#Sorry this took so long to answer i will see an ask ans intend to answer it and then just forget for a week

[amphibianaday]

do you have a main blog?

i do but i barely use it (i think the last post there was 2 years ago now....) it's @breadcipher i used to post art there but nowadays i'm busy with work and other hobbies, so i'm happy just drawing my daily frogs (plus when i feel like drawing something non-amphibian i can just throw in a frog and bam! it's the amphibian for that day)

[gettinshiggywithit]

alexandrasmatchups asked:

Here's my prompt: Hange comforting reader who's brokenheart, lonely and all (platonic is okay ofc, I specified broken heart because I am, but not currently looking for a relationship)

moonshineandclearskies answered:

Hi nym thank you for my first ever prompt on tumblr!

Pairing:-NymXPlatonic!Hange Zöe

Trigger warnings?:- talks of death

ps. this is also an older piece!

The sun was setting on another day and the scouting regiment was back from yet another expedition.

As usual many new recruits were injured ans many more were lost,adding to the long list if names of those who had already given their lives in the name of freedom.

But one particular young scout seemed to be more shaken up than most,her name was Nym and she was clearly taking that day’s loses harder than most.

She sat down to take off her odm gear and rest for the day when section commander hange zöe plopped down beside her.

“Hey there cadet!how are ya doin?”commander zöe asked in a voice that Nym felt was too cheery for that evening.or rather too cheery for someone in the survey corps all together.

Nym looked up at her superior and didnt fail to notice the sadness that lay deep within the commanders eyes.

“Commander hange,”she replied,”im alright.thank you for asking”she said with an awkward half smile.

At this hange removed their goggles and placed them on the top of their head before looking the young scout in her eyes and continuing.

“You sure cadet?You looked a little rough out there,careless even.”they said in a caring yet motherly tone.

Nym sighed.

“It’s nothing commander,I’m fine I promise”

Hange’s gaze turned serious.

“Nothing doesn’t make one of my best scouts act like a careless newbie,Nym”

Nym eyed the ground nervously,she weighed her options,should she tell her superior what was bothering her and risk being seen as weak or should she tell them anyway and get it off her chest?

After a second she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Why do the titans exist?why are they alive and why do they keep killing us?when will it end?when will we truly win?we lose so many scouts everyday and I’m so sick of it.sick of seeing my comrades,my friends die at the hands of those monsters!”she rambled on.

But Hange heard and understood every single word.Never had they ever felt more in tune with one of their cadets,for every single thing that Nym had just said,they had thought to themselves numerous times before.

“Ive lost so many friends,and it breaks my heart,they believed in something greater,something more than life within these walls,and their hopes were rewarded with nothing but death.i feel so...so alone Hange.and im just.so.tired of it.”Nym finished.

At this Hange wrapped their arms around her and enveloped her in the biggest,warmest most comforting hug Nym had experienced in a while.and this made her sob silently.

“I’m sorry Nym,I’m sorry you had to go through that and I’m mostly sorry about the fact that i cant guarantee that it wont happen again.but no matter what,i promise to protect you to the best of my abilities.i cant promise you that you wont have to watch death taking your comrades away but i promise to keep you safe from his grasp.Nym i swear with all my heart that i will do anything in my power to keep you safe,and thats a promise i intend to honour until my dying breath”they said while stroking their young friend’s hair in an attempt to calm and console her.

Nym looked up at them and smiled a smile which was filled with gratitude respect and adoration for her superior.

Hange seeing this gave her one last kiss on the forehead and helped Nym in talking off her ODM gear.

Once they were done,hange placed their goggles back on their eyes and wrapped and arm around their young companion’s shoulders.

“ now come on cadet,lets get you all cleaned up,its almost dinner time”

“Thank you hange,it really means a lot.” Said nym.

“ always,and anytime dear.ill be here for you no matter what”replied the commander. And with that they walked off to get ready for supper.

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the mha characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but these stories? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Comments & Reblogs w/ tags >>>>>>>>>>>likes please

[dinosaurtsukki]

❀ facets | “i don’t want you to see me like this” feat. chuuya nakahara

⇢ day 4 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: you and chuuya both have sides to yourselves that you don’t want the other to see and unfortunately, the mafia brings out the worst in everyone

⇢ a/n: so here’s the chuuya angst you guys have been waiting for !! i,,, really hope that it was worth the wait i guess cause i know some of you were excited but if it’s not apologies in advance ;-;

⇢ pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader

⇢ word count: 2.7k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

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it was difficult to be in the mafia without spilling blood. after all, it was what the job entailed. just like everyone who joined the port mafia, you had been accepted because of your skill in eliminating targets. you always did so quickly and oftentimes mercilessly. more than a few times, mori himself had gave you solo missions to specifically assassinate unneeded targets.

and yet, you hated having to kill. you hated that from a young age, it was the only way you ever knew when it came to surviving the world you lived in. after being orphaned, you were immediately taken in by a criminal syndicate and trained to be an assassin before eventually joining the port mafia. as much as you tried to outrun this, you gave in and grew apathetic to your job requirements. ‘just do it as quick as possible, forget, and then move on,’ you told yourself during every job. 

that was until you had met chuuya nakahara.

well, it’s not like you had met him for the first time there at a local bar. everyone in the port mafia knew about the young, mafia executive with the powerful gravity manipulation ability. in fact, you had worked under him on a few assignments. despite the reputation about his temper, you found him to be quite level-headed when it came to leading your group and making difficult decisions on the spot. there was a side to chuuya that was a bit caring too and he always checked on everyone after a mission. sometimes, you’d even watch him remove his hat in respect when a fallen mafioso was reported.

“nakahara-san,” you were about to get up and bow when he waved a hand, signaling not to.

“you don’t need to do that. we’re not at work,” he scoffed, sitting on the bar stool next to you. “this is my first time here. recommend anything good?”

you were surprised at his casual-ness, especially since he was technically your boss too, but you answered his question nonetheless. “well, they always have really good whiskey.”

“can’t go wrong with that then,” chuuya said, requesting the drink from the bartender. “so, you’re l/n, right?” 

“you... remember my name?” you blinked in surprise. 

“i mean, you have worked for me. what kind of a boss would i be if i didn’t even know your name?” chuuya raised an eyebrow at you before sipping from his drink.

“makes sense,” you shrugged. “it’s just that you happen to be the first.”

“you’re also the one koyou ane-san spoke highly of,” chuuya added. “although, i heard you turned down her offer of a promotion.”

“i’m not really in great need of money,” you reasoned. “and besides, it’s pretty much the same job content anyway but i’d have to do more things.”

“well, the doing more things part you got right,” he chuckled, downing his glass before ordering a refill. “although, i get the feeling you have another reason for turning down that promotion.” chuuya looked at you expectantly and you felt as though you’ve underestimated his intuition just a bit. you looked down at your half-empty glass and sighed.

“i don’t really like being in the mafia. i’m good at my job but, i don’t care much for it, nor do i think i’m particularly good at anything else. in the end, i just feel like i’m being used?” you shook your head and laughed. “sorry, i know that sounds terribly pathetic.” 

“if you don’t like something, can you really help it?” chuuya pointed out.

“i thought you didn’t like people who chickened out?” you dared to tease him.

“that’s not the same as chickening out,” chuuya wagged a finger. “because you still do what’s being asked of you.”

“fair enough.”

“i don’t know if this helps but, you’re pretty good at tying bandages too,” he said, puzzling you slightly. “one of the doctors at the infirmary told me that tomura-san wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stopped the bleeding quickly.” chuuya downed his second glass of whiskey before placing it on the counter and paying for his drinks. “just some food for thought,” he added, before getting off the bar stool and leaving you alone.

...

whether or not chuuya had intended it, his comment did get you thinking quite a bit. you did have good knowledge of the human body, thanks to your assassin training that taught you which were the best points of the human body to strike. the port mafia boss himself was also a doctor, so who’s to say that killing people and saving lives were separate forms of knowledge.

slowly, you began to pick up on chuuya’s way of reinforcing that idea he had initially planted. when you were put in missions with him, he’d often order you to help patch up the wounded, even encouraging you to take your ‘patients’ to the infirmary. there, you’d intently watch the nurses and paramedics do their valuable work. at times, you wondered if you were really of use because you were no longer in the front lines but chuuya reassured you that what you were doing was more than enough.

finally, you decided to file in a request to transfer to the medical department. it took quite a long time for it to be processed, since you knew that you were still valuable to the organization as an assassin, but you managed to convince the higher-ups of being able to work as an on-site paramedic who could also defend themselves in the front lines.

after being accepted, you went to your usual bar for a celebratory drink. it didn’t come as a surprise anymore to see chuuya already there, waiting for you.

...

aside from holding up his reputation of being a powerful member of the port mafia, chuuya also wanted it to be known that he was a leader his subordinates could trust. ‘what’s the point of mistreating them if you know they’re ready to lay down their lives to follow your orders?’ chuuya would always reason. he wasn’t one to dote, but when he knew someone wasn’t exactly working at their very best, chuuya took it quite seriously.

you had already caught his eye the first time you worked with him on a job. there was nothing to complain about when it came to your skill. in fact, chuuya was particularly impressed with how cleanly and efficiently you eliminated your targets. it’s just that the expression on your face, one of boredom, caught his attention just as much. it almost reminded him of his own. sure, chuuya loved fighting and the adrenaline rush he got from it was like nothing else. but at one point, he had grown tired with knowing that he would win anyway no matter what. it was why he decided to put on his gloves and refrain from using his fists. 

at first, chuuya was mainly concerned with what was bothering you so he took a page out of dazai’s book -- which wasn’t something he wanted to particularly confess to -- and decided to coerce you a bit into doing something that would interest you. it wasn’t fully manipulative though, because chuuya genuinely knew you were quite good at the new skill you picked up and he could see you enjoyed that more. 

then, he noticed that there was an inarguable gentleness to you. chuuya happened to read your file out of curiosity and learned about your past being trained as a young assassin. he felt a bit sorry that a different life was robbed from you and was therefore even more motivated to help steer you down the path you wanted more.

chuuya was genuinely happy that you had joined the medical department but he did find that he was seeing you less and less. you joined a few more missions as a frontline paramedic but spent most of your time in the infirmary. it was only after it hit him that he was missing you that chuuya began to realize maybe there was something else underlying his intentions.

he didn’t like chickening out of anything but that also meant he shouldn’t chicken out with facing his feelings. chuuya couldn’t come see you at the infirmary because he never got injuries. instead, he decided to meet you again at your favorite bar, the place where he first met you for real. 

this time, he came with a confession. and so did you.

...

the first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the ringing in your ears and the dust that had seeped into your lungs. you blinked that same dust from your eyes before sitting up in a panic when you realized what had just happened. according to the higher-ups, the port mafia was going to be engaging with a very powerful enemy organization and you and your fellow paramedics and nurses in the infirmary were expected to be working all through the next few days. you were prepared as the bodies came flooding in and you just hoped and prayed that the fight would be over.

you had just finished stitching a particularly ugly gash when you heard an explosion from within the infirmary. and then, the screaming, and then, it occurred to you that the enemy had done the unthinkable.

there was rubble all around you and you struggled to get out but thankfully, you were still in one piece. but as you looked around what used to be an operating room, you realized the extent and gravity of the damage dealt. the enemy had just bombed a hospital. it wasn’t just port mafia members they were treating there but yokohama residents who had unfortunately been caught in the crossfire. sure, you were part of a mafia and used to be an assassin and you did kill people. but there was no dignity in bombing a hospital. 

rage flooded you as you walked around the ruins, your eyes picking up the ugly sights of what was left of the survivors and those who were terribly unlucky. and above all else, there was a terrible sadness. if you were in the frontlines, would you have prevented this?

...

chuuya’s blood ran cold when he heard the news about the infirmary being bombed by the enemy, enough to bring him to use his fist to finish off an enemy before sprinting over to where he had heard the explosions. the enemy had dealt a low blow and chuuya wanted nothing more than to finish everyone off. along with that anger came a feeling of fear that almost blinded him as he sprinted off to where the explosions came from. you were working in that hospital. if anything had happened to you, there’s no telling what chuuya would do in his anger.

only, he quickly realized that you weren’t in danger. meters away from the hospital, still dressed in your lab coat, chuuya found you with a scalpel in each hand, killing enemy attackers. only, you weren’t just killing them. chuuya could only assume it was rage that consumed you as you straddled an enemy’s corpse, driving your scalpel repeatedly into his face. 

“y/n!” he cried, grabbing onto your wrist before you could bring it down. slowly, you turned to look up at your lover. the rage in your eyes quickly turned into fear as you looked down and saw what you had done.

“i... i’m...” 

“that’s enough, y/n,” you heard chuuya say softly behind you. you dropped the scalpel and looked down at your shaking hands.

“maybe i could have stopped it,” you said shakily. “i should have been on the frontlines. i just want to help people and even now, i couldn’t even do that.” chuuya watched as you covered your face in your hands.

“what am i even good for?”

he knelt down in front of you and pulled your hands away from your face. you turned away from him.

“i don’t want you to see me like this.”

“nothing can change what i think about you,” chuuya said seriously, turning your chin to look at him. with a deft hand, he removed his gloves and slipped them over yours. “all i know is, nobody is born with hands that are meant to kill.” 

you looked down at your now-gloved hands and then up at your lover. he smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be heading out now. do what you do best, okay y/n?”

you returned his smile and nodded with renewed determination. “alright.” 

...

you’ve always known about chuuya’s powerful ability and prowess in martial arts, but it was only after you got together with him that you learned about your boyfriend being the arahabaki. at first, you thought it was pretty cool, until you saw the pained expression on chuuya’s face as he talked about how he never really knew why he ended up connected to the arahabaki in the first place. because of his memory loss at a young age and with his terribly powerful special ability, chuuya often felt that he was inhuman.

‘maybe... that’s why he chose to help me,’ you thought, as you watched the vulnerable expression on his face that he only showed around you. 

that said, you’ve only heard about the sheer destructive ability of Corruption but because chuuya only used it in the most dire of times, you’ve never really see it for yourself. that is, until now.

you could tell that chuuya was no longer himself with the markings that covered what was visible on his skin and a grin that stretched across his face. he only activated Corruption when he knew dazai was there to stop him but it just so happened that right now, he was out of reach: floating in the sky while hurling gravity bullets around him.

“y/n,” dazai called out to you. he was heavily injured but somehow still standing. “you’ll get hurt if you stay here!”

“i need to help him!” 

with a loud explosion, chuuya dropped back down to the ground, causing the earth to cave in a circle around him. he turned with his sights set on you.

“chuuya,” you backed away slowly, terrified by his empty gaze. “it’s me, y/n! you can snap out of this!” you pleaded.

“y/n!” you heard dazai yell again. he was running towards chuuya from the other side of the forest clearing. “get out of here, he--”

you couldn’t hear the rest of what he said because with a wave of his arm, chuuya sent you flying backwards until you hit a tree before crumpling down to the ground. you felt your eyes fall shut just as dazai sprinted the last few meters to touch the back of chuuya’s hand.

with his ability nullified, chuuya fell to his knees. his body was wracked with pain from having used Corruption longer than he knew he should have. he felt dazai fall to the ground behind him and turned to find that he had promptly passed out, most likely because of the blood loss from his injuries. ‘so that’s why he couldn’t stop me quicker,’ chuuya thought. it was only after he scanned the ruined area around him that he found your crumpled form lying under a tree.

it couldn’t be.

“y/n!” he cried, hauling himself to his feet despite the roaring pain in his body. he hobbled over as quickly as he could over to you before lifting you in his arms. “y/n?” chuuya called your name again. with a groan, you stirred back into consciousness.

“you’re... back,” you smiled up at him. 

“fuck, i’m so sorry. i did this to you, didn’t i?” chuuya shook his head, feeling his hands tremble as he saw your injuries. “i’m so sorry.”

“you weren’t yourself.”

“i could have stopped myself, somehow!” he exclaimed. “i shouldn’t have let you come along on this mission. i shouldn’t have used Corruption.”

“chuuya--”

“i don’t want you to see me like this,” he hung his head. despite all his strength and connection to the arahabaki, chuuya was still human. and you didn’t care if you had to spend every day reminding him of that. 

“you’re human, chuuya,” you said softly, lifting your hand to his face and turning it to look at you. no one else would be able to see the sheer emotional vulnerability on chuuya’s face as you said those words. only you could make him feel this way. “i wouldn’t be what i am now if it weren’t for you.”

“are you really sure you want this... that you want... me?” chuuya asked. you smiled, sitting up to brush your lips against his.

“i’m sure.” 

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[betweensceneswriter]

The Madame, Part 6: La Rousse (The Redhead)

Previously:  Part 5: The Smugglers

The channel crossing to France brings nausea and memories…

The Madame: Table of Contents

Book 2 of Second Wife.  Jamie has left Laoghaire to find work in Edinburgh with Fergus.  Multi-viewpoint.  Lots of Claire memories.

Book 1–Second Wife

Mme Jeanne,

   Bonjour from your homeland.  We return a fortnight hence, bringing many lovely Guests with us.  We hope you will have Quarters for our Visitors, about thirty in all--five of Whom are to stay with you permanently, and the others to find Homes of their own.  We expect to reach your Establishment on the evening of the sixth and after a long Journey the Ladies will be weary.  We are hoping that you can have several discreet Gentlemen meet us to help us Escort them to their lodgings quickly.

    Now that you are prepared for those Guests, I beg that you may Prepare a room in the Garret for an additional Member of our party.  Elle n'a que onze ans--she is but eleven years of age, and is not to join your Jeune fille.  I simply need lodgings for her for the one Night, and then I intend to Travel on to the North to reunite her with her Family.  

Mr. Malcolm

He shouldn't have gone there. La Hopital de Angles’ brought up too many painful memories.

But it was right next to the chapel and the little graveyard where Faith was buried, and Jamie wanted to visit her… for Claire’s sake, certainly, but also for his own heart.

He was alone, as he had left Lesley, Hayes, and Fergus at Cousin Jared’s home.  

Jared was in his mid-seventies now--gray-haired and shrunken--and still a shrewd businessman. Despite Jamie’s letter requesting a kind bargain, it had taken quite some haggling to bring Jared down to a price at which they might actually turn a profit. Having finally agreed, though, now he only needed to secure the ship for their return voyage. The men had asked for the afternoon off, and he had consented, knowing he had solo plans of his own.

As he entered the cemetery, he took a deep breath.  

He felt guilty in Paris. Before Claire, guilt wasn't an emotion he much bothered himself with.  Growing up, he had always gone to confession with a spring in his step and a half-smile on his face.  On long travels as young men he and Ian had often amused themselves by debating which of the sins was most severe --which would keep them out of God’s favor or make the Blessed Virgin turn her back on them. 

Impure thoughts and self abuse were only venial sins--they would weaken the soul, but not kill the grace within.  Fornication, however, was a mortal sin--and that had been enough to keep Jamie from visiting the brothels like the other mercenaries did when they were fighting in France. 

Depending on the circumstances, killing another man could be a mortal sin.  But killing was a necessary evil at times in order for a man to protect his family.

A man might feel defending his honor was worth that necessary evil, Jamie thought with a shudder, but he must count the cost before allowing his pride to determine his actions. 

It was precisely that consideration that brought him such guilt in Paris. He had not counted the cost all those years ago when he had challenged Jack Randall to a duel even over Claire’s desperate objections.   To protect his own honor he had broken his wife’s heart--in essence murdering his first born--and then kept himself locked away while a bereft Claire had needed him after Faith was delivered stillborn.  

Jamie looked around the graveyard. Why had he come here? He could never recite enough Our Fathers and Hail Marys to assuage himself of this guilt. Nevertheless, he had come.

With one more sigh, Jamie stepped through the gate and walked toward his own broken heart.

Some of the grave markers were grand sarcophagi, white marble carved into the form of bowing angels, the Virgin Mother, or a patron Saint.  However, the grave marker he sought was humble, flat to the earth, hidden toward the rear near a copse of trees.

Jamie sat down when he reached Faith's gravestone.  He traced the name with his finger.

“Wee Faith,” he murmured aloud. ”I have thought about ye much since yer ma and I left France…”

He took a deep breath, gazing across the grassy expanse as if he could see through time.  “She said your hair… was a red halo... about your wee face.” With a hiccup of a laugh, Jamie shook his head sorrowfully, a smile playing about his lips. “For that I'm sorry,” he said seriously, patting the marble reassuringly, “No wee lassie should be saddled with orange hair.” He sighed, looking down at the stone, again running a finger gently over the carved letters. “I wish you had had dark curly hair, like your ma.  She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.” He furrowed his forehead. “Dinna fash yerself, though. My step daughter Joanie has red hair, and she is precious to me despite it.”

He shook his head.  He wasn't doing this very well.

“I came here, Faith,” he finally choked out, “to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my stubbornness, for my pride. I have done my penance, truly I have.  For I sent your ma and wee baby brother away through the stones to keep them safe.  It broke my heart, but I did it. I learned my lesson too late to spare you, but I spared them the pain of the years after the Rising.  I even kept myself hidden away at Lallybroch to keep the rest of my family safe. For seven years, mind. Seven years alone. Seven years to be sorry for it all.”

Jamie closed his eyes, for a moment feeling the devastating desolation of those years—all the years he spent in silence—so much time to rehearse in his mind what he would have done differently had he been able to do it all again. 

“Since you, wee lassie, I have not spared myself at the expense of another.  I turned myself in and went to Ardsmuir to keep yer Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian and their wee bairnies safe. And I stayed at Helwater as long as I could to watch over... your brother Willie.”

Jamie cleared his throat, taking a ragged breath.

“Will you forgive me, lass, for not protecting you? I didna put you and… Claire… above myself, and that was a terrible mistake.”

As if in answer to his question, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearest tree, making them dance in a way that drew Jamie's eyes upward.

It was at that exact moment that Jamie saw the flash of red.

He shook his head and looked down, certain the tears in his eyes were playing tricks on him.

But when he looked up again, the red hair was still there.

A small girl, thin as a wraith, was picking her way through the graveyard.  She was dressed in ragged gray clothing which made the nosegay in her hand and her fiery hair stand out even more vividly.

She did not see him. He wondered for a moment if she was a spirit.  He believed in the afterlife, and Claire had appeared to him often enough.  But he had never seen…

“Faith…” He breathed in a whisper.

But then he noticed that her eyes were focused on a plot of freshly turned earth some yards to the north of him. He could almost see her tremble--from cold or sorrow, he didn't know.

“Maman,” the child whispered, falling to her knees, laying the bouquet gently down.  

Her red curls spilled over her shoulders, obscuring her face.  She wasn't the correct age, but he had to know.  He stood slowly, so as not to frighten her.

“Petite fille,” he said quietly, “comment tu t'appelles?”  She looked up at him, her eyes swimming.

“What did ye say?” she asked. Her accent was Scots.

“What is your name, child?” He asked again.

She spoke so quietly that he couldn't hear her well.

“Martha?” He asked.

“No,” she said, clearer now.  “Maitha.”

He reached a hand toward her, and she shrunk back as if afraid.

“Keep yer hands from me,” she said firmly. “I amna starving.  I am no’ for sale.” Her voice quavered despite the brave jut of her chin.

“Your parents called you Maitha?” he asked again.  “Aye,” she agreed.  “I dinna ken who my da is. But my Gran--she's from Aberfeldy.  And she wrote and told me ma to name me Maitheanas.” She lifted her chin proudly. “And when I'm old enough and have enough money I shall travel to be wi’ my family in Scotland.”

“Maitheanas?” Jamie repeated.  He felt a tremble deep in his gut at the word. “Do ye ken, child, what maitheanas means in the Gàidhlig?” 

“Of course,” the little lass said, a hint of pride lifting her chin. “Me mam loved to tell that story.  For it meant a lot to her, coming from me Gran after she had run away from home wi’ me da.”  

She was leaving now, confidently tossing the information over her shoulder.  “Of course I ken what me own name means. Maitheanas means... forgiven.” 

[honeybee-babe]

Spacey (Sick!Luther and Caring!Five Twin Fluff!!!!)

@laimerrylin Hey babe, here’s “I’m kinda lonely” from the dialogue prompts. I guess I’m not physically capable of writing short fics.

Five wasn’t surprised when Luther  rejected Allison’s offer to go out  for drinks with the family on this fine Saturday night. As much as Luther had been opening up to  his siblings lately, it was clear to Five that his twin was just an introvert at heart. It wasn’t abnormal for him to spend whole days alone in his room. He claimed he was doing important research (“The moon isn’t going to come up with a new method of dating craters itself!”). Whether or not that was true, Five understood the need to be alone. Aside from Dolores, he also preferred to be alone a lot of the time. Maybe it was the apocalypse, but he needed to be alone to recharge sometimes, especially dealing with a family as crazy as theirs.

Five had actually wanted to go out with his siblings tonight, though, and not just because they were drinking. He too was getting more used to being around them. Unfortunately, there was no way he was getting into a bar for another six years.

So he settled on making margaritas for himself and Dolores instead. And when Luther rejected his offer to join them, too, he thought nothing of it. Walked right on by his door and into his room and didn’t bother him again for another two hours.

By then, it was 9pm, and Five was seriously craving some nachos. Blame drunk cravings, blame puberty 2.0, blame Dolores screaming at him to eat something. He hadn’t eaten dinner, and he knew for a fact that Luther hadn’t either; he hadn’t come out of his room in 8 hours, his “research” must be pretty time-consuming. And blame his bitterness at not being able to go out tonight, but he kinda wanted some company. Animate company, that could help cook and eat his nachos with him.

So Five poofed himself right in front of Luther’s door. But he stopped himself before he could knock when he heard a muffled, squeaky sound from inside. He thought nothing of it. Until it happened again. And again, and again, and again.

When he poofed inside the room, he wasn’t surprised to see Luther hunched over his desk, with one of Reginald’s old handkerchiefs held up to his face. He had what had to be hundreds of pages full of notes scattered in front of him. So he wasn’t bluffing about the research.

It was all starting to click for Five now. Come to think of it, even for an introvert, staying inside to do research instead of going out on a Saturday was a bit extreme. And eight hours alone in your room is a lot. Five knew by now that his newly illness-prone brother holed himself up in his room when he was sick. Shit, he should have realized.

“Gesundheit,” he finally spoke up after a few moments. He tried not to roll his eyes at the way Luther startled, nearly jumping out of his seat, and turned to look at him over his handkerchief.

“Five!” Luther shot him an annoyed look, which looked ridiculous beneath his thick-rimmed reading glasses, and hastily put the handkerchief in his lap as he turned back around to his research. “What are you doing in here? Go back to your room.” Congested and hoarse, unsurprisingly.

“You’re sick.” Five teleported over to his side. “Have you taken anything?”

Luther shrugged, picking up a piece of paper and focusing his eyes on it. “It’s just a cold.”

“What are your symptoms?”

Luther rolled his eyes, still avoiding Five’s. “It’s just a bit of sneezing, okay? I’m fine.”

“You sound -and look- like you got hit by a bus. How long have you been feeling shitty?”

“I’m fine!” Luther snapped. “Really, it’s just the -heh- sneezing.” He immediately brought the handkerchief back up to his face and pinched it over his nose, jolting forward with a powerful, stifled double. “See?” He chuckled.

Five was not similarly amused. “And how long has the sneezing been going on?” Luther didn’t answer, just rubbed the handkerchief along the underside of his nose. “How long, Luther?” Five repeated in a more commanding tone.

“Since this morning,” Luther grumbled.

“You’ve been sick all day and you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“It’s just a cold!” Luther defended, punctuating the sentence with a string of coughs.

“We’ll see about that.”

Luther went to protest, but then and then instead he lifted the handkerchief back up to his face with a hitching breath.

In the time it took him to stifle three doubles into the cloth, Five poofed out of the room, and then back again, thermometer in hand.

“Open up.” Luther kept the handkerchief pressed to his face.

“Five, it’s just a little cold, I’m fine--”

“When is it ever just a little cold with you? Now open up.”

“I don’t want you to get sick-”

“Open. Your damn. Mouth.”

Luther sighed in defeat, reluctantly opening his mouth. Five wasted no time in inserting the thermometer. And when it beeped, he grabbed it out of Luther’s mouth before his brother could raise a gloved hand halfway up to his face to remove it himself.

When Five saw the reading on the screen, he immediately clenched his jaw tight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snapped, tone way harsher than he intended. “Look at this!” He held the device, which read 102.3 degrees, up to Luther’s face. Luther just turned his head away. “This is why we can’t trust you to take care of yourself, Luther!”

Five shook the thermometer as he spoke, but Luther still didn’t read it. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, lips quivering. “I’m sorry, okay?” Five bit down on his lip, instantly realizing his mistake. Luther always got more sensitive when he was sick.

“No, don’t be sorry.” Five set the thermometer down on the desk. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But you really need to tell us when you’re not feeling well, you know how bad you can get. You don’t want another repeat of last time, do you?”

Luther just shrugged in response. Five reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but Luther flinched away, swivelling his desk chair in the opposite direction. Five watched from behind as Luther’s big shoulders hunched forward, accompanied by the sound of his sniffling. Then he took his his glasses off and put his hands over his face.

“Shit.” Five’s face fell, losing any of its remaining edge. Despite his worry, he put on an air of calm gentleness. He knew that was what Luther needed right now. “Don’t cry, Spacey,” he soothed, finally putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He used the tone of voice and gentle touch he reserved for when his twin was in need. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Just worried.”

Luther shrugged again and continued to sniffle behind his hands. Five moved his hand down to gently rub at his back, which seemed to soothe him a bit. The sniffling died down after a few moments of this. Five couldn’t see, but he could tell it had been just a few stray tears, never reaching the point of full-on crying.

When Luther was finally done crying, Five wordlessly handed him some tissues from the desk. By now, he was unfazed by the crying. He knew that typically happened when Luther’s fever passed 102. It wasn’t the crying that concerned Five. It was the fever itself.

He waited until Luther had wiped his eyes, jolted forward into the tissues with six squeaky stifles, and blown his nose to oblivion before he spoke up again.

“You really only started feeling bad this morning?” he asked softly, brows furrowing when Luther just nodded in response.

Five sighed. “That’s really not good. It came on way too suddenly.” He poofed his brother to get a look at his face, which was flushed and tear-stained. “Jesus, Lu, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Luther shrugged and rubbed at his nose with the tissues, which were shot. “Didn’t want to ruin everyone’s night,” he mumbled. “Looks like I ruined your night anyway.”

Five handed him some new tissues and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you really ruined my night. Cause I was having so much fun with Delores.”

Luther actually chuckled a bit at that. And even though it was at his expense, and even though Luher winced and grabbed his throat afer, Five was happy to see him finally in a good mood.

“How ya really feeling, bud?” he asked, figuring the tension had dissipated. “I know you weren’t telling the truth, earlier.”

Luther sniffled and sighed in defeat. “Shitty.”

“I can see that.... I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

“Wait, Five, don’t--”

Five poofed away, anyway. Ane when he came back five minutes later with tea and medicine, Luther was sitting up in bed with a blanket on his shoulders and a clean handkerchief pressed to his face, muffling a series of powerful sneezes into the unoffending fabric. It wasn’t going to be clean for long. He was so caught up in the fit, he again didn’t even notice Five’s entrance.

When it was finally over, he dropped the handkerchief lamely onto his lap and just sat there sniffling congestedly for a few moments, blinking wearily at nothing. Fits like these always took a lot out of him, and the fever definitely wasn’t helping.

“Hey, Spacey.” Luther barely even reacted to Five startling him this time, just held up his hand in a lazy wave as his brother set everything down on his nightstand. He put the mug of tea in his brother’s gloved hands. “Here, take this.”

“Thanks, Five,” Luther rasped, and took a grateful sip.

He put up no argument when Five gave him all of the medicine, only breaking away from him occasionally to sneeze.

“Okay,” Five said once he’d pulled the blankets up to his brother’s chin. Luther immediately brought the blankets up to cover his face. “Is there anything else you need?” Luther mumbled something incoherent under the blankets. “What was that?”

Luther finally resurfaced, hair messy and eyes half-closed. “I’m kinda lonely,” he mumbled, then immediately put his head back under the blankets.

Five rolled his eyes. “Well no wonder, you’ve been alone all day.” Luther poked his head out from under the blankets again.

“But now I feel lonely.” As pathetic as Luther looked, Five knew it was a good sign that his brother was comfortable enough around him to say that. Months ago, he would have never admitted that.

“Me, too,” Five admitted himself after a moment. “Stupid legal drinking age.” Luther chuckled. Five looked around the room, eyes settling on the desk, which was still littered with pages of research. “Tell you what, why don’t I stay here until you fall asleep? Then you won’t be lonely.”

Luther looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “You’re gonna stay?”

Five grinned and ruffled Luther’s hair, which didn’t do much since it was so short. “Yeah, big guy. Besides, this room is disgusting. Someone needs to clean it.”

“Okay -- keep my research in order, please!”

Five rolled his eyes and set about organizing Luther’s desk. He wasn’t surprised when he heard Luther snoring before he was even halfway done.

When he finally finished and turned back around to look at him, Luther was conked out, curled into a little (big) ball and shivering underneath his blankets.

Five laid another blanket over his sleeping brother before he teleported over to the door one last time. He shut it slowly, taking care not to make any noise.

“G’night, Spacey.”

[god-of-my-world]

Puppeteers, Parenthood, and Premeditation: An Analysis

For @inferablossom!!! I'm sorry it took so long to answer your ask....

I've been having a really difficult time figuring the puppeteers out. The idea that people from the outside realm can enter the universe created by Charles and control the people there makes little sense. (Except on a metaphorical level, as that makes a lot of sense in terms of Charles' character. But more on that later.)

I tried making sense of that, but it didn't work. How would they even be able to reach the world? It's explicitly stated that nobody is able to leave or enter the House (when they're talking about umbrella man being an imposter). Even if they could, who gets to be a pupeteer? Are they each labelled as one of the 4 types based on their personality? What if they don't fit into the 4? Why does this sound like the premise of a bad dystopia novel? Does this imply that the universe birth theory is well known? That would contradict everything with vincent and Charles' rooftop talk, so probably not. If so, how would they get there?

Long story short, I was sent on a wild spiral of increasingly impossible and contradictory questions that either didn't make sense, or wholly demolished the 4th wall. Either way, not what I was looking for, and probably not what ane was intending.

But I think I've got an idea now. I will be discussing it in 3 parts:

1. What the puppeteers are, and how they exist

2. The role they play in parental relationships and how that contrasts charles' own neglected childhood

3. What this has to do with Charles' opinions on both free will and his role within his story

1.

Charles wanted a reader. That's what you as the player are, and that's what Seth is.

Charles felt that if his story was not interesting enough, nobody would want to visit the house. (Read the story)

For all the power he lacks there, the House is Charles' world. And just as many other wishes of his came true, his desire for people to experience his story came true. The House created 'readers' from the true realm that would dictate his story (this relates to his claims of his characters having no free will, more on that later)

So, the puppeteers are, paradoxically, created in the false realm to play the role of people from the true realm. Because nobody from the true realm can enter the house.

Ironically enough, because Seth is both charles' imaginary reader and the player, he does become real and Charles is right: the pupeteers are from the true realm in their own way.

I won't go too deep into how the actual player ties into all of this, as that is a whole other ballgame that I have yet to play.

2.

Even less explained than Seth himself are the puppeteers in general. Especially why Seth and Lilith share their names with Charles, Scarlett, and Charlotte's parents.

As a combination of her own character and Charles' self-insert, her character is  influenced by Charles in a lot of ways.

Due to his neglected childhood, Charles would have wanted a proper parental figure.  Because of that, charlotte has both his parents (A never present mother and a father who likely left and is now possessed by the umbrella man, Charles' father) and her own, Seth.

The fact that charlotte got Seth rather than Lilith could be evidence towards the trans theory (but I'll save that for another day), but could also have to do with his character stemming from Charles' desire for a paternal figure.

It can be seen that in the house, due to emotional immaturity in the residents and in charles, wishes and desires are often taken to extremes or aren't answered fully (see the examples of previous charlotte's wishes)

So Charles' negative opinion of his parents and his desire for better parents led to the creation of lilith and seth as people with completely opposite personalities of his parents.

Lilith is the most strict, completely different from the negligent mother who didn't care what Charles did. Seth is wise and against violence, contrasting his father, whose abortion of Scarlett seemed like both violence and a brash decision to young charles. Even their color schemes are opposite.

One think I'm not entirely sure about is why Umbrella Man is only looking like her father but isn't, but I think it's because her parents are only copies of his parents, who are their own entities.

3.

We have seen again and again that this whole world is shaped by Charles' beliefs and stories. (Charlotte taking center stage rather than him has to do with his ideas of her as the ideal protagonist and also his desire not the be the protagonist; scarlett being kind and well liked because he honestly wanted that in a sister, etc)

One of those ideas he had was that in his story, nobody has free will. Scarlett called that a lack of creativity, but it carried into his world.

It's unsurprising that Charles would like the idea of his characters having no free will; he also didn't have much freedom in his own life and every author knows their own personal problems will be reflected in their works. Even after death he is powerless under his parents, which is why the real gods of the house are mother and father.

This also makes sense why Q84 was an anomaly, being able to function without strings and possibly why charles liked her so much, as she was someone he couldn't be: someone that rebels against society and those that hurt her, someone who can make her own choices.

But the puppeteers were created to support that lack of free will- they make the story continue while the characters cannot

[v3-killing-harmony-imagines]

‘How about the guys reacting to s/o asking to well.. you know ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)’

Hohohoho NSFW (SORTA) WARNING AND ALCOHOL 

+reader-san gets drunk for one heh

Saihara Shuichi

The two of you had been together for a while

He had decided it was time to take things to the next level...

...unfortunately each time he tried to tell you, he would wuss out and change the topic 

This cycle had repeated for a couple of months, him getting flustered ( Like Kiibles and Angie) and changing the topic 

At first you had wanted him to come and tell you what he wanted 

But after a while, you had started to get annoyed with it

So one day he comes back after a day of studying cases, you’ve made supper for him!

The two of you eat, he thanks you for it after you’ve finished

He’s about to get up when he notices something 

“Uh...s/o?What are you-”

“Shhhsh..”

Oh dear lord you’re taking your shirt off

Oh blimey you’re walking closer to him, saying how bad he’s been for making you wait

You give a seductive chuckle as he flushes, straddling him as he sits frozen in the chair

You glide a finger over his chest, drawing circles as his breath hitches with each rub

You continue to tease him, running hands just under his shirt, fingers at his jaw line, all he can do is overheat and groan

Suddenly you rest both your hands on his shoulders, gazing up to him in some form of longing affection

“Hey...Saihara....do you really wanna do this?”

He looks back at you, breathing heavy as he chokes out a ‘yes’

Ouma Kokichi:

He’s the one who usually suggests any form of sexual acts

Teasing, intercourse, He’s usually the one do initiate it all

But today he had crossed the line 

Teasing you non-stop in public, being whinny, disagreeing and being dramatic

You had just gotten fed up with it by the end of the day

The second the door closes, you’ve got him pinned against the wall, growling at him 

“Oho? Is my darling s/o-chan a bit over-stimulated?” despite your glare he continues to grin cheekily

You tell him that he’s going to get punished for his actions, he tells you to bring it on 

Honey get ready power bottom coming through 

You pull at his hair, tearing his scarf and biting at his neck as he retaliates by pulling at your hair  

You lock lips with him, nipping at his lips and tongue with your teeth 

The two of you never separate as it continues on the couch, both of you panting 

You straddle him, ripping his shirt off, he gives a brief snort of annoyance and the slight crack of fabric breaking fills the air

Now he’s trying to pull of your shirt, you let him have at least that much 

In all honesty you really just wanna tie him up, make him suffer aned unable to move 

However at the moment he’s trying to gain control and flip you over, smirking all the same

 On a normal day you would have let him, but you weren’t about to give in this time

You lean in, sucking on he delicate flesh by his collar as your other hand runs down, palming his bulge through his pants 

He gives a groan as he covers his face with his arm

You give a sly smile as you go down...

It’s a long night

Amami Rantaro:

He’s just been Normal avocado boy for the entire day

It was a free day for the both of you, so he suggested to go to the mall 

Totally didn’t spend all day looking at forever 21 clothes 

When the two of you headed over to the food court for lunch, he noticed something..strange about you

Slightly flushed cheeks, looking away when you made eye contact

He puts his cup down (Diet cola as he said it was ‘vegan’ ?) “Hey, is there something wrong?”

He can see you choke on your food, gasping out “Ah no I-I’m fine!”

He still doesn’t really believes it but...he knows that something is up

Nevertheless, he drops it and tries to keep up a conversation 

After 5 minutes, you haven’t really said anything 

“Seriously, what’s the matter?”

Again, you brush him off

He notices how you shift in your chair, how you bite the inside of the cheek and lips

“Are you.....” He lowers his voice “Horny?”

Well fuck you didn’t have to be that blunt Amami 

You don’t say anything, but that’s all the confirmation he needs 

Amami smiles, making sure to be a little more ‘suggestive’ with his moves after that 

Licking his lips, dropping something before leaning down with his ass in the air, sucking on his straw a little too hard

He’s just been pulling the collar of his shirt down, complaining about how warm it is before you pull him down 

“...can we go...”

He gives an innocent smile, agreeing before walking hand in hand with you to the car

He’s keeping hands to himself on the way home, trying to remain his ‘friend’ at a normal...uh....level?

Once he gets in the door, he can feel you tugging at his shirt 

“Hey...”

“Hey.” He mimes 

“Uh, can we uh..” you motion with your fingers, much like a key and a lock hole

He can help it, he gives a hard laugh

“Yeah, we can do-” he repeats the action much to your amusement “-that.”

Without a word, he closes the distance between you

Kaito Momota:

He had been wanting to have sex for a while

However, he had always held himself back as the mood didn’t seem right, you were busy, tired or it was too late

so in the end he had decided to let you come to him when you were ready 

He’s been flipping through a pile of unfinished work, sighing as he opens yet another text book, looking relentless for the answers

He’s been procrastinating, and now finals are coming up and he’s so stressed 

His hands have rubbed through his hair so many times that it’s flopped down in layers over his eyes, he gives a frustrated exhale as he combs it over his scalp

The hours go by, his hand is starting to cramp and he’s sweating by the time he gives up, laying back in his chair and releasing a sigh 

He rubs his eyes, looking up at the star decorated ceiling (he had insisted on having them, “As long as you can reach, you can put it up” You had told him-he nearly fell off the step stool)

He’s hears his door open to a slight ‘creak’ he just gives a hum of recognition as you walk in

The lighting is surprisingly low, you click on the main light switch

He gives a hiss as he covers his eyes, leaning back further from the light 

The revolving chair gives a nasty groan, it tips backwards, bringing Kaito with it 

He’s now laying on the floor, hot and stressed 

he hears shuffling, in a second you’re kneeling beside him 

you rub a cool hand over his forehead, brushing hair out of his eyes 

He gives a content sigh, leaning into your hand 

“Stressed?”

“Mhm.” “You’re burning.”

“Mhmm..”

Then you lean down and kiss him straight Unless reader-san is a guy ;)))) on the lips 

He gives a pleasured sigh as you move on top of him

He can feel you running your hands under his shirt, as he wraps an arm around you 

“Hey wait...” He pulls away “Are you sure you wanna do this.”

You stutter a bit, hands clenched with his shirt as you nod 

By the end of the night he’s not stressed, and he needs to get a glass of water from his body temperature 

Kiibo:

He’s actually really glad if you suggest it, he’s not confidant enough to suggest it himself...

He doesn’t even know what he did to make you..’feel’ that way in the first place?

He had tried his hand at baking, attempting to make a vanilla cake

The batter had been too runny, the cake came out a little bit on the burned side

Even with you helping him he still managed to mess it up..

So the icing part was going to be fun

Piping the bag had been a little less...effortless...

And trying to squeeze out vanilla cream while having metal hands isn’t really the easiest thing

He steadies himself, getting ready for the moment to pipe the cake

You give him a word of encouragement,  

The second his hands tighten the bag bursts, white cream getting spraying everywhere 

He gives a squeak, backing up and screaming 

The room is silent for a second, before you burst out laughing 

He flushes, standing there silent as you continue to laugh 

“I-I’m sorry for making a mess.”

He takes a finger, wiping off some cream from his face, it’s slightly more milky than intended...

He wipes his finger clean using his tongue, not noticing how quiet you’ve gotten 

“Is there something wrong?”

“N-no..”

You help him clean up, ignoring the trickle of warmth flowing through your abdomen 

...that night you ask him, palms sweaty Moms spaghetti

You can literally hear his inner fans begin to spin as he pants 

“Um..that is...I’m uh..actually been ready for..intercourse for a while now..”

Things progress slowly from there on, but he and you enjoy it

Korekiyo Shinguji:

It was his birthday, and yet he took you out to a fancy restaurant

“Common courtesy for a man like I.” He has said 

The dim lighting and tranquil music fills the air as the two of you dine 

Steak,potatoes, salad, ribs, wine yeet, baked chicken, pasta, soups and a verity of liquors

Not to mention the various desserts

It must have cost a fortune, but Korekiyo doesn’t let you pay a single cent

Full of alcohol and food, the two of you head home hand in hand

Korekiyo is talking abut you can’t really focus on anything... but his jaw looks sharp...and...his hair smells....nice

Did you already arrive at home? Huh when did that happen...

“S/o are you feeling ok?”

Oh what

Did he just ask you that? 

“Huh, Oh...yeah I’m fine?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“What”

Oh dear

He sighs, telling you to get changed, he’ll get you a glass of water

When he comes back upstairs, water in hand, he notices how it’s oddly silent 

He turns the light on, and he regrets it immediately 

“I said get changed not get naked.”

Hey, You’re not fully naked 

You barely sway as you walk over to him, you know your limit, you didn’t drink too much

That doesn’t change the fact that it’s making you feel warm, and your mind is slightly fuzzy

“Ko-re-ki-yo....you aren’t gonna unwrap your present.”

He giggle as he begins to sweat, a rare feat 

You whisper in his ear, trail hands down his chest, lick and bite at his neck

As much as he knows that he shouldn’t be taking advantage of you when you’re intoxicated, it isn’t the first time the two of you have done it and you keep telling him that you wanna treat him

It isn’t long before he can’t take it and pushes you onto the bed

The next morning you have a slight headache but are happy for the events that happened the night before 

Gonta Gokuhara:

He’d NEVER have the strength so event think of something like that no

So it’d have to be you always suggesting it

Tonight the lights are low, you can hear the water running as he uses the bathroom

When he comes out of the washroom, he smiles up (Or down) at you

A small peck escalates to a kiss...which escalates into something else...

Now you’re sitting beside him on the bed, asking him if he wants to take things further

Gonta flushes, stumbling over his words as he releases shaky breath after shaky breath

He wants it but he needs to be agentelmanandhedoesntwannaupset

Oh boy you just took your shirt off he can feel the blood rushing to his face and coc-

“Hey, Gonta, it’s ok, if you don’t wanna do this.”

You take his hand, softly stroking it

He wants to do this 

He does

So he agrees, and nervously uh...fucks you

this is the highest point of my writing what the fuck

You have to help lead him along the way, to build up his confidence 

Ryoma Hoshi:

Summer means free time, meaning more time for Hoshi to mope around

He mostly spends his time outside, the tennis courts where he smacks a ball back and forth 

He used to hand out at the corner store a lot, smoking whatever was in his pocket while letting his brain float

After he met you, he had eventually stopped doing that, to your request 

He had just come home from a long day outside, the heat had cooked him alive, all he needed was a glass of cold water

He doesn’t pour water from a filer or a tap (due to his height rip) But instead he grabs one of the bottels on the bottom shelf, it had been your idea to place a couple in there and he was grateful in this moment

He took a seat on the counter, enjoying the song the radio played and the cool breeze coming from the air conditioner 

He gulps down the cool liquid, some of it running down his shirt but he could care less at the moment 

Pulling his beanie off, he wipes the sweat off his forehead 

“Hoshi? Are you ba-”

Oh, Hi

you apparently weren’t expecting him to be uh, drinking?

Either that or you didn’t think he could get up on the counter

Oh b o y what are you doing 

Shitshitshit

You’re leaning over him and pulling his damp shirt off

He can barely think, you ask him if he’s ready for more heat

Boyyyyyy

With one breath he gives a nod

He can feel you go down further, hands at his pants as he tries to remain calm 

You don’t come up until he finishes

And he returns the favor ; )

[ilvermourn]

Season Six Rewrite | Memory Lost

Scott gulped as he entered the high school library. It wasn’t anything new, he’s done this several times after that night of the blue moon. Most times he couldn’t even enter and he’d have to convince his friends to bring out the books so they can study in the courtyard. Lydia stated it was Post-Traumatic Stress, and that it would take a while to feel normal in the area where he died or maybe never. Since the pack had stopped the Beast, saved Mason and bid their farewells to Kira, Scott has been neck deep in his studies. Thanks to a Lydia who put a few words in to her mother, he was able to proceed with the classes he missed. He was grateful of course, he thought after everything that happened he deserved a little bit of normality like catching up with work and school and having to stress about college applications. Speaking of, Lydia had been able to help both Scott and Malia for their applications as well as helping them get caught up and in with their studies. All in all it has been a blissful few months of normality and Scott hopes it lasts. The library like non other was noisy, it had people talking loudly and crashing books and even some stressed whisper yells. Of course even Beacon Hills library wasn’t safe from the abnormal. Most libraries, or at least ones Scott has seen on screen, were quiet and relaxing, and if anyone got too loud the librarian would hush them. Sitting around the table in the centre of the room were his friends, Lydia was laughing at something Malia had said, while Mason and Corey stacked books next to them. Mason, bless him, loved helping the seniors seeing how he was almost as or even smarter than them. “Mason, thank you but you know you don’t have to do things like this for us.” Lydia said smiling up at him. “You should probably help Liam, my mum told him he isn’t doing well either.” Scott sat on the seat on the edge of the table and watched Corey smile and place his hand on the lower back of his partner. “come on, Mase. Good luck studying guys.” Mason reluctantly walked of with his boyfriend. “They’re too sweet,” Scott voiced his thought as he opened up his backpack and got out his notebooks. Lydia agreed and looked at Malia who was tapping her pencil on the book in front of her trying to concentrate on the words. “Where’s Stiles?” Lydia asked Scott. It was a question that she knew the answer to but she asked anyway. Stiles hasn’t been wanting to study with them, he told them he had it in the bag already and was busy concentrating on helping his dad get better. “I don’t know, he didn’t say much when we parted.” Scott shrugged. He didn’t want to admit it but it was obvious there was a small strain in their friendship that was gapping as the days go by. The night at the hospital, it hurt Scott to even look at him in that moment. He couldn’t blame him, his dad was hurt, but the fact that he had gotten physical with him without a care in the world... it hurt Scott more emotionally than physically. Scott had forgiven him, internally but he was still patiently waiting for the words I’m sorry to come out of his mouth in order for Scott to let the massive pained grudge go.  “After last night, after Alex he’s been in to the whole supernatural thing again. – it’s not healthy you know? He’s leaving behind all the milestones we need to complete this year by focusing on the next big bad.” Scott stated worriedly. There was no arguing that he was worried about Stiles. They were all supposed to graduate and go to college together but Scott doesn't see that happening if stiles is avoiding every possible chance of even attending most of his classes. "Even I want to go to classes more than him." Malia mumbled rubbing out an equation she got wrong. Lydia had helped her understand most of AP calculus and written down a page of questions for her to answer. "Then again that could be because I want to get this over with as soon as possible and relax this summer." Scott smiled and Lydia laughed. "Don't we all. I'm having a hard time contemplating whether I want to stay here or go on a road trip to San Francisco." The two shapeshifters looked at Lydia with raised eyebrows. "Why road trip?" Malia asked. "Because? You're coming with me right? I mean why would we stay here and do nothing all summer?" She replied. She had a point, Scott thought. "Maybe,... if we find a way to disable the nemeton to stop it from attracting more supernaturals here. We can't leave the place with no protection." "Argent will be here." He shook his head at Malia. "He's still human. I don't want another corpse here, I don't want anyone to die doing the job I'm supposed to do." "We," Lydia corrected. "You maybe the true alpha Scott but you're not invincible." "Right," Scott muttered before opening his book and getting his highlighter ready. He felt the burning stares of the girls on him but he chose to ignore it. He could tell they knew he didn't believe her when she said that but there was no use fighting it when he knew at the end of the day it's him against what ever the world brought for him next. It's him that gets destroyed but still gets up to finish the job. He doesn't complain though, he may not have signed up for it but it's something he believes is his responsibility. To save everyone and make sure nobody dies is his responsibility. Soon enough Lydia and Malia turned back to their books and began revising, the conversation left behind. Scott enjoyed studying with them. Lydia didn't make it seem like he or Malia were dumb for not knowing something and Malia always found a way to lighten the mood and not make it seem like an overload. Even sitting a few feet from the exact spot he died on three months or so ago, he found comfort whenever Lydia used her soft tone or softly held his hand, like she used to, whenever he thought his head was going to explode. He found peace and a bit of sadness whenever Malia mentioned Kira in a casual way as if she was at home sick or something and not away for God knows how long with the skin walkers. Scott could tell Malia was fond of Kira and that in the past year they had formed a friendship too good for the world where they cared about each other and learned from one another. The same went with Malia and Lydia or Lydia and Kira. That was the difference between his pack and others. His pack were more than that, they were friends - family. They knew each other and respected each other. Scott, though being the alpha and leader, was sure he'd be lost without them. Without Stiles, Kira, Malia and Lydia. Without Liam and Mason and now his second beta Hayden and Corey. Scott could not express to them how grateful he was to them and he wishes he gets the guts to let them know before anything goes to shit. • A creak was heard from beneath Scott as he stepped into the abandoned house, with an eager Stiles by his side. The boy was desperate to prove everything that happened to Alex was supernatural and Scott wanted to believe him. He did because he felt it was supernatural in his heart too but he didn't want it to be. He hoped he wasn't being selfish for wanting to take a break from all the craziness of the world he was dragged in to. "Maybe Alex got the address wrong?" Scott suggested looking around at the dusty house. "Or maybe he lied." "Why would he lie?" Stiles gave him a look as if they both knew why he would lie. "He didn't lie." Scott said firmly causing the boy to sigh in deflation. He watched Stiles move around before turning to him, "Want to split up?" Scott almost choked on his breath realising what he had said. It took a moment for him to register it but eventually he nodded. But before either of the boys went in different directions, feet stomping towards them caught their attention. Scott turned to the direction it came from and got ready for a fight but instantly relaxed when he saw Mason ans Liam. "What the hell are you two doing here?" Stiles beckoned. "We – uh – we came to help." Mason nodded in agreement of his best friend. Somehow the alpha wasn't quite convinced, seeing Mason holding his hand behind him. Scott sighed. It doesn't take Einstein to know how badly the younger group wanted to be ready to be Beacon Hill's Protectors after Scott leaves along with the others. It got to the point of Mason hinting out wanting the bite from Scott, something he always has been and will be afraid of handing out. He knew Liam would keep him safe just like he had with Stiles so he had no reason to worry about him getting hurt. "Okay fine, but stay together and yell if anything happens okay? Look for any sort of clues we could use to find Alex's parents." With that they nodded and went their way. Scott gave Stiles a nod before walking around the bottom floor before heading upstairs. From a small window at the end of the narrow hallway he saw Mason walking about outside, Liam soon coming into view not a second later. A feeling of concern filled his chest when he heard nothing from downstairs, where Stiles was. So he intended on calling out to him but then he heard a small curse as he imagined Stiles walking into something. Shaking his head lightly he walked to the rooms surrounding him and checked them. All empty. No furniture, nothing. Getting another strange feeling about the place, he carried on. A door at one end of the hallway caught his attention, he hadn't checked that one yet but he doubt he would find anything. Instead he decided to quickly check by opening the door and swinging it open, his instinct to instantly close it stopped when his eyes caught the fully furnished room. Everything seemed all good and normal until he reached out to close the door but was stopped again, this time by a sound that he hasn't heard in person before. The nay of a horse. His eyes widened when he saw a large shadow appearing around the frame of the door. Instinctively he closed the door forgetting his supernatural powers for a second but he was glad he did because he heard the all too familiar sound of bullets being fired his way. He held the doorknob tightly making sure whole ever was on the other side wouldn't escape. Much to his surprise the bullets didn't come through, instead made dents on it. Suddenly the firing stopped and the sound of the brink of a storm began, wind and all. After everything dialled down Scott let out a breath of exhaust as he looked down at the door. The bullet dents were peculiar, he thought as he watched the glow green. Scott swung the door open and much to his surprise there was no sign of the horse nor the rider. What really shocked him was the emptiness of the room. They matched the others now, old looking and dusty, no furniture in place. When he closed the door again he guessed he must've made a lot of noise because Liam was running up calling his name, the other two in tow. "Scott. Are you okay?" "Yeah," he replied honestly. "But I think we need to have a word with Alex again." "Why?" "Because I saw them. Or him. I saw the horse and the man." • Scott let out a deep breath as he stepped back from under the rusting shower head in the boy's locker room. The lights were out and the only source of light was the moonlight coming from the small windows around him. He was alone in the room. The werewolf shivered as he dried himself off and headed towards his bag on the bench. Practice had ended close to an hour ago and because game season has began the coach had them work ten times as hard and long as before. So it was no surprise when it was past sunset when they finished. Quickly the boy put on his clothes and packed away his kit. He came to a stop when he realised his jersey was missing, why would his jersey be missing? He shook his head telling himself he'll talk to the coach or the team about it but first he had to leave and get home. There was commotion coming from the main school area when Scott entered it, leaving from the sports section. He passed a couple of boys he recognised in his team and walked over to them. "What's going on?" A boy in the middle, Jerry, shrugged and answered, "the police are here. Some kids found a dead body in the boiler room." He replied and looked at his mates. "This town's becoming some sort of blood bath nightmare if you ask me." His tone was humour filled but Scott didn't find the situation at all funny however he thanked him for the information and watched them pass him. That was when Scott saw something. His jersey number tacked on the back of Jerry's, his own last name Mateo placed above it replacing the McCall. "Hey! Wait, why are you wearing my jersey number?" He was a little haste but when they turned to him they eyed him funny. "This isn't yours. Coach gave it to me." With that they walked away and Scott suddenly got a sicking gut feeling. He pulled out his phone and began to text his pack frantically. Nobody answered. • Malia watched silently as the redhead did her banshee business, or as her and Kira began to refer to it as the Banshee Call. Not too long ago Lydia had texted her wanting her help and of course she came as quickly as superhumanly possible to do so. "So how and when did you get the premonition?" She asked. "Just earlier and through The song; Riders on a Storm. The riders are going around by storms taking people. They're taking souls." Lydia sighed. "Anyone who see them, they get snatched." She paused and pursed her lips. "And then they're gone forever." Malia nodded understanding. "If it's a myth, how are we so sure it didn't actually happen?" "We don't know. But it's happening now, we have to do something." A phone buzzed from besides them and Malia realising it was hers grabbed it and looked at the text alert. It was the group chat they had, someone was texted. Scott: guys something's happening. Where are you? Get the others and meet me by the front entrance! Malia frowned. "Hey, Lyds, did you add this person to our chat?" "What?" Lydia took the phone and looked at it. "Malia, it's Scott." "Yes I see that but who is Scott?" There was suddenly a dread of silence and Malia turned to examine Lydia's face which had turned pale white, her lips slightly parted. "What's wrong?" "Somethings happening. You don't remember Scott?" The redhead got off her chair when she received a negative response from Malia who jumped on her feet after her. "He must've seen them. The ghost riders. We have to go." Malia hurried after the banshee as they made their way out of school. From the heavily intoxicating scent of worry and panic that aroused Upon Lydia Malia knew it was a dead serious situation and that they needed to go to this Scott person. The heavy wind crashed on them as they run towards the front of the school. Lydia sighed in relief when they spotted a boy standing there looking almost lost and out of place. "Scott!" "Lydia, Malia. Thank god, where are the rest?" He asked frantically. "We didn't have time to get them. It's happening isn't it?" Lydia replied. Malia stood warily of the scene taking place in front of her. The boy just nodded and looked at her. "Why didn't you tell us you saw them?" "I didn't actually see them properly. I saw their shadow and that was it!" Scott exclaimed. "We have to get out of h—" he stopped instantly, his head turning to the direction of the parking lot. "They're here." "Who's here?" Malia asked now worried that the boy may be crazy. She looked around and found and heard nothing. Scott held out his arm stretched in front of them as his eyes glowed deep red, his fangs exposed. Malia instinctively followed him and shielded Lydia in protection. The Alpha roared and suddenly the girls were able to hear galloping and they knew, it was the wild hunt. "Scott where are they?" "Everywhere!" He moved back slightly backing them to the stairs of the school entrance. "Stay still. Trust me alright?" Lydia nodded but Malia was still in her own defence mode, ready for anything. "Listen, they're here because I saw them. They're going to take me, but I'll find a way out. I promise but you guys have to remember me okay? They'll make you forget. You need to remember." Malia growled lowly. "How?" "Find a way. But you have to stick together." He assured. "Now go before you see them too!" A sound whacked through the air and Scott staggered back, something grabbed him but he resisted, pulling at it frantically. Malia tried to help but it was no use, she couldn't see what had grabbed him. Suddenly he pushed her away and she fell back knocking Lydia with her. The girls watched with wide eyes as he gave them one last look before disappearing in green smoke. Lydia sat up when she felt his disappearance, a tight feeling bubbling inside her chest. She let out a fierce banshee screaming which Malia turned her head from, her ears ringing. Immediately the storm halted, the flying leaves falling into heaps around them. Malia grabbed Lydia's arm as she looked around in confusion, the dark night surrounding them shyly. They were alone. •••