  I know.  We will."

"Jyn.  Stardust.  I have so much to tell you."  He reached up, and his hand touched her cheek weakly, and then fell away.

"Papa?  Papa.  No!"  She shook him, but he remained still and mute.

A hand gripped her shoulder.  "Jyn.  Come on.  We've got to go."  It was Andor.

"I can't leave him."

"Listen to me.  He's gone.  There's nothing you can do.  Come on."  He pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled away from her father's body, following the rebel even though she didn't know where he was leading.

My father is dead.  My father is dead.  The volume of the thought gradually decreased, and her mind ground into motion, and she turned on Andor.

He tried to tell her that he'd been fighting and following orders since she was a child, as if she hadn't done the same thing and learned exactly what happened when you did.

Suddenly the Rebellion is real for you.

But was it?

It had always been real.  It had been a long time since it mattered.

She took a deep breath, and prepared to address the Council.

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

"They prefer to surrender," she told Baze and Chirrut.  A remark that "The Empire has the means of biological warfare; the Rebellion does not" and Mon Mothma's hollow apology still echoed in her mind.

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

She and Cassian exchanged glances as they went up the ramp to the stolen shuttle.  We're going to die doing this.  But we're going to do it.

Some of them do die.  But she and Cassian make it out.  They have the process for the countervirus, and the vaccine, and the virus itself.

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

Cassian sat next to Jyn in the makeshift isolation room.  They'd both been cleared to leave their individual cells once Too-Onebee and Harter Kalonia determined that he and Jyn had been unharmed by the vaccine and the treatment respectively, but it was fascinating to watch the little trickle of Council members stream in to receive their injections, starting with Mon Mothma.  The Alliance is synthesizing and stockpiling the vaccine and the treatment, in case of future need.

"Imagine if all the people who think that soulmates are romantic could see this."

Her hand closed around his.  "Oh, I think romance is still out there in the galaxy."  She brushed his shoulder with hers, closing the distance between them, and he leaned against her.  "And soulmates, too."

[zephyrises]

character sheet.

full name.  ventus pronunciation.  ven-tuhs (which is not at all how the latin word is actually pronounced but don’t worry about it) nicknames.  venty-wenty

height.  5′5″ age.  verse dependent. 12 in ux, 16 in bbs and going on 17 in post-kh3. zodiac.  taurus, with his new birthday. original unknown. languages.  japanese. everyone understands everyone else in kingdom hearts anyway, though?? doesn’t matter which world they’re on. it’s that Disney Magic(tm), ig.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour.  golden blonde that edges towards platinum. eye colour.  forest green. skin tone.  pale with yellow undertones. body type.  slight, but athletic. accent.  none, per se, but he will shorten words, mash words together and use some slang. dominant hand.  ambidextrous. he tends to stick with his right, though. posture.  very lax and casual. in battle, he uses a unique and antiquated, backhanded stance. tattoos.  none in any of my canon or canon based verses, even though he likes the idea of it! but in my collegeverse, he’s saving up to get lines drawn between the birthmarks on his back so they look like constellations. most noticeable features.  definitely his eyes, freckles, smile and the armor he wears on his feet, upper arm and abdomen. i’d say that the way he moves around is pretty attention catching in and of itself, considering how speedy, floaty and bouncy he is even without necessarily needing or intending to be. he’s also a bit small for his age, both in terms of height and weight.

CHILDHOOD.

place of “birth.”  daybreak town. hometown.  likely daybreak town. birth weight / height.  unknown.. manner of birth.  as weird as it sounds, necromancy. first words.  unfortunately, “yes, master.” siblings.  luxu could technically constitute in uxverse, depending upon how the both of them would view their situation. otherwise, he starts to think of terra and aqua as his older siblings sometime before the events of birth by sleep and then forever onward. parents.  in a terrihorrible way, the master of masters. if he had any parents before his body was re-animated, then it would be impossible to trace them now. he thinks of eraqus as a father figure, but his feelings on the matter are a big ol’ can of worms. parental involvement.  mom locked him up and used him for experiments. eraqus locked him up, good intentions notwithstanding, and tried to kill him. in other words, not the best!

ADULT LIFE

occupation.  post-kh3, he’s a guardian of light and keyblade master in training. the way aqua and yen sid have it slated, he’ll be taking his mark of mastery exam when he turns 18! current residence.  the land of departure, for now. even though he wouldn’t say it aloud to terra or aqua, he’d really like to leave and live somewhere new someday. close friends.  based off current canon, terra, aqua, lea, isa, sora, minnie, stitch, lilo, cinderella, jaq, hercules and peter pan. i see him having really good chemistry with vanitas, kairi, naminé, roxas, xion, ienzo, riku and demyx too, barring some development and circumstances! relationship status.  i don’t portray ven as having been in any romantic relationship or harboring romantic feelings towards anyone up until post-kh3. what happens from then on is a toss up depending on who i’m interacting with. i.e., right now, he’s dating @midnightpapllion​​ and has a budding crush on @rxcusant​​‘s vanitas! he’s a good-natured cutie, though, so other teenagers have flirted with him plenty during his travels. he’s just inexperienced and completely oblivious to the intent unless it’s spelled out for him, which tends to discourage most. financial status.  eraqus left a small fortune that he, aqua and terra use exclusively for groceries and supplies for missions. otherwise, he’s got a modest amount of spending money from traversing the worlds. he just doesn’t spend it on much aside from snacks and souvenirs. driver’s license.  cars are Completely nonexistent in his world. he only rides a keyblade glider and, even though there prrrrrobably should be, there’s no actual license required for that. criminal record.  this one time, he harassed some old men in the woods and beat up a cat about twenty times his size. those instances aside, he’s not necessarily above crime or violence as long as it isn’t Too uncouth and serves a purpose, so he’s probably got at least a little more on his rap sheet.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation.  pansexual. romantic orientation.  demi and panromantic. preferred emotional role. submissive | dominant | switch |  unsure preferred sexual role.  submissive |  dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed libido. turn on’s. turn off’s. love language.  even though he’d fail to notice a lot of the patterns himself, ven’s would consist predominantly of physical touch, acts of service and gift giving. as of terra and aqua’s involvement in his life, he’s become a huge touchy feely type. shoulder, arm and back touches, hugging and hand holding are all pretty normal for him in any sort of relationship, but lingering touches would be the big cue where romantic attraction is present. longer or more common hugs as opposed to just short lived hugs of greeting, parting or comfort. increasingly consistent tapping, leaning, nudging or hand holding for no particular reason other than because he gets a random urge to instigate it. acts of service would mostly just boil down to doing a lot of cooking or baking, but if he was in a position to and it wouldn’t be Weird to do so, he’d happily tidy up for someone or do their laundry, too! since the person in question would be on his mind a lot, he’d feel inclined to grab something up if it reminds him of them. probably stuff like flowers, pretty rocks or shells, accessories, snacks, things they’ve mentioned/he’s Noticed they enjoy, etc. etc. relationship tendencies.  mileage may vary for all of this depending on his partner’s personality and boundaries, obviously, but i’m willing to bet he’d be doting and clingy. he’s clingy with pretty much everyone once they give him an inch anyway, so i don’t think anybody would be too surprised or put off if they’ve already been hanging around long enough for him to develop feelings. definitely a little shy when it comes time to say i love you, kiss, go out or snuggle non-platonically, but not awkward or uncertain. the friendship that came before would be the foundation, after all, and he wouldn’t view a romance as something separate from that. more like another layer on top that they can navigate and define together. baseline, his flirting style is a combination of undisguised adoration and big time teasing. aaaand generally, he’d also be very attentive! he accounts for the tinier details, even if he can’t always make sense of them without posing a question or two.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song.  i love the canon version of his theme, but i’m linking project destati’s version in particular because it’s orchestrated and extended and kills me dead. hobbies to pass the time.  adventures, walks, star gazing, star charting, flower pressing, bird watching, cooking, ukulele, and the biggie.... NAPPING. mental illnesses.  depression and ptsd. physical illnesses.  you could definitely argue that having his darkness stripped from him is more of a spiritual or mental condition, but to me, it’s a physical one. i think of it like having an organ removed from your body (say, a chunk of your goddamn HEART) or being on the receiving end of blunt trauma. there are mental and spiritual effects, sure. it contributed to his ptsd, depression, and an amnesiac episode, but xehanort stabbed him to make it happen and he’s got the scar and near death experience to prove it, so we’re calling it a physical illness in my house. a reaaaally strange, completely unparalleled, chronic fantasy illness. left or right brained.  right brained for sure. he’s really imaginative and artsy. fears.  being abandoned, especially by those he holds dear. not being smart or strong enough to prevent someone from getting hurt or worse. being deprived of control over his own body or decisions.  self confidence level.  veeeeeery low. when he acts confident, he’s just faking it until he makes it,.which, unless he addresses the root of the problem, won’t be anytime soon. but i’m behind the wheel so this kid’s not going to let being abused define him forever. mark my words. vulnerabilities.  impulsive and bad decision prone. he’s not very physically strong or durable, either. fast, sure. definitely determined to stick it out until the very end. but once you get a couple of good hits in, he’s down. he’ll also undermine his own value and throw his life and safety away on the off chance that it could help someone else, so jot that one down.

tagged by: @kissafist​​ THANK YOU!! ♥ i had so much fun with this. tagging: in addition to livi and sammi who i already pinged above, let’s do @localmagicalboi​​, @feraliix​​, @galaxycrxss​​, @blackasteriia​​ and YOU! but only if you feel like it!

[xadoheandterra]

Fandom: Red vs Blue Characters: Leonard Church | Alpha, Lavernius Tucker, David | Agent Washington, Junior Summary: Church wanted the decorations to be perfect. Wash wanted Church to destress. Tucker just wanted his kid. It’s a Happy New Year, folks.

For @demi-dufresne who was my secret santa for the @redvsbluesecretsanta this year. I’m sorry this is late, hun. Work/Life balance over the holidays hit an all time fuck you, basically. I finally got it finished though! I hope it meets your requirements, as I didn’t quite go into detail about Church have DID or really about this AU-verse I kind of cobbled together. I wanted to more focus on the relationships between them and honestly I don’t feel like I could write DID without coming off as ignorant or insensitive....My interaction/knowledge of the condition is limited to one or two people that I’ve met, and a handful of internet research which a thoughtful writer does not always make.

Anyway have happy family feels!

“Church it’s fine,” Wash said exasperatedly from the couch. He watched Church as he moved around the living room and fussed over decorations that lined practically every surface with the long suffering understanding of someone utterly in love. Church went all out, and Wash could understand why. It wasn’t often they got to dress everything up and just celebrate like this. Their collective work schedules often interfered with such things.

“Fine is not good enough,” Church snapped out and fiddled with one of the streamers until it settled just right. There was the faintest twitch to his movement that Wash knew to look for, and so quickly when he noticed Church’s hand began to jerk to the side and how it messed up the work Church did Wash got to his feet and quickly grabbed the slighter man into a hug.

“He’s not gonna care either way,” Wash said softly. “Come sit down and drink some hot chocolate.”

Church stilled, and then slumped into Wash’s arms and sighed heavily. “I was—was doing the thing again, wasn’t I.”

Wash hummed and maneuvered Church out of the living room and over to the kitchen. He bundled the other man into a chair and grabbed the nearest blanket to wrap around Church’s shoulders while he put together some hot chocolate. The window outside painted a frosted picture of the New York skyline. Church clutched at the blanket and looked out the window as Wash moved around the kitchen.

“You know I don’t mean to?” Church said, as Wash came back to the table and wrapped his hands around the hot mug.

“We know,” Wash gave Church a sad sort of smile and pat the younger man’s hand. “And it’s not like I mind Delta, you know.”

Church snorted. “Oh yeah?” He took a sip of his hot chocolate and pulled his gaze away from the window. “Which one is Delta?”

“Logical.” Wash tilted his head back to regard Church. “He tends to push up his glasses—like this—” Wash mimed the motion on his own face and Church reached up to fiddle with his corrective lenses, surprised. “—especially when he’s lecturing.”

“Sounds like he’s not that bad,” Church said and looked down at his mug of chocolate. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

Wash hummed, then reached out and grasped at Church’s hand. “It’s not a bad thing if Delta wants to take some time today,” Wash told him.

Church snorted. “I promised, David. Today was going to be me.” He looked at Wash and smiled a brittle, bitter thing. “Even if I hate all this snow and—and celebration stuff.”

Wash tightened his grip for a moment, and then pulled his hand back. “Tucker should be back in about thirty. How about you rest in here while I finish the decorations? Drink your hot chocolate and destress a little.”

Church hummed and mumbled a faint, “Alright.”

“—marks the fifth year since Doctor Leonard Church’s indictment on unethical medical practices and war crimes. With me I have Daniel ‘New York’ West—”

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Tucker mumbled and clicked off the radio with an explosive sigh. “What the fuck is Carolina thinking letting York out to talk on a day like this?” With a groan Tucker scrubbed his hand through his hair and tapped on the wheel of the car in agitation. He didn’t want to hear about the sordid mess all over again in regards to the Church patriarch. He lived with the fallout of that long enough.

The airport around him bustled in the sudden silence of the radio. He could hear the cars honking off in the distance and snowflakes fluttered down from the sky to create hazards to drive in. Only the truly desperate or insane actually took to the streets in a time like this, with the blizzard projected to come tearing into the city. Tucker found himself in both categories today as he practically vibrated with anticipation from his little parked space at the edge of the lot.

“C’mon, kid, where are you,” Tucker mumbled and checked the time. According to the flight records the plane had definitely landed about fifteen minutes ago, so he should already be outside the airport if all things were to go well. “Shitballs I don’t have the strength to deal with a fuck up,” Tucker groaned, and hoped—prayed—that nothing had gone wrong with the airport staff. Tucker scanned the outside of the airport again, gaze intense.

The knock against his driverside window startled him into a shrieked course as Tucker whirled around and stared up at the officer who peered at the vehicle.

“Sir,” the officer said, “you are parked in a handicapped lane. I need to ask you to move.”

Tucker stared, a little uncomprehendingly, and then pushed the button to roll down the window. “Hey, officer, sorry there I didn’t quite catch that?”

The officer sighed, and Tucker got the feeling he’d been dealing with a lot of shit today. Too bad, Tucker had a lot of shit to deal with today on his own plate too. The biggest issue right now of course was the fact that junior had not come out of the airport yet.

“I said this is a handicapped space. I need you to move,” the officer said, and Tucker bit back the urge to be a sarcastic shit and tsk and play the ‘aw shucks’ routine. He would like to avoid getting arrested or worse today, thank you very much.

Instead Tucker gestured to the very clear handicap designation attached to his rearview mirror and said plainly, “I have a handicap voucher right here. What’s the problem?”

The officer pressed his lips together and then said carefully, “Sir, I need you to move.”

“Is it ‘cuz I’m black?” Tucker said, and then sighed explosively. “You know what, never-mind. Look, I’m waiting for my five-year-old kid—a kid who is autistic. Your staff are supposed to be bringin’ him out here since I can’t easily get in there in this weather. I called ahead and everything to make sure.”

The officer, Tucker noted, ground his teeth and repeated, “Sir I—” only to be interrupted by an out of breath voice that said Tucker’s name. Tucker tilted his head to look around the officer and noted the TSA Agent that looked to have run up behind him, around the car, and nearly slipped on a patch of black ice. Tucker noted the spot down as the Agent slid into place for when he had to pull out of his spot.

“Are—whoo—are you Lavernius Tucker?”

Tucker breathed a sigh of relief as he said, “Hell yeah. Where’s my kid?” and completely ignored the officer who tensed from the sudden intrusion.

“We—fuck it’s cold—we need you to come inside afff—argh!” the TSA agent slipped again but righted themselves and continued, “After I see some ID. Kids—well he’s a little stressed.”

Tucker blinked, and then cursed and began to dig out his wallet from his pants pocket. “Of course, shit—he just flew from across the sea goddammit why didn’t I think—here—” Tucker dug out his ID and handed it over without a thought, hand already going to draw the window back up and open the door when the officer stepped in again.

Tucker ground his teeth. Fuck this man.

“Ali, I told this man that he needs to move his car. We need the space.”

‘Ali’ looked at the officer surprised, and then glanced to the handicap mark in the car and said, “Thom. He’s got a handicap marker. It’s all good.” They then handed back the ID for Tucker to stick back into his wallet, which he did before he tugged his keys out of the ignition and rolled up the window. The next bit of the words between the officer and the TSA agent Tucker missed as he focused on making sure he had everything before he opened his car door.

By the time Tucker got the door open and worked on getting his bad leg out of the car, the officer had already stormed off. Ali offered a hand for balance, which Tucker took with a muttered, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Ali said. “Sorry about Thom. He’s a bit stressed.”

Tucker snorted. “Aren’t we all?”

“Yeah. Let’s go get your kid.”

Church woke to a loud, “We’re home!” and jerked up from the kitchen table that he’d fallen asleep at. In his hands was the mug of hot chocolate David gave him, already gone cold. His brain took a moment to return to working condition, a slow sort of boot as he tried to blink away the sleep. At least he hoped it was sleep—missing time always worried him, and Church could never be sure he’d actually been asleep or if he’d just not been here.

“Welcome back,” David said, voice pitched low enough that Church had to strain to hear it. “Church fell asleep at the table.”

Oh, good, he had been asleep. Church breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the chair back as quiet as he could, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders as he picked up the now cold mug of hot chocolate and brought it to the sink.

“Shit, really?” that voice belonged to Tucker, and Church thought he heard a fainter voice, unintelligible, that meant Junior had arrived safe and sound. “Fuck, he didn’t wear himself out doing all of this, did he?”

David chuckled and said, “He wanted it to be perfect for our new arrival.” Church set the mug into the sink and started the trek back toward the living room. “Hi, Junior. I’m Wash. It’s nice to meet you.”

From the doorway Church could see David crouched down enough to be at Junior’s height—the little monster had grown since the last time Church got a chance to look at him, back when he’d been nothing but a squealing toddler and Tucker a terrified mess as he stayed stuck in the room with that bitch who birthed the creature. He was practically half Tucker’s height, which wasn’t hard really since Tucker was a short ass in reality, even if his personality often made him bigger than he was.

Tucker had one hand on Junior’s shoulder, a light grounding touch. Church knew the motion because Tucker used it with him some days, just like Charmaine back when they were kids before she became known as ‘Carolina’. Junior seemed to appreciate the slight pressure as he gave a wide-toothy sort of grin in response, but shyly waved at David.

“’M ‘vernius ‘ucker,” Junior said, words half mumbled and some of them outright lost around a mouth that probably didn’t always know how to shape them the right way around. Church huffed from the doorway to catch attention, and watched how Junior seemed for a moment to startle, and then light up like Christmas had come a second time this year.

“’Nuncle Church!” Junior squealed, and then in a burst of surprising speed latched himself around Church’s middle.

“Hey, monster,” Church greeted, one hand settled into the black curls on Junior’s head. “Long trip?”

Junior squealed instead of using his words and Church made an appreciative noise in response. He looked up at Tucker who looked back at him, relieved, and then gestured to all the decorations around the house.

“Really, man?” Tucker said—and Church looked everything over with a keen eye.

The living room was decked out in balloons and streamers and hung up signs that said things like ‘It’s a Boy!’ or ‘Congrats! You’re A Dad!’ and one lone ‘Welcome Home!’ off in a corner. Church snorted and looked down to Junior.

“You like ‘em?” Church asked, and Junior nodded into his middle. Church shot Tucker a smug look. “Yeah, fucktard, really.”

“Ass,” Tucker replied fondly and flopped down into the couch. “C’mon, bring my kid over here so we can have a proper cuddle pile.”

David looked on and shook his head, even as he flopped down beside Tucker and made a gesture for Church to join them. Church glanced down at Junior and said, “Whaddya say, monster? Cuddle pile with your dad and not-dad?”

“Mm!” Junior grinned up at him and Church corralled the kid over to the group couch. He flopped himself down across Tucker and David, and then grunted when Junior climbed up onto his stomach.

“Serves you right,” Tucker mumbled. “Jewish-dad.”

“Best-dad!” Junior squealed, and then squinted up at David who had never met the monster—and Church pitied the man just a little bit, because he had no idea what he was getting into with this. “Not-dad?”

“Awesome-dad,” Tucker corrected, “’cuz Wash is awesome.”

“Rude,” Church countered. “Aren’t I awesome?”

“Nah, your plain Church. Hadn’t you heard? Obviously I traded you in for the more rugged model,” Tucker teased and Church pouted.

“Rugged?” David questioned, and Church realized he hadn’t heard Tucker call him rugged yet—they’d kept that one to themselves in small gigglefests over the growing beard on David’s face. It really did make him look older, more rugged and worn but not less handsome. Church found he rather liked it—Tucker said it itched.

“Dude, you grew a beard,” Tucker said.

Church patted David on the knee and told him, “I like the beard,” even as David looked so despondent at being called rugged because of his beard.

Junior gasped in their collective laps, as if he just noticed the beard which was entirely possible. Church knew how much it oftentimes hurt the kid to just look at people. His wide-eyed awe, though, that made Church smile just the little bit as he watched Junior reach up and touch the beard.

“Santa,” Junior said, and Church burst out laughing.

[veroticker]

Hike hike, baby - Xavier Neal

You can buy the book on Amazon.

Summary (from Amazon)

Yasmine

Pause, take a breath, and glisten...

That's the better way to phrase Yasmine Brown sweating to death on her first hike, which is, obviously her punishment for being too cheap or too stubborn to buy the outdoor-loving woman she calls her best friend a stupid gift.

Most people are willing to accept her famous baked desserts as the perfect present. After all, she is an internationally renowned pastry chef.

Unfortunately, that trick doesn't work when your best friend is also your employee.

One little trek to make the birthday brat happy won't kill her, right?

Sutton

Halt, take a sip, oh no, she's slippin'...

One minute Sutton Thisleton is having a drink, and the next he's helping the most gorgeous woman he's ever crossed paths with out of the small hole she fell into.

Most people wouldn't see this as the right opportunity to grab a date. They also wouldn't wander from city to city because the wind seemed to shift them another direction one random afternoon.

Good thing he's never been most people.

One assisted hop back to the vixen's vehicle won't completely change his life, right?

What will happen when these two opposite worlds continuously collide?

Will they find a way to create a sweet, long lasting treat together, or will it end with one of them being told to take a permanent hike?

Blurb

“I’m melting.

I’m literally fucking melting.

I’m literally fucking melting like an ice cream cake some dumbass left unattended on the picnic table on the hottest day of the year, in the hottest place on this whole goddamn planet.

With the puddle my dark chocolate skin seems to be creating at the tips of my red tennis shoes, I can easily say: that wicked witch bitch has nothing on me.

Another sweat droplet cascades down the side of my face causing me to sneer.

This shit is unacceptable outside of the kitchen, except for, I guess, sex, but I haven’t had the latter in far too long to recall if sweating is an accolade to your impressive stamina or negative assessment to your out of shape nature.

My head hangs forward as I try to appease my burning lungs with air.

Okay, so I’m not the most fit person on the planet, obviously, but I wouldn’t call myself out of shape. Hustling around a commercial kitchen is hard work, especially when you own and operate the business. No, it’s not like jogging a stupid marathon or going cross country for charity, but it’s still vigorous. I’m still on my feet every day sweating my tits off. I still do more than the ten thousand steps or whatever it is the smart watch I got as a gift from my youngest sister tells me I should be doing for my size. And I damn sure am moving twice, if not three, times as much as the skinny Minnie birthday girl who talked me into doing this bullshit to celebrate her “special day”.

Why couldn’t we have gone out for a nice steak dinner and glass of wine?

Or a cheap steak dinner and shots?

Maybe even a tacky nightclub and wine coolers?

Where’s the alcohol that should always accompany birthday accommodations?

“You comin’?” Eddie Shaw, Sienna’s husband, asks from the bottom of the path I hadn’t realized they had already made it down.

I force my face his direction.

That fe-fi-foxy giant of a man is just as at home as she is in this wilderness. 6’5 and built like the lumberjack who is not afraid to chop down any tree in the forest. From the stories his wife tells, tree trunks aren’t the only hardwood he’s capable of swinging.

While I want that, dear God do I want that, I’m on the verge of thirty-five and willing to simply settle for a…thick stick being thrown my general direction.

Desperation has a fun way of dropping a woman’s standards.

Not that I need a man in my life.

It’d just be nice to have someone to share experiences with.

Call to vent to when my best friends, who are also my employees, are frustrating the shit out of me.

Have crawl between my legs at night instead of the neon red BOB I upgraded myself to for Christmas.

Perhaps this year, I’ll get one of those models that comes with an earpiece so you can listen to a sexy male — who sounds like Idris Elba — talk dirty to you.

Swear on my favorite oven that if those exist, I will get one.

“I don’t think she heard me,” Eddie innocently states to his wife.

“She heard you.” Her swift correction is followed by her brushing a long strand of her brown hair away from her face. “She’s just not done mentally cursing me out for making her do this.”

I point her direction before promptly tapping the tip of my nose.

His deep laugh freely echoes across the lush foliage, and the love of his life can’t help but grin.

Ignoring the second pang of jealousy is hard.

It’s not like their marriage is perfect.

It’s not like neither have flaws.

Hell, on this hike alone, they’ve gotten into at least three arguments…only one of which I am convinced was in good spirits.

But they still have…each other.

They’ve still managed to find someone who compliments their souls…who they want involved in all aspects of their lives…whose bullshit they willingly tolerate…

It’s a beautiful relationship to have.

Unfortunately, for me, as the years tick on by, it’s becoming more and more apparent I’m the only person in my little world who has an open position no one is interested in filling. We’re not just talking about unwilling to grab an application. No. We’re talking cross to the other side of the street to avoid even making eye contact with the store.

Sometimes I get the feeling I’m gonna be married to my macaroons forever.”

(review under the cut)

Review

(audiobook) In one word, delightful! It was funny, sweet, sexy, insightful, full of body positivity. The narrators were both excellent.

You get a black tall curvy girl who’s full of insecurity but lives her dreams with a pastry shop, and a blond demi-god who sees beauty in everything and can’t stay in one place forever because he wants to visit the world. And you get the beautiful story of how they find each other and they learn to compromise to make their relationship work.

It’s a mature story. The major problems they encounter come from themselves, and they just have to grow up and change their way of seeing things. All of that with a lot of humor and a touch of sexy.

I also enjoyed the author’s way with words--I read some words that I’m not used seeing in romance novels (or any novel, actually). It’s both witty and poetic. I really loved some of her sentences.

I waited a long time to hear/listen to this one, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Quickie

Series: standalone

Hashtags: #romcom #opposites attract #interracial romance #curvy girl #instalove

Triggers: suggestion of underage sex (in the past)

Main couple: Yasmine Brown & Sutton Thistleton

Hotness: 5/5

Romance: 5/5

+ Sutton’s free spirit and his way of seeing the world

- some side characters were more annoying than interesting

Stalker mode

You can suscribe to Xavier Neal’s newsletter on her website.

You can also follow her on Facebook.

[captainwhogotthecanary]

Not Broken or Alone

Welcome to my Pride Month fics! I haven’t gotten many prompts (please send them if you’re interested! Some info here), but I’ve got some fics and pairings I’ve been wanting to work with for a while now, so there will be somewhere between 5 and 30 fics of varying length, depending how everything goes. Not everything I’m posting this month will be for Pride, since I did already have some stuff written and ready to post.

For this first one, @ice-magician prompted, “someone struggling with the reality that they’re Ace (and feeling like they’re broken). Friendship between Cap and Natasha(Ace)?”

Established romantic relationships or their lack left intentionally vague; imagine what you will, I ship almost everyone and brotp them just as hard. Civil War didn’t happen the way we saw it, the team is all still together, and there’s been no snap or anything that follows.

Read here or on AO3.

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

Steve and Natasha have been holed up together plenty times. He usually works with Bucky, and she works with Clint more frequently than not. Steve and Natasha probably work together next most often, though. They trust each other, as much as anyone in their situations can, and Nat kicks so much ass.

Also, if Steve’s being honest, she’s sometimes a lot more comfortable to work with than even Bucky. Bucky is his partner; Natasha is his friend.

Steve likes to think Natasha’s usually pretty relaxed around him, too, when it’s just the two of them. Tonight, though, in this dingy hotel room with its twin beds that’ve seen better days, she isn’t relaxed at all. She’s pacing, and the fact that she’s agitated enough to let it show when it isn’t for some sort of advantage says quite a lot, despite her silence.

Steve lets it go for a few minutes. Finally, making sure none of his concern reaches his voice, he tries, “Everything okay, Nat?”

“Fine,” she mutters. She paces the length of the room a couple more times, Steve tracking her movement from where he sits on his bed, until she comes to a sudden stop and spins to face him. “What’s wrong with me?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“What’s wrong with me?” she asks again.

His eyes sweep over her body, reflexively checking his teammate for signs of illness or injury. “I don’t… Are you hurt?”

She scowls like only Natasha can, the slightest tightening of her features that immediately conveys a desire to remove body parts from where they normally belong. “I’m fine.” She resumes pacing, and Steve stands, hands out in the universal “I’m not a threat” gesture.

“I’m happy to help,” he says, “or listen, or back off, whatever you need, but you’ve gotta give me a little more than that to work with, here.”

There’s little enough spare room that he has to cross his arms to keep her from having to dodge his hands on her next trip past him, but when she gets back to her bed, she sits. It’s still graceful—it’s Natasha, after all, and he’s not convinced there’s anything she does without grace—but the movement is a lot more rough and defeated than he’s used to seeing from her. He sits on his bed so he’s facing her, though with her elbows on her knees and her head hanging, he can’t actually see her face.

“Talk to me, Nat,” he prompts gently.

Then he waits.

Her words, when they come, are calm and quiet. “I’m not attracted to anyone. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Alright,” Steve says carefully. “And that makes you feel like something’s wrong with you?”

Natasha lifts her head enough to glare at him. “I can’t feel attraction like normal people. I want to, and I can pretend to, but I can’t do it. How is that not something being wrong with me?”

Steve sorts through possible responses. He’s always been against bullies, always, so naturally he put some effort into learning about bullied populations, after he got out of the ice, and he knows how important this conversation might be, how big it is that she’s even willing to have it with him. He'd done research online and even gone to a local LGBT community center to make sure he had the tools to stand up against the bullied in this particular fight.

“It’s normal to be upset,” he says, “if you want something you can’t have. That’s totally justified. But not feeling sexual attraction, if that’s what we’re talking about here, that’s normal, too. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you.”

“I’m broken, Steve.” Natasha’s trembling with the force of her emotion, and if Steve thought it would help at all, he’d have his arms around her in a second. “The Red Room broke me.”

“Maybe it did,” he allows. “They did some pretty messed up stuff. But maybe your sexuality isn’t something that’s broken. Maybe you would’ve felt like this no matter what. Nothing is wrong with you, Natasha.” He hesitates, then moves to sit next to her, not quite touching, but close. “You’re amazing, Nat, and one of the strongest people I know. Anyone who would think any less of you based on who you are or aren’t attracted to doesn’t deserve to be in your life.”

Natasha is looking down at the floor again. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

“I know.” It seems like the right thing to say. He considers what he's read and what he's heard. “Have you looked into asexuality?”

“For people? Not really.” She sniffs, clearly gathering herself. “Is that what you think I am?”

“Maybe.” Steve watches her for a reaction, but she’s thinking too hard to give one. “Look into it, once we’re not stuck here without internet. Only you can decide whether that’s the label that fits you and whether you want to claim it, but it sounds like it’s probably right. At the very least, it’s similar enough that maybe you won’t feel so much like you’re the only one who doesn’t get attraction.”

He leans over just far enough to bump her shoulder with his. “In the meantime, I know it can be hard, but try to be nice to yourself. It’s not something you can help, and it’s not something you need to fix. Would you treat someone else like they’re broken because of something like that?”

Steve waits for the slow shake of her head before he speaks again. “So try and cut yourself some slack. You’re not broken. Tell yourself that until you believe it, and I can tell you as often as you want me to, if it helps.”

She nods, and he can tell she’s still deep in thought. She doesn’t look distressed anymore so much as distracted.

“I’m gonna go see if the shower’s functional and give you a few minutes,” Steve says. “We can talk more after, if you want, or we can let it drop. I’ll follow your lead.” He stands.

Her hand snaps out and grabs the cuff of his sleeve, the movement too fast for him to follow. “Steve,” she says, looking up at him, her eyes full of emotion he can’t interpret. He thinks there’s less self-loathing now, at least. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Steve waits until she lets go before he heads to the bathroom, looking back once to make sure she seems alright.

Natasha’s hands are curled into fists in her lap, and her shoulders are hunched and tense, but the corners of her mouth are pulling up into the tiniest of smiles. She’s not okay yet, maybe, but she’ll get there.

And Steve will do anything he can to help.

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

This prompt hits pretty close to home for me, because I grew up feeling broken when it comes to my (lack of) objective attraction to guys, and I IDed as Demi/gray-A for a while, and still do when it comes to guys. This is neither apology nor brag; simply keep in mind that this is the lens through which I interpret character emotion and motivation. This doesn’t mean Nat’s experience matches mine, and it doesn’t mean it’ll match yours. It’s just one exploration of an Ace character.

Thank you to the lovely folks who read over this for me. I love you!

[1000-directions]

annual writing self-evaluation

All answers should be about works published in 2018.

tagged by: N O B O D Y, i’m the one getting the party started this year 😎i’m going to tag every writer i follow, so please feel free to fill this out for yourself without feeling obligated to read my answers if you’re not into it!

i. Optional if applicable: link to last year’s self evaluation:

2017!

1. List of works published this year (in the order that they were posted):

tonight make me unstoppable

turn to dust or to gold

spring cleaning

since we’re alone

this modern love

i still remember

the gentlest feeling

think i’m gonna win this time

nothing but dreams inside

sending postcards to myself

dust to dust

lullaby for the new world order

gold dust in our hands

#ship 1d with superheroes 2k18

cloud on my tongue

sing it one last time

(unpublished winterhawk fic that will be arriving next weekend)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

hmmmm. i mean, if you count the luckyverse as a whole as one work, then obviously that. i’ve put a lot of time and thought into developing this relationship and finding ways to progress it over the course of several years and trying to justify why we are examining their relationship at the specific times that the stories take place. it’s the hardest i’ve worked on anything, it’s the most time i’ve spent on one idea, it’s the longest thing i’ve ever created, it’s the most i’ve ever enjoyed writing, and it’s gotten the most satisfying response. it’s not the most popular thing i’ve ever done, and i know there will be fewer and fewer people showing up for each successive part, but the people who support this have been just...the most generous and wonderful, and creating this thing has been such a rewarding experience for me.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

nope, this year i’m pretty proud of everything 🙃

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

from this modern love:

“Buck,” Louis says, and he’s looking at Bucky so openly, gazing at him so adoringly, and his fingertips are so gentle against Bucky’s face. He isn’t holding anything back, and it’s one of those moments where Bucky almost steps out of his own head and sees himself from a distance, and he has to tell himself, this is your life, you get to have this now.

“It was a nice day,” Bucky says instead. “I’m really glad I got to be a part of it.”

“You’re going to be a part of everything from now on,” Louis says, tracing the arch of Bucky’s eyebrow with his thumb. “Shit, I can’t stop touching you.”

“Don’t stop touching me,” Bucky says. His hands are on Louis’ hips, anchoring him in place, and they feel hot where they meet Louis’ clothing. His right palm is sweating, and his left is crackling with the anticipation.

There are two categories of energy. There’s kinetic energy, the energy of motion. The energy of Bucky reaching through space and time against all the odds to meet this man, to run after him down the street, to touch his body and kiss his sacred mouth.

And the other category is potential energy, the energy that is stored up and kept secure for the future when you’re ready for it. The energy of possibility, the energy that hasn’t done anything yet but promises you maybe, maybe, maybe.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

i got a lot of comments along the lines of ‘i didn’t expect this to work, but it did,’ which always brings me joy. i reread @queerlyalex‘s comment on nothing but dreams inside whenever i’m feeling :/ about myself and my writing. all seven comments on cloud on my tongue are so precious to me because i loved writing that one so, so much, it was my love letter to lucky and how far they’ve come. i really just treasure the people who are still hanging in there and reading about my precious weirdos and really picking up on all the things i was trying to do with that story.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

any time i have to write a scene with more than two characters is a struggle. the absolute worst ones this year were freddie’s birthday party and bucky and louis’ dinner party. just the worst. more than two characters is too many to keep track of.

7. A scene or character that you wrote that surprised you:

genuinely everything. at the end of last year, i was planning to write one (1) lucky fic for rarepair fest, and i was planning to write trans spiderlou, and that was it. and instead, this turned in the year of lucky, the #ship 1d with superheroes 2k18 that i was not expecting.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

last year, i was very focused on being a more minimalist writer, on ignoring plot and just writing the parts that i found interesting, just quick projects in one sitting for as long as they held my interest. this year, i spent more time stretching out inside a scene, just settling in and letting it take as long as it needed to take. i learned how to sustain my own interest in an idea for longer than a few hours. it used to be that if i didn’t finish something in one sitting, i didn’t finish it at all. meanwhile, i can’t even tell you how many sittings i’ve spent on lucky over the last year, and i’m still excited about it and invested in it. i wouldn’t say that i appreciate the concept of plot much more than i used to -- i’m still much more focused on small moments of character interaction. but i’ve learned to embrace the concept of outlining in order to make sure i cover everything i want to cover, and i’m not so afraid of the passage of time anymore.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

this is my answer from last year:

i would like to try some new pairings. this is weird, but i’ve never really written a true nouis story? it feels like i should have, but i haven’t, and that’s something i wouldn’t mind tackling next year. also, when i first started out, i didn’t feel comfortable leaving canon behind because i worried that i didn’t have a strong enough grip on my characters yet, and i feared that if i started writing AUs or whatever, my characters would become unrecognizable. but i’d like to keep venturing out and trying new worlds and tropes. i want to write more trans characters. i’d like to write an ace fic. i’d like to bring my eye to things i haven’t written before and see what happens.

things i did this year: tried new pairings, wrote a true nouis story, wrote AUs, wrote more trans characters. and although it’s not explicitly identified in the story, bucky is demi in luckyverse, so i guess you could say i wrote an ace fic. so...i’m pretty pleased with all that.

‘i’d like to bring my eye to things i haven’t written before and see what happens’ is always going to be my writing mantra, i think. this year was very heavily focused on lucky, so i think i’d like to write more diversely next year, focusing on other stuff as well. i’d like to write more marvel stories, and i’d like to play around with winterhawk more and maybe find my own preferred niche inside that particular pairing. i just want to keep pushing myself and trying new things.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

i will say that @dearmrsawyer really stepped up and became my absolute mvp this year. jamila is the best for pure brainstorming, for just coming up with an idle idea and running with it until it’s something huge and important and vital to whatever project i’m working on. there is very little i wrote this year that she didn’t have a hand in to some extent. @nightwideopen was absolutely lucky’s #1 cheerleader, which means so much to me. @queerlyalex is always the best in terms of pure positivity and encouragement, about writing, about not writing, about life, about everything. @fleetwooded has been such a perfect beta for me, someone i absolutely trust to tell me the truth about whether or not something works, someone who is so thoughtful with comments and ideas, someone whose eye i 100% trust. @sarcathlon made me art!!!! holy shit, i’m never going to be over it, genuinely the nicest and most supportive compliment ever. and of course, bucky barnes has my entire heart and i’m never gonna stop yelling about how he is a good boy trying his best.

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

uh, yes. lol. all of bucky’s anatomical awareness is a result of my stupid useless anatomy degree. at least i finally got to use it for something!! a lot of bucky’s anxiety and panic is based on my own. bucky’s hatred and fear of grocery stores is literally me.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

i’m always going to say to write the stories that you want to write, and fuck all the writing rules that tell you there’s a specific way to tell a story. tell it your way. have fun. writing is pointless if you don’t genuinely enjoy it, because we aren’t getting paid for this, and most of us aren’t going to write things that are wildly popular, so the joy has to come from the creation of it. if you expect the joy to come entirely from other people’s responses to your work, you’re going to be disappointed. if you love what you write, then you are guaranteed that at least one person is going to love what you wrote. that’s all i got.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

we’ve got two (or three 😩) more parts of the luckyverse in the wings, and i want to write my zayn character study. everything else is up for grabs.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

listen, i’m tagging e v e r y o n e who i think wrote something this year because i wanna get this thing going again. so please, if i accidentally skipped you, or if you are someone i don’t follow who is reading this and you want to do it, please feel free, just say i tagged you.

@magicalrocketships @veryniceandgood @bigbrotherlouis @secretspeller @ferryboatpeak @zaptains @jiksax @mildlymaddy @dearmrsawyer @saysthemagpie @polaroidgirlfriend @clarz @imlouisaf @queerlyalex @nothanksweregood @musingsofmaura @niallspringsteen @foliealou @tintedglasses @sarcathlon @nocontrolforlouis @fleetwooded @nightwideopen @captn-sara-holmes @flawedamythyst @akai-coat @claraxbarton @kangofu-cb