#I need to save this one. to look at when all seems bleak and hopeless

[stil-lindigo]

Hey, I just wanted to share something with you, as someone who's so invested in the Palestine conflict, I hope it might inspire hope, even a little.

I was born and live in Egypt, a very conservative and religious country. These days I deleted my Tiktok and rarely ever use Twitter, as I'm in my senior year, and seeing the constant deaths and torture was getting into me so much that I couldn't even eat or drink properly, nevertheless properly study. I honestly am not proud of myself for doing so, but there's comfort in the fact Egypt is so Pro-Palestine. There's a lot to be done, and even for people like me, we can help.

My school has been donating food, clothes and blankets to Palestine. The McDonald's in here have been trying to distance themselves, claiming they're "100% Egyptian", only to get mocked and insulted. I go by the local McDonald's, there's a lot of schools where I am, around 5 in two blocks, and where before they were constantly so full, these days they're so empty. I can only see maybe 3, 4 people in there. A lot of people in my school are on a complete strike, against every American product. We've resorted to buying and getting local products instead. Egypt is doing very poorly economically at the moment, but there's still a lot of effort into knocking out American products, even if not by the companies, by the youth and the children. I can't go a single class without one of my teachers openly supporting Palestine. My Arabic teacher constantly uses the people in Gaza to teach me grammar, calling them brave and courageous. My geography teacher denies Isreal, and has been in league with others to get more donations and aid. Egyptians believe so truly that Palestine will be free that it's hard not to think so too. I've had classmates openly agree that if they could, they'd join the army to help fight for Palestine, I've seen more people than ever mocking the current regime, I've seen more people than ever falling out of the American illusion and seeing it for what it is. I've spent a lot of religion classes being taught Arabic brotherhood and chivalry, when previously, the lessons were stereotypically conservative in nature and I used to despise them for it.

Yes, the government sucks like every other, but there's an air of open support in here. No one is losing their jobs for stating the truth, homes and shops are waving the Palestinian flag. Even the antisemitism, which was rampant, has seen a noticeable decline. People in here stand for Palestine.

I want to also let you know you've been an inspiration for people, or at least, to me. I want to be able to participate more, and I see your reposts and reblogs and I want to do even more than what I did at the start, which was retweeting and reposting and sharing what I can to my friends. Unfortunately due to my current living situation and my terrible memory, I missed being able to donate to the school, but they have stated to open up donations again soon, and I'm preparing in advance for that one. I was not raised Zionist, but I was raised warned against participating in political affairs, saying I'd be put in more trouble, and even could be killed. But I see you and I see so many Americans losing their jobs and being branded criminals and as moral failures for speaking out, and I find it harder and harder in me not to also speak out. And even if I'm not constantly retweeting and reposting, there is something I can do. You helped me realize that, and I'd like to thank you.

I hope this cheers you up even a little, I've noticed your posts these days expressing how much this has been upsetting you. It's been upsetting to all of us, and I want you to know that it's not fruitless, no matter how many western countries and how many bootlickers make you feel otherwise. This ordeal has taught me the world is a brotherhood, politics and money are never a reason for why we should not stand together, and why we shouldn't speak for those having their voice silenced.

Please excuse me if something comes off wrong or unnatural. Like I said, I was born and I live in Egypt, English is not my first language and I still have issues communicating my personal thoughts in it. Please never don't stand for Palestine. Please never lose hope for it, like the Egyptians never have and never will. Please never let people make you feel hopeless and insane.

Thank you for listening to me, thank you for caring about Palestine when it would've been easy not to. Thank you for using your platform, and if you found it in you to read this thing, thank you for giving time to a brown Arab, when the world so strongly encourages you not to. Please continue to inspire justice, and I hope the world one day continues to inspire hope for you.

😭 anon, I cant explain how much I appreciate you sending this message. I know there is hope for Palestinian liberation, I know that we will see freedom for Palestine. But god do I need the reminder sometimes that we aren’t all just shouting into the void. My country of Australia shamefully takes a cowardly stance on Palestine, always deferring to the US to guide our foreign policy, and yet always claims moral superiority over other countries such as yours. Thank you, really thank you so much for sending this message. I feel so so honoured to have earned an audience that includes you. I believe an audience does reflect an artist, and to know I have done you proud in any way makes me feel full.

And please don’t ever feel ashamed of your English, you are eloquent and have a wonderful, compassionate voice, and you have inspired hope in me for yet another day.

[fairestwriting]

I hope you have a nice nap, could I request something with pomefiore (separate) about the reader who gets poisoned and fall into eternal slumber (that can be woken up from with a true loves kiss) you can decide if they are in a relationship or not

So they kiss them, but they dont wake up (since true love takes a while, unlike in fairytales, and the reader hadnt reached that stage yet)

Would the reader be considered dead since they dont love anybody like that?

Pure angst 💕

going with s/o reader for that one! did yall miss my angst writing. well i did so youre getting it.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil doesn’t believe in fairytales or anything related to them. Maybe he did way before, as a child, but as he grew and became more jaded, the thought of happy endings just began to feel like a silly dream. And that had been fine for most of his life, he’s sworn to reach his goals through his own efforts, he didn’t need these silly fantasy miracles.

So having that hopeless streak, when he finds out what happened to you, it’s like he’s split into mourning and just that desperation to bring you back, even though deep down he doesn’t think it could work out, the supposed condition to breaking the curse seeming almost unrealistic — Of course he would still try, even though there’s this voice in his head telling him it’s all over.

He stares at your unconscious form for a second before diving in for the kiss, an uncharacteristic look of fear in his eyes, heart racing, full of expectation and not at the same time... only for you to still fall limp in his arms, even after he pulls away. And the worst thing is he isn’t even shocked, he didn’t think it would work, true love isn’t something that works in real life like how it does in fantasy, isn’t it?

But as he stands there, quiet and bleak, despite all the time he’s spent polishing his own composure, Vil finds that he just wants to cry. He wanted to believe that it could work out, if only for a moment, even though it felt obvious it wouldn’t. He wanted it to be true, so he could have you again, and all he feels is guilt, was it his fault that you hadn’t reached this ideal feeling that could have saved you? He’ll never find out now.

Rook Hunt

Having such a strong idealization of beauty, plus the principle of it being something you could find anywhere, Rook has always thought that even in a situation where he’s suffering, he might be able to see the twisted beauty in that pain, the sort of meaning it carried. But when he sees what happened to you, he can’t feel any of that.

Rook is just in shock. Who did this to you and why? Who would dare to deprive the world of a beauty as special and rare as yours, the one who’s managed to trap him into a prison of feelings so intense he couldn’t look at anyone in such a lovestruck way, holding your beauty above any other? There’s that part of his that wants — needs — to get revenge on whoever did this to you, but before he got to that, he needed to do something, whatever he could, to have you back.

The words true love spark an idea in his mind that he finds so beautiful, he could almost call it holy. Was the famous true love’s kiss the one thing that could save you from this tragedy? If so, Rook is more than willing, and hopeful too, to be the one to bring you back into this world. He stands next to where you rest, cupping your face gently before the kiss, delicately, like he’s afraid to break you.

Pulling away and opening his eyes that had fluttered shut, Rook is more full of hope than ever, but he’s only met with silence, and one that he understands soon enough — It’s not enough. True love doesn’t work like that in real life. And that’s the end of it. It’s a miserable fate he’ll accept, but not by just bowing down his head and letting destiny take you from him completely. No, he’s avenging you, and swearing to stay by your side, even if you could never look into his eyes again. Even if it hurts until the end of his days, if it’s you, he’d learn to find beauty in this too.

Epel Felmier

Epel is the one who comes to the conclusion that true love would play a role here before he even really hears about the condition. Because when the knews are broken to him, he links it to that story he grew up hearing, with the princess that had been poisoned by the queen, true love’s kiss was the way to save her, wasn’t it?

He doesn’t know what might have lead you to something like this happening to you, and he doesn’t care, frankly, he needs to save you now, he’s the only one who can do it, right? He’ll barely wait for the news to be explained to him to rush to your side, no matter where you’re resting after falling unconscious.

Epel’s heart hammers in his chest, he’s determined and hopeful and already imagining what to say when you woke up, telling you with a teary smile that all those times he’d sworn to protect you were true, don’t you see? He grabs you almost clumsily, rather harshly, before he presses his lips into yours, and — 

And nothing. He pulls away and you’re still out. He tries again, then again, then maybe one more time. Why isn’t it working? He’s supposed to be the one to save you, right? No matter how he comes to learn that true love wasn’t nearly as simple as he thought it was, it’ll completely break him. So he wasn’t enough? Your love for each other wasn’t enough? He’s actually crying even when it’s explained to him, the words just fly right over his head, and he keeps repeating that chant of why, why, why.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[sergeantsporks]

Another Shot at Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 7/7: Home

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

Vee trudged up towards the old abandoned house. She’d started checking it every single day since Hunter had been taken, hoping he’d be there.

He never was.

She pushed open the door, and stopped, dead in her tracks. “L-Luz? Red?!”

Red was shrieking like its little heart was being torn in two, fluttering around where the portal had always appeared.

Vee rushed forward, panic building in her chest. “Hey—are you okay?!”

Luz was turning a key over and over in her hands, poking at it. “I need to go back,” she said dazedly, “I need to rescue him.”

“How long have you been here?!”

“I—I don’t know. A couple of hours? I can’t… get the key to work. But I have to go back, I left Hunter behind, and Belos has him, and—” She struggled to her feet, then immediately fell.

Vee caught her, slinging one of her arms over her shoulder. “You need to go back home. You look awful.”

“But Hunter—”

Vee took the key from her. “I’ll go back for him,” she promised, and a sort of steely calm settled over her. Yes. She would figure this out, she would rescue Hunter.

“Mom will never let you—”

Vee bit her lip. Of all the things to take a leaf out of Hunter’s book for. “We won’t tell her.” She tucked the key into her hoodie pocket, half-carrying, half-dragging Luz back home. “Camila!” she called, “Come quick!”

Camila poked her head out of the kitchen, then shrieked, rushing forward and taking Luz from Vee. “Mi carina! Luz, baby, what happened?!”

“Mama,” Luz half-sobbed, “Mama, I left Hunter—he helped me get away from Belos, he—”

Vee slipped out, wandering back to the old house. Red was sitting on the floor, staring at the spot where the portal had been. Vee gently scooped up the bird. “We’ll get him back. I promise.”

Red chirped sadly, hopping back down out of her hands to sit on the ground again.

Vee tugged the training wand Hunter had given her out of her pocket. It glowed blue, and she sucked the magic out of it. She hadn’t needed it to hide from Belos. But she could use it to save Hunter.

Now there was just one more person she needed.

Xxx

Vee strode into the museum. “Hey!”

Jacob jumped. “What are you doing here?” He glanced behind her. “Your—your friend isn’t here, is he?”

Vee felt tears prick at her eyes, but she blinked them back. “He’s… not here right now. I need your help.”

“My help? Why would you need my help?”

Because you’re stupid, and loud, and prideful and the perfect distraction.

“Because you’re right. Because witches are planning an invasion of your world, and I’m a rebel against them, but I need someone to help me take down their leader, and you’re perfect.”

Jacob stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re… you’re a rebel?”

“Yes. Against the beings that want to conquer your planet.” Vee swung the key back and forth on its string. “I can get you inside the witch emperor’s castle. All you have to do is kill him. Protect your planet.”

Jacob made a grab for the key, and she swung it up, catching it and holding it tightly. “Uh-uh. I control the portal.”

“Why?”

“Because you need someone on this side to keep it open,” Vee lied, “Now, are you going to be a hero and defend your home, or do I have to find someone else?”

Jacob shook his head. “I’m coming! I’m coming.”

“Good. Meet me at the abandoned house you were watching, and I’ll open the portal. The fate of your world rests on your shoulders, Jacob.”

Vee strode purposefully out of the museum, making sure she was out of Jacob’s range of hearing before sighing. “Now I just have to figure out how to open the portal.”

She jogged back to the old house, where Red was still waiting, and held up the key. “Hey. Any chance you know how to use this?”

Red fluttered up and pecked at the eye.

“Hey! Don’t break it!” Vee examined the key. “Now how do I…” she pressed gently on the eye of the key, but nothing happened.

Vee stepped to the place where the door had been.

And was met with resistance.

“Huh?”

Vee clicked the key, and the resistance disappeared. She clicked it again. There was that strange wall again.

Or maybe not a wall. Maybe a door.

Vee put her hands on the solid area, feeling for a knob. “Come on,” she muttered, “You have to be around here somewhere!”

Red fluttered up onto her shoulder, chirping. Its eyes glowed, and suddenly, there it was.

The door.

It looked like the sketches Hunter had left behind, but instead of huge eye on the top, there was a keyhole.

Vee gasped. “Oh! You need a palisman to get in! So no one but a witch could get in from this side! That’s clever!”

She heard clanking, and turned around to see Jacob, in all of his armor. Wow, he really looked ridiculous.

“Where’s the portal?” he demanded.

Vee reached up and inserted the key into the lock, twisting it with a quiet click. A doorframe filled with a golden curtain of light appeared, the key at the top of the doorframe. She gestured to it. “The emperor wears a golden mask with deer horns. You’ll know him when you see him.”

Jacob gulped, then plunged through. Vee briefly considered that she should feel guilty about sending him in to face Belos with absolutely no idea what he was up against.

Eh.

Red tried to dive into the portal after Jacob, but Vee held a hand up, blocking the bird. “I know you want to see Hunter, but I need you to stay here and watch the portal, okay? Make sure no one comes for the key. I’ll bring him back. I promise.”

Red ruffled its feathers unhappily, but perched atop the doorframe.

Vee pulled on the magic she’d absorbed from the wand, shifting to match the look of a coven guard. Then she crept through. She could hear Jacob yelling and clanging his way down the hallway, and the sounds of other coven guards chasing after. Perfect.

Vee slipped unnoticed through the hallways, her nerves spiking. Everything about this place was just one bad memory after another. She spotted a singular guard outside of a door, and sidled up to him.

“Um—” she squeaked, “hello? I, uh. I’m a bit lost, I just transferred here. I’m… I’m supposed to go on guard duty for… the golden guard?”

The guard heaved a sigh. “Finally. I thought I would never go off-duty. It’s just so boring, you know? It’s not like he can escape.”

“Oh. Yes. T-totally.”

“Right. See ya, new guy!”

The guard waved and strode off. Vee shuddered. He seemed so… normal. Like his job wasn’t locking up and hurting innocent teens.

She waited for him to disappear down the hallway, then turned the knob of the door, pushing it open. The room was well lit, surprisingly.

Vee almost wished it weren’t.

Hunter was buried all the way up to the nose in a mountain of some kind of… slime that shifted and moved. His eyes were blank—no pupils, no irises, just eerily glowing white.

“Hunter?” she whispered.

He didn’t respond.

Vee crept forward, poking the slime with one finger.

It glowed blue, and Vee gasped. The whole thing was magic. “Hang on, Hunter, I’ll get you out of here.”

Vee wrinkled her nose and put her hands on the slime. It glowed, and she inhaled, sucking up the magic. She almost immediately gagged. There was something wrong with this magic. It tasted rotten.

But the mountain had gotten just a little bit smaller, so she braced herself, and started eating the magic again, suppressing her gag reflex.

The mountain shrank smaller and smaller, and the slime receded from Hunter’s face. He fell forward, and Vee lunged to catch him, her stomach writhing like she’d just eaten live snakes. “Hunter?”

The eerie glow faded from his eyes, replaced with his usual magenta eyes.

“Hunter!”

He just stared blankly up at her, shivering violently. Vee hefted him in her arms, glancing both ways out into the hallway before starting down the hallway. Maybe it was the huge size of the coven guard she’d shifted into, but he seemed smaller than he ever had back home.

And then there were his eyes. They were so… bleak. Hopeless. It was like he couldn’t even see her.

Vee made her way back to the room with the door, occasionally ducking into other rooms or behind statues to hide Hunter.

She heard a clank, clank, clank behind her, and Jacob came tearing back, screaming. Wow, he could run fast, even in all of that armor.

The meaning of why he would be running like that hit her, and she sprinted after him, bolting through the doors to the room.

Only for several guards to be standing in front of her way out. Jacob was nowhere in sight—they must have let him through the portal. Vee skidded to a stop. “Oh. Hey. Uhhhhhhhh…”

“We have a traitor!”

“That’s no traitor,” Belos’ voice hissed behind her, “That’s a dangerous creature, masquerading as one of our own.”

Vee’s veins turned to ice, and every bad memory from her time locked in the dungeon flashed through her mind at lightning speed.

She didn’t see him move, but suddenly Belos was right in her face. “I’ll be taking Hunter back, now. You don’t know what he needs.”

Xxx

“Mom—I’m okay. Really. It was just a fall off of a wall, and a little bit of light torture, and a blow to the head, and a fall from the sky—I’m fine, really.”

Camila finished applying band-aids to all of Luz’s scratches, her chest tight. “A blow to the head? I’m going to call a doctor.”

“I’m okay, Mom! Really! Hunter gave me these painkiller things, and they really worked, but I think they’ve worn off now, and I know I promised I’d stay here, I know, but we have to go back for him!”

Camila sat down next to her daughter. “Okay.”

Luz stopped, mid-rant. “Wh-what?”

“Okay. I’m going to get Hunter. You stay here and rest. How do I get there?”

“I…” Luz’s eyes teared up. “I don’t know! I couldn’t get the portal open from this side, and Mom, it would be too dangerous for you to go!”

“If it’s too dangerous for me, do you think I’d send my little girl in? I failed Hunter—I let Belos take him. So I’m going to get him back.” If we can get the portal working, if he’s even still alive. Camila shook her head, trying to chase away the niggling doubts in her head. No. She was going to rescue Hunter. No matter how far she had to go.

“He was so miserable, Mom,” Luz whispered, “But he’d just… given up.”

Camila’s heart seemed to tear itself in two. He’d gone back to protect them—and had given up on seeing them again. Camila glanced around the room. “Where’d Vee go?”

Luz clammed up.

“Luz? Do you know where she went?”

“I’m… not supposed to tell you?”

A bolt of panic shot through Camila, and she jumped to her feet. “She opened the portal, didn’t she?!”

“I don’t know—I know she was going to try.”

Camila raced for her purse, throwing a few things in. “I’m going to find her, and maybe Hunter if she’s managed to open the portal. Luz, you stay here. You’re not in any state for a rescue mission, kay? Just trust me to bring him back.”

Luz nodded. “I trust you.”

Camila ran out the door, racing up the path towards the old house.

Please be okay.

Xxx

Vee clutched Hunter tightly, his body quivering so hard she thought she might drop him. A surge of anger rushed through her. “What he needs?! He doesn’t need this!”

Belos shrugged. “He got to be too much of a hassle to keep awake. It was simpler for everyone if he just went to sleep until I needed him. Less painful for him as well—but apparently, you just want him to suffer needlessly. Now, little basilisk, give him to me and I might consider letting you go.”

Vee backed up. “No!”

“HEY!”

Vee jumped as she heard Camila’s voice. She whirled around to see her adoptive mother standing over two unconscious coven guards, holding Luz’s baseball bat. “Camila!”

Camila glared at Belos. “Get. Away. From my. Kids.”

Belos disappeared, reappearing next to Camila and plucking the baseball bat out of her hands. “Oh? How interesting. Are you going to make good on that threat to end me, little human?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Camila whipped out a can of hairspray and a lighter. “Adios, Belos.” She held the lighter up to the hairspray, and clicked them at the same time. A jet of flame shot out, lighting Belos’ robes on fire. The emperor stumbled back with a shriek, and Camila pushed past him, grabbing Vee’s arm. “Let’s go!”

Vee shot through the portal, Camila not far behind. Vee reached up and twisted the key back out of the portal. The curtain of light closed on Belos’ howl of rage.

Camila whistled. “I cannot believe I just did that!”

“That was—it was scary, but it was amazing, and…” Vee glanced down at Hunter, and the euphoria died away. He was still shaking, still blank-eyed. Red fluttered down to his shoulder, nudging his face and warbling softly. Hunter didn’t respond.

Camila put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get him home,” she said softly.

Vee trudged back up the path to her own home, struggling to squeeze through the door. She gently sat Hunter on the couch, shifting back to her usual form. Eating that cursed prison might have been disgusting, but it had given her a huge backup magic reserve—she’d be good on magic for a while yet.

“You’re back!” Luz limped down the stairs, freezing when she saw Hunter. “Oh—oh, no. Hunter?”

He didn’t respond, just kept staring ahead with those dull eyes. Camila wrapped a blanket around his shivering shoulders, taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. “Oh, Hunter. What happened to you?”

“He—he looks kind of like Matholomew did when he got out of detention,” Luz said softly, “Vee, what—”

Vee twisted her hands. “I—there was this cursed mud, and it made his eyes go all creepy—maybe I shouldn’t have taken him out? Maybe it was supposed to run its course and I made it worse by taking him out early?”

Camila squeezed her shoulder. “You did what you thought was best,” she said softly, “We have him back, and that’s—that’s what matters. We can fix this. He’ll wake up.”

Vee blinked back tears. “But—what if he doesn’t?”

What if I was too late?

Xxx

“H-hey, I’m gonna… gonna put on some Stephen Universe? Hunter? Remember, you liked that?” Vee rubbed her arms. Rain had been gently pattering on the windowpane, but it was starting to pick up. “You did. We watched it together, and I liked Amethyst, and you couldn’t pick your favorite character, remember?”

Hunter still just stared forward, wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito, and Vee sat next to him with a sigh. Red hadn’t moved from his shoulder since they’d gotten him back two days ago—and Hunter himself hadn’t budged, either—he didn’t eat anything, he didn’t sleep, as far as Vee could tell, he just sat there, staring into space. Red chirped softly, nuzzling Hunter’s face, and then hopped over to Vee, giving her big, worried eyes.

Vee cupped the palisman in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “I don’t know how to get him back. I don’t know if he’s just in shock, or if this is something that the curse does, or…”

The rain was picking up, wind howling against the window. Vee slid off the couch, setting Red on the floor and digging out birdseed for the palisman. She sat back down on the floor next to the cardinal. “You’ve got to eat something, right?”

Red warbled sadly, and fluttered back up to Hunter.

“I know. I miss him, too.”

Lightning flashed, followed by a crack of thunder, and Vee yelped, putting her hands over her ears.

She heard a rustle and a little whump, and then something warm settled over her. Hunter’s chin rested on her head, his arms flopped over her shoulders so that they were sharing the blanket. Red chirped happily, and Vee froze, her heart thumping hopefully in her chest.

“Hunter? Camila! Camila, Luz, I think he’s waking up!”

Another peal of thunder crashed, and Hunter hugged her just a little tighter. Camila came thumping down, Luz not far behind. Vee didn’t move, holding her breath, worried that if she moved and disturbed him, he’d go back to the way he’d been, barely daring to hope...

xxx

Camila rushed into the living room, where Hunter was flopped over Vee, wrapping her in his blanket. He was still blank-eyed, but his brow was furrowed, like he was trying to remember something. Camila gently cupped his face in her hands.

“Hunter?” She asked softly, “Mijo?”

He blinked, hard, like he’d just woken up. “C-Camila?” His eyes filled with tears, and he fell back, letting go of Vee. The basilisk tackled him in a hug.

“Hunter!”

Camila wrapped her arms around both of them, squeezing them both tight. “Oh!”

His shoulders started to shake. “It was s-so dark,” he whispered.

Camila squeezed just a little harder. “I’ve got you,” she promised. She let the two of them go, and Vee wriggled under the blanket, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him as the thunder cracked. Luz sat down next to Camila.

“Hey,” she said softly to Hunter, “Thanks.”

He sat bolt upright, making Vee yelp. “The key! Belos!”

Vee held up the portal key. “Oh, you mean this? Don’t worry, Belos can’t get to us.”

“Vee managed to open the portal,” Luz supplied, “She went in after you!”

“And then Camila came for both of us,” Vee finished, “She lit Belos on fire, it was awesome!”

Hunter looked up at Camila, his lip quivering. “You… you fought for me?”

“Of course I did. I said I would, didn’t I?”

Tears rolled down his face, and Camila wrapped him up in a hug. “Hey. Heeey. You’re okay now.”

“I kept—I kept making him mad—and it—and I—”

Camila rocked him back and forth. “Okay. Ooookay. I’ve got you.”

“I couldn’t get out—it was all dark, and blank, and I just kept sinking, and I couldn’t do anything, and I was drowning, and—” Hunter buried his face in her shoulder.

Camila cradled his head in her hand. She could feel a lump on the back of his head, like he’d hit it, and she hadn’t failed to notice the bruises that hadn’t been there when he’d left. A tide of anger swept over her, and she started regretting leaving the Boiling Isles quite so soon. “You’re safe now, Hunter. I promise. Belos can’t hurt you anymore. And if he even thinks about it… well, I have no qualms lighting him on fire again.”

Hunter slumped against her, and she scooped him up, Red fluttering around the two of them. “Okay. You need some sleep.”

“He can take my bed,” Vee offered, “I’m too wired to go to sleep, anyway.”

Camila gave her a grateful nod and carried Hunter up the stairs. He was already asleep by the time they got to Luz’s room, his breath coming in soft little puffs. She nestled him in the bed, pulling the covers over him.

“Good night, Hunter.”

Xxx

Hunter was woken up by the sun.

The sun.

How had he slept this long?!

He bolted upright, nearly scraping his head on the ceiling. Wait. What?

Everything that had happened, came back to him in a rush, and he flopped backwards, running his hands through his hair. “Oh.”

Lying here, in the Noceda house, he could almost imagine that going back to Belos had been nothing but a bad dream.

But it hadn’t been. He had some very real bruises to prove it.

He shuddered, remembering the cold, acidic feel of Belos’ curse.

But then Red soared right into him, singing brightly, and he could almost forget it had ever happened.

Almost.

Hunter’s hand closed around the pin on his cloak. He ripped it off, tossing the cape to the floor, followed by his armor. He didn’t have to wear it anymore. Ever. Belos had no way to get back to him.

Belos had no way to get back to him.

The enormity of the statement caught up to him, and he ran his hand through his hair again. “He can’t come back for me,” he whispered, “I—I don’t ever have to see him again!”

Red chirped in agreement, and a bewildered laugh escaped Hunter’s mouth.

No more running errands for Belos.

No more worrying about what would happen to Red.

No more fear that an attack would hit, and he’d get hurt.

Just Camila and Vee and Luz.

Hunter shuffled down the stairs into the kitchen. “Good morning!”

“You’re cheerful.” Vee grinned. “Afternoon, actually.”

“Really?”

Luz nodded. “Mom said we should let you sleep. Speaking of my mom, she said something about how she shouldn’t have forced me to promise not to go back to the Isles—she doesn’t want me to keep trying to use that key, because it’s too dangerous to get into the keep, but she hasn’t outright said I can’t go back if I can find another way.” Luz glanced around. “I miiiiight ask to borrow Red at some point. If that’s okay with the two of you. I need to let Eda know I’m okay.”

“Luz, are you plotting something behind my back?” Camila came bumping down the stairs, holding a brightly wrapped parcel. “Oh, hey! You’re up!” She thrust the parcel at him. “That’s for you! I actually got it before… but that doesn’t matter, you’re here, I have it, everything’s great.”

Hunter gingerly took the package. “What… is it?”

“It’s a present,” Vee explained wisely, “It’s a surprise. You open it up.”

“Did it… come like this?”

“Nope, Camila wrapped it.”

Hunter squinted at the package. “But… now I’m just supposed to open it?”

Vee nodded. “Yep.”

“Then what was the point of wrapping it up?”

Luz nudged his shoulder. “It’s fun!” Her face dropped. “Oh my gosh, you’ve never gotten a present before, this is so sad. Okay. Just trust us, it’s fun.”

Hunter stuck his tongue out at her, and pulled gently at the paper, trying to unstick the tape.

“Rip it!” Luz demanded, “Tear it open!”

Hunter glanced back at Camila. “But you worked so hard to—”

She laughed. “You’re supposed to rip it, mijo. Go ahead.”

Hunter tore at the paper. It was… oddly exciting.

The wrapping had contained a set of clothing, jeans that actually looked his size, a t-shirt, and a hoodie that looked just a little too big—therefore, exactly the right size.

Hunter turned the fabric over in his hands, tears bubbling to his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Vee pushed him towards the stairs. “Go see if it fits!”

Hunter scooted up the stairs, closing the door behind him and switching clothes. The rest of his uniform joined the armor and cloak in a pile, and he tugged the hood of his new sweater up, retracting his hands into the sleeves. It was soft, and comfy, and he felt like he could just melt into a puddle right here.

He shuffled back downstairs, and Camila clapped her hands. “Ooo, good, it fits! Look at you!” She grabbed her keys. “Okay, Hunter, Luz, in the car, both of you are coming with me to the doctor’s office, I want both of you checked out for concussions.”

“Mooooooom,” Luz groaned, “I’m fiiiiiiine!”

Hunter let Camila shoo him into the car, stepping out into the bright sunlight (hadn’t it been raining last night?). Warmth spread all through him, banishing the last of the lingering coldness Belos had left behind.

Camila looked back at him as she turned the car on. “Everything good?”

Hunter took in a deep breath, burying his face in his new hoodie. He was back home—this time to stay. “Everything is perfect.”

[ragingbookdragon]

Do You Believe In Life After Love? PT. 1

Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.4 Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Violence and Death

Author's Note: I have edited this story so it's nicer. Love me for this, please because I fought the cringe for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham looked bleak in the wake of the militia’s arrival. Even the thugs that were rioting in the street seemed to avoid the armored tanks and patrols as they passed, and GCPD had withdrawn most of their officers to stay at the precinct. He’d never claim he couldn’t do it on his own. He had to keep going. He had to save Gotham. He had to—

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to ask for help once in a while.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who was speaking. She walked up beside him, leaning on the ledge he was perched on.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke, his eyes still trained on the city before him. “You should still be resting. Your ribs aren’t fully healed yet.”

She chuckled and turned, looking out at the spotlights shining. “They’re healed enough.” She side-eyed him. “Besides, this is becoming a lot more than you can handle.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I can handle thi—” He looked down when he felt a hand curl around his wrist, then he looked back up, seeing the solemn stare in her gaze.

“Dad. You almost died at the ACE plant,” she interjected with a shake of her head. “We’ve got this ‘Arkham Knight’ teaming up with Scarecrow, and you’ve got Tim locked in the theater synthesizing a cure.” She squeezed his wrist lightly.

“Ican handle the smaller things, while you handle the militia and Scarecrow.”

He stared at his daughter for a moment, wanting to argue, but he knew it was pointless. Finally, he nodded, pulling away and pushing a few buttons on his wrist screen. “I need someone to help Dick with Penguin, and I need to handle the Man-Bat flying around.”

She nodded as she glanced at her screen, taking in the information he’d sent. “Do you know where it came from?”

“The DNA matches that of Doctor Kirk Langstrom,” he said. “He owns a lab on Bleake Island. Here’s the coordinates.”

Humming, she slid a wave-marker into the cowl’s visor to give her direction before stepping up on the ledge. “I’ll go to the lab, then help out Dick.” He stared at her as she turned to face him, her feet nearing the edge. “Be careful, dad…I don’t want to lose you.” She didn’t give him time to respond, falling backwards over the ledge.

A few seconds later, she was gliding through the sky; a faint smile came to his lips as he watched her, then he turned, heading in the direction of the other island.

***

When she finally found the lab, she was alarmed to see what had happened. Her eyes focused on the screen, replaying the last moments of the experiment, then she put a finger to her ear. “Dad? Can you hear me?”

A few moments later, his voice came over the line. “What happened at the lab?”

She grimaced as she looked at the body of Francine Langstrom. “Apparently Langstrom was trying to find a cure to his deafness by mixing in vampire bat DNA with his. Something went horribly wrong, and he mutated into the giant bat thingy flying around Gotham.” She paused, her voice mournful. “His wife’s dead.”

There was a slight pause from her father then he murmured, “Can you get to a computer to synthesize a cure?”

She glanced around, trying to find a working computer amongst the shattered screens. When she found one, she moved to it, typing away at it.

After a few moments, she pulled the cure out and put it into the injector she carried. “Alright. I’ve got the cure. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s on Bleake now. Find him in the skies.”

She nodded, moving to the door. “Will do.”

***

When she arrived back in the city, she climbed up the clocktower and waited. Once she saw him darting across the sky in a hulking mass of gray flesh and black talons, she acted, kicking off the ledge to glide across the sky until she was above him; she dove, tackling him to the ground and injecting him, but he fought her, viciously slicing at her with his claws until she rolled away. He screeched at her and flew off.

She grunted as she clambered to her feet, dusting off the dirt they’d rolled in and a voice came over the comm. “Did you find him?”

A huff escaped her, and she explained, “I did…but he wrestled with me and took off the second I injected him.” She looked down at the injector, still holding the remaining cure. “We’re gonna have to go another round.”

“Watch the skies then. In the meantime, go find Dick. He’s somewhere on Miagani.”

She took a moment to catch her breath before pulling out her grapple and aiming it towards the roof of an adjacent building. “Alright. Will do.”

The crinkle of her father’s communicator faded out and she pulled the trigger, letting her body go weightless as she shot up towards the ledge. Holstering the grapple gun, she climbed over the ledge and paused, glancing down at her screen as she stood on the roof. A few moments had passed, and she looked at the city, seeing the chaos that had enveloped it within the few hours that had gone by. Riots littered the boulevards and the militia had begun putting mines in the roads as they started barricading the avenues and main streets. Something akin to hopelessness rose in her chest, but she shoved it down, reminding herself that with her, Dick, Tim, and her dad, they could save Gotham. It was just going to take some more time.

“Are you thinking about how Batman let the city go to hell?”

She couldn’t fight the gasp that escaped her as she spun around, taking in the image of the Arkham Knight before her. His stance was nonthreatening, in fact it was almost curious, but she stood on her guard anyway, her voice and eyes cold.

“There’s only two people to blame for this city going to hell. Scarecrow…” She pointed at him, her voice frosty. “And you.” He gave her no reaction, other than taking a step towards her, heavy metaled boot making a thump against the concrete roof.

Reaching down, she pulled the Ka-Bar from her thigh and warned, “I’d be careful how close you come, pal. I’m one person you don’t wanna tango with.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Look around you, Batgirl. This is what Gotham City truly is. Chaotic and beyond saving.”

She tipped her head back, her tone becoming challenging. “Is that what you’ve been conditioned to believe? Or did Scarecrow just feed you something to change your mind.”

That seemed to irritate him because he snapped harshly, “You have no idea what I’ve been conditioned to believe.”

“I know you’ve got a petty grudge against Batman, and you believe that inciting chaos amongst people is the best way to deal with it.”

His anger seemed to cool as his voice turned to ice, and she almost shivered at how the temperature seemed to chill around them a few degrees. “My grudge with Batman is more than petty.” He pointed at her, the holographs on his mask shifting with every word. “He deserves to die.”

She flipped the knife into the air and caught it, raising it defensively as she reached out with the other out and beckoned him. “You want Batman?” she challenged. “Then you come through me.”

The Arkham Knight didn’t move until she jerked forward, stabbing out with the knife. He dodged her easily enough, sliding beside her and she twisted, following him with a well-rounded kick aimed for his torso. Instead of evading, he grabbed her foot and yanked her. Hard. Her breath caught in her throat as she was hauled forward and cursing inwardly, she brought the knife down, hoping to catch him as she fell. His gauntleted hand shot out and caught hers, and when she reached out with the other, he caught it too. Not wasting any time, he kicked her feet out from beneath her and dropped them to the ground, putting all his weight onto her hips to stop her from moving as he slammed her hands beside her head against the rooftop.

Her eyes widened in shock at how quickly everything had happened. No one had ever been able to take her down that fast, and the reality that she might meet her end caught up with her. She began to squirm, trying to rise up enough to catch him with a shoulder but with her wrists in his grip it wasn’t likely, and with all his weight on her legs, she couldn’t kick out or try to flip him off.

“Stop moving,” he suddenly commanded, but it didn’t sound as harsh as his earlier words.

She glared at him and spat, “You wanna kill me, go ahead. But he’s still gonna take you down.”

There was a pause, then he shifted her hands until he held them both in one hand, and he reached towards her face. She reacted like anyone would subdued by an enemy, emitting a warning in her throat as she tried to avoid the oncoming touch. When his hand came into contact with her cheek, she flinched at the chill of the titanium, but his touch was…kind and gentle.

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N),” he promised softly. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

She stilled at the mention of her name, shock etching across her features. His fingers brushed her cheek once more, this time a loving caress, his thumb brushing over her lips.

“How…how do you know my name?” (Y/N) questioned and his hand halted, then he reached up and pressed a button below his jaw.

She watched the mask rise and when his face came into view, she felt her heart stop and she blinked, breathing, “…Jason?”

At the mention of his name and the recognition, he let go of her hands and reached down, removing the gloves from his hands. He reached back down to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones then to her eyebrows, like he was trying to remember how her skin felt underneath his calloused hands.

She could see the long-withheld emotions fighting inside him as choked, “God, I’ve wanted to see you for so long.” His hands felt warm against her face, and she reached up to touch him, but stopped as she saw the “J” burned onto his face. He must’ve realized she was staring at it, because he pulled one of his hands away and covered it, muttering, “The Joker…he did it.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting, anger, fury, disgust, it wasn’t the one she gave him, as she let out a sob and jerked forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. His entire body went rigid, then slowly, his arms wound around her waist, pulling her to him until there was no space between them, and even then, he tried to pull her closer, squeezing with all his strength. She began to shake in his arms, and he quietly shushed her.

After a few moments, she pulled back and took off her cowl, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes; she swallowed thickly before murmuring, “…We thought you were dead, Jason.”

His expression turned dark as he muttered, “Joker kept me locked in the asylum all that time.”

(Y/N) had no idea what to say. What could she? She figured she could apologize for not looking in the asylum. Or that she failed him. Instead, she said nothing and took his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. He shut his eyes and a shuddering breath left him as he gently grasped her forearms, trying to ground himself. Some time had passed before he pulled away and helped her to her feet. (Y/N) stared into the eyes of her lover and readied herself for what she was about to say.

She took a deep breath and bent over, picking up the knife to put it back in its sheath. “I…I can’t even begin to imagine what happened to you, Jason,” she said as she gazed at him. “And I’m sorry it did…I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to find you.”

Grasping the cowl, she pulled it back on then clenched her jaw and said, “You can go this time…but if I see you again…I will stop you.”

His eyes widened in shock for a split second, then they narrowed, and he tipped his head up, questioning, “So, this is how it’s going to be?”

She nodded despite the grief welling in her chest. “This is how it has to be.” (Y/N) explained as she turned away from him. “You’re trying to kill my dad and destroy Gotham…I can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t care that he left me to die?”

She spun back around, her voice wrought with disbelief and resentment of the accusation. “That’s not what happened, and you know it!” she condemned. “You turned you comm and tracker off then went off on your own! We searched everywhere for you! None of us let you die!” She reached out and curled her fingers in the straps at his side. “We saw you die Jason! I watched my father fall into the deepest pit of depression I’ve ever witnessed!”

She let him go, her hands falling limply to her sides. “Don’t you dare say that he didn’t care that you died…it haunts him.” (Y/N)’s eyes met his and she lamented, “It haunts me.” He said nothing, and she shook her head, turning back around. “I don’t know what you expected from me. To help you destroy Gotham? To kill my father and everything he stands for?”

She paused, then admitted, “I love you, Jason. More than anything…but you’re dead wrong if you think I’d be on your side with this.”

The sound of mechanized armor echoed in her ears and his sarcastic laugh turned robotic as he ridiculed, “Guess there is life after love, huh?”

(Y/N) gave him no response, and a moment later, she was standing alone on the rooftop. A feeling of overwhelming numbness seeping out from her heart to her limbs as her lungs began to tighten.

“Yes…I guess there is.”

[ellsbclls]

The Fire Escape

warnings ➛ A couple of swear words here and there, mentions of death, endgame spoilers, and a dash of far from home erasure.

word count ➛ 4.7K

synopsis ➛ After the events of End Game, Peter Parker takes a break from his crime fighting persona, but when Spider-Man is called to a mission in Sokovia, he realizes that you might not be ready to handle the life of an Avenger’s girlfriend. There’s a little bit of angst, but not enough to keep you up at night.

“Y/N… Earth to Y/N.”

Peter ropes you back to reality with a light squeeze of your hand, a simple gesture that you return two-fold. On normal dates, the competition would ignite almost immediately, squeezing each other’s hands back and forth, under varying degrees of pressure, until one of you cried uncle — but this is far from a normal date.

It had started innocently enough. Peter had begged Dr.Banner to let him leave his “internship” an hour early just so he could surprise you at work. You assumed — after some superb groveling on Peter’s part — that Bruce agreed, because the end of your shift was met with a parchment wrapped dozen of blushing roses, accompanied by your equally blushing boyfriend. The two of you were able to snag one of the emptier carts on the N train, and were accompanied by a small Greek woman who sent a warm smile when you nestled your head into Peter’s shoulder. The smile disappeared as soon as he started using the poles as his personal jungle gym, but your laugh made up for its loss as he offered his hand out, begging you to join him with a Gene Kelly-esque flair. He ushered you into one of your favorite ramen places during your stroll down Ditmars, pulling out your chair when you were given a table, pretending not to notice how you snuck a noodle or two from his bowl when he wasn’t looking. Your heart felt so warm, you’re surprised it didn’t melt.

So why does everything seem so off now? You and Peter are walking side by side down 37th avenue, he’s rambling excitedly about some new enhancement he made to his web slingers, the evening breeze is kissing your cheeks as it waltzes around the autumn foliage, and somehow, you feel like you’re in the eye of a hurricane.

“Where’d you go?” Peter tries to reel you back in once more and succeeds, craning his head to meet your gaze.

“Oh, just a quick jog.” you tease. There’s a thin edge underlying your sarcasm, and you wonder if he can hear it, too. You’re only a block away from your apartment, and the tiny voice in the back of your mind rationalizes that nothing could ruin your impromptu date night if you were tucked away in your home — because you always feel safe when you’re home. Yet, with no solid evidence to confirm or deny the thought, you’re in a race with the block to dig through your purse.

“Oh, well don’t forget to warm up.” he teases back. His caramel hues, once alight with a mirthful glint, start to descend into an uneasy resolve that only confirms your suspicions, but you’re too occupied by the whereabouts of your keys to notice. “Speaking of warm up, actually, there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Shoot.” you reply offhandedly.

“Well, I- I don’t know how to say this.” The tremor in his voice is subtle, but just present enough to pull you from your search.   “There’s- uh- there’s something going on in Sokovia, or at least what’s left of it. There’s a lot of feedback coming off the maps, like a… a hotplate of cosmic activity, so Captain wants the entire team there.”

There it is — that dark cloud that hung over your head this evening finally drenches you in a sharp, cold blanket of realization. Your heart stops, aches, and then crumbles to the pit of your stomach, waiting to be washed away by the waves of terror that crash upon your airways, and despite the wash cycle of emotions you’ve just endured, you feel far from clean. In fact, everything feels heavy — from the weight of your heart to your ragged breath — paralyzed by the idea that each thump, each exhale, brings you closer to the moment where Peter has to leave.

You started dating a year and a half ago, and two years have passed since half of the population was restored to its rightful plane of existence. Iron Man’s death left a massive hole in Peter’s morale, as well as a nagging doubt that he would never be able to take on the mantle he was left with. So, for the first time since he was bitten by that radioactive spider, he cowered in the face of adversity. Not only had he lost a mentor, he had lost his friend — and when Tony Stark sacrificed his life, he was under the impression that the heroes he saved would continue to protect the world, but sometimes Peter wonders if that still reigns true. If Mr.Stark knew just how easily the team had crumbled, how easily he had crumbled, would he still leave? Three and a half years later and Peter still can’t find the answer.

Meanwhile, when it seemed like the world needed him most, Spiderman slipped into obscurity. Now he only makes an appearance when the newscast is a little too bleak to ignore, and even then, he usually sticks to the rogue bank heist or back alley mugging.

You try not to pry, knowing that each time you ask about his brief hiatus is like poking an open wound, and, albeit selfishly, you relish in the fact that your boyfriend isn’t throwing himself in harm's way. However, now seems like a better time than ever for an interrogation, seeing as this is not only the first Avengers mission he’s attended in your relationship, but the first mission to ever span past the Hudson.

No obstacle prior has conjured a looming sense of dread and anxiety as palpable as the one you’re toting now. You can already feel it bubbling in your chest, like a cauldron of endless toils, expelling a hazy fog that makes your head spin.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give out on me now.” You don’t realize that your knees buckled beneath you until Peter comes to your rescue, and you silently wish that all of his heroic excursions could be this simple. The warmth of his hand bleeds past your winter coat and business casual blouse as it settles against the small of your back, and your body betrays you as it melts into his touch. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not CPR certified.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth is bone dry, and you can barely muster a laugh convincing enough to counter his attempt at humor, so you don’t. You opt on settling your gaze upon the entrance of your building, just over Peter’s shoulder, and trying to ground yourself enough to stand without his help.

Peter’s hand still lingers on your form when you shuffle away from him, moving from the small of your back to the curve of your elbow. He can tell that you’re shaken, he expected that much from the get go, so he doesn’t leave your side, encroaching on the space you so obviously seek.  

“I don’t know- I don’t…” You muster just enough courage to counter his gaze, and a tiny frown creases between your brows, confusion riddling every other feature. “What exactly are you asking me?”

He pauses, searching for the answer himself. “Well, I guess- I just wanna know how you’re feeling.”

You chalk it up to your sudden sense of irritability, but his question just pisses you off. How dare he throw out a semblance of hope, a faulty impression, that you’d have any choice in this matter. You climb the three steps up to the front door, dolled up in dismay, and still try to find purchase in the illusion that you have any control in the matter. Maybe that’s what pushes you over the deep end, your once honeyed voice now curdled by venom — the hopelessness of it all. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m amazing, Peter. After the way you buttered me up all evening, how could I possibly be upset?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Peter’s visibly taken aback, his features mimicking your own. You can see the cogs turning in his head, formulating some way to diffuse this situation before it really begins, but now that the gates are opened, it’s too late for you to hold anything back.

“Why not? Cause it’s the truth?” You cut him off, freshly manicured nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep your tone even. “Let me tell you what’s not fair — You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be gone, do you?”

You’re met with a mutual silence, which confirms just how equally unaware you both are.

“Exactly.” At this point, your nerves are getting the best of you. Whether you lay all of your feelings out to him tonight or not, a sickening thought will remain — Peter is going to leave, and there’s a chance he won’t come back. So you persist, your hues boring into his own with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in our bed and wonder if you’re gonna be in it the next morning. You don’t know how terrifying it is to watch the news and pray to god that you’re not a part of it. You’re never going to be in my shoes when it comes to all of this, and I pray to god that you never have to be because I never want you to feel this way. That’s what’s not fair.” You wish your voice hadn’t grown weaker with each blow, you wish you could utter your last few thoughts with an unwavering certainty, but you know you can’t — not when a sob threatens to bubble up from the back of your throat. “That you can just decide to swing across the globe and put your life in danger while I sit at home and worry about you, and the worst part is that it only makes me love you more.”

“Y/N, do you think this is easy for me?” he’s never raised his voice at you, especially not like this, but it looks like tonight is a series of firsts for the both of you. “I haven’t been on a mission with the Avengers since high school, since —” Since Mr.Stark died. You know.

It’s not like he didn’t try to say it, he did, but the name just felt so foreign on his tongue. After years of inactivity, the threat of unearthing all those memories, all those bright eyed, bushy tailed endeavors, was almost as bad as remembering that he was gone — or even worse, not remembering them at all. But where could he retreat to now? He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between the thought of losing Mr.Stark, or the thought of losing you. His thoughts are raw and earnest as he tries to placate the latter. “I don’t want to leave you. It terrifies me to think of all the things that could happen to you while I’m gone —”

“Obviously it doesn’t scare you enough, because you’re still going!” You punch the last two words, as if you’re suddenly trying to talk to him from across the street.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N! I don’t-”

Your argument skids to a screeching halt, rivaling the groan of the metal door that guards your apartment complex, and with it appears Ms.Nunez — the single mother that lives a floor below you, whose ability to juggle her graveyard shifts at the hospital with her two rambunctious toddlers is almost as impeccable as her timing.

She appears to be in a rush as she skirts past you, but not enough to stop her from sending Peter an all too knowing look — one that screams “what did you do to that poor girl?”, with only the view of your red, puffy eyes and guarded stance to back up her assumption.

And with an opportunity so golden laying at your feet, who are you to ignore it? You catch the door before it hits the frame and slip into the yellowed entryway, barreling up the stairwell before he can question her weighted stare. You leave Peter no choice but to slip past Ms.Nunez in your pursuit, without so much as a goodbye, but a few choice words still sit on the back of his tongue, waiting to be swallowed.

Normally, the five stories of stairs leaves you winded by the third, but you chalk your superhuman stamina up to adrenaline. Luckily for you, you’re able to reach the last flight of stairs as Peter climbs up the first. Unluckily for you, you seem to forget that your boyfriend actually does have superhuman stamina, and you swear to fucking god that he’s flying up the stairwell by the time you shut the door behind you.

The door slams twice more after that, one loud bang to signal Peter’s entrance and one to punctuate it. His voice pierces through the apartment, firm and unyielding. “This conversation isn’t over, Y/N.”

He has no idea where you’ve run off to, ruling out the kitchen once he drapes his jacket over the center island. All he can hear is your voice, muffled behind one of the walls, calling out to him with little emotion to spare. “Oh, yes it is. I’m over it. It’s over.”

“Well, that’s mature.” He mutters under his breath, not expecting you to hear him, let alone respond.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” You chuckle dryly, ”‘Cause your judgment of maturity is oh so rational and not at all fucking batshit.” And he thought he had enhanced hearing.

“You know what? You’re right.” He scoffs, letting the slam of the bathroom door punctuate his final words. “I’m over this, too.”

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Y/N?” Peter calls out, but to no avail. It’s on nights like these where he wishes you weren’t fighting, knowing fully well that you would command him to the bed with a downward pointing finger and the best glare you could muster. You’ve always loved the way his hair curled into soft, chestnut waves, so you didn’t mind weaving through his damp tresses before he went to sleep. You would make up some excuse about how the process helped give his curls definition, and he would always end up way too tired and relaxed to call you out on it.

You’re nowhere to be found, though. Your comforter is still as haphazard as it was this morning, and the kitchen is void of your late night snack ravaging. The only sign of your presence is found in the open window next to you bed, and way the curtains float against the evening breeze, leaving him to ponder your whereabouts at a breakneck speed. 

A million visions of paranoia screen through his mind all at once, but he’s quick to dismiss them, oddly familiar with the prospect of losing someone, and all the fretting that comes with it.

And you know better than to wander the streets of the city so late at night — but with all of the venom being spewed throughout the apartment, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if you needed a small reprieve. Even for just a quick trip to the corner market. He’s well aware of the eagle eye you sport in the moonlit streets, as well as the switchblade that sits in the side pocket of your bag, but he knows better than anyone that you have to expect the unexpected in these streets.

He pulls out his phone, ready to shoot you a quick text when the bars of the fire escape let out a metallic groan. Despite your apartment’s... adequate amenities, you’d never had a problem with the fire escape. The finicky oven? Maybe, but never the fire escape.

Even without his spidey senses tingling, he has no choice but to poke his head through the window pane, and to his surprise, he ends up killing two birds with one stone.

“I didn’t know you were out here.” Peter balances on the window sill, crouching in a near feline stance as he surveys your position — bundled between the metal grates of the fire escape and your downy comforter. Your lips are parted in a tiny “o”, eyelids blanketing your hues, and with the street lights flickering to life across the seam of thirty-eighth avenue, you’re nothing short of angelic — features now outlined in a seraphic, dewy haze.

If he wasn’t feeling guilty beforehand, the sight before him guarantees he is now.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point.” you murmur. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not even when the iron beams start to squeak under Peter’s weight. “Can I help you with something? I’m pretty sure this thing has a weight limit, and this is a weighted blanket.”

You’re met with silence, and you hate to admit it, but you’d take his silent presence over your self-induced isolation any day. Despite the fact that you only moved in together four months prior, your body has grown accustomed to his presence, subconsciously weaving it into your daily routine. There were nights when you would splay out like a starfish in your childhood bedroom, waiting restlessly for the gentle wrap of his knuckles at the window pane, and that same restlessness bleeds into nights in your shared apartment,  which then bleeds into now. Sure, you can trick your body into sleeping, but rest seems to be boroughs and islands away when Peter’s not there to wish you a good night.

A terse silence settles between the two of you, and you blink up at Peter, expecting him to break it since you surely wouldn’t.

“Why here?” Peter exceeds your expectations with his query. His gaze is fixed on Manhattan’s skyline — even from the tippy top of the complex, he can still make out the jagged glittering, crust of the city’s bustling core — and it’s then he finds the answer to his very own question.

“I used to sneak onto the fire escape at my parents place, too.” you reminisce, the corners of your lips curling into a bittersweet grin. “The apartment walls were thin, and whenever they would fight, or talk shit about something I did that day, I would just sit on the fire escape until I fell asleep.”

“How?” He breaks yet another lengthy pause, and you fight the urge to chuckle at his candor, settling with a lazy grin. “I mean, no offense, but Astoria isn’t exactly a library.”

“Yeah, but inside, I knew exactly what they were saying, how they were feeling — it was all in the air. At least out here everything just… blends together. It’s kind of peaceful in a way.”

Your voice is so timid and gentle as you recall your childhood, reflecting on moments that seem lifetimes away despite the handful of years in between. Peter’s gaze is transfixed on your profile, skating down the slope of your nose and skirting the curves of your lips until he realizes just how small you are. He tends to hold you on a pedestal, a habit he’s retained since the very beginning of your relationship, so sometimes it still baffles him to know that you can be anything but perfect — that you too can be human, and make human mistakes.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He feels like a little kid, question after question slipping past his lips before he even has the chance to filter them.

“‘Cause I haven’t had a reason to hide since I moved in with you.”

And just when he thought he couldn’t feel even guiltier, he’s soon overflowing with it. It kills him to know that you felt the need to escape, and you’ll never admit it after tonight, but he was the one who pushed you toward it.

“I’m sorry.” Peter blurts out, not expecting you to say —

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, cutting him off before he can even open his mouth to protest. “I’m just so used to my Peter. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m sharing him with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hey, hey — look at me.” His thumb traces the spot right under your eye, using his pinky to nudge the curve of your jaw upward, toward his gaze — heavy and drenched in a type of resoluteness that leaves your mouth bone dry. “It may not always seem like it, but trust me when I tell you that you’re always going to be my top priority.”

“Peter, you’re being dramatic.” You sigh, finding it hard to believe that your life could take any precedence over the safety of mankind itself.

“No, I’m being honest.” His voice, his gaze, they leave no room for protest. You feel a little awkward being the center of their attention, and so it’s a relief when they shift to the city’s skyline once more. “Look over there, you know what that is?”

“Central Park?”

“Mhm, good girl.” Crimson blooms across the valley of your cheeks at his choice of nickname, no matter how innocently he uttered it, but your attention still remains undivided. “I figured out that I can get home quicker if I cut through it.”

You quirk a brow, and he doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what you’re thinking — So what if he hasn’t figured out which trains he needs to board in order to make a dent in his homebound commute? It’s the thought that counts.

“Sometimes like to just stop for a second and watch some of the people in the park, but not in, like, a creepy way? You know what I mean?” A subtle hint of embarrassment tinges his features, but dissolves once he notices your understanding nod.  “Is there a word for that?”

“Yeah, it’s called people watching.” You snickered, trying to imagine your boyfriend and his attempts at roasting the New York natives. “MJ and I do it all the time.”

“No, but with less… shit talking.” He counters.

Ouch.

“Oh…” You’re stumped, unsure of where he’s heading and, quite frankly, a little humbled by his read. “Hmm… Carry on?”

“Well,” Peter lets his hand rest palm forward on his knee, fingers gently curled, and you’re well acquainted with the gesture. Almost instinctively, you hover your hand above his own, digits clumsily dancing with one another as he speaks, and for a fleeting second, everything is back to normal. “It’s just… mind-blowing sometimes. There’s so much life there, all at once. All of these people are just living their lives, making their way home, falling in love, falling out of love, buying overpriced hotdogs from the street vendors — The other day I saw this mom fishing her two toddlers out of that fountain on Terrace road and honestly, if they don’t end up with superpowers, I’ll be shocked.” He can tell he’s drifted wildly off track by the way you nod, slowly and unsure, as to not offend him and his train of thought. “The point is… I used to protect all of that, and it used to make me so happy.”

“You still do,” You murmur, not one to discredit the risks he does take in the name of New York. Just because his enemies aren’t held to the same caliber as, say, Thanos, doesn’t mean they aren’t worthwhile. “All that matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

You hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his, in just a delicate enough hold to let him reject it if he so chooses. Your lips softly quirk upward when he only tightens the grip.

“Thank you.” He offers a comforting smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and you can tell that he has more to say. So, you squeeze his hand, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I just- after Mr.Stark… passed away… it was really hard to remember why I started doing all of it in the first place. Like- I hate saying this, but why do we keep protecting all of these strangers when all the people we do know just keep getting hurt?” He winces at his own words, so far removed from such bitterness that he can barely believe he once thought such selfish things. “But then- then I get to see all of the people that I’ve been protecting, and suddenly it all makes sense again. All I want to do is make sure people are safe, and happy, and hopefully… Hopefully, when we’re older, and we have kids that jump in the fountains at Central Park, someone like me will be watching… and they’ll feel the exact same way.”

When we’re older, When we have kids... Those promises of marriage, of a loving family, of a future — they bounce off your eardrums like a mantra. Soon, you can’t even imagine thinking about anything but Peter’s words, and how much you love him right now, and how you’ll love him until your heart can’t possibly take it anymore. You can read what he’s trying to portray loud and clear — He loves you, he can see a future with you, and if there’s ever a doubt in your mind that his feelings may have changed, you can look out into the world and find pieces of his heart in every passing face.

“I haven’t been doing everything I can to make sure that’s possible, though.” He breaches your lovesick trance, reminding you that there’s still a thread of discord dangling between you. One that you can see rapidly disappearing with each passing second. “I have to go on this mission, Y/N. I wanna start helping people again. I wanna do right by him.”

“I know.” You whisper, conceding to the fact that you will always want what’s best for him, even if you aren’t a fan of the circumstances. “It doesn’t make it any less sucky.”

“C’mere.” He can barely pat his thighs before you’re crawling toward him. He passes a warm hand under your thigh once you straddle his waist, scooping you further into his lap, and uses his free hand to encompass the nape of your neck. You feel like you could melt, being cradled between his strong, toned  arms, and the feeling only intensifies when his lips seek out yours. His lips are soft, and warm, and taste like listerine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more perfectly suited for you.    

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, without a trace of uncertainty. His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth, and he continues to plant a series of sweet, soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin he can get his lips on — your cheeks, your nose, your temple.

He’s so wrapped up in his gentle ministrations that he barely hears you return the sentiment, eyes fluttering to a close as you breathe out, “I love you.”

“Please come inside,'' he whispers against your forehead, punctuating his plea with a chaste kiss.

You pretend to entertain the thought, tapping your index finger against your chin, before shaking your head with a waggish simper. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and he disappears through the window. You can just barely make out the harmony of wild rustling and hushed obscenities coming from your room before Peter is returning to your makeshift bed, clad in the cheesy “The Floor is Lava!” hoodie you snagged from a street vendor during your trip to Pompeii the summer beforehand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N,” Peter’s voice is tight, shuffling his knees across the fretted ground as he crawls into your lap. It takes him all of three seconds to make himself comfortable, collapsing between your thighs, and you seize the opportunity to weave your fingers through his soft, chestnut locks. “I don’t think I can make this a recurring thing. I can already feel the scoliosis forming.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff, only to be met with a scandalized set of caramel hues. “I think you can make it through the night without any permanent damage to your spine.” With droopy eyes, your body starts to hum with the tell-tale signs of sleep, and your voice drips with drowsiness as you murmur, “And I wanna savor as many nights with you as I can.”

“I know,” he whispers back, the aftertaste of guilt intermingling with the abashment that follows your sleepy confession. ”I know. I’m right here, babe.”

And he swore, in that very moment, that nothing would change that.

[blackwidow-bby]

Right Where I Want You ch.3 - Natasha Romanoff x Evil!Reader

Oof hey guys that follow with this series, I am so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated and written anything. My brain is in a dump but I will be taking request soon to hopefully get some spark to continue writing!

Warnings: obsessive/red flag personalities, slight suggestive language, any others let me know

Taglist: @diaryoflife

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Natasha’s POV

It took a week for Natasha to finally get to a place where she felt safe and far away from you. The whole week, she spent thinking about you. What she had done and how she had missed very important information like you having powers. How did she miss the trap you had set her up in? It was Natasha that wanted you, how could she not see that you had done the exact same thing back to her. You were sneaky.

Your sneakiness from the abandoned den, meant that Natasha from this moment on would have to be on her toes. She’d be lying if she said the stunt you pulled back there didn’t make her want you even more. Her little baby had a dark side. Natasha felt a rush constantly thinking about how much you wanted her back, but a sour taste still remained on her tongue at being played so well by you.

Natasha would have been more okay with you wanting her had you simply allowed her to do everything she planned. Flipping the script like that on a professional and dangerous ex-assassin will certainly earn you a nice punishment, but Natasha needed to regroup. She needed to come up with something that would get you under her command. She wanted her shy, submissive little doll back. All she had hoped for to come from her plan was the perfect partner, who would do anything Nat had to say.

Natasha in all of her frustration, punched the tree closest to her. This meant it would take much longer to have you. She defeatedly meandered into one of the few save houses she knew she could go to. Running for a week to put as much distance between where she was left her caked in old sweat and dust. Her hair that had been tied in a ponytail, had been neglected. She needed a shower and some rest immediately.

Natasha placed all of her belongings she ran away with (which wasn’t much), on the small dining room table near the kitchen. Her sore legs and feet dragged her along on autopilot to the only main bathroom in the small shack. The dehydration, hunger, and sleep she missed out on was finally starting to catch up to her. She slowly with half closed eyes, peeled away her suit and rubbed at her own muscles as she removed her clothing. She reached up wincing at the feeling of her arms as she tried to let her hair down to fall at her shoulders.

She moseyed to the shower and turned on the shower head as hot as she could stand. The water did wonders to relax her aching muscles making a mental note to never go so long without another bath. She leaned forward on the wall and just allowed the water to run over her. The dirt and grime falling down her body in trails toward the drain. She let her eyes close for a second.

“What am I going to do now”

———

Y/n’s POV

This is the second time you awoke with a pounding in your head and made a mental note to stop letting this happen to you. You could feel your muscles spasm in your arms, stomach, and legs from the electric pulses of Natasha’s widow bites. Sure it wasn’t enough to kill you but god, did they hurt. You groaned out loud and slapped the ground. Immediately you beat yourself up for your guard falling on Natasha. You’d have her if you mentally focused on controlling your powers more and less on what you would have done after. It was just so easy to get caught up in her features.

Time to get up, you thought. It took about 5 minutes walking around the dark room until you found a door. Once you made your way outside, you looked back at the building she had taken you. The building was just small enough to not be seen amongst the the woods it sat. You’d really have yo come looking for it to know it was here.

Your brain felt like mush from the prior events but you did make note that it was dark outside still. You weren’t passed out for long, which made you feel better about finding Natasha again. There was a tiny open widow when it came to your powers, that left a tiny pull on whoever you used them on last. You maintained a good grip on Natasha during your altercation which hopefully was enough to follow the full for a while. Unfortunately unlike some inhumans with telekinetic powers, you aren’t able to levitate for long, meaning the majority of you trip will be spent by foot.

C’mon princess, you said to yourself, let’s put those years of camping to good use.

——

After 5 days on Natasha’s trail, your frustration had grown more. You could still feel the faint vibrations of your powers emanate off of Natasha but without actually seeing her, you had no clue how far she could really be. You doubt you could sleep in another conveniently unlocked car. The pure obsession with having Natasha and the need to find her soon really clouded your judgment. You’d never be in this situation under any other circumstances. 5 days without a shower? 5 days eating cheap crappy food? 5 days in old unchanged clothes?

What in the entire fuck had gotten into you. If you didn’t find her soon, the pull your powers have will completely dissipate soon. The rational part of your brain had shut down with your over powering need to find her. To have her in your arms, body trembling under your—ugh. You were growing angrier by the second. Both at yourself and you current predicament.

She’ll see just how much you want her yet…

——

1 1/2 days later

You had no clue how long you’ve been walking in the woods. The last pull you got from Natasha was at the tree line of a forest you have no clue where it’s located. You followed blindly the whole way.

Tears were falling down you face in anger. You came all this way for this woman who had enchanted your every thought process. Had the audacity to knock you out to trap you inside some crappy shed. Sent you on a wild goose chase unprepared. Your feet hurt, your body hurt, god forbid she pass more gas stations on her trek. But now the pull you felt completely diminished. You. Were. Livid. She’d pay for getting you lost. The only thing you could think was to walk straight forward making no curves or turns at any point. Hopefully you’ll find something.

Your knees quaked under your weight. Your eyes and hands had that slight glow of gold around them. Your emotions were getting to you big time. You just wanted to find her and hold her and scold her for making you come all this way. You walked and walked until things started looking hopeless. It was so dark outside. You had been doing this for days and finally the results looked bleak. More tears fell. You were clenching your jaw to try and keep the sobs you wanted to release at bay. You had failed and ultimately it looked like it was going to result in your death.

You kept forward until something in the distance came into view. A small orange light among the black blue darkness of the forest. It might not be what you want but maybe it will get you back home, food, a shower, something. With the last bit of strength and adrenaline left, you jogged closer to the light. It was getting bigger and brighter and closer. Fisting your hands to hold back the anger the previously was eating away at you. People won’t help you if you’re mean to them y/n.

You had stumbled so many times. The rush of getting to this cabin that was being inhabited had sparked a new amount of determination. You would live to plot capturing Natasha another day. Natasha. That saucy minx. There she goes inhabiting your mind again. She always did. Ever since you started seeing her on the news. Something about her just made you body tingle with admiration. You truly just couldn’t stay away from her could you? No matter, once you find her again, you’ll make her cry the very same way you did during your journey. Desperately and in defeat.

Your feet came to a halt once you reached the steps of the porch. It was another small cabin, similar to the building Natasha had brought you to but more homely and cozy. You peaked through the window that the light was coming from. It showed a quaint little kitchen completely open with a dining table and what must be a “living room”. Although a living room should have more furniture than a futon.

Other than the light in the home, this place looked uninhabited. Maybe they left the door unlocked. Walking silently to the door you reached to try the handle. Normally you’d have a million and one things to say about just entering a strangers home but you were desperate. At this point you’d be happy with a gun in your face if it meant they’d let you bathe first.

The handle turned….

It’s unlocked…

You carefully made your way inside the house. “Hello?” You called out “I seem to be lost, is someone home?” Not a single physical answer except the sound of…a shower.

——

Natasha’s POV

Natasha doesn’t know how long she had her eyes closed but judging by the pruning of her fingers, she had been there for a while. Funny how she managed to fall into a sleep while being in such a slippery place. No matter, time to get washed up now. She reached for the almost full bottle of shampoo that was left and barely used do you the exclusivity of this little safe house. Normally she’d rather have a more neutral smelling shampoo other than peach. It always seemed so childish and carefree to indulge in such strong feminine scents to her. It almost made her feel guilty to have a favorite smell when she spent a majority of her life killing people for a job and now getting down and dirty to right every wrong she’s ever made in the past. Maybe she shouldn’t have captured you.

Her ministrations halted at that thought. She stared blankly ahead under the water as the soap rinsed down out of her hair. Her lip quivered and her eyes slowly began to water. She really messed up. Her quick obsession had caused her to capture a secret inhuman woman to coax her into being Natasha’s ultimate sweet submissive little kitten. It had all backfired. She could have had it all along had she been upfront. You liked her back. That wasn’t something Natasha half expected. You were just as obsessed with her as she was with you. Shaking her of her thoughts, she scrambled back to getting clean. That’ll have to wait till tomorrow.

Nat had just moved on to scraping her body of all the disgust she accumulated over the week. As she was about to turn the shower off she heard a noise that made her entire body turn ghost white…

Hello?

It was you.

I seem to be lost, is someone home?

Oh no…

————————————————————————

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 86

I asked out a girl and got rejected today. Stay safe, gentlemen. Ladies already know.

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(Weiss's PoV)

"What happened to him?" I asked. I watched Cloud get carted away on a stretcher.

"Emerald summoned an image of Salem with her semblance." Penny stated in her informative tone. "He started to seize. I think the illusion triggered him somehow. Cinder used the cover it provided to make her escape."

"Without Mercury," Yang tapped the body of the warrior with her foot.

"Cloud killed him," Penny murmured. "He drove his blade through his chest. He died almost instantly. You can see the wound."

I could. A great blade had been jabbed under Mercury's ribs and out the other side. Cloud's broadsword was stained with Mercury's blood.

"So what? Cloud can't even look at Salem without having some kind of episode?" Yang asked.

"The image was a bit intense, even to me. Afterwards he started to ramble. I think he was trying to tell me she was in his mind," Penny told us. "He couldn't get the words out, though. I think she was using the opportunity to attack him. To start another of her hacking attempts."

"I hope he's okay…" Ruby mumbled. "He didn't handle meeting his sisters very well. This probably wasn't good for him."

"I thought he was going to die," Penny informed us, devoid of nearly all emotion.

"It was that bad?" I asked.

"He was really seizing and frothing at the mouth," Penny said. "I must report to Ironwood now. Excuse me."

She stepped away and took off like a jet. She soared overhead and in the direction of the academy.

"It's bad if he can't even look at her without having epilepsy. I don't think he'll be able to fight her. At least not physically. Not unless he gets much stronger mentally," I said. "When we fight her it'll have to be without Cloud's help."

"When we fight her…" Ruby trailed off. "I don't know how we'll be able to do it without Cloud. But if he really can't look at her then he'll never be able to help us."

"Maybe he'll get stronger," Blake said. She sounded like she didn't believe it, though.

"His meds aren't working," Ruby murmured. "They're supposed to prevent this but it doesn't seem like they did anything. Maybe we should let him go back to self medicating. He was doing relatively okay before he got on these meds. At least according to him."

"I don't know… all the doctors think that's a bad idea," I returned uneasily. "But maybe some of those meds he's on are just making things worse."

"At least he got Mercury. That's another bad guy down and in Cloud's pocket," Yang said. "He's not useless."

"He would be in a fight against Salem," Blake muttered. She was right. "He can't fight in his condition."

"He might know more. We should ask him when he wakes up," Ruby murmured.

I couldn't even be mad about him getting in this fight. He had support. He let us know what was happening. It even seemed like he had grounds to say that he'd been winning based on Mercury's corpse. It just still wasn't enough. Salem had exploited a tiny advantage over him and it sounded like he'd almost died over it.

It was… unrighteously unfair. He'd done everything right. It just hadn't been enough. Salem was ruthless. Cloud often described her as a goddess. He said he felt like a dog next to her. I wondered how true that was. Salem was old, she had magic, she was on another level, even from the maidens. It sure seemed like she was unbeatable when she toppled Cloud so easily.

It was easy to drown in the hopelessness of it. Cloud was, for all his strength, vulnerable. And he was the only of his siblings on our side and they might all have magic too. It was seven against one in that department and that didn't even count the wicked witch, Salem, herself.

She had power over his mind and probably spades of other powers and she controlled the Grimm which at all times outnumbered the Cetra. It was bleak when you looked at things like that. From that perspective I could understand why Cloud felt so helpless. He was just one man and he couldn't even do enough magic to turn a needle into a feather and he was supposed to fight a goddess; one that needed little more than to be looked upon by him and he'd start to crumble.

Ruby's dreams of an extra large family seemed so distant and even more impossible. She wanted so much and Cloud would die in this fight against Salem in all likelihood. That was if he didn't turn on us again, this time for keeps like his sisters and side with his mother against the world.

He was shattered despite all his power. It seemed like he hadn't even begun to heal with Ruby's and my help. I wasn't sure we were doing anything for him. I wasn't sure he was doing more than delaying the inevitable. I wanted to be doing more. I wanted to be helping him for real. But what did that even mean and how could I accomplish that?

I could only love him as best as I was able even if it wasn't very much.

"Ruby…" I trailed. "Things don't look good for Cloud."

"I know, Weiss."

"I don't know how to get you what you want. I don't know how to save him from this."

Ruby let out a long sigh. "I… I know. But I'm not about to give up on him. Even if the odds are stacked against him. I won't give up. Tell me that you're with me."

"I am. I'm just… I'm scared for him. If he can't do this much, what can he do? It wasn't even like she looked at him. He looked at her. That's all it took to unwind him. She's… she's laying traps in his mind."

"She's worming her way into his subconscious. That's what he always says," Ruby muttered. "How do you resist something like that? It's horrible."

"It's psychic warfare. Maybe we need to come at it from a different angle."

"What do you mean?" Ruby wondered.

"I have… maybe an idea." Or the start of one. "We need to help him to not hate himself. We need to build a place in his mind that's secure. Without her influence."

"Can we do that?"

"I don't know. But we have to try, don't we. Otherwise we may as well give him up right now."

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"I had them," Cloud said from the hospital bed when he woke up. Ruby and I were beside him. I took his hand in both of mine. Rough calluses against my soft skin. I could feel his aura. Golden and tinged with blue. It was furious. "Penny and I, that is. We fucking had then and they slipped away. It was all my fault. I let her in. I gave her an opening into my thoughts."

"Is that how she got you?" Ruby asked.

"I… I was reminded of her. It made me think of her and she sort of… she penned me in. She corralled me. Once I started I couldn't stop. Once I thought of her it opened up the connection between us even wider. Like a damn bursting. I couldn't shut that faucet off. She just crawled right into me."

"Cloud, we want to help you. Weiss says she has an idea. One that could help you resist Salem."

Cloud looked up at me. Doubt and curiosity, both were well earned from his perspective.

"We want to build a place in your mind free of her influence. A sort of sanctum. A place where you can always retreat to if you need to and know that she isn't there," I told him. "Everyday we will spend time with you and we'll work on it together. It won't be time wasted even if we do fail."

"I...I could see how that could help. I just don't know where to start."

"Start with us and the time we've spent together," I said. "Start with Beacon and your time spent with Pyrrha. Just lay back and remember. Salem wasn't there then. She doesn't own that. You do."

"Pyrrha…" Cloud whispered. He shuddered a little. He got goosebumps down his arm where I held him.

"Breathe and relax," Ruby whispered. She stroked his head and lifted it up and set it in her lap. "Breathe and relax, Cloud. Salem isn't here right now. You're safe."

"Am I?" He didn't ask rhetorically. He seemed genuinely curious about whether he was free of her.

"Reach out to where she attacked you and see if you can feel her," I walked him through it like a meditation.

His breath hissed out. His blue eyes were a touch wild. "She's there. I can feel her. Mother…"

"Now come back to us. Is there a difference? Can you feel a difference?" I asked.

"I…" he breathed. He strained to relax, his eyes shut in focus. "I can feel a difference. There's a place where she is and there's a place where I am. But we're connected."

"Come back and be with us. You're safe here. We won't let you hurt anyone. You can relax," I whispered.

His eyelids fluttered at the sound of my voice.

"Can you stop me?" He wondered, purely wondering.

"Of course we can. And besides," Ruby said. "I don't believe that you would hurt us. I believe in you."

"We'll spend time with you every day and work on this. On where you can and can't feel her. We'll be with you every step of the way," I informed him patiently. My voice was as soft and melodic as I could make it without actually singing, though it came close at times. I wanted him relaxed and I patiently walked him through the exercise like I honestly knew what I was doing rather than just guessing. But it was the best I could do. It was all I could do.

I may not know what I was doing in full but he didn't really need to know that. I needed him to have this. Even if it didn't work for what we wanted it wasn't time spent in vain.

It was time spent trying to help him. That could mean everything to me and Ruby.

"I can feel her in the corner of my mind. Her tentacles are pulling at me. They want me to go to her," he whispered. "They call to me. They beckon at me."

"Now come back to us. Listen to the sound of my voice. You're safe here. We will guard you," I murmured. "We won't let you go. Not to her or to anyone. There will be no reunion."

"No reunion...What if I do something awful again?" He breathed. His eyes still slammed shut. "What if I hurt you?"

"You could never hurt us, Cloud, we know you could never do it," Ruby whispered. "Just like you could never hurt Ren and Nora." The breath whistled out of him. "That was all Salem. It was all her. Not you. Never you. It is not your fault. It's your mother messing with your head that's to blame."

Cloud's eyes flickered underneath closed lids. It looked like he might fall asleep. I took that as a good sign. I wanted him to be that relaxed. It was when he was tensed and panicked that Salem would have the most power over him, I believed.

"Surround her," I encouraged. "Be the one to box her in rather than the other way around. This is your mind. No one owns it or knows it more thoroughly than you do. This is where you reside."

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. He did it again. Then a third time.

"She calls out to me… I can feel not just her, but my sisters as well. They're there. I feel them. I was always able to," he sounded a little relaxed. His voice was deep and smouldering.

"They aren't important. Build your walls. Breath deep. We have you here." I squeezed his hand tightly. I pulled his hand to my chest and hugged it like I was hugging him.

"We'll do this every day. You can talk to us about the things that you feel when we do it," Ruby stroked her hands through his hair. One over the other in a continuous wave. Down and back. Down and back. All over his scalp. "Or if you don't feel like talking we can do that too."

"I… maybe I could get used to this." He muttered. His eyes still closed. He seemed on the edge of sleep. Maybe he'd get some actual rest for once with our help.

I could only do what I could for him.

Ruby bent down and kissed his forehead.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

It was after one of our sessions with him that he transfigured the needle.

His head had been in my lap while Ruby sat straddling his wide body. He lay his head back and relaxed while we murmured our way through the exercise. Feeling out where Salem was and where he was in relation to that. His eyes moved like he was in REM sleep while I whispered in his ears.

Time spent with him was not time wasted. That was one of the perks of doing this. The three of us were just spending our time together. Even if for the most part it was time spent in relaxed silence.

He'd gotten up and shifted his attention to the needle. Shifting on his arms until he rose from the bunk. His eyes blurred and half awake and his hair in messy spikes. It gave him a handsome bedraggled look as he plopped down to focus on his next project. At first he didn't seem focused enough but his eyes fluttered closed and he began a wordless chant. His lips moved but he said nothing.

I was sure the needle was another experiment in helping Cloud with his focus in his battle against Salem. The way he said he was supposed to extend his will must also be a lesson in the sort of control we wanted him to master during our sessions with him.

He was sitting at his desk with his hand outstretched towards the needle. His eyes shut in focus as he worked. His lips moving soundlessly as he attempted the transformation. His aura flickered, relaxed and calm and jumped out over the needle. Then the needle began to wobble.

Ruby and I watched, enraptured, as the needle twisted and turned in place. Then it started to shift. It grew longer and more slender.  It started to curve like a bow and though the hole in top never vanished, spikes grew from its side in a metallic curtain.

The prunes of the feather grew into place but the material never changed. It remained metallic with the spindles of hair like structures growing down from it.

When that was done Cloud slumped back in the chair and opened his eyes.

He reached out one hand and picked up the iron feather. The head of the needle had grown long and bent. The hole was still present but the shape of it as a whole had changed. He tossed it once into the air. "Well what do you know," he whispered. His will and mind had been enough to cause the needle to transform. His focus was sharp enough to transmute the shape if not the material.

"Cloud…" Ruby whispered. "You did it…"

He dropped the metallic feather and it clunked against the desk duly. Metallic cillia shone in the soft light that trickled in through the window.

"It's clunky. But it's mine," he whistled.

"You have magic," I breathed.

"What does it feel like?" Ruby asked.

"It's… it's not so different from aura. Not really. I think. Maybe that's still holding me back but it feels about the same. Not real easy to distinguish the two." He sighed.

I picked the feather up and ran my thumb along the edge of the hairs. It was sharp enough to cut oneself on. It was, well, as sharp as a needle point.

"Can the maidens do this type of thing? Or is it all fire and lightning? Like dust." I asked.

"I'm not sure. Magic is confusing," Cloud said. "But whatever it is I have it. I guess I had better let Ozpin know."

"Aren't you proud?" Ruby asked. Cloud mostly sounded bored and tired. Like the feat had exhausted him. "You did it. You changed it."

"I feel like it's less important than any other progress I might have made. But maybe a little." His voice was low and had a sexy little rasp to it with the weary tone.

He reached over and ruffled Ruby's hair and she shone up at him. He didn't dare try that kind of display of affection with me. But he did give my cheek a kiss which I deigned to allow.

"I think it's thanks to these sessions. I think that they're going to save me, if anything will," he said.

"Well with praise like that how can we stop now?" I rolled my eyes. "I suppose we'll have to keep going and see what happens."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[unclecassian]

On the Topic of SJM Breaking My Heart in ACOMAF

*Spoilers for A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury*

No matter how many times I re-read the entire ACOTAR series, especially ACOMAF, SJM never fails to break my heart with her writing. So here is a list I made of all the lines from ACOMAF that ripped me in two 🥴 

“Alone in my bedroom, I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d truly laughed.”

“I might even cry for my mother, who had never cared for me, anyway. I might beg her to save me—” 

“The sentries returned in full force the next morning.”

“He’d locked me in here… He’d locked me in. He’d sealed me inside this house… I couldn’t get out; I couldn’t get out; I couldn’t get out—”

“Maybe it’d be a mercy to be ended— A broad hand gripped my face—gently enough not to hurt, but hard enough to make me look at him. ‘Don’t you ever think that,’ Rhysand hissed, his eyes livid. ‘Not for one damned moment.’” 

“Some small part of me whispered that I could survive Amarantha; I could survive leaving Tamlin; I could survive transitioning into this new, strange body… But that empty cold hole in my chest… I wasn’t sure I could survive that. Even the years I’d been one bad week away from starvation, that part of me had been full of color, of light. Maybe becoming a faerie had broken it. Maybe Amarantha had broken it. Or maybe I had broken it, when I shoved that dagger into the hearts of two innocent faeries and their blood had warmed my hands.”

“‘I’m thinking that I must have been a fool in love to allow myself to be shown so little of the Spring Court. I’m thinking there’s a great deal of that territory I was never allowed to see or hear about and maybe I would have lived in ignorance forever like some pet. I’m thinking…’ The words became choked. I shook my head as if I could clear the remaining ones away. But I still spoke them. ‘I’m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety.’”

“‘As long as the people who matter the most know the truth, I don’t care about the rest.’”

“...when I had belonged to Tamlin and been little more than a spy and prisoner.”

“I had done everything—everything for that love. I had ripped myself to shreds, I had killed innocents and debased myself, and he had sat beside Amarantha on that throne. And he couldn’t do anything, hadn’t risk it—hadn’t risked being caught until there was one night left, and all he’d wanted to wasn’t free me, but fuck me, and—… And when Amarantha had broken me, when she had snapped my bones and made my blood boil in its veins, he’d just knelt there and begged her. He hadn’t tried to kill her, hadn’t crawled for me. Yes, he’d fought for me—but I’d fought harder for him… And he had the nerve once his powers were back to shove me in a cage. The nerve to say I was no longer useful; I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind. He’d given me everything I needed to become myself, to feel safe, and when he got what he wanted—when he got his power back, his lands back… he stopped trying. He was still good, still Tamlin, but he was just… wrong.”

“And maybe I was exhausted and broken, but I breathed, ‘I killed them.’ I hadn’t said the words aloud since it had happened. Cassian’s lips tightened. ‘I know.’ Not condemnation, not praise. But grim understanding. My hands slackened as another shuddering sob worked its way through me. ‘It should have been me.’”

“And it wasn’t sorrow, or despair, or terror that hit me, but… unhappiness. Such bleak, sharp unhappiness… I was unhappy—not just broken. But unhappy. An emotion, I realized. It was an emotion, rather than the unending emptiness or survival-driven terror.”

“It’d just been a relief to think that for a moment, he might have been as lonely as me.”

“He flinched. The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. And I knew I’d hit hard—and deep. Too hard. Too deep.”

“‘And yet I found myself deciding that if you took his hand, I would find a way to live with it. It would be your choice.’ I sipped from my wine. ‘And if he had grabbed me?’ There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. ‘Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back.’”

“‘I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire—but that I would be quiet and endurining and as faceted as the night… I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone. I wonder if I was looking for this place—looking for you all.’... ‘I was looking for you, too,’ Rhys murmured.”

“And I saw the pain and sorrow in his eyes. Saw it and didn’t care, not as that thing in my chest was twisting and breaking. Not as my heart—my heart—ached, so viciously that I realized it’d somehow been repaired in these past few months. Repaired by him. And now it hurt.”

“And there it was. A future. The future I saw for myself, bright as the sunrise over the Sidra. A direction, and a goal, and an invitation to see what else immortality might offer me. It did not seem so listless, so empty, anymore.”

THE ENTIRETY OF CHAPTER 54 BUT I’LL JUST GIVE THE HIGHLIGHTS:

“‘And then—then I learned your name. Hearing you say it… it was like an answer to a question I’d been asking for five hundred years.’”

“‘I knew that you were my mate, and you were in love with another male, and had destroyed yourself to save him, and that… that I didn’t care.’”

“‘If you were going to die, I was going to die with you. I couldn’t stop thinking it over and over as you screamed, as I tried to kill her: you were my mate, my mate, my mate. But then she snapped your neck… And I felt you die… And this beautiful, wonderful thing that had come into my life, this gift from the Cauldron… It was gone.’”

“‘But I felt you through the bond, through your open mental shields. I felt your pain and sadness, and loneliness. I felt you struggling to escape the darkness of Amarantha the same way I was. I heard you were going to marry him, and I told myself you were happy. I should let you be happy, even if it killed me. Even if you were my mate, you’d earned that happiness.’”

“My friend through many dangers. My lover who had healed my broken and weary soul. My mate who had waited for me against all hope, despite all odds.”

“If I hadn’t already been in love with him, I might have loved him for that—for not insisting I stay, even if it drove his instincts mad, for not locking me away in the aftermath of what had happened yesterday. And I realized—I realized how badly I’d been treated before, if my standards had become so low. If the freedom I’d been granted felt like a privilege and not an inherent right.”

“‘Don’t let him take me,’ I sobbed again. ‘I don’t want to go back.’ And when I looked at Mor, at the tears streaming down her face as she helped Cassian get upright, I knew she realized what I meant.”

“‘I don’t give a shit if she’s your mate. I don’t give a shit if you think you’re entitled to her. She is mine.’”

“I cleared my head, my shattering heart—breaking for what my mate had done, sacrificed for me and my family. For her sisters. Because she hadn’t thought… hadn’t thought she was essential. Even after all she had done.”

*wipes tears away* yall crying too? no? oh ok cool,,,

[orsuliya]

When Awu mourns XQ in ep. 58, she doesn't remember the moments when XQ saved her or when he was the Brave General, but she remembers the man he was, the sweet husband, her lover.

I think it's very touching. It looks like the third lamentation at Hector's funeral in the Iliad. The third lamentation is for his human side, not for the soldier he was.

And Awu breaks me. She's on her knees in front of the ovoo (and my headcanon sees her to build this memorial all the night by herself), she is in dignified silence in spite of the pain she's going through.

She's devastated but not yet broken. (She has some work to do).

She's such a dignified person, no one could be Princess Yuzhang but her.

Actually, other than the Farewell-Hug-That-Never-Was, all the flashbacks we see in this scene have a very prominent theme. Something along the lines of: "The only future that matters is the one that we build together. Whatever happens, I shall always be with you. You are the only one for me". Which can be roughly translated into: "Just as for Prince Yuzhang there exists no woman but his Princess, there will be no husband for Princess Yuzhang other than her Prince". Or something like that. The Farewell-Hug-That-Never-Was is something of an outlier, but then I am mightily surprised it didn't come up at least three times more, that's how perfect it is for angsting purposes. And this scene is angsty as... something very angsty.

Anyway, this theme of marital loyalty looks like it shouldn't really jive with Awu's outstanding marriage plans, right? Well, it actually does and quite well at that. See, Awu is pondering going through this whole wedding farce for the sake of Cheng civilians, but in reality? I think she already decided that after she achieves her primary goal, Helan Zhen is getting shanked and shanked hard. And if that doesn't work, then Awu will kill herself, both to take her revenge in an indirect way by depriving Helan Zhen of his One True Love (bleurgh!) and to uphold her wedding vows to her only real husband. Or rather, she's making this decision right at that moment, while kneeling before the obo. The next time we see her, she's already wearing her best murder face!

Sorry, Phantom of the Steppe, but you're toast. Nobody comes between Mr. and Mrs. Yuzhang and lives to tell the tale.

(Not sure I agree with this headcanon of yours pertaining to building the whole damn cairn by herself, but I could totally see her making all those Hulan guards do it. Show me her bleeding hands or deal with it. Wait a moment. Sorry, no, she couldn't have done more that leaving a stone or two. Some of those khadags (the scarfy bits) show serious wear-and-tear, so this cairn was already there. Now, there are two new-ish red khadags on the obo and while it's probably a coincidence, this particular shade of red seems pretty familiar... Very wedding-like, at least according to Cheng traditions. Hmm, I do wonder who could have tied them there. Now, whyever should Awu feel the need to reaffirm her wedding vows?)

I commend you on your choice of literary parallels, I really do. Andromache's Lamentation is a brilliant one not only because it concerns itself mostly with Hector's human side - although that too, in sharp contrast to recitations of heroic deeds made by Helen and Hekube - but also because Andromache openly voices her fears about her own bleak future... and the future of Troy. Let's face it, Cheng is in pretty much the same (hopeless) position as Troy without her Hector. And guess what comes immediately after this scene? Yup, we see a messenger bringing the news of Awu's possible survival to the capital, which bodes ill for the country as Zitan (our hapless Paris) immediately starts gearing for war. Paris... decent archer, not that great at fighting, prone to slaying his enemies from safe distance. Or was it Zitan? And does saving our Paris from a battle he could not win make Prime Minister Wen Aphrodite?

[1a-imagines]

Bunny band-aid.

Characters: Izuku Midoriya

Overview: You cant seem to catch a break lately and to top it all off you end up getting hurt! Luckily a cute hero is here to help patch you up!

A/n: Me and my friend were talking about dekus red bags that he keeps attached to his hips. She asked what i thought he keeps in them and i said probably first aid stuff and that spiralled into a long conversation about how cute it would be if he had little cartoon/bunny band-aids that he would give to people.

And well- how could I pass that up?

"Why does this always happen to me?" You whined as you hopped around your small apartment, simultaneously pulling up your skirt as you tried to slather your toast with butter.

This morning you had received an angry call from your boss, yelling at you to get in as soon as you could. They were slammed and ,sure, you could imagine that must be stressful for any boss but it feels like your boss in particular was a ticking time bomb.

It was best not to get on his bad side, and so you didn't argue with him about the fact it was suppost to be your one day off.

You also had to ignore all the angry texts from your family for having to cancel on dinner with them yet again. How many times did that make it now? 6? You felt like the worst person ever for letting them down so many times, but your work just kept getting in the way!

You keep telling yourself you'll make it up to them, but you never have the time.

You could feel yourself slowly breaking down but you put on your brave face knowing that you'd only be in more trouble if you showed up at work crying.

You quickly finished your toast and downed your coffee before grabbing your bag and rushing out the door. You ran down the stairs until you reached the street, almost tumbling over a few times.

Your job wasn't too far- if you were quick you could make it in 10 minutes and maybe your boss wouldn't fire you?

So you ran.

You ran all the way down the street, narrowly avoiding other pedestrians and jumping over a few stray cats. You felt like you were running so fast that stopping seemed impossible. Your legs were going faster than you could keep up with. This is the sheer amount power and fear your boss held over you.

What a jerk.

Just as you were running past the park you felt one of your feet get caught on a loose pavement slab. Your eyes went wide as a gasp escaped your lips. Your whole body flew forward and you watched helplessly as the ground beneath you got closer.

You held out your hands and closed your eyes, bracing for the impact. You grunted in pain when your body inevitably hit the hard concrete. You had fallen so hard that your body had even bounced off the ground and skidded to a harsh stop.

That was it.

That was the breaking point. You didn't even have the energy to push yourself up. You lay there, your knees and hands stinging as you let the tears run down your cheeks.

Why was the world so against you lately? Have you done something wrong? Did you really deserve this harsh fate?

Personally, you liked to think you always tried your best. That you gave everything you all and you always went out of your way to help people. Overall, you were a pretty good person.

So why has fate decided to punish you lately?

You forced yourself to push your body up onto your backside and that's when you noticed the contents of your bag had also spilled out onto the ground.

Great…

You sniffled and rubbed your stinging cheek to rid yourself of the tears "Why can't I catch a break…" you muttered solemnly.

Once you had finished your pity party you figured it would be best to push yourself up, but before you could move, the sound of fast paced steps coming in your direction caught your attention.

You saw a boy in a green costume running up to you. When he finally reached you he knelt down, his big eyes filled with worry. He was panting a bit too, showing he must have ran over to you pretty fast.

"Are you ok!? I'm so sorry I couldn't catch you! I saw you fall from across the park and ran as fast as I could." He apologized so sincerely it sounded as if he completely blamed himself for your fall. You were about to say that it was ok but he gasped, successfully cuttinf you off.

"You're bleeding!!" You followed his gaze to your hands and knees.

He was right, You most certainly were bleeding. However, that much was to be expected after such a harsh fall like that. It wasn't a whole lot though, Most of them were just scrapes, but they still stung.

"Hold still! I have some first aid on me. I'll clean and bandage it up for you!" He said, reaching into the red bags strapped to his hips and pulling out a bottle, a cloth, and some bandages.

"You're a hero?" You tilted your head. The costume, plus carrying first aid, made you guess he was. Although you had never seen him before, was he new? You were a pretty big hero fan and you had a feeling you would've remembered someone like him. He smiled softly as he poured the gauze onto the piece of cloth he had.

"Sort of… I'm in training." He paused and looked up into your eyes. "This might hurt a bit, if it hurts too bad just tell me to stop, ok?"

You nodded your head. He was so gentle and reassuring. If he was the future of heroes then it greatly comforted you. The hero society could really use people like him right now. Especially after All Might's retirement.

You hissed in pain when the liquid hit your open wound. Even though you were no longer a little kid it was still one of the worst pains in the world to have to clean up scrapes with that unholy liquid.

It hurt, but didn't want to stop him. He was being so careful and gentle with the way he applied it, it would've been kind of nice if it wasn't burning like a bitch.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on saving people who actually need it right now?" You asked, your voice sounded more bleak and horse than you liked. You could hear the hopelessness in your own voice and you didn't like it. He looked back up at you, that same small smile was still on his lips, had it ever left?

He stared deep into your eyes and it almost made your heart stop for a moment. "What kind of hero would I be if I left a pretty girl crying in the middle of the street?"

"Crying?" You reached up to feel your cheek. You were still crying? You hadn't even noticed. He had been distracting you from all the sadness of your life with just his smile alone. It was incredible…

Wait, did he call you pretty!?

"It must hurt, I know, but don't worry, I'll fix you right up!" He said.

He thought you were crying because of the pain? The pain wasn't so bad, nothing you couldn't handle anyway. These tears were from stress, from holding everything back for so long.

Though you weren't about to tell him that.

You watched him bandage up your hands which seemed to have taken the most damage from the fall. How could you work with bandages all over your hands? You were so going to get fired.

It was kind of sad that despite being hurt, all you could think about was inconveniencing your boss. It was an unhealthy mind set to have.

"What's your name?" His voice broke through your thoughts.

"Oh! Uh- Y/n." You replied shyly, the embarrassment crying in front of him was starting to seep in. You turned your head away when you felt your cheeks heating up. You'd never really been a person to cry in front of people. So this was really embarrassing for you.  

"S-so, what about you? What's the name of my new hero?" You glanced over to him with a lopsided, bashful smile.

You saw him freeze at the sound of being called your hero, his cheeks turning the same shade as yours. Maybe even more so.

"O-oh, It's D-Deku." He stuttered out a reply as he finished wrapping up your hands.

He put the bottle and cloth back into the bags on his hips and pulled out a few bandaids. He took the paper off it and placed them over the scrapes on your knees.

"There! All done!" He pulled back and that's when you noticed the pattern on the bandaid. It had little bunnies on it!

'That's so adorable!' You inwardly squealed. Who would've guessed a hero would be carrying something as cute as this!

It made you gush.

"Thank you so much!" Ever since meeting him you had really perked up. Somehow, he had washed your worries away, maybe all you had really needed was to know that someone cared about you? That you weren't so alone?

Or maybe it was simply because it was the first nice encounter you've had in months! Which was saying a lot since you're legs and hands are currently bleeding.

He soon stood up, offering you a hand and pulling you up too.

"It's nothing! Really! You don't have to thank me!" He waved his hands in front of him shyly. It was like he wasn't used to people wanting to repay him.

Deku grabbed all the items that had fallen out of your bag and brushed the dirt off them before handing them back.

In all honesty, heroes were something a lot of people took for granted, but it was times like these that made you realise they were humans too.

His gesture may have been small but he had still made a big impact on your mood and on your day. You wanted to show your gratitude. After all, he didn't really have to come help you. Hero or not, he still could have walked away or ignored it.

"No! Really! I want to repay you somehow!" He had somehow made you feel the first thread of happiness- or was it hopefulness? That you had felt it for a while. It was so refreshing and he had helped you more than he was probably aware of.

Maybe there was also a small part of you that wanted to selfishly spend more time with him too. He was like a sudden breath of fresh air in your life and you weren't willing to let that go so easily.

"How about I buy you lunch?" You asked with a smile.

You phone began buzzing in your pocket and that's when you remembered you had work!! You pulled out your phone and upon seeing your boss's caller ID you felt your heart freeze. You could only imagine how pissed off he must be right now.

You looked up to see the worried face of your new hero, he must have caught on that something was wrong. Did he really care about you that much? You were nothing more than an acquaintance to him, and yet seeing you frown was clearing upsetting him too.

The world really did need more people like him.

You weren't sure where this sudden boldness had come from but you declined the call, and like that, weight on your shoulder was lifted. You shoved your phone away.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel a bit special

You'll deal with the consequences later.  

You smiled up at him. "Are you free right now?"

"Actually, I finish my patrol duty in 10 minutes." He replied. "If you don't mind waiting for a bit, then I'd love to get lunch with you!"

You shook your head.

You didn't mind waiting at all. You'd happily wait days, weeks even, to spend more time with your new hero. Something in your heart was telling you to get to know him better- to not let him go so easily.

Maybe fate was finally giving you the break you so desperately wanted?

"Great! Then wait here and I'll be back as soon as I can, ok?" He smiled so brightly you could practically feel the warmth radiating from it.

"It'll be my treat! To make up for not catching you in time!" He declared before running off, not giving you time to fight him on it.

You were supposed to be the one repaying him but it seemed he was now treating you to a meal instead, and you had a feeling that he wasn't going to stand down from it either.

You sighed happily and clutched your bag to your chest as you stared down at the cute bunny band aids that decorated your skin.

"Maybe today will be a good day after all."

[goldlightwriting]

Rise of the Sentinels Rewrite (Prologue)

Prologue Part I

You stand before the remnants of a towering structure, taking in the bleak sight before you. Looking past the crumbling architecture and growing moss, you can see the echoes of dignity that this place once possessed. Now, however, it stands empty and silent, devoid of life save for the insects, birds and slugs on the island. You call out, but no one responds. You came to this place seeking to join the Sentinels of Light, but it’s clear that no one remains to welcome you.

You stare at the ruins for a little while longer before turning to walk away. As you approach your boat on the beach, however, you notice another vessel drawing closer. Two figures step out from the craft and begin making their way up the beach.

“Those outfits… Are you two Sentinels?”

“Halt! This is the headquarters for the Sentinels of light!”

“Um, hello? Mind if I catch a ride?”

Lucian: “Well I’ll be. Looks like we were right to come here.”

Senna: “We need to speak to the one in charge here. Where’s your commanding officer?”

“Gone, along with all the other Sentinels.”

“I’m not sure. This place was abandoned when I got here.”

Senna: “What? Then you’re the only one here?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Not for much longer. This place is a dump.”

Lucian: “Great, just great! We come all this way and all we can find is one damn Sentinel?”

Senna: “What’s your rank, Sentinel?”

“Rank? I don’t exactly… Have one.”

“I’m kind of new here, so…”

Lucian: “Oh, great! The kid’s a rookie, too!”

Senna: “Enough, Lucian. Listen close, Rookie: right now, there’s a Harrowing on the way bigger than any we’ve ever seen before. Like it or not, no one’s leaving this island until we drive them back.”

“Woah, hang on! A real Harrowing? I did not sign up for this!”

“Oh, finally! Here I was, worried that I wouldn’t ever get to see some action.”

Lucian response 1: “Suck it up, Rookie! You’re a Sentinel, so this is EXACTLY what you signed up for. Wait, where’s your weapon?”

Lucian response 2: “You’ve got spirit, Rookie, now let’s see if you can back it up. You know how to use that weapon, right?”

“Um…”

“I don’t have one. I thought I’d receive one here, but…”

Lucian: “Oh, for the love of-”

Senna: “No time for talk, here it comes!”

Prologue Part II

The Black Mist rolls up onto the shoreline. From the haze, countless malformed creatures emerge, moving toward you with murderous intent. The sight sends a chill down your spine, but Lucian and Senna respond calmly with a torrent of light from their weapons. Their movements tell of years of experience, each shot carefully aimed to tear through the onslaught.

“Wow…”

“I almost feel sorry for the monsters.”

As you watch, transfixed, a shadow looms over you. You turn and see that hulking undead figure with several faces has raised its claw, preparing to strike you down then and there.

Senna: “Look out!”

Senna fires a blast from her Sentinel gun that seems to go right through you, blasting a hole in the monster’s chest. Rather than harm you, however, the light seems to invigorate you.

“What just happened?”

“I didn’t know Sentinel weapons could do that!”

Senna response 1: “No time, Rookie. If you can’t fight, then get inside the base and take cover!”

Senna response 2: “Most can’t, but there’s no time to explain. Get inside the base and take cover, Rookie!”

You start to do as told, but quickly find yourself surrounded by wraiths as you make your way back up the path you came from.

“Um, guys?”

“Oh Gods, don’t kill me!”

Lucian: “Senna, a little help over here!”

Senna: “Lucian, hang on!”

Dread begins to wash over you as you realize how hopeless the situation is. Outnumbered and with no way to fight back, the wraiths start to close in on you. Just as they’re about to reach you, though, something cuts through the Black Mist and strikes down the undead before they can reach you.

???: “Are you quite alright? That must have been quite the fright!”

“Thanks! You really saved me there.”

“Uh, not to sound ungrateful, but who are you?”

“Uh, is that… A giant pair of scissors?”

Gwen: “Oh, pardon my manners! My name is Gwen, but we haven’t the time to talk now! Quickly, we must get you inside!”

Before you can think to respond, Gwen grabs your arm and pulls you along, leading you into the remnants of the old Sentinel base.

Prologue Part III

You breath a sigh of relief as Gwen drags you into the ruins. The interior of the structure seems to be in a much better state than the outside, but not by much.

Gwen: “Ah, so this is a Sentinel base? I must say it’s rather drab in here.”

“Uh, thanks again for saving me, Miss Gwen.”

“Wait, we have to go back! The others are still out there!”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a dump.”

Gwen response 1: “Oh, you’re very welcome! Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I believe your friends require some help as well, no?”

Gwen response 2: “Yes, quite right! You just wait here where it’s safe, and I’ll see to them.”

Gwen response 3: “Well, regardless, it seems that the undead do not wish to enter. I should go and find your comrades to bring them in as well.”

With that, Gwen rushes off, charging back into the fray. You watch from the entrance as she slashes apart the undead with her giant scissors and pierces them with floating needles. Around her, a peculiar mist seems to form that repels the Black Mist around her. Eventually, Gwen vanishes from sight, though you can still hear the sounds of battle from the shoreline.

“…Whelp, time to sit back and relax until they sort this out.”

“Damn it… There has to be something I can do to help.”

With nothing else to do, you look around the Sentinel base to familiarize yourself with your new surroundings. Your attention is drawn to a room with nothing but a lone table in the center, and upon closer inspection, you realize that this table seems to be a map of the known world. A peculiar object rests on top of the table; it looks almost like a Relic weapon, but something about it seems different from the ones wielded by Lucian and Senna. You can hear a faint thrumming emanating from it, almost like the Relic is calling out to you.

You reach out and clutch the Relic in your hand, lifting it from the table. You then notice that a portion of the map seems to be glowing in response: the small island that houses Sentinel Headquarters. Cautiously, you bring the Relic closer to the table. The two seem to thrum in unison together, before both going dim. Then, the entire building starts to shudder…

Prologue Part IV

The shaking stops abruptly. All around you, ancient markings in the walls start to light up one-by-one. Then, in a flash, you see the entire island outside consumed by golden light. In a massive pulse of magic, the Black Mist is dispelled and the markings return to normal.

“…”

“What… Just happened?”

“Woah… That was awesome!”

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Lucian, Senna and Gwen walking into the base.

Lucian: “Rookie, you mind explainin’ what in the many hells you just did?”

“Honestly? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Just how many hells do you think there are?”

Senna: “Hang on, Lucian. He’s not the only one we should be questioning”

Senna turns her attention to Gwen.

Senna: “Thanks for helping out back there, but just who are you? You’re not a Sentinel, and those scissors aren’t Relics, but they cut through the undead just the same.”

Gwen: “Ah, I suppose I should reintroduce myself properly this time. I am Gwen, the Hallowed Seamstress, at your service! A pleasure to make your acquaintances!”

“A pleasure to meet you, too!”

“What’s with that weird mist you can summon?”

Gwen response 1: *Giggle* “I’ve heard a great deal about the Sentinels, and how you devote yourself to fighting the Black Mist! I’ve come to offer you all my aid.”

Gwen response 2: “Ah, you mean the Hallowed Mist? Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure myself. I suppose you can say I was born with it.”

Lucian: “Hmph… Well, right now I’d say we could use all the Sentinels we can get. It ain’t exactly standard procedure, but you weren’t half-bad out there, Scissors.”

Gwen seems delight to receive the praise, but before anything else can be said, the map in the middle of the room starts glowing again.

???: “Hello, is anyone there? This is Sentinel Fetu of Buhru! Please, respond!”

Prologue Part V

You and the other Sentinels gather around the table as the image of a strange man flickers above it.

Fetu: “Ah, good, it seems we weren’t mistaken. That’s odd, though… I thought the old headquarters had been abandoned.”

“What’s going on?”

“Is that another ghost? How did it get in?”

Fetu: “Not the brightest relic in the vault, are you? Hard to believe that you would be chosen to use the Wayfinder.”

Lucian: “Wayfinder? You mean the Relic Rookie’s got there?”

Fetu: “Bah, don’t they teach anything at the other outposts these days? Alright, listen closely: that Relic you have there? It is the Wayfinder, a very special and ancient Sentinel tool. It has the power to link itself directly with the Nexus crystal in the heart of Sentinel bases. Nexus crystals, as I’m sure you are aware, are conduits for magical power.”

Senna: “So that explosion of light earlier, that was from Rookie using the Wayfinder to link with the base?”

Fetu: “Aye, but that’s not all it can do. The Wayfinder also has the power to connect to the Nexus crystals of other bases, allowing instant transport between them and communication across vast distances. That is how we are speaking now.”

Gwen: “My, what a versatile little took you have there!”

Lucian: “I’ll say. Definitely not something that should be in the hands of a greenhorn.”

Fetu: “Unfortunately, that is not your call to make. It is said that the Wayfinder chooses its wielder, and can only be used by the one to whom it is bound.”

“So… I’m its chosen wielder?”

“The Wayfinder chose me… What an honor!”

“So it’s less of a weapon, and more of a multitool?”

Lucian: “Ah hells… You mean to tell me that no one but this kid can make use of it?”

Fetu: “Hmph. The Wayfinder is strange with its choices, but perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. No one has been able to wield that Relic in ages; that it awakens now may be our one hope of overturning this nightmare.”

On the map before you, you see much of the land being overtaken by darkness.

Senna: “Damn it… He’s growing stronger.”

“Who’s growing stronger?”

“I… Assume that’s bad?”

Lucian response 1: “The Ruined King. The guy responsible for the Black Mist and the Harrowings. Right now, he’s spreading his damn mist all across Runeterra, and if we don’t stop him, it’ll be the end of life as we know it.”

Lucian response 2: “You don’t know the half of it, Rookie. A Harrowing this big can only be the work of the Ruined King. If he’s not stopped, that darkness is gonna take over the entire world.”

Fetu: “Then it’s as we feared… Listen closely: the Black Mist is at our doorstep, and we cannot hold out for much longer. Soon, this Sentinel outpost will be abandoned, meaning that it is up to you all to stop this calamity. Use the Wayfinder, travel to the other Sentinel outposts and recruit as many of our comrades as you can. If Runeterra is to survive this Harrowing, we must stand united! We must-”

The image vanishes and Fetu’s voice goes silent. You and the others all stand around and stare at the map for a moment before Gwen speaks up.

Gwen: “Oh dear. I hope he’s alright.”

Senna: “If he is, maybe we’ll meet him again one day. Right now, we know what we have to do.”

Senna turns and stares at you.

Senna: “Looks like we have a job to do, Rookie. Fire up that Wayfinder.”

“Yes, ma’am! Where to first?”

“Geez, I wasn’t expecting all of this so suddenly, but I guess I can’t back down now. Where do you guys wanna go?”

Lucian: “Demacia. Looks like the Mist is all going there, which means there’s a good chance the Ruined Creep’s there too. If we take him out, this whole nightmare’ll be over.”

Senna: “It won’t be easy, but with more Sentinels on our side, we might just stand a chance. You ready, Rookie?”

You nod solemnly, clutching the Wayfinder closely. Though not what you expected, it seems the time has come for you to partake in your first proper mission as a Sentinel of Light.

[mylovelyladywhumps]

I hate that I forget about this blog and how much I just reblog so I’m gonna upload some of my own stuff sporadically :3

I had to get myself away from writing dadzawa or that's all I would ever write, so I made a dadmight whump fic and made it even more sad than I'd originally intended, so let's start with that one! Under the cut :P- *uhhhh CW for blood, allusion to broken necks and bones, and Character Death

*This is part of a oneshot AU I have planned where Toshinori does actually have his own quirk (not OfA) but it doesn’t activate until he gets really, really angry. Like, some serious levels of anger here. That’s why you get all the muscle rippling at the beginning lol. Also yeah I tend to start my oneshot drafts in medias res so idk just imagine a generic villain scenario and pretend that I came up with something interesting*

*alright let’s go. Toshi’s POV*

Izuku’s fearful shout permeated his clouded mind, and there was a snap somewhere deep in Toshinori’s soul. He could feel it. It held the same energy as the final drop of a guillotine blade, or the downward swing of a headsman’s axe.

His organs felt like they were shifting, moving out of the way for something else to come, and his heart dropped hard like the strings that suspended them had been cut. His hands clenched and wouldn’t release, the muscles ever tightening with the sensation of a can being compressed.

Toshinori wasn’t seeing red. He was seeing gray. He was seeing the outline of his kid- his boy -held aloft by the outline of the villain’s murderous hands-

CRACK

Then Toshinori was gone.

“NO!”

Moving faster than any living thing, Toshinori collided with his target and ripped Izuku out of his grasp.

He didn’t stop to consider how it was possible. All the space in his mind was taken up by two thoughts: his boy was in danger, and he’d be damned if he didn’t save him.

Toshinori held Izuku by the waist with one arm and barrelled through the villain with his shoulder. His arms burned, but they didn’t hurt. They burned with the fire of his anger, and his muscles rippled underneath the skin, surrounding his bones like solid lead around a steel frame.

His back roiled, and Toshinori bellowed at the sensation of the bones and muscles superheating and solidifying like liquid metal. His body rocked with the shockwaves and made him stumble, but his grip on his boy was absolutely unyielding.

The villain was winded, and he hacked on phlegm and air, his nose pressed into the dirt. Toshinori spared him no more than a glance before he put all of his attention onto his charge, disregarding the spasms of his muscles and the hot throbbing in his bones.

Izuku was nearly unconscious. Nearly, because his green eyes were slits, and he looked to be at least partially aware. He couldn’t keep Toshinori’s gaze for very long, and he was trembling like a small pebble during an earthquake, making small, abrupt gasping noises as he did.

His neck was red swollen, clearly to become a blackened purple before the day was out, if he made it that long. There was blood under his fingernails and caking into his hair, and speckles of it could be seen on the inside ring of his lips, sprinkling more with every wheezy exhale he managed to make.

As gentle as he could, Toshinori brushed Izuku’s bangs away from his face, cradling the back of his head with his other hand, blood seeping through the spaces between his fingers. He kept his neck still and straight as he physically could; without a brace to keep him stable, not knowing if that snap was Izuku’s neck, Toshinori was on his own.

“Izuku,” Toshinori breathed. “Izuku. Look at me. Look at me, my boy. Come on, kid. Come on! Please!”

He didn’t dare to try and pat the boy’s face to gain his attention; he was too terrified of disrupting the delicate balance of life he’d managed to achieve, too scared to send his boy into shock.

Izuku didn’t respond well. He tried to look at Toshinori, but his gaze just wasn’t strong enough to hold. His eyes were too dull, Toshinori noted with the cold rail spike of panic that drove itself straight through his chest. Too dull, too close to losing that spark of light that Toshinori had fallen in love with. Too narrow for him to see that wide-eyed, bright, adoring gaze that had become Izuku’s trademark.

“You’re okay, my boy, you’re okay. You’ll be okay,” Toshinori whispered to himself under the presupposition that Izuku would hear it. “I’ve got you, son. I promise. I promise, Izuku.”

Aside from a sluggish, delayed blink, Izuku didn’t otherwise react. Toshinori pet his hair with one hand and supported his head with the other, and both hands quickly became sodden with blood. Head wounds bleed a lot, he knew, but he didn’t know if they should be bleeding this much.

“I need an ambulance!” Toshinori came to his senses and screamed at the top of his lungs to anyone who would listen. “I need an ambulance! He needs help!”

“Yagi!” Someone screamed. He didn’t know who. Didn't care who.

Izuku blinked again. Slower.

Then his mouth opened to expose the blood that had been pooling from his split tongue and he choked, spraying his lips and flecking red onto Toshinori’s face.

“T-...T-”

“Shhh!” Toshinori hushed him, harsher than he'd meant to and too scared to control his volume. “Shhh, Izuku. Don’t- don’t try to speak, kid. I’m getting you help. Help’s coming, help’s coming my boy. Don’t-”

Izuku hacked again, harder. Wetter. Toshinori stopped his rambling and tried to prop him up so he wouldn’t suffocate. When Izuku started gagging, Toshinori rushed to tilt him on his side so he could let the bubbling blood drool out of Izuku’s mouth, staining the filthy ground red.

“That’s okay, kid. It’s okay. Let it out, let it out,” Toshinori whispered to him. “Help is coming. You’ll feel better soon. Just hold on for a little while longer, my boy. A little while longer.”

He didn’t know when. He knew someone had to have heard his cry, but Toshinori was still terrifyingly alone, desperately holding onto the fragile life of his favorite person.

With his waning strength, before Toshinori could stop him, Izuku lifted his trembling hand. He didn’t lift it high, and he moved slow, but he brought it closer and closer to his own head.

Toshinori assumed he was in pain, trying to stave it off, and almost took Izuku’s hand to bring it back down until he saw his boy take a handful of his damp green curls and tug.

Then Toshinori realized.

“Damn it Izuku, no!” He snatched Izuku’s hand from his hair and held it tight, as tight as he dared. “How could you-? Why are you-? D-don’t worry about the damn quirk! How-How can you even think about the quirk while you...y-you're...”

Toshinori didn’t complete his sentence. He refused.

Because his boy was dying.

“Oh God, Izuku,” Toshinori sobbed. “Izuku, don’t- just hang on, Izu. Please, hang on for All Might, kid. Please, please don’t go.”

Izuku didn’t appear to hear him, but his lips moved delicately, wasting his precious energy in forming words that Toshinori couldn’t make out. Drops of water splashed onto Izuku’s bloodied face and Toshinori startled when he thought it had started to rain.

It hadn't. Toshinori had just started to cry.

Izuku made another choked noise, and Toshiori shushed him weakly once more. His voice gave out underneath him, reducing his pleas to weak whispers.

“Shh, shhh, shhh, I’m here. All Might’s here, bud. “Toshinori threw caution to the wind and lifted his boy’s body- not a body yet. He’s not a body yet -onto his lap. He held Izuku like a child, cradling his head and neck and hugging his boy close. “I’ve got you, my boy. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

Toshinori could only wonder where the days had gone where he could just proclaim those words and everything in the world would right itself.

The cold fist of fear that had been squeezing around his heart clenched hard when Izuku jerked. He jerked like he had been electrocuted, a gargled cough catching in his throat and more blood draining from his mouth. He jerked again. His legs and arms were taut and freezing cold. He was still breathing; how, Toshinori had no idea, but the frigid, black feeling in his gut told him that he wouldn’t be for long.

Toshinori held tight to Izuku as he seized. He kept his neck as straight as he could, whispering nothing and giving him impossible promises, sobbing all the while.

He hadn’t felt this way when Nana died. His heart had broken, and the world became a bleak, dull color for a long time after. But it hadn’t left him feeling so shattered. Like the fiber of his being was being ripped apart. Like his heart had shriveled and died in his chest. Like every hopeless, terrified sob ripped his soul out.

Watching his successor, his pride and joy, his boy, fall apart in his hands...nothing could compare. Not a single thing

Izuku started to hiccup in his seizure, and his hands flailed out for the first time, seeking for something or someone to grab and anchor himself to life, and Toshinori grabbed him and held him.

He held him. That was all he could do. He held him tight and listened to the stutter of his chest and watery lungs, soothing him and telling him he was okay. He wasn’t. And he knew that Izuku knew that. But he refused to acknowledge any other outcome.

Toshinori gave up on waiting for help. If it was coming, it would have been there by then. All that was left now was…

Izuku opened his eyes one more time and met Toshinori face to face, still jolting and caught in the throes of his coughing. Toshinori was weeping openly, letting his tears fall onto Izuku’s face, making all of his comforting attempts worthless.

Izuku’s lips moved some more. Whispering. The last of his breath was being wasted on something Toshinori couldn’t hear, and his heart was too empty to feel frustrated or angry with him.

He didn’t need to hear him after all, it seemed. Toshinori could read his lips clearly.

‘I love you’

“Oh,” Toshinori croaked. “Oh, my boy, my precious boy, I-I...I...I love you. I love you too. My boy, I love you so much, please, oh please.”

Izuku wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes were still open, and his chest moved the bare minimum, but his eyes, like flickering candle lights, had moved to the dying sky above Toshinori’s head.

“My boy, my Izuku, please, please, stay with me.”

Izuku’s lips stopped moving. He blinked once, and it lasted long enough to nearly cause Toshinori to throw up before he opened his eyes again.

“No, no, no, please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me! IZUKU!”

The light went out.

Toshinori screamed.

*Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading. Sry if Toshi's OOC I just really like the drama and I find my whumperflies in dialogue uwu. If you have any suggestions on my writing lmk, I love to learn and I want to grow as much as I can :3* *also the person that shouted Toshi's name in the story was Aizawa, but he was busy with other villains and couldn't get over to help. This is covered in the full story which has not been written lol*

*My AO3 name is MatryoshkaDoll413 if you're curious about my published works*

[applejacks1552]

PART 2:

What If?

Readers have long speculated, if Rogue's powers didn't stand in the way, what would she really decide about having children? One only need look at alternative universes and timelines for potential answers.

Probably my favorite example is found in Chris Claremont’s X-Men: The End (2006) which seemed to extrapolate from where X-Treme X-Men left off. In this theoretical future, Gambit and Rogue are married, Rogue has control of her powers, and they have two children, Olivier and Rebecca. We get a brief glimpse of Rogue as a mother and the lengths she's willing to go to save her children when they are taken captive by Sinister.

For another potential outcome of this same pairing based off the more recent timeline, we can thank Kelly Thompson for Captain Marvel: The End (2020) where Carol Danvers returns to a decimated Earth and meets the children of many of Earth’s heroes, including Irene LeBeau, daughter of her old nemesis Rogue and partner Gambit. Irene has taken on the mantle of Rogue, has her mother's white streak and Gambit’s eyes. Frankly, I don't want to live in a world where this character might never exist!

Even when paired with other partners, we see that Rogue has a desire for her own family.

During the Age of Apocalypse, when Rogue ends up with a heroic version of Magneto who can touch her, despite their difficult existence and bleak future Rogue chooses to have a child with him whom they name Charles. Even though Rogue cannot touch his skin and has limited time with him, she dotes on him and loves him above all else.

There is even an alternate reality where the heroes never left Battleworld after Secret Wars in What If? #14 (1998) and Rogue, seemingly possessed by the Carol Danvers persona, marries Steve Rogers. She eventually gives birth to daughter Sarah Rogers, aka Crusader.

Going Forward

So where does this leave us in the 616?

There's no question that Rogue's powers, even under control, could cause difficulties with conception and/or pregnancy. This would be an interesting facet to explore and one we've never seen touched upon in comics. But if the character suddenly now has no interest in having a child, it's a story we likely won't get to see unfold. This new status quo is particularly disappointing considering the drastic change from her earlier appearances and how long awaited her marriage to Gambit had been, a character who would make a great parent as well.

But with the popularity of parenthood falling off drastically in the modern era and many individuals choosing child-free lifestyles, it may well be that there is little demand for a story like this to be explored, especially with an A-lister X-Woman such as Rogue.

Indeed, typically superhero mothers get sidelined, are noncombatants or are C list characters to begin with, so they won't be missed if they were to dissapear from panel for a while. In X-books think Madelyn Pryor, Meggan, Layla Miller, Smasher, and Rayne Sinclair. Jubilee might be the only mutant mother to get significant panel time with her child in recent years, but again fits the C list and noncombatant mold overall. In many cases, elaborate means like time travel, AUs, adoptions, clones, time hops, and supernatural events are used to avoid showing pregnancy or to age up inconvenient babies because writers don't think anyone wants these stories. Looking at you Jean Grey and Cable.

As I said in my previous Gambit discussion, I remain hopeful that someday we'll get 616 stories about some mischievous LeBeau children and see Rogue as a mother for more than just an isolated panel in an AU. The winds can always change direction in comics when a new writer comes along, as they always do. Even if it might take 30 years.

In the meantime, if you want to see some unblinking looks at comic book mothers who are getting it done, I'd look outside the Merry Mutants and check out: Jessica Drew in Spiderwoman by Dennis Hopeless, Big Barda in Tom King's Mr. Miracle, Jessica Jones in Alias by Brian Michael Bendis or written recently by Kelly Thompson and Alana from Saga by Brian K. Vaughn. They all show how motherhood can work for a comic character to enrich her story without removing her from the action or balking away from the realities of parenting.

Thanks for reading!

[whitewolfandthefox]

The Call of the Wild: Part 8

Summary: Astarion is delight to discover your true nature. The pack begins it hunt.

Series Masterlist

Add yourself to my taglist here!

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of torture and injury, whole lotta angst, some panic and looots of unhappiness, implied suicidal tendencies

A/N. This is a little later than I had wanted to get it out, but I spent the entirety of my day sanding and raking. We are renovating my kitchen, so that’s fun. Enjoy this next chapter, we’re about halfway through babes! Thank you to everyone who has been with me since the beginning, and welcome to the many, many people who have joined me along the way! As always, come yell at me in the comments or reblogs, I love it!

Chapter 8: Breaking Point

A sharp pain brought you back to awareness as you lifted your hand to your neck. Your fingers felt something warm and sticky, your breath catching in your throat as you pulled them away to see blood coating your fingers. You hadn’t been wounded on your neck, where was the blood and pain coming from? 

You remembered striking, burying the stone in the guard’s neck, feeling the hot blood spray from his neck as it covered your hands, running down to stain his tunic. You remembered the power that had surged through you before you collapsed, remembered directing it to the pain, wanting to help, to heal. 

Again your hand lifted, finding the wound at the same place you had injured the guard. You thought back to when you had healed Geralt, waking up to find new scars on your side. Maybe this was part of your powers, you healed others by taking the wound onto yourself. You struggled to sit up, feeling the warm blood trickle slowly down your neck, bleeding into the cloth on your chest. 

A sound drew your attention outside of yourself. You looked up to find Astarion staring at you, a delighted look on his face. His expression unnerved you, his happiness was always associated with pain and hurt for you. 

“You’re a healer,” he breathed. “This is amazing, you’re exactly what I’m looking for. I’ve always found fighters or strategists, you’re the first healer I’ve studied. Someone like you could have saved my family from dying.”

As he spoke, he stood and started pacing, hands waving excitedly in the air. “That wound would have killed him, but you, you will be fine! You will heal and be on your feet in no time. You could have taken the sickness that killed my mother, my siblings. You could have saved my father when he was attacked by your wretched kind. None of my spells could, they were too complex, needed too much energy. But your healing ability wouldn’t need that much. You saved a man from death, and it only cost you a few moments of consciousness. Once I find where your power comes from, no one will die needlessly!”

Your heart sunk as he continued his manic rambling, speaking about how he would be able to save humankind, how you were the answer to all of his questions. Despair filled you, devouring every other emotion and leaving a bleak void in its place. You weren’t getting out of here alive, not unless someone came to get you. And no one would. Your friends had turned on you, your family dead. No one knew where you were. You were all alone. 

The world shrunk, all that you knew was your pain and your despair, nothing else mattered. You would die here, that you were certain of. As Astarion left your cell, you curled into yourself on the floor, tears running down your face. You let yourself fall into darkness, your only escape from the hell that was your present. 

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt pushed his pack hard, no longer hampered by waves of pain. The lack of hurt worried him, feeling only exhaustion and misery leaking from you, a bleak emotional landscape full of hopelessness. He tried to push hope back to you, but any attempt to reach you was blocked. 

As the days pass, the pack slowly loses speed, Geralt growing increasingly frustrated at their lack of progress. Yennefer finally snaps at him as they are gathered around their campfire. 

“Geralt, we can’t keep going at this pace!” Geralt glowered at her as she spoke, not acknowledging her words. “Ciri is exhausted, and the rest of us are close behind! Just slow down a little bit, we will still get there.”

The large man didn’t look up, refusing to discuss any changes to the fast pace he had started off with. “If Ciri gets tired, she can ride on my back. We need to move fast.” 

Yennefer scoffed, “And the rest of us? What happens when we can’t keep up? Are you just going to leave us behind? And what about when we get there? Geralt, we need to have the strength to actually be able to defend ourselves. Or are you just sending us to our deaths?”

Geralt rounded on her, “She’s dying, Yennefer!” he roared. “Every day I can feel her slowly getting weaker! She won’t respond to me anymore, she’s given up. I can feel her fading; she won’t last much longer.”

His chest heaved from his outbreak, fear glistening in his eyes. The camp was silent, Yennefer lowering her eyes at his words. With a growl, Geralt spun and stalked away into the woods, dropping into his wolf form as he took off running. Yennefer drew a hand over her face, a sigh escaping her lips. 

“Who are we searching for, Aunt Yen?” Ciri nestled herself into Yennefer’s side, looking up at her with wide eyes. “I know it’s another shapeshifter, but Papa seems so worried.”

Yennefer stared down at Ciri, violet eyes concerned. At last, she looked away as she responded in a quiet voice. “Sometimes shapeshifters find people who they have an instant connection with. Y/N helped your papa when he got hurt while he was away, and they have one of those bonds.”

Ciri was staring at her with wide eyes, Jaskier trying to look as if he wasn’t eavesdropping on the other side of the fire. Yennefer managed a wan smile at the two of them. “You’ll have to ask Geralt if you want to know more, though. For now, we should get some sleep though.” 

Yennefer ignored the sounds of protest as she stood, ushering Ciri off to her bedroll, Jaskier close behind. She tucked the blanket around her, smoothing her hair off the child’s forehead as she placed a gentle kiss on her head. “Will Papa be back soon?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, he just needed to run for a bit. You will see him in the morning.” The sorceress placed a gentle hand on Ciri’s cheek, pushing a gentle sleep suggestion at her. She sat with the young girl until her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out before getting up and finding her own bedroll, setting a spell to alert her when Geralt returned to camp. 

**~*~*~*~**

The pain continued, though you no longer felt Geralt’s presence. It was getting harder and harder to return to your human form after a change was forced upon you. You’d given up hope of rescue after overhearing two guards as they passed your cell. 

“It’s been two weeks since the most recent one got here, which means we’ll probably be looking for a new one soon.”

“Yeah, they don’t last much longer than that. Just look at it, it’s stopped moving. We don’t have to beat it as much to get it to change.”

You had been in your fox form at that point and you hadn’t moved as they walked past. You lifted your head to glare at them, pulling your lips back from your teeth as a weak growl rumbled out of your chest. They had laughed and kept walking, leaving you behind as your heart sunk, laying your head down on the floor and closing your eyes, letting the defeat that had been gnawing at your edges sweep over you. 

You didn’t bother changing back to your human form; you weren’t sure that you even could if you had wanted to, you were so tired. Astarion entered your cell early that morning, guards posted at the door as he entered in case you decided to attack. 

You lifted your head mournfully, ears pressed against your skull, but other than that you didn’t move. Astarion grinned sharply. “Ah, finally. Your spirit is broken, my sweet. You’ve realized you have nowhere to run and no one is coming to save you.”

Your thoughts briefly turned to Geralt before you scolded yourself sharply. No one was coming to save you, you were on your own. This was where you were going to die. You remained passive as the sorcerer manhandled you, a whimper passing your lips as you felt the knife pierce your skin. 

Astarion shushed you, a hand stroking your fur possessively as you squeezed your eyes shut. “You were so strong, my sweet, you did so well. I have done so much research, learned so much from you. Your contribution to my studies is greatly appreciated.”  You yowled as you felt a bone in your front right paw snapped, the pain shooting up your leg into your shoulder. You collapsed as the man continued speaking. “The pain will end soon, little creature. I am almost done with you and then you can rest.”

You fell into a haze of pain, the words fading into the background as you let yourself drift. The only coherent thought you had before you fell into the familiar darkness should have frightened you, but it didn’t. The phrase repeated itself over and over again, consuming any other thought you had. Please just let me die.

**~*~*~*~**

The pack has stopped for a brief lunch, a companionable silence falling over the clearing. They had been moving fast, though not as fast as when they first started out. Geralt had realized Jaskier and Ciri couldn’t keep up with him and had adjusted his pace. This didn’t ease his worry though; he had tried reaching out to you again, only to be rebuffed. The pain you were experiencing had only grown, blocking any attempt he made to reach you.

Please just let me die. 

Geralt shot to his feet as fear flashed through him. The others stared at him as he threw things into their bag with no regard as to where they landed before slinging it over his back. 

Yennefer spoke first, concerned at the frantic motions coming from the Witcher. “Geralt, what happened?” Her tone was urgent, breaking through the haze of panic that had consumed the man. 

“She wants to die; she won’t live through the night.” he managed to get out, gesturing at Ciri to stand. “We have to run, we have to save her. Quickly, shift. We must go.”

At his words, the other three flew into action. Geralt fell forward as he shifted into a white wolf, a golden lion cub falling into place beside him. Yennefer shrunk into a black raven, flying high in the sky to scout as a honey badger pulled itself onto the back of the wolf, winding its claws into the silver fur to secure itself. 

Geralt looked at Jaskier on his back, receiving a nod before turning to Ciri who was growling low in her throat, claws kneading the ground as she waited to run. The wolf threw his head back as he howled, the lion next to him adding her voice to create a discordant sound. The forest around them went silent as the predators began their hunt, their fast lope eating up the ground beneath them. 

They ran for hours before finally arriving at the dark clearing that housed the keep. It was an intimidating structure, towers reaching high into the sky, grey stone framed against the skyline. The pack could see guards scattered around the entrance and along the roof. Staying low in the trees, the honey badger leapt off the wolf’s back before the two animals were replaced with the figures of Geralt and Jaskier. Ciri quickly followed, creeping into the underbrush to watch the dark structure as Yennefer, in her raven form, looped back from over the keep, landing and shifting back to her human form. 

They stayed silent, waiting for her to approach. The keep was mere meters away, the forest having been allowed to reclaim its stolen space as the years past. As she regained her equilibrium, the small group quickly shed their extra gear, cinching their armour tighter and ensuring their weapons were within easy reach. 

“There’s definitely a shapeshifter in there,” she spoke as soon as she had knelt next to the two men. “I can hear a faster heartbeat, it’s not a man’s rhythm. That must be her.” 

Geralt shifted, staying silent as Yennefer continued to speak. “We should be able to enter through the back gate, it’s not as heavily guarded. That’s where they’re keeping her as well. I think she’s on a lower floor; we might even be able to find a closer entrance.”

As Geralt opened his mouth to answer, a scream tore through the silence. The Witcher went rigid, a look of utter terror crossing his face. Before anyone could react, he shot out of the treeline with a roar, sword seeming to leap from its sheath to his hand as he raced towards the guards. 

**~*~*~*~**

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[bbq-hawks-wings]

Really long ask - Part 1: Hi, sorry for this long rant, but I just wanted to vent since I saw this latest story posted on AO3 and I am restraining myself on commenting on their story so I'm just letting my anger out here about it and other issues regarding fan-depiction of Hawks. It's vaguely related to your post on how DabiHawks or Dabi+Hawks stories make it all about Dabi and always made Hawks out to be the one who starts the problems in their relationship or is the one trying to get Dabi's

Content warning: passing mention of r*pe in a fanfiction.

LOOOONG post under the cut.

(Cont.)

Dabi's attentions when it's canon that it's the complete opposite. This latest story that came up in my feed was about Hawks "harassing" Dabi (who apparently has a backstory of r*pe) and Twice helps Dabi works out his feelings. Among the hoards of tags condemning Hawks, they decided to use "Hawks is very uncool in this fic heads up" so that's another one to add to my filters. I think I also have to block the "Dabi Needs a Hug" tags too bc he's always woobified like heck. 

I really want to read stories where Hawks interacts with Twice since they have a bond/drama with each other, but people have been adding Dabi and either making it seem like Hawks has been gaslighting Dabi in their "relationship" or with Twice. I can acknowledge stories where Hawks feels guilty for what he had to do or Twice being anger/betrayed over Hawks' actions since that is actually what happened; but I will not stand for Dabi claiming Hawks took advantage of Twice or Twice and Dabi having feelings for each other with Hawks in the way bc Dabi is a) the one who let Hawks in b) knew Twice is gullible and c) used Twice as bait. Even in the stories that are cute/causal+funny, Hawks is always the one who gets threatened with fire, harsh insults, or guilted into compliance but the seriousness of the first 2 are always brushed off and the third kinda makes me want it that Hawks doesn't have friends bc most people write him as a bad friend who only cares about his own problems (especially the ones that write Hawks like a celebrity/night club person). 

On writing Dabi, his issues always take priority over everything else, his family loves him, and the lov is always chill with him. He's usually written as the fun asshole/caretaker (bc of his big brother status or ablity to cook). Those factors aren't bad by itself, but it's extremely irritating when the writers/artists can give that level of care to Dabi, but just reduce Hawks to a meme who is a workaholic for the government/scared of punishment & not bc he really cares about the people he saves/helps. It's not like I hate the DabiHawks pairing, but the majority of the content (esp the recent ones), are frustrating to read & Hawks' character is usually written in bad out of character extremes. I am really mystified that I'm praying for canon content rather than fanmade most of the time.

Phew! After the back and forth it looks like we got to the end of that! (Or did we?! *Dun dun DUUUUN*) If not, though, feel free to keep the asks rolling. Lol Foxy and I are usually pretty happy to receive as many asks as people want to send even if it takes us a while, individually, to get to it. Now to finally address what you sent.

I find myself in a weird place when it comes to OOC fanfic because on the one hand people can write whatever they want, and I don’t really have a place to criticize them; but also when they blatantly and willingly misinterpret a character so they have grounds to bash on them it also leaves me acutely uncomfortable. I don’t think I’d call it “problematic” as much as a squick? Like, if they’re willing to blow past all the obvious proof to the contrary about their claims of a fictional character just because they hate them, then are they willing to do the same thing to a real person? Usually, those kinds of thoughts are pointlessly extreme, but we know those who unironically and/or unapologeticly call fans of the heroes “bootlickers” so... It’s like, ooc vent fics are also fine; and if you want to rewrite a character to fit the narrative scheme you’ve set up that’s cool as long as its tagged (“ooc [character]” or something) and/or just mention in the a/n that they knowingly and willingly mischaracterized them for the sake of the fic. Just. Don’t. Claim. It’s. Canon.

And speaking of canon, as much as I’m sure Horikoshi knew Hawks and Dabi were going to end up shipped I think it’s obvious that he never was going to canonically write them ending up together, yet here comes the “canon must validate my headcanon” crowd calling him a bad writer because the author had some bigger narrative goal in mind than having two pretty anime boys kissing.

And the worst part to me is, I feel there’s a distinct slice of the DabiHawks crowd missing out on some of the possibilities of this ship by intentionally mischaracterizing them. Like, the aesthetic equal/opposite draw of the ship is phenomenal as it is and I don’t even ship them, but I can see a wide range of possible fics based solely on the principle that they are canonically incompatible!

At the end of the day, Dabi is a dime-a-dozen edgelord - that pain in the butt OC that so many newbie D&D players make that they think is so deep and dark and mature, but is about as cookie-cutter as they come. It’s not that this kind of character is unsalvageable or a hopeless Gary Stu character, just that they don’t often come across as compelling in and of themselves or that they need more than just selfish hatred to carry them through a series. Two kinds of edgelords that can be done well are the “Out of the Ashes” edgelord and “I’ll Pull You Into Hell With Me” edgelord. The first kind recognizes there’s more to life than their sad backstory and getting even and thus choose to aspire to more noble causes - think Joel from The Last of Us. The second recognizes they’re actively doing wrong and come to embrace it - being more concerned with getting what they want than taking the moral high ground - think Frank Castle, aka the Punisher - and even these darker, “unsaveable” kinds of edgelord antiheroes can have redeeming qualities such as meeting and helping a young hopeful and telling them, “I know I’m on the road to hell, so if you want to save yourself you’d better not follow me.”

Dabi actually has what he needs to become the second type right now (assuming he’s Touya) and could even evolve into the first not unlike Kratos from God of War, but that potential can’t be fully recognized until you admit that he’s fundamentally self-centered and a bad person as-is. He may have the tragic backstory complete with justifiable hate at his genuinely abusive father, but rather than using that as fuel to see that never happen to anyone else like it did him - he just wants to get even. He burns people alive, knowing well he’s participating in the same destruction that his father committed to make him what he is now. He doesn’t recognize any of the merits of hero society and is only concerned with burning it to ash. He could use what happened to his family to incite compassion in his heart and take others under his wing, but instead he uses people as a mean to his own ends. He isn’t even proper grimdark - he’s just your run of the mill egotistical megalomaniac with a punk aesthetic.

And that’s still a good character in the grand scheme of things, maybe just not alone! Moreso, it’s a good villain and EVEN BETTER when you put him next to Hawks who is at his core:

Fundamentally Hopepunk!

Hopepunk is about being good and kind as an act of rebellion against a cruel and unfair world no matter how bleak it gets or how badly you’re beaten down. Despite his own cruel past, Hawks still has a heart to help others for no other reason than to help them, he constantly changes the odds to save as many people as he can when he’d be given a pass for letting the cards fall where they will, and not only is his aim to “help others” but to make sure that there’ll never be need for heroes again. He’s an active rebel against the system fighting with kindness and goodness, fervently looking and listening for the next opportunity to do good.

In agreement with you, Hawks and Twice are interesting to explore because while Twice is an optimist looking to make the world a better place, he’s still a step or two removed from Hawks’ worldview because Twice refuses to let go of the “family” he found for himself while Hawks is willing to sacrifice himself for others. That dynamic is so interesting, and it’s what made them so initially compatible and subsequently heartbreaking in canon.

And it’s such a disappointment to see this unwaveringly earnest character reduced to “shitty fratboy” so often. For a lot of people newer to his character I can understand the confusion, but there really isn’t an excuse if you’ve been reading the series, and the possibilities for fics with this canon personality are just so much more interesting to explore, especially with Dabi as his sort-of opposite.

For DabiHawks to work well, you have to recognize that something has to give in either of them. Some of the juiciest, most angsty content is when you have two characters grow close together over commonalities only to be reminded that despite everything else they share, that One Thing will always keep them from truly being able to see eye-to-eye. Either Dabi has to grow past his hatred and relearn compassion and empathy, or Hawks has to lose grip of that hopeful vision he has and fall into despair. Both options are good to explore, but both require the acknowledgement that Dabi’s view of the world is fundamentally bleak and selfish, especially compared to Hawks’. For a supposed revolutionary out to change the world for the better whose a diamond in the rough with a heart of gold, that’s not exactly on-brand; and at the end of the day the issue is that some are unwilling to admit that what they wanted Dabi to be is likely not going to happen and they love that fake version Dabi more than they love what Hawks actually stands for which is why Hawks always gets the shaft in the end.

I still personally hold a bit of a grudge against the DaiHawks ship as a whole purely because, as you said, Dabi always seems to take priority over Hawks instead of letting the two build a dynamic together. Hawks is always the one who has to give, and the torture porn some have made him go through to “make the ship work” is downright disturbing to me. Even at its height DabiHawks content completely flooded the Hawks character tags on Tumblr with some of the same problems that have persisted to this day such as emphasizing their aesthetic as opposed to their dynamic and rampant mischaracterization.

Anyway, that’s my long-winded response. What do you think, @autumn-foxfire?

[ashspn]

All of my love

*Not my gif* *Major character death*

Dean was pissed. Which when was Dean not pissed. This time he had a good reason. This was the first time that he could have everything he ever wanted, and he got it. He got the love of his life, the beautiful home, the dog, and two kids. The apple pie life. Sam was happy and healthy being with Eileen and becoming the leader of the North American hunters. Dean often told Sam that this was what he was meant to be. He was a natural-born leader. Sam would often call begging for him to come back to the team. Sam loved to try to seduce him with the monster of the week, but he always says no. After his brush with death, even though he had experienced that feeling way too many times and never felt anything of it, that last time felt different for him. It felt real until the paramedics showed up and pumped him with so much medicine and fluids that he didn’t even ask what was in most of the needles. To tell you the truth that time he might have actually felt ready to go. Life at that point in time wasn’t great with Cas gone, Jack being God and Sam had Eileen. He was feeling hopeless. All he knew was he was thankful that Sam told him to shut up about letting him go and called 911. When he woke up in his bed after hours of surgery, he expected life to be the same. It wasn’t because he had gorgeous blue eyes staring back at him and holding his hands waiting for him to wake up.

“Dean!” Cas jumped up to run and grab the rest of the family, but Dean squeezed his hand for him to stay. Cas stopped looking down at the unbreakable man. He hated seeing him looking like this because it reminded him of a time that seemed like a lifetime ago when Dean was forced to take on Alistair all because he asked him to. Cas looked back at the door knowing Sam would want to know right away but then he looked down at Dean and saw the haunting in his eyes. Cas sat back down allowing Dean a moment to collect his thoughts before he dragged everyone in.

5 years prior

“Cas.” Dean whispered. His voice was hoarse, and his throat was so dry. Everything hurt but more importantly his back where the nail shoved right through.

“Cas, how are you even here man? I saw you get taken. Jack said it wasn’t possible to bring you back.” Cas smiled down at him. Dean scrunched up his face knowing something was different. Something was off about Cas.

“We found a loophole. No more grace means I’m human and humans don’t go to the empty.” Dean dropped Cas’s hand in shock. Cas was an angel. That was who he was. Dean wouldn’t have cared anyway if he had powers or not but the thought of Cas giving up who he always been was hard for Dean to wrap his head around. Dean didn’t know if he could give up being a hunter. That was who he was.

“Cas are you sure you wanted to do that. Are you okay with being a human?” Cas gave him a soft look.

“Dean, all I wanted was to be able to come home. Now I can enjoy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches again.” Dean chuckled but then winced in pain. Cas came forward wanted so badly to be able to heal him. That was one thing Cas missed about being an angel. When Jack pulled him out the first thing Jack said was Dean was hurt. Cas didn’t care about anything else. He needed to get to Dean. Jack zapped Cas into the waiting room right as they were wheeling Dean into surgery. His breathing was shallow, and he was covered in so much blood. Cas tried placing a hand on Dean to heal him, but nothing worked. Cas knew that but that meant it didn’t hurt any less. Then he was pushed aside by a doctor left alone until Sam came in.

“I’m fine,” Dean waved him off so not to worry. “Well, I’m glad you’re back buddy. Where’s Sam?”

Present-day

Dean paced the bunker library trying to process what Sam was trying to tell him. All he heard was white noise. “Sam, stop! What do you mean that my daughter and my husband are missing? This hunt was supposed to be a milk run.” Dean turned to leave to head towards the weapons room to get every weapon known to man to save his family. Sam ran after him trying to make him stop and listen to him, but Sam knew he lost Dean a long time ago when he said Claire’s GPS was disconnected and Cas’s phone wasn’t answering. Claire and Cas had gone out on a hunt against a werewolf. It was a very simple hunt that both of them had dealt with a million times. At the end of the day, Claire could have done it by herself and been home in time for dinner. Cas insisted to go with her saying he missed her and wouldn’t mind helping her with this case. He even dug his old trench coat out for his FBI uniform. All that was running through Dean’s mind was how could this happened. The nightmares were supposed to be over.

“Dean, will you just listen before you go guns a-blazing.” Dean whipped around with fire in his eyes.

“I’ve been listening Sam. It sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me! Either you come with me and help or get out of my way.” Dean began gathering every silver item they had in the weapons room not caring if he looked crazy to Sam or not.

“Dean, you haven’t been on a hunt in five years so can you please slow down so we can think about what to do.” Sam snatched the duffel bag out of Dean’s hands so that Dean would finally listen to him.

“What are you trying to say I’m not capable to deal with a werewolf. That I’m rusty just because I chose to retire. That doesn’t mean I still don’t know what I’m doing. I’m still one of the best damn hunters out there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Trust me no one could replace THE Dean Winchester besides THE Claire Winchester. So, yes, I’m worried too. I was the one that assigned Claire the case after all because I knew she could have done it. Clearly, we don’t know what we are getting ourselves into if both her and Cas are in trouble.” Dean took the duffle bag taking a deep breath. He knew Sam was right but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t scared.

“Ahhhh!” Cas blinked his eyes open at the sound of his daughter screaming out in pain. Dizziness was washing over him making it hard to concentrate where she was or where he was. The room was dark with only a flicking light bulb dangling from the ceiling. He could feel his hands and feet were bound by rope to a pole and he could see he was the only one there.

“Ahhh!” Another scream echoed throughout the house. Cas tried to pull his limbs free with no success. He could feel a nail was poking out. He rubbed his wrists up and down feeling the binds loosening with each swipe until finally, his hands were free. He ripped the bounds from his ankles, beginning to run to the door. His main priority was to find Claire and get out. He pulled his phone out dialing the only number he ever needed in the world.

The road felt long and bleak. Dean never would have said he loved life on the road, but he also didn’t hate it as much as he did now. The road was home once upon a time but now it felt like a burden. Home was the log cabin with the lake in the back. He and Castiel often found themselves on the dock fishing for hours even though Cas often asked why Dean found it relaxing to fish when he never caught anything. Dean smiled to himself missing his angel. His smile grew wider as he thought about how Claire and Jack often came to visit too. Both grown and out of the house, but Sundays were for the family after all. Dean cooking on the grill and Cas baking a pie in the kitchen while Jack and Claire fight like kids over the remote control. Dean knew that his kids' lives were never going to be normal and they never were but at least that one day of the week Claire and Jack were able to be normal people.

Dean’s thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He reached down to grab his phone out of his pocket not even bothering to look at the name.

“Dean, I’m in a house off of road spring flower. Claire is here but she’s hurt but I’m not sure where she is. Dean, I am so sorry. I was supposed to protect her.” Dean was trying to wrap his head around what was happening. Cas. Cas was okay and alive. Claire was too.

“Cas wait slow down. Tell me exactly where you are. I am driving to you now.” Cas let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Dean’s voice steadies him and made him more focused. As he kept running trying to find where his daughter was; he tried to give Dean as much detail as he could remember but most of it was foggy.

“I’m sorry Dean, everything is still scrambled. It might have been white. I don’t know.” Cas huffed.

“Buddy, it’s okay. Just stay on the line until I get there. Everything will be okay.” Dean reassured. Cas trudged forward seeing all of the horrors that were laid around him. Bloodstained the walls and flesh littered the floor. He sucked in a breath trying really hard not to get nauseous.

“Hey, how did you escape from your bounds?” Cas stopped in his tracks to face a werewolf or that was what he thought. The monster was like a large man, but his teeth were pointy like a vamps’, but his eyes shone like a werewolf. Cas pulled out a silver blade just in time to cut the monster as he swung at his head. The creature jumped back with a yelp but the spot on his arm didn’t burn like it should if he was a werewolf.

“Where’s my daughter, you assbutt?” Cas exclaimed.

“Cas, Cas what’s going on? Who’s there?” Dean shook with fear. He just got Cas back he didn’t want to think what would happen if he died and he wasn’t there to save him. “Cas, hold on and don’t do anything stupid.” All Dean could hear on the other end was fighting and a lot of grunting. It didn’t sound good. Dean pushed the car harder even though she was going as hard as she could already. Almost there he thought. Almost there.

“Cas!” Dean shouted one last time as the line went dead. “Son of a bitch!” Sam looked over at him with concern, but Dean couldn’t focus on Sam’s worrying about him, he needed to save his family.

Every hit Cas got in the monster got three times the amount. All he could hear was a distant sound of Dean’s voice which was the only thing keeping him up. His vision was blurred and knew he might have a couple of broken ribs but he kept pushing. Cas swung one more time missing completely. Then the next thing he knew he felt a fist connect to his skull and the world went black.

“Dean, slow down. You can’t save them if we are both dead.” Sam braced on for dear life as Dean whipped the car around a curve sending the tires to screech. Dean didn’t listen he kept trucking forward. All he could think was five more miles, three more miles, one more mile until he slammed his breaks to find them in front of the house. Dean jumped out running to the trunk grabbing everything he could carry that wouldn’t slow him down. Sam wasn’t too far trying to get him to slow down.

“Wait, we need a plan before we go in there and get ourselves killed or Cas and Claire.” Dean glared at him. He had a plan to kill all of those sons of a bitches and get his husband and daughter out safely. “Dean, that’s not a plan that’s suicide.”

“And they are in there hurt or dead by now because I wasn’t there to protect them and the longer, we sit out here arguing the greater the chances we have of finding them dead. Let’s go because it’s only you and me. Jack’s not answering which next time I see him I’m going to ground him.” That was what Dean had on the subject.

Dean looked around the house trying to focus himself, so he didn’t get sick. He dealt with a lot in his life but nothing would have prepared him for the gore that was in this house. He kept walking until he came upon a broken phone. Cas’s phone. He picked it up and showed Sam. Sam nodded understanding they must be close.

“Dean, go find Cas and I will look for Claire.” Dean looked down at the phone and shook his head no. Sam gave him a perplexed look of confusion. Any other day Dean would be the first one on the finding Cas team even before they were in a couple. What changed?

“Cas and I had a deal that if this ever went down. Whichever one of his was kidnapped along with Claire or Jack we would forget about the other and find them first. You go get Cas. I got Claire.” Sam nodded and understood.

“Such a pretty girl. You know you would be a nice trophy to keep with my others.” Claire breathed heavily glaring at her captive. She spat at him landing it right below his left eye. He wiped it off giving her a grim smile. “Now that isn’t very lady-like, sweetheart.”

“Well, I’m no lady and I ain’t your sweetheart either you piece of shit.” She growled. He gripped her jaw bringing her face real close. All she could smell was the rotting flesh from his last meal. She tried to turn away, but he pulled her back to face him.

“That is no way to speak to your master. Apologize or you get burned again.” She kept her mouth shut without breaking eye contact. “Fine, here you go sweetheart.” He stabbed the hot iron once again releasing a scream from her throat. The pain made her want to blackout. All she saw was the sheering pain of white behind her eyelids as he kept pressing harder.

“Hey, asshole. Get your grimy hands off of my daughter.” The creature pulled away to turn around to see the Dean Winchester. The man they told stories about to scare monster children to bed. This man was supposed to be dead. The monster lunge at Dean but didn’t get far before he shot off three rounds. He only needed one but the other two were for what he did to his daughter. Dean put the gun away and ran over to Claire. He found she was unconscious. He tried to wake her up with a couple of shakes, calling her name out.

“Come on, baby girl, wake up. Please we got to go and find your pops.” Finally, he could see her blue eyes blink open. She smiled when she realized who was there to rescue her.

“Sam is looking for him. I talked to him thirty minutes ago before he was taken again. Come on we need to get you out of here.” Claire tried to protest, wanting to stay and find her pops. Dean didn’t listen and half carried her out of the doorway towards the exit.

“Dad.” Dean pulled her close letting the tears he didn’t realize he was holding in escape down his face. She tried to hug him, but she was too weak to raise her arms.

“Dad, where’s pop?” Dean shush her and ran a hand down her hair trying to soothe her.

Sam slowly made his way down the steps towards the basement making sure to be careful not to make a sound. So far so good, but he feared that as he made his way farther down, he would find something he didn’t want. He did. He found Cas bloody and bruised; chained to the ground passed out.

“Cas get up. Dean is not going to be happy about this.” Sam leaned down to haul his brother-in-law up and tried to carry him up the steps until Cas woke up trying to swing at him.

“Get your hands off of me you monster.” Sam grabbed his hands to stop him from hurting himself even more.

“Stop, it’s me, Sam. I’m taking you home.” Cas blinked recognizing the familiar figure.

“Where’s Dean?” He asked.

“He went to find Claire. We are going to meet him at the Impala.” Cas stopped in his tracks with panic in his eyes. “Cas, what’s wrong.”

“We need to get to Dean right now.” Cas broke free from Sam’s grasp, trying to run up the steps before his legs gave out from him.

“Cas, Dean will be fine besides you can’t help him much when you can barely stand.” Cas tried to haul himself up, but Sam came over to help him instead.

“You don’t understand. These are not monsters we have ever face before shooting them doesn’t kill them, silver doesn’t hurt them, nor does holy water. I have no clue what we are facing.” Cas exclaims. Sam took hold of Cas’s arm trying to steady him once again to help him up the stairs. Sam knew that Dean who kill him if he tried to divert from the plan of saving Cas. He just worried about getting them to the car.

After a few feet of walking, Claire felt better. She wasn’t one hundred percent but at least she wasn’t on the verge of passing out again. That didn’t convince Dean though. He kept trying to steal quick glances at her to make sure she was okay.

“Dad, I’m fine. Does everything hurt yes but nothing but a little whisky and a movie night won’t heal? Please stop worrying and keep your eyes peel. These monsters are unique. They are nothing we have ever seen before. I don’t even think they are in the lore.” Dean nodded trying to focus on the mission.

“You know I will never stop worrying about you or your brother. Even if he might be God.” Claire rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Hey, I know I’ve told you this one too many times, but I wasn’t supposed to have this. I wasn’t supposed to have you two and your father be in my life. I wasn’t supposed to have a family. I was destined to die at twenty-five by the hands of a creature.” Claire smiled at him because she felt the same way. Dean pulled her in for a side hug when he pulled away, he saw the love of his life staring at him.

“Pops!” Claire exclaimed running to hug him. Cas prepared for the embrace and wrapped his arms around her not wanting to let go. His little girl was safe and didn’t look as hurt as he thought she was going to be. As he was hugging her Cas looked up to see his husband smile back at him with tears forming in his eyes. Cas smiled back slowly moving towards Dean after Claire pulled back.

“Cas,” Dean whispered taking in how badly hurt his love was. Dean swore that after this hunt he was going to convince Cas to hang it up. No more hunts, no more missions. Just living the quiet life and helping through the use of the home. Dean didn’t think he could go through this one more time, but he also said that last time they were in this situation.

“Dean.” Dean pulled Cas in for a gentle kiss leading into a hug. Cas found himself sink into the embrace wanting to rest in the warmth of Dean’s arms. Their reunion was cut short by Claire’s shout of a lookout. Dean turned around to see the monster he had killed or well he thought had killed was still up and moving with no visible wounds. What the hell he thought. He shoved Cas behind him and ready his weapon in hand. How was this bastard still alive? Dean swung his knife at him, and the thing dodged each swing.

“Dad, be careful,” Claire screamed.

“Sam! Get them out of here now.” Dean yelled trying to fight off the monster, but each attack didn’t prevail. It was like this thing was indestructible. Claire tried to push forward but Cas caught her in his arms pulling her back.

“No, we are not leaving without you,” Claire exclaimed. Dean turned to smile at her.

“Go baby girl. I will be right behind you.” Then the world stood still. Dean looked down to see the blade go right through his chest and be pulled out. Dean looked up at his family as he fell to his knees.

“Nooo!” Claire screamed running to him kneeling down to pull him into her arms.

“Dean!” Sam and Cas shouted. Sam pulled out his machete and cut the creature's head clean off. Cas stood in place not able to process what just happen. Claire sobbed in his chest and he shushed her trying to soothe her till his final breath.

“No, no. You can’t die. Not yet. Dad, I love you too much. Please don’t leave me” Claire cried. Dean rubbed a hand down her hair.

“Shhh. It’s okay. Claire, it’s okay sweetheart.” Dean whispered.

“It’s not fair. I can’t lose you too.” Cas came behind her rubbing her back as he looked down at the man that couldn’t die.

“I know, darling. You made my life better. You all made me so happy. Tell your brother I love him.” Dean’s breath hitch and his hand that was in Claire’s hair fell to his side. The great Dean Winchester was dead.

Claire sobbed screaming, begging for him to hold on. “Jack! Where are you? Jack!”

Sam held Claire as Cas mustered the strength to wrap Dean’s body in cloth. Sam volunteered to do it, but Cas said he needed to. He needed to say his goodbyes alone. Sam understood because Dean said the same thing when they burned Cas so many years ago. As they waited outside, they saw a figure come towards them.

“Jack?” Jack came towards them looking off. Claire and Sam couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong, but they could tell something was up. “Jack, we have been praying for you. Where have you been?” Claire hissed not able to raise her voice from a whisper.

“I’m sorry angel radio is turned off. I had no way to communicate with anybody. They had me locked away.” Jack said.

“Who had you locked away? What happened Jack?” Sam asked. Jack took a deep breath without a pause to look around to notice his fathers were missing.

“The angels. They have begun to rebel. They don’t like that I have chosen to take a hands-off approach. They believe I should step into people's lives but I have no desire to. Where are my fathers?” Sam and Claire gave him a sad look. “What? What’s wrong?” Claire came towards him trying to break the news as gently as she could.

“Dad’s dead,” Claire said. Jack gave her a perplexed look out of disbelief. His dad was dead. He knew death wasn’t final for them. He could go see Dean in heaven, but it wasn’t the same. No more Sunday night dinners with all of them at the cabin. Dean wouldn’t be able to take him fishing down at their lake. Everything in heaven was very artificial and with what was going on in heaven he didn’t know how much longer heaven would stand.

“I wasn’t here to save him. I’m so sorry. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Claire pulled him into a hug as he kept repeating that he didn’t get to say goodbye.

Cas stared at the lifeless body that once held the spirit of the man that could have put the fear into any man, monster, or creature. That could have put a smile on anyone’s face with his child-like wonder. The man that had finally defeated all of his demons. The man that was supposed to live the rest of his life easy and happy till he was old and gray. The man that fell in love with a fallen angel and made that angel feel loved for being who he was.

Cas pulled the sheet over Dean’s face. Most days he would blink back the tears but today he let each one fall slowly. He gentle tied each rope around his beloved's body taking his time, not ready to say goodbye.

“Dean Winchester.” Cas closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “The man, the myth, the legend. I love you.” Cas tied the last knot and went out to grab Sam to help him carry his husband’s body to the pyre. As they carried him, he could see his children console each other. Claire holding Jack as they both wept watching their father’s body being placed on top. A signal of a final goodbye. Cas walked over to them wrapping them both into his arms as they watch the whole thing go up in flames. Cas held his children tight knowing they had a lot to figure out. Like what the hell was going on with Jack, where did those monsters come from, and to process the thought for the first time Dean was actually gone with no way back.