#Trilogy repair

[emmavakarian-theirin]

computer is NOT having it today

[trooperst-3v3]

Y'all.

Let me tell you about my afternoon.

So, after my classes, I spent my free time pondering how I was going to help that poor vending machine. I spent literal hours coming up with ideas and figuring out how they'd work.

Finally, I came up with one I liked and ran it by Deej: Brenda made people be nice to her by giving them an electrical shock when they were being assholes. I could do the same for this guy! Just do some fancy internal wiring so that if someone had a hand on either side of the machine at the same time (you know, as if they were grabbing it to shake it), the contact would complete a circuit that caused a mild electrical shock.

The main problem is that, like, 90% of the people on the Finalizer wear gloves, and completing a circuit requires contact with Human skin. Maybe I could make it work with the leather gloves the officers wear...

Deej was like, "Sounds good, babe. But you want to stop people from shaking a vending machine when the items get stuck inside, right?"

"...Yeah."

"Why don't you just fix the machine so stuff doesn't get stuck anymore?"

...

I'm such a dumbass.

Sigh. Better go find my wrench.

[garindan-no-numbers]

absolutely love that by tros the falcon is just a complete fucking mess. like the ship's entire deal is that it’s basically a giant coffee stain that can barely fly on a good day, and the sequel crew go out of their way to crash it every chance they can get. it’s infested with porgs and they’re all so busy they can’t even take the time to do repairs beyond the essential stuff, it gets to the point where even han would probably think its a bit much

[reincarneth-moved]

bojoukken replied to your post: bojoukken replied to your post: ...

{I watched two DownTheRabbitHole videos on it, its SO BAD…I’m gonna have to watch this poor man suffer too…}

I’m planning to check that one out when I finish this one, if I can dfgvdfgrdfgdf 

[nghtwngs]

the amazing spider-woman

description. being the hero that new york city needs meant being alone, but what if someone can understand that loneliness as much as you?

pairing. tasm!peter parker x spider-woman!reader

genre. fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends, friends to lovers(?), slow burn, mutual pining

word count. 8.6k (literally what)

warnings. no way home spoilers, canon-typical violence, blood/injury, mentions of death, drinking, painkillers, and food, trauma and grief, swearing

author’s notes. the reader’s origin story is a mix of different iterations of spidey and she is implied to be wlw. thank u to @pctcr and @buckybarneslefthand​ for betaing. i hope u enjoy this as much as i love peter (this might be the tasw trilogy we didn’t know we wanted)

Falling was freeing.

The exhilarating rush of the wind through your suit and swinging from building to building left your head spinning. The feeling of falling through the air for those few moments before pulling yourself through New York with your webs almost seemed akin to magic. If there was one thing that you liked about being Spider-Woman, it was this.

Well, after saving people. Of course.

You landed on the rooftop of a building near the Daily Bugle, semi-curious as to what new bullshit your best friend would be saying about you today. It was high enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing you without your mask on. You didn’t need another thing to add to your list of ongoing problems. Harry didn’t even know. You clung to the edge of the roof, eyes watching the billboard across the street.

Spider-Woman is a menace! What kind of so-called ‘hero’ hides behind a mask? This city needs no saving. Only destruction and chaos follow her!

It was the same stuff you heard every day.

“This is getting old, Jameson. Are we running out of ideas?” you muttered.

Like you were gonna reveal your civilian identity and risk the lives of everyone around you. One life was enough. Nobody could know. Knowing meant danger, and if there was one thing that Jameson was right about (albeit reluctantly), it was that chaos followed Spider-Woman. This life you had chosen—these lives that you live, it meant that you were going to be alone. And that was okay.

You scoffed. “It’s as if I didn’t spend 20 hours trying to repair the Brooklyn Bridge the other day after Hobgoblin tried to destroy it with exploding jack o’lanterns.”

You laughed dryly at the absurdity of your words.

“Jack o’lanterns—if I was a guy, Jameson would thank me for what I’ve been doing for this city.”

You decided it’d be best to continue patrolling. This city wasn’t gonna save itself. The deafening sound of sirens suddenly rang through your skull. You sighed, pulling your mask on before jumping over the edge of the building.

It was a few minutes of swinging past police cars until you reached a university research facility. You let out a long sigh after walking into the building, which wasn’t hard considering the usually locked door had been smashed through. The atmosphere was too quiet. You stepped towards a lab. The metal doors were ripped from their hinges, claw marks engraved into the doorframe.

You frowned as your eyes scanned your surroundings. Nothing else had looked out of place. You paused. There was a tingling feeling in the back of your neck. You turned, using your webs to launch yourself away. A solution of acid hissed as it met the tile you were just standing on. “Dude, you gotta stop. This is what, the—the sixth time? The sixth time? Most people would’ve given up at the third attempt, man. But I do have to give it to you. I would’ve been embarrassed.”

That only seemed to anger him. He swung the door in his hands at you. You webbed it, pulling it away from him. It landed into the wall of the hallway behind you with a loud clang. His large tail shot out to slam into you. You had dodged it with ease, flipping over him. You landed, coming to a low stance before squinting up at the creature. (Man? Could you really call him that now?)

The sirens of the police cars grew louder.

“Uh-oh, somebody’s been a bad lizard.”

You continued to dodge his blows, swinging away from his strikes. Jones was slower than Dr. Connors, and Connors wasn’t really that fast to begin with. You tried webbing his arms. He easily ripped them off. “Hey, did anyone ever tell you that it isn’t nice to hit women? Or anybody, for that matter?”

He heaved. “I’m not here to play games, little girl.”

“Look, I know I’m dressed in red, but you really gotta look elsewhere if you want some target practice. It seems like you could really use—“

The lizard’s hand smashed you into the wall. You groaned, head banging against the hard bricks. A dull ache had already formed in your head. You slid down the wall, panting before swerving out of the way of a table. His further attempts to swing his tail at you failed, making him grunt in frustration.

His large hand found purchase around your neck. Your lungs began gasping for air. The sharp cry of a glass window filled your ears. He hung you over the edge of the building.

“What are you here for anyway?” You choked out, attempting to stall him long enough for you to figure out a way to tie his arms. He had been ripping your webbing off with ease. You really hoped you had enough web fluid this time.

You were partly curious as to why this was his place of choice. You figured that prison wasn’t exactly well equipped to babysit lizards, but they didn’t seem to have an issue with Connors. What was so special about this place? There were many other facilities in the area stocked with a better selection of chemicals. Why not Oscorp?

You struggled in his grasp. You managed to extend your arm far out enough. Your web shot out, and a flying beaker struck the back of the lizard’s head. He tripped onto shards of glass, hissing.

A loud wheeze escaped your mouth after you swung yourself back into the room. Your fingers ghosted your neck. Hopefully, that wouldn’t leave any bruises. You’ve run out of concealer. Did you still own that scarf?

His long tail swung out at you, hitting you square in the chest. You crashed into a bookshelf. Your ears were starting to ring. Maybe Dr. Jones was going to put up more of a fight this time around. His muttering was so quiet, but even with the piercing noise in your ears, you could still make out: “I don’t have time for this.”

You composed yourself, books falling off your body once you stood. The green lizard man gagged, a loud hacking sound filling the air. His hand landed on his chest as he doubled over. A thick, hot slime shot out of his mouth, spraying all over you.

“What the hell is this?” You looked down at the sticky (Oh god, why was it sticky?), green globs of lizard goo sliding down your suit. You suppressed a gag. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

You shuddered before quickly shooting your webs out at the big lizard man, attaching them to the ceiling and walls, and swinging around his figure until you finally subdued him, causing him to topple over onto the hard tile floor with a hard crash. The cries of an officer telling the lizard to stay where he was seemed futile, seeing as how he was already knocked over, tied in webbing.

You wheezed, wincing at the sharp ache in your neck. “Can the boys in blue handle it from here?”

Captain Stacy sighed, offering you a small smile. He didn’t have to tell you he was thankful. “Yeah, we’ve got this. Go clean yourself up, kid. You reek.”

“Want a hug?”

He chuckled. “No, thank you. You might want to take a couple showers.”

“Already planning on it. Have a good day, Captain.”

You weren’t sure how your feet managed to be both aching and numb as you headed out of the research facility. You glanced back at it for a moment. I don’t have time for this? You sighed before shooting out a web to the top of a nearby building, swinging your way through the city. Your eyes squinted, attempting to adjust to the harshly bright sky, but your vision is just so sensitive.

A few almost run-ins with traffic and barely colliding into a brick wall later, you spotted Harry outside the corner store near your apartment. No limousine in sight. This was odd considering he didn’t walk, like anywhere, especially not after the whole Green Goblin thing.

“Hey, watch it!” you yelled. “I’m swinging here!”

He stared at you as you landed in front of him, almost falling over due to the throbbing ache in your head and basically everywhere else, and the sudden lack of web fluid in your web-shooters. It felt like a giant hammer was relentlessly banging on your skull.

He dryly chuckled. “Spider-Woman.”

“Osborn.” You could tell Harry was looking at you up and down even when his sunglasses were hiding his eyes. “Lizard goop. Don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughed, but this time it was melodically genuine. “I’m sure. So what brings New York’s famous superhero to a convenience store?”

“Headache. Rude lizard.”

He nodded, an ‘ah’ sound leaving his mouth like it was normal and he understood. But honestly, you didn’t know what was normal anymore. The most normal thing that has happened since you got bit by a radioactive spider was your neighbor, Ms. Kang, getting her cat stuck in a tree. And even then that was kind of odd since there weren’t a lot of trees in your neighborhood.

“And what brings Oscorp’s heir to a convenience store?”

“Not a convenience store,” he corrected. “A friend lives nearby.” He smiled, glancing down at the concrete before meeting your eyes. “She wasn’t answering her phone, so I came to check up on her.”

Since when were you friends?

You went to Midtown together, but you couldn’t really recall a time you ever spoke to Harry other than when he was your lab partner sophomore year, let alone enough to be able to call him a friend. Why couldn’t he just ask one of his employees to get ahold of you?

You nodded. “Ah. Well, since you’re here, do you mind lending me a few dollars? I’m in desperate need of some Tylenol, and I don’t exactly carry a wallet with me.”

Harry chuckled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Superheroes don’t carry IDs?”

“Kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing, y’know? Thanks. And do you not carry spare change? It’s New York. You might get robbed.”

“I don’t think I’ll have to worry much with you around.”

“I’ve moved onto higher things like fighting lizards in schools and getting covered in green lizard vomit. But I think I can make a return to being your friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman.”

“I’m honored.” He placed a hand to his heart with a smile. “Honestly.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Bye, Harry.”

“Are we on a first name basis now? Do I finally get to know who’s under that slime covered mask?”

The unamused look under your mask would be the only familiar thing about you to Harry if he could see it. “Goodbye, Osborn.”

“See you around, Spider-Woman.” Harry headed off in the direction of your apartment.

Shit.

The door chimed as you rushed into the store, grabbing the first bottle of painkillers you could find. You set them on the counter along with the bill Harry handed you. “Just this please.”

“Oh, shit.” The cashier gasped in awe. “You’re that Spider-Woman.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, tapping your foot against the tile floor. “I get that a lot.”

“Dude—ma’am, I saw you fighting that elf guy the other day! I was on the Brooklyn Bridge!”

“Elf?” You paused. “You mean Hobgoblin?”

“Yeah, yeah, that guy! You were so cool!”

“Thanks. Please ring me up.”

“Oh, right! Yeah, of course. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am.” You exhaled. “I think you’re older than me.”

“Sorry, Spider-Lady.”

You let out a long sigh. Whatever. “Thanks.”

You grabbed the plastic bag and change before running out to your apartment’s fire escape. You swung yourself into the window with a crash that you were really hoping wasn’t too loud. Fuck, your head. You rubbed your sore neck with a groan.

You quickly stripped out of your suit, leaving it in a trash bag, and headed into your shower. The hot water did little to ease the ache in your back, but it managed to soothe your tense muscles. You were dreading cleaning your suit. How much furious scrubbing and tears needed to be shed for it to get out? You could call May? Wait, never mind. You couldn’t exactly go to the dry cleaners. At this point, you were seriously considering making a new one entirely.

A few raps came from the front door. You hurried and got dressed, twisting the knob to find Harry standing in the hallway. Your eyebrows furrowed like you definitely did not expect him to show up at your apartment just because you weren’t answering his calls.

“Osborn?” You scratched your scalp. “Uh, hey. Sorry, I was in the shower.”

He frowned. “You weren’t answering my calls.”

You grabbed your phone from off the counter, finding a few missed calls like he said. “I wasn’t feeling well; slept in all morning. Sorry, I’ll call in sick next time.”

Harry’s lips pursed. “No, it’s fine. I don’t care about that.”

“Oh.” You eyed him curiously. “Then what are you here for?”

“You know Spider-Woman, right?”

The surprise in your voice was real now. “Uh, well, not really. I just take photos of her.”

“So you aren’t the one that’s been taking compounds from the lab to give to her?”

You tore your gaze away from him. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” He laughed. “Materials missing. Best employee missing. Do you think I wouldn’t be able to put two and two together?”

“Do you want me to answer honestly?”

His eyes rolled at you. “Look, I’m not mad. She saved me and my dad. I owe it to her.”

You chewed your lip, nodding. “Well, since you’re here, do you want to come in? I have a bottle of champagne that won’t drink itself.”

“Is my best employee asking me to have a drink with her? In the middle of the day?”

“Your best employee thinks drinking alone is depressing, and that it looks like you could use one as well.”

“Then I’d be obliged.” He walked into your apartment after you shuffled out of the way, quickly kicking a trash bag out of his sight.

Where were you?

One moment you were swinging through Queens and the next you were in some alleyway. You were lucky enough to be able to get the goo off your suit in time for your next patrol, and now you were lost? In your own city? Great. You looked around with a frown. Everything at least seemed normal.

You stepped out onto the street. A few people stared, but most didn’t bat an eye as you walked amongst the crowd. It was New York City. They’ve just about seen it all.

Some guy suddenly stopped you, begging for a picture, and complimented your cosplay. You didn’t get to answer before he snapped a photo of the two of you, a wide grin on his face as he pointed at you with his index finger.

You frowned. “Cosplay?”

He looked up at you from his phone. “Yeah, aren’t you dressed as Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man?”

“Peter Parker?” He said it like it should’ve meant something to you. “The most famous guy in the world?”

Why would you be dressed as a comic book character?

“You probably shouldn’t be going around like that though. People aren’t really happy with him after he killed Mysterio.”

“Who’s Mysterio? And why would you want a photo with me if he’s a murderer?”

He simply shrugged.

A sinking feeling began to pool in your chest. Something was wrong. The noise of New York you loved was disorienting. It was hard to think here. You let out a long sigh, shooting out one of your webs before pulling yourself through the many buildings. That must’ve been a sight for him to see.

You passed a F.E.A.S.T. billboard with Spider-Man on it as well as a bunch of shops in place of the stores you were familiar with. Was this really New York?

Your feet met the top of the Empire State Building, a small huff emitting from you along with a curse as you landed roughly. At least there was one thing about this city that wasn’t strange. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you rubbed your neck. It was still really fucking sore.

“Rough day?”

“Holy fuck—” You slipped, struggling to grasp at anything to keep you up. You felt something stick to you, pulling you up.

“It’s okay, I got you. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your head turned towards the voice, about to make a comment that was not so friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman of you, and then you saw him. “Spider-Man?”

He looked a little different than he did on that sign. He ripped his webbing from your body after you steadied yourself.

He laughed. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“You’re the guy who killed Mysterio?”

“Killed Mysterio?” He tilted his head. “Who’s Mysterio?”

“No idea. So, you aren’t him?”

“Well, yeah,”—he gestured to himself—“I’m Spider-Man. But I would think I would remember meeting a guy named Mysterio.”

A soft ‘huh’ was all you managed to muster, staring down at the dots of people on the sidewalk below.

“I’m guessing this isn’t your world either.”

You closed your eyes, pulling off your mask. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to care that you were letting someone else see your face while in the suit. You just desperately needed to breathe some fresh air, and there was just something about him—maybe it was your spider senses—that let you know that it was safe with him.

“My world?” You turned to him, lips curled downward. “Everything looks so familiar, but there’s always something off about it.”

He sighed. “Yeah, like this is New York and not at the same time.”

You nodded. “Do you have any idea how we got here?”

“Nope.” He shrugged. He liked to talk with his hands. “I was just here.”

“I was swinging around in Queens and then I was just in an alley? It was weird, and I thought that maybe I was losing it after getting covered in lizard goo.”

“Lizard goo?”

“It’s not funny.”

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. It sounded nice. “Eh, it kind of is.”

“Okay, maybe it is—but try spending three hours trying to get it out of your suit! My back ached like hell after bending over my sink for that long.”

“That does sound like hell.”

It’s been a while since you’ve spoken to anyone like this. Not since May died. She used to listen to your complaints and liked to hear your stories about your most recent encounters. She stopped tuning into the news, favoring hearing it from you. You knew why, but you never wanted to talk about it.

The night she found out that you were the one in red and blue spandex running all over New York, she had pleaded for you to stop. You were bloodied and bruised, and your ribs were definitely broken. Cuts littered your face as you told her that it was okay. You healed unnaturally faster than most. You couldn’t go to your mother, who you think would actually suffer a heart attack if she had found out about your daily activities.

May feared for your life, not wanting to lose another person in such a short period. Her husband, Ben Parker, had also been so kind to you. His untimely murder was difficult for her, and you kept her company and comforted her when she needed it.

And when you needed it, she gave the best hugs.

She was there when you had your first heartbreak when Gwen Stacy found out you liked her, and that effectively ended your friendship even though she had smiled at you like she always did and let you know that the two of you were going to be okay. Then she dated Harry. You never spoke much afterward.

She was there the time your mother was struggling to pay the bills while keeping the two of you fed. She brought food from F.E.A.S.T. and a bit of money she had saved up, so you wouldn’t have to eat instant ramen again another night that week. I know it’s not much, but I want you to have it. There were many protests that left your mom’s mouth, but ultimately they were futile. She broke down in tears after May left. You had never seen her cry before.

Even when she was dying, May Parker was full of soul and compassion until her very end.

A soft sigh from your lips fell into the chilly air. You stared up at Spider-Man. “What’s your name?”

“Peter.” There was a pregnant pause after. He laughed awkwardly. “Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Hi, Peter. Parker.”

That’s when you found out how nice your name sounded when he said it.

The view from the top of this building wasn’t bad. The rain made it colder, and it’d be much better if it wasn’t obstructed by a giant screen displaying the most annoying pain in the ass in New York City. And he was, well, a lot more bald now. No cigar either. That was a surprise. You could’ve sworn he lived on those like they were candy.

Spider-Man is a menace. This city needs no saving. Around him, only disaster and chaos ensue. And we innocents are left to pick up the pieces. God help us all.

You bit your tongue. “I guess J. Jonah Jameson is a dick in every world.”

Peter shook his head. “Yeah, no, for sure. I was fighting this guy, and we crashed into his office. I did not hear the end of it after that.”

“Ugh, I bet.”

His head turned to face you, frowning. “You feel that?”

“Yeah. Wanna go check it out?”

Peter nodded, pulling his mask back on. A few petty crimes and unreasonably upset criminals later (They were literally committing crimes. Were they really expecting to not get caught?), the two of you finally leaped off a random building, swinging down into an alleyway where you couldn’t be seen. 

“That guy was not in the holiday spirit.” Peter exhaled.

You climbed onto a fire escape and sat on the railing. Your laugh echoed in the silence of the alley. “I wouldn’t be either if I was getting stopped by two people dressed like us. I think one spider hero is enough for this city.”

“Really?” He looked down at his suit and back up at you. “I think we look great.”

You softly hummed, patting the spot next to you for him to sit.

“You sure you wanna be sitting there? We both know how sturdy those things are.”

“You’ll catch me, won’t you?” Your lips curled downward when there was no reply. “Peter?”

“Yeah.” He sighed out. “Of course.”

Was it something you said? That sinking feeling from earlier returned. You were about to mention it when a flicker of sparks appeared out of nowhere. You and Peter both turned, heads tilting in curiosity as a ring of sparks surrounded a pair of teens like a floating window. A portal?

They called out Peter’s name, yelling and waving their arms to get his attention. Did he know them? He glanced back at you. You nodded, jumping from the railing and jogging towards it with him by your side. You passed through it, no longer in a random cold alley.

A series of shrieks emitted from the poor older lady who was probably this kid’s grandmother. You cringed. Having two people dressed in spandex come through a glowing portal into your dining room was, admittedly, kind of terrifying.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m a nice guy.” Peter ripped off his mask. Why was he standing like that?

The girl on the right pointed towards you two. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Peter Parker.” He really liked to talk with his hands. “I’m Spider-Man… in my world, but then yesterday, I was—I was just here.”

“That’s impossible,” she muttered.

You took off your mask and quickly introduced yourself before gesturing between yourself and Peter. “We’re from different worlds.”

Peter’s eyes gleamed with childlike curiosity, darting around the kitchen. “String theory, multidimensional reality, and matter displacement. All real?”

A soft agreement left both of their lips.

“I knew it!” Peter whispered, mostly to himself than anything.

You would’ve called him a dork if you weren’t as excited about this discovery as he was. The huge grin he gave you was irresistible. You smiled back, admitting, “That is pretty cool.”

“This has to be because of the spell.” This guy was not good at being subtle.

Your heads turned to him. “The spell?”

“Like magic spell?” wondered Peter.

A string of protests left each of their lips at his inquiry which was definitely making it worse for them. The girl tried to shut up her friend who was rambling.

She faced Peter. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you’re Peter Parker.”

“I don’t carry an ID with me, you know? Kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

Wait, haven’t you—

There was a soft thunk as a piece of bread landed on the floor. Was that an English muffin? You glanced at the floor. That was definitely not an English muffin. What was that one Filipino bread again? Pandesal?

“Why’d you do that?”

She came to a stance, palms out toward him. This was hard to watch. “To see if you have the tingle thing.”

“I have the tingle thing, just not for bread.”

The girl picked up another piece of pandesal.

“Can you not throw the bread again? You’re a deeply mistrusting person, and I respect it.” Peter jumped, his fingers sticking him to the ceiling.

Somehow she was not satisfied. “Crawl around.”

You were both in disbelief.

“Crawl around?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes, crawl around.”

“Why do I have to crawl around?”

“‘Cause it’s not enough.”

He shook his head. “This is plenty.”

The boy spoke up, “My lola’s asking if you could just get the cobweb up there since you’re like up there?”

With his mask in his mouth, Peter crawled towards a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, ridding it for the kid’s grandma. His lola thanked him before he jumped back down.

And just when you thought this night could not have gotten weirder, the kid opened another portal, and out came another Peter Parker. There was some sort of understanding between the two Peters as they stared each other down. Their movements were practically the same as they flipped over. Older Peter Parker had shot out a web at yours which you easily grabbed.

“If you’re Spider-Man too, why didn’t you just say that?” the boy asked.

Older Peter smiled. “Uh, I generally don’t go around advertising it. Kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing.”

“I said that,” you and your Peter muttered.

The other Peter was looking for this world’s Peter Parker. That sense? Was it that sinking feeling you had?

“Well, uh, is there some place he might go that has meaning to him? Like a place he would go to just—“

“To get away from everything,” added your Peter.

Older Peter nodded. “For me it was the top of the Chrysler Building.”

You and your Peter said, “Empire State.”

Small smiles crept up on your faces as you glanced at each other.

“Better view,” he added.

Older Peter nodded. “That is a sweet view.”

The girl thought for a moment. “I think I might know a place.”

Ned and MJ held their friend once they reached the roof of Midtown High. This place looked different. Their Peter’s sobs made your chest ache. You were glad that he had people who loved him surrounding him.

He stood up, apologizing for his mistakes. He wanted to send you all home. You recognized yourself in the look on his face. His Aunt May died tonight. Your heart clenched, thinking about your own May.

“Don’t say that—don’t tell me you understand.”

Your Peter sounded as rough as you felt. “I lost… I lost Gwen. My uh, she was my MJ. I couldn’t save her. I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. I carried on, and tried to uh, tried to keep going, tried to be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man ‘cause I know that’s what she would’ve wanted. At some point, I just, I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful… I got bitter. I just don’t want you to end up like, like me.”

“I hunted down the man who I thought did it. I wanted him dead.” Older Peter paused. “I got what I wanted. It didn’t make it better. It took me a long time to learn to get through that darkness.”

“It was my fault that May died.” You exhaled shakily, trying to steady your voice. “Doc Ock spread a virus throughout the city, and I had the only cure in my hands. I needed the whole sample, but I wanted to give it to her. So badly. And I just couldn’t do it. All those lives to save, and I still lost her. You can still save these people, Peter. What May Parker stood for shouldn’t have to die with her.”

“I want to kill him. I want to tear him apart.” Young Peter’s voice cracked. “I can still hear her voice. Even after she was hurt, she said we did the right thing. She told me that, ‘With great power—’”

You swallowed. “Comes with great responsibility.”

“Wait, what—how do you know that?”

The other Peters’ eyes were watery like yours.

“Uncle Ben said it.”

“The day he died.”

“And May.”

Peter hesitated as he thought over your words. He looked at all of you. All versions of Spider-Man who have faced loss and hardship, but have carried on. For what was loss, but love that went beyond life itself? What was hardship without the perseverance to keep going? Who was Spider-Man if not the hero whose moral compass surpassed all else even when everything seemed lost?

There was a teary smile on your face as he agreed to help his foes.

Midtown’s chemistry lab was certainly not the first place you would think of to develop cures, but you supposed it worked just fine for what you were trying to achieve. Your Peter shrugged on a lab coat over his suit sometime after you went into the room. He looked ridiculous, but he probably looked more normal than you and young Peter did in just your suits.

You sat on a stool next to your Peter, leaning your elbows on the table. “You already made a cure once?”

He glanced over at you through his goggles. “Uh, yeah. Obviously it didn’t work.”

“I could help?”

“That’d be nice. Thank you.”

You began working on the cure for Dr. Connors together. You both figured out that some of his ratios of solutions were off. The potency of his original formula was greatly lowered because of it.

“You have anyone?” You heard Older Peter ask.

This seemed personal. You shouldn’t pry, but it’s hard when your hearing was enhanced.

“Oh, uh, no. I don’t have time for… Peter Parker stuff. You know how it is… You got anyone?”

“Yeah, it took a while, but we figured it out: me and MJ. Well, a different MJ. It gets kind of confusing around here.”

Ned called out his friend’s name, but he never specified which one. And after several painful attempts at specifying which Peter Parker he was talking about, you all finally sorted it out. Sort of. You were just assuming he was talking about his Peter. And you thought you were bad at socializing. 

Ned handed his friend his stuff. “Here’s your web cartridges.”

“Aw, thanks, man,” said young Peter as he grabbed them.

Older Peter glanced at the web cartridges. “What’s that for?”

“Web fluid for my web-shooters. Why?”

Webs suddenly shot from the eldest Peter’s wrists, causing everyone to flinch. Everyone stood, faces all carrying the same disbelief.

Ned’s eyes widened. “That came out of you—”

Your Peter’s face came closer to the eldest’s wrists, trying to examine them with an expression of both horror and intrigue. “How on earth do you even—“

He looked half amused. “Yeah, you can’t do that, huh?”

You and younger Peter shook your heads, kind of horrified. “No?”

Young Peter had realized that you were all getting sidetracked and began to discuss when and how you were going to go about curing everyone. Ned brought up that he could portal everyone to the Statue of Liberty using strange magic (was there known magic in this universe?), following with a promise to not turn into a supervillain and try to kill his best friend.

How nice.

Everyone was in a rush trying to get their cures and themselves ready. You glanced over at Peter, this world’s version of Peter Parker, attempting to fix up Max’s machine. A quiet chuckle escaped your lips. This was strange. Was meeting a comic book character (well three technically) from other universes weirder than getting bit by a radioactive spider and gaining superpowers? Yeah, probably.

This must’ve been hard for him. He was still in high school. Aunt May had been there for most of his life. You had only known May since you were a sophomore who needed volunteer hours for her graduation requirements. She was the lady who was kind enough to show you around F.E.A.S.T and helped you when you felt completely lost on your first day.

You hadn’t realized your feet had moved until you were in front of Peter. He looked up at you curiously, a question leaving his lips. You weren’t sure what he said. He then said your name.

“Oh.” How would you begin? “I’m sorry, uh, about May.”

You were terrible at this.

Peter’s lips pursed, mumbling some words of gratitude.

“I lost my May last year. She was, well, I’m sure you know how she was. Kind, and loving, caring, and everything I wanted to be loved with. My mom is a great mom, don’t get me wrong, but she wasn’t ever really there, I guess? I know my mom cares and she loves me, but it was hard to tell her anything. With May, it was easy.

And she knew about the whole”—you gestured to your suit—”Spider-Woman stuff. She took it pretty hard at first, but I think she understood that this was important to me. I couldn’t just stand by while people were getting hurt and then—then she was the one who got hurt and I… I could’ve done something to save her. But all those other people who were infected… I thought about them, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. What was the right choice to make? Why did I have to be the one to make these decisions? I was just some college student. Then she held my hand and told me everything would be alright and that she was proud of me. And then I watched her smile at me for the last time.” You wiped the tears that slid down your cheeks with the back of your hand.

Peter’s eyes glistened. “My Aunt May she, uh, didn’t handle me being Spider-Man well either. She wanted me to quit for a while. I guess she also realized that this whole saving people thing meant a lot to me too. I wanted to send these guys back home at first, but she wanted me to help them. And even when—even when she…” Peter swallowed. “She got hurt…”

“She wanted to help everyone.”

“Yeah, and I’m just… I’m so angry that I didn’t do more to protect her. And I’m so angry at him.” Peter’s jaw tensed.

“The next time I saw Doc Ock, I almost killed him. I felt that same anger, and I lost it. I kept hitting and hitting and hitting until I ripped his metal arms off. He looked so vulnerable on that rooftop. So helpless. And then I just… I walked away. I know seeing him again will hurt, but don’t lose yourself like I did. May wouldn’t want that for you. You’re just a kid, Peter.”

You were all just kids.

You and Peter both clung to the metal railing, shoulders touching as you stared out into the dark abyss of the New York sky. There were no stars to watch which was a little disappointing, but you weren’t here to stargaze. There was a silence that fell between you as you listened to the soft waves of the water below.

He suddenly spoke. “Why do you do it—this?”

Older Peter wasn’t standing that far from you, and younger Peter was way up high on the Statue of Liberty herself. She had a shield for some reason. His question was jarring, but there was not a lot of thought that was needed to answer. It didn’t matter that they could hear you.

“I do it because there are people that need saving,” you whispered, heavy gaze meeting his, “and I can do that saving.”

He frowned, a thought seemingly coming to mind at your words. “Do we need saving?”

You breathed in the chilly, winter air. “People like us need to save ourselves.”

“But don’t you want more?”

His gloved hand met your cold cheek, thumbing away a stray tear. Your watery eyes told him all he needed to know. He pulled your head into the crook of his neck. He was warm. You don’t remember the last time anyone held you like he did under the cloudy night.

“We don’t get to have more.” Your voice cracked, and you hated how it sounded.

You knew he understood, but he still asked, “Why not?”

Your tears blurred your vision. “May and Gwen. We lost them, and I don’t think my heart can handle losing someone else. I was so angry after May died, and it felt like everything she had lived for died too. I didn’t deserve her kindness. Sometimes, I still think about calling her or stopping by her apartment to ask her to mend my suit for me. Then I feel silly when I remember she’ll never answer my calls or my knocks on her door again.”

Peter swallowed. “I remember when Gwen died. She was thrown down, um, a clock tower by the Green Goblin. I caught her with my webs and still… She still died. I never forgave myself for not catching her myself.” He glanced at the other version of himself. “But maybe—maybe we owe it to them to have more. If your May is anything like my Aunt May, she wouldn’t want you to be alone. It hurts, yeah. It’s always gonna hurt—but that doesn’t mean you have to go through it by yourself. She’d want you to be happy.”

You couldn’t see, but he probably looked about the same as you. Reddened eyes and noses, wet cheeks cool from the air. He smelled like rain and peppermint. You could feel every ridge and dip in the texture of his suit against your skin. He felt so tangible against you, so alive and so breathing.

“Do you really think that?”

“No,” he began, “but I think I’m starting to.”

You never realized how cold it was in the city until after you pulled away from his warmth. You hummed, trying to get rid of the familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach. You’ve never been good at making it go away before. In high school, it didn’t go away until much after you and Gwen were just classmates again—like you had never shared your fears and wishes within the thin walls of her bedroom.

You found out right after that both Peters had back problems. Giggles had emitted from your lips at the sight of your Peter cracking the other’s back. Your own limbs were constantly sore from all the fighting and avoiding getting killed.

“God, this is so cool.” Peter laughed. “I always wanted brothers… So you like, make your own web fluid in your body?”

“I’d rather not talk about this.”

“No, I don’t mean to—”

Older Peter pointed to himself. “Are you teasing me?”

A rush of protests ran from young Peter’s mouth. “He’s not teasing you! It’s just that… we can’t do that, so naturally, we’re curious as to how your web situation works. That’s all.”

“If it’s personal, I don’t want to pry, but I just think it’s cool.”

“No, I wish I could tell you, but it’s like I don’t do it. It’s like, like I don’t do breathing. Like breathing just happens.”

“Does it like, ever run out?” you asked, glancing at his wrists. “And does your suit have… holes for them to come out?”

“Like a web block?” your Peter added. “‘Cause I run out of webs all the time. I have to make my own in a lab. And it’s a hassle.”

“Yeah, there are holes in my suit. And that sounds like a hassle, yeah, but I did. I was like oh, I had a web block.” This Peter also liked to talk with his hands. “Existential crisis stuff.”

You nodded. “Oh. I have to make mine in a lab too. Don’t you hate it when you run out in the middle of trying to tie up a lizard?”

“God, yeah, it’s annoying.” Your Peter exhaled. “Dr. Connors, right?”

You shook your head. “Caught him a few months ago. He’s been in prison for a while. There’s another lizard guy.”

“Another?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. What are the chances?”

He chuckled. “Pretty high, apparently.”

You pointed towards his wrist. “Can I?”

He looked down at his web-shooters. “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

Your Peter handed you one of his web-shooters for you to examine. The builds of yours and his were strikingly similar. You took out one of your web fluid cartridges, attempting to insert it into his. And to your surprise, it clicked into place.

“Can you shoot two webs?” you asked, giving it back to him.

He nodded, pointing his wrists at a metal bar. The webs were identical, but you tugged each, finding that yours was slightly more sturdy. You passed a few cartridges of your web fluid towards the man. “It’s made of a semi-organic compound that’s pretty durable, but still keeps the same flexibility as your webs. I think you’ll like it.”

“Wait, where do you get something like this? The only place I could ever get my hands on that is—“

“Oscorp,” you finished. “Yeah, I kind of work there.”

Both pretty Parker and older Peter looked at you. Something in their eyes was sad as they spoke, “Harry?”

“A dick.” You sighed. “But you get used to him.”

“And Green Goblin?”

“Norman Osborn? He’s okay. They’re okay.”

They nodded, a little wash of relief can be seen in their features. Something told you that things must’ve turned out differently for those two in their worlds. You were all lucky enough to come out unscathed. Almost, at least. Norman was in a rehabilitation facility, and Harry, well, you knew it was hard on him without the guidance of his beloved father.

“Hey,” young Peter called, “what are like some of the craziest villains that you guys have fought?”

“Seems you’ve met some of them.” A chuckle came from older Peter’s lips. 

Your Peter laughed. “That’s a good question.”

“Yeah, I fought an uh, an alien made out of black goo once.”

“Oh, no way. I fought an alien too! On earth and in space.” You weren’t sure why young Peter felt the need to yell. You were sure all of you had enhanced hearing already. Also space?

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he was purple.”

“I want to fight an alien—did you all fight an alien?” Your Peter sounded jealous.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, I also fought that alien made of black goo… we called them Venom. You guys know Flash, right?”

They all looked at you. “Wait, Flash?”

“Um, yeah. The guy who bullied a bunch of kids at Midtown? I’m assuming you guys went to school with him too? I had to tutor him a few times. Found out he started a Spider-Woman fan club.” A giggle slipped out of you at the thought.

“Huh…” Each Peter wore the same expression of disbelief.

Your Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m lame compar—like I fought a Russian guy in like a rhinoceros machine.”

“Yeah, I mean I fought a lizard two days ago.” Your shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “He was a doctor trying to develop a serum to cure almost any disease. Nothing’s really been that exciting lately. But you know, in my world, you guys are all comic book characters. I mean, one character, technically.”

You could hear the excitement in young Peter’s voice. “Seriously?”

“That is so cool.” Your Peter grinned, pointing to himself. “I’m a comic book character?”

You looked over at him, matching his grin. “Yes, Peter. The coolest one.”

There was a crease between the eldest’s brows. “Can we rewind it back to the ‘I’m lame’ part? ‘Cause you are not.”

“Aw thanks, yeah no, I appreciate it—I’m not saying I’m lame—” Peter brushed him off. He was definitely not taking this to heart.

You don’t really blame him. You wouldn’t either. Would this technically be considered giving a pep talk to yourself?

The other Peter waved his hand towards his head. “It’s just the self talk. Maybe we should, you know—”

“Thank you, yeah.” Your Peter gripped onto the railing. “No, I kinda needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You bumped his shoulder with yours, offering him a small smile. “I think you’re amazing.”

Peter’s face softened at that. “Thank you.”

The back of your skull tingled. You heard young Peter’s soft voice fill the air, telling you guys to focus now. This was it.

This was a cathartic end in a way; seeing these people, some whom you have fought before, be healed as they always deserved to be, but had never been given the opportunity to be until now. Young Peter will make a great Spider-Man.

The loss of May Parker would forever be a weight on both of you, but so would her love and kindness and soul—and somehow, you thought everything would be just fine.

The hues of orange and pink blended seamlessly across the sky. It brought warmth to your skin and your chest. How come you never realized how beautiful the sunrise is in New York?

“I hope I get to see you again.” Your Peter smiled. “All of you.”

A nod of agreement was shared. Young Peter finally said his goodbyes with a group hug and then left to see his friends.

Your Peter held the other version of himself by the waist. You don’t remember ever getting stabbed before, but you’re sure it hurt. The poor guy’s strained expression said enough as your Peter acknowledged it. You smiled at the two.

Older Peter looked between the two of you with a knowing smile (what he knew, you weren’t sure) before making his way, though very slowly, towards Norman. You were sure they had much to talk about and catch up on. Dr. Osborn looked like he needed it anyway.

You were left alone with your Spider-Man and the sky in shades of gold. You wanted to hug him again, but you weren’t sure if it was appropriate or not? Or were you just overthinking it considering that this might be the last time you’ll ever see him?

The syllables of your name fell into the cold air from his tongue. Say it again, please?

“I think I’ll miss you.” Your voice was soft.

It was like he could just tell. His lanky arms covered your body, squeezing you tightly. “I think I’ll miss you too.”

You stayed like that for a while. Aunt May must’ve taught him how to hug. Even if they weren’t the same person, you felt every bit of her being in him. Was it too much to ask if you could stay like that forever? The universe seemed to ignore your request as you began to slip from his warm grasp.

Your Peter held up a peace sign as you all began to fade from this version of your beloved city, from all the versions of Peter Parker that you’ve grown to like and care for in the last day.

Your Peter. That sounded nice.

A soft whisper fell from your lips as you chuckled. He was just like you. “Idiot.”

You sighed, staring out the window of your apartment. Snow decorated New York well. That was until the soft white snow turned into a brown slush that definitely would not taste like coke. Though it was a white Christmas just as you hoped.

Was Peter having a white Christmas too?

He filled your mind often, all three of them did, but mostly your Peter. Did he ever think about you? His face and his infectious smile had plagued your thoughts and your dreams since your meeting. So much so, that you found yourself doubting that any of that actually happened.

Stupid, weird, lizard goo.

This was certainly not how you expected to be spending the holiday season. It was strange. You had Harry Osborn in your living room watching Home Alone with you. You decided that it was a nice weird. A Santa hat that you said looked stupid decorated his head. Although it was kind of cute on him. Peter would look cute in a Santa hat. In your hands was a mug filled with hot chocolate, a delicious and probably extremely overpriced kind that he brought over.

Harry got you the entire collection of The Amazing Spider-Man comics with a dumb grin on his face like it was some terribly funny joke. You swatted the back of his head afterward, listening to a drawn whine emitting from his eggnog-covered lips. On top of the stack of comics was a shirt with you on it, or well, Spider-Woman in a Santa hat. Harry pulled his thick green sweater over his head to reveal himself wearing the same shirt.

You snorted. “I hate you.”

“What? You don’t want to match?”

“You look so dumb. But I do appreciate the comics. I will now have something to read when I get tired of you. I will get through it easily.”

He scoffed at you. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Okay, now open your gift. It’s definitely not as expensive as yours, but…” Your voice trailed off, eyebrows knitting.

Harry called your name a few times, watching you with a face full of concern. After a few moments, he sighed. “It’s okay. Go. I can open it later.”

You offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Might wanna come back sooner or else this eggnog will all be gone. And come back in one piece, Spidey.”

“That’s the plan, Harry.”

“So we’re on a first name basis now?”

“Goodbye, Osborn.”

You changed into your suit and pulled on the mask with a light exhale, leaping out of your window and into the cold, winter night. The rush of the wind, the weightlessness of swinging through the air. It left your heart racing, and you felt more alive than ever. You fell in love with this.

Crime always continued on, and even through tragedy, so did Spider-Woman.

[msookyspooky]

Terrible Trilogy

Part 12

wordcount: 6,200

You adjusted the strap on your purse as you walked. Nervously looking around and trying so hard to act like you were okay. A group of people walked by you out of the restaurant. You bumped into someone and then accidentally into someone else. You apologized with red cheeks and a shameful frown. You hated how much confidence these last few years took away from you...You just hated it.

'It's just dinner..You're fine, you're safe, it's okay. You'll figure something out.' You told yourself as your eyes scanned the patio.

"YN, you made it." He got up from his seat and outstretched his arms. You noticed the slight stagger but it wasn't as bad as it used to be.

"Hey, Dewey." You hugged him with a relieved sigh at seeing a familiar face. You both let go from the quick hug as he pulled out a chair for you. You wanted to argue that he didn't have to do that, no one, not even Randy did it...But you knew that was just one of those endearing traits Dewey possessed that made him stand out among everyone else.

You sat down, watching him slowly ease down in his own chair with a groan.

 The second hit to the back at Windsor both helped and hurt him. The scar tissue saved his life and the second stab reversed some of the numbness in his arm...But it didn't repair it completely. He still had the limp and probably always would but it did seem better than what it was 3 years ago. 

"I'm glad you could make it, Dewey. And I'm kind of glad you guys picked such a quiet place." You noted. It was a quant place on a corner that you got a table on the patio to sit at. 

"Well, we figured quiet is best...Considering." 

"Yeah, especially with the hermit coming out of her shell." 

He gave a small half cringe smile. "Yes." 

You forced a smile. "It's okay but...I'm not as fragile as you all think. I've handled worse than a crowd...But I guess I do have to admit I still get panic attacks if I hear screaming or people rushing towards me once in a while." 

Dewey gave you a sympathetic look. "Hey, it's a big improvement from when you were younger. Baby steps… Hey, that locket?" 

You looked down at it. "Yeah?" 

"Well...I've been meaning to ask you what's inside." He sheepishly smiled. "If it's an old boyfriend or something you don't have to tell me. You just wear it an awful lot." 

You smiled up at him. "You should have asked sooner, Dewey." You gently grabbed it and popped it open. His face scrunched to see it before falling. 

You kept the smile as you informed him. "It's one of the only and last things Sidney ever gave me. It just screams her, doesn't it? Old soul sort of thing…" You looked down at the picture yourself with a sad smile. Sidney and you on the bleachers of Woodsboro High during a game to support Tatum Cheering. "I wear it any time I feel anxious. I wore it at Windsor and used it to slash at Mickey's eyes...I'd like to think she did that herself." 

Dewey swallowed and stared at it. "Well...I'm glad someone was there for you. Especially her or…" He trailed off, forcing a smile and looking away as the conversation died off. 

You sighed and looked around. It was getting dark and the patio lights were being turned on. "So uh, where's Ray?" 

 "He said he might be late...He didn't say why. Sorry." 

You shook your head. "No, that's fine! I'm more than happy to spend time with you while we wait. How have you been? We talk on the phone but...You never mentioned Hollywood?" 

He gave a sheepish look. "Well uh, It was a last minute decision. After Gale and I broke up there hasn't been much going on in my life so I got offered the job one day and took it. I didn't tell you because of...Well, the movie." 

You smiled at that and shook your head. "Dewey, it's fine. I'm not gonna break. I wish you and Randy would realize that... So, what exactly is your job here?" 

"To help on set with details of Woodsboro and to help keep Jennifer safe." 

"Jennifer?" 

He smiled. "Yeah, she's the actress playing Gale. Jennifer Jolie." 

You blinked in surprise. "O-Oh."

Dewey rolled his lips in thought. "I know what you're thinking and Jennifer is...She's different, YN. She's not like Gale, she just plays Gale. She needed someone that knew Gale on a personal level to help nail her character so she offered to give me the job as a bodyguard for her." 

You thought a moment before smiling. "That's nice. I'm glad you found work you seem to enjoy."

"Are you sure? YN...You can tell me what you really feel." 

You opened your mouth, closed it, adjusted in your seat...And opened again when you finally thought of what you wanted to ask. 

"You never talked much about you and Gale after the split...I'm just worried working on the set of the most traumatic day of our lives and following around a woman that is made to look like Gale isn't exactly a healthy coping mechanism." 

"To be fair, neither is not going to therapy anymore and living in the woods." He mumbled while sipping his water with raised brows.

You nodded with a light eye roll. "Okay, you got me there. I just wanted to know...Why? Why are you really here, Dewey?"

 "I don't know...I guess to distract myself and to finally feel useful." 

"Dewey… What do you mean 'finally useful'? You're always useful!" 

He shifted in his seat and looked down at the table. "Not really. The truth is, I'm not the most...Competent guy. I always seem to screw things up." He gave with a grimace.

Your mouth dropped. "What? No!-" 

"YN, it's okay to say it. No matter how hard I try not to, I've messed up. I already failed Tatum...Sidney...You and Randy-" 

You leaned forward across the table to look at him. "Woah, hey! You didn't fail me or Randy and you didn't fail-" 

He cut you off. "Please...Don't tell me I didn't fail my little sister and her best friend because I did. If I would have taken your claim more seriously and not been so...Twitter painted with Gale Weathers-" He threw up his hand in disgust while looking away. "This wouldn't have gotten this far and Tatum would still be here. I should have seen it! Billy Loomis should have never been let out of that jail cell and Stu Macher's party should have been shut down!" 

"That was Woodsboro police's fault-" 

He raised his voice in anguish. "I was the police!" 

You leveled your tone at him with raised brows. "As a precinct, Dewey. You were one deputy." 

"A deputy that should have told my superior everything! If we would have told the Chief-"

"Dewey." You said his name evenly to draw him back. His brows were tense and his mouth was in a tight frown as you stared at him. You continued.  "Dewey, I called them and they thought it was a prank. They wouldn't believe us if we did. I mean, for god sakes, they let a party happen knowing a killer was on the loose. All of us dumbass kids went despite it all...Horror movie 101. Randy would be screaming right now that everyone does dumb things in these movies; especially horny, boozed filled teenagers." 

You smirked at him and he tried to smirk back but it fell into a frown. 

He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging and a prominent frown on his face. "I still screwed up. Two young girls with their whole lives ahead of them are dead now. A man held hostage lost everything including his own life. Another man just trying to earn a living died...The only thing that came out of that fire was the Macher house was destroyed and the two sick delinquents aren't around to hurt anyone else." He muttered with a distant glare. 

You swallowed and nodded at that last part. 

"Worst of all, I failed you and Randy...Again." 

You raised up in your seat. "How?" 

You saw the frustration in him. "Because I should have been there for you kids! I vowed after the Party to always be there!...And I wasn't. Once again, I got sidetracked with Gale and the killer got the upperhand at Windsor. I should have never left Randy's side. I should have never left yours-" 

"Dewey, where is this all coming from?" 

He shook his head to himself. "Cotton Weary's murder...YN, the killer left Maureen Prescott's picture at the crime scene. Randy wants to act like it's nothing but it is!..." He stared back at you with tired eyes. "It's happening again. And Randy took this job when I told him not to and now you're here and...And I should have been there to stop it last time! I should have seen it coming I -" 

You tentatively reached out and nudged his shoulder, forcing him out of his rant to glance over at you. "Dewey. Randy chose to wander off looking for the killer by himself just like we both chose to come here." 

"It was broad daylight of course he wandered off by himself." 

"Exactly! How was anyone supposed to know Billy's Mom would risk that? That wasn't anyone's fault, not even Randy's. And it DEFINITELY isn't yours." 

"But you!-" 

"Dewey! I was with two detectives going to a safe house!" You gave a disbelieving smirk. "Who the hell would have thought!? I mean, seriously. If two detectives with guns couldn't help me then what could you have done differently?" 

He deflated a bit. "I guess you did a better job at defending yourself than the fired cop with a limp could...After what Chief Hartley told me what the Detectives told him...I still can't believe you! You could have died!-" 

You held up a hand with a smile. "Dewey, I have heard this protective older brother lecture from you for 3 years now. It was dumb, it was reckless, I'm lucky to be alive...Am I ever not gonna hear it?" You asked with a good natured chuckle. You stared a moment, smile fading into a serious look. "...Listen to me; You did not fail me or Ray. Okay? You have protected us to the point of getting yourself hurt in the process." 

He pouted before staring hopelessly at you. "YN...I just know I made a promise to protect you and Randy. No matter what, you two kids will get to live your lives." 

You smiled sadly. "But what about you? When do you get to stop living in past tense Woodsboro and live your life? And no, working on a movie set identical to it doesn't count." 

He sighed in defeat. "I'm fine. But you and Randy come first...I mean, look at you both. Only in your early 20's and you've already dealt with so much..I get worried about you especially now." 

"Not Ray?" 

"Randy is...He bounces back. I think all the horror movies he's watched impacted his brain." 

"I like horror too, you know." 

"You though...YN, you had a more personal betrayal and fight in this both times." He leaned forward to mumble to you across the table. "...Go home, YN. I don't care what you're here for, I don't care if Randy invited you, I don't care how much you have to prove. You have nothing to prove to anyone...It's not safe." 

"...Oh Dewey, if only you knew...." You mumbled under your breath.

"What do you mean?" 

You hesitated. "...I uh...I had this feeling I wasn't safe at my house either."

His eyes widened. "Did something happen?" 

You hesitated. Dewey felt safe. Would he believe you? Would he trust that you're just trying to do the only thing you can to keep your name clear while keeping everyone you loved safe? Or would he blab to Gale the second they have a heart to heart and ruin your entire life? 

You licked your lips and stammered. "Just...Just the fact this killer left a picture of Mrs. Prescott...I don't know. I just knew I wanted to be near you two-" 

You jumped with a gasp. 

"Is that really the case? Cause if so, why lie to your folks? Sounds fishy to me." Someone whispered over your shoulder as they leaned over your chair. 

You turned and smacked him on impulse. He cringed and you faltered when you smacked his leg you stabbed 5 years ago.

"Hey, chill!" He grumbled as he hissed and took a seat, rubbing the scar on his leg through his pants. 

"Then don't sneak up on someone with Post Traumatic Stress and bear spray, RAY!" You lectured. Heart hammering more than you wanted to admit. You hated the idea that you could be scared so easily now. 

"Bear spray? Okay, Ranger YN. Sorry!" 

Dewey gave Randy a scolding look. "Randy, quit. Where were you anyway?" 

Randy blinked. "Um, just fiddling around with the editing on set. I got the most boring job but hey; it opens doors." 

Dewey scrunched his brows. "Yeah but...I thought Roman told everyone to go home?" 

"What? I stayed late to get work done." 

You chimed in. "Hey, it's good for him Dewey. He's finally starting to pitch in his share." 

Randy huffed with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair. "...Oh, you're STILL sore about our project in Government class junior year, huh?" 

Your eyes narrowed at the memory. "Yeah now that you mention it; I am. I had the option of working with that one girl with the big forehead and braces or you and since I knew you; I chose Randy Meeks as my partner...You left me to do the ENTIRE Legislative and Executive branch by myself! I seriously hated you in Highschool. " 

"I had to work a shift at the video store and forgot! I apologized." 

"THEN, you took the credit and stole the show by presenting it and talking over me! That A- was ALL mine." 

"Hey, I was the persuasion for the A." Randy gave with a gesture to himself. You rolled your eyes in response as he continued. "Besides, I worked on the judicial branch!" 

"You glossed over it, dork." 

"I did my part, okay?" 

Dewey huffed. "Would you two stop?"

Randy shrugged with a smirk. "Hey, I'm just glad the Woodsboro family reunion is back in town. Although…" 

"What?" You asked. 

"Nothing, just everyone coming together as a reunion almost always ends in the killer coming back as well." 

"Randy, the killer is already here." Dewey gave with an exasperated frown.

"JUST Cotton and his girlfriend. An isolated incident." 

"I hope you're right but with Mrs. Prescott's picture at the crime scene; I doubt it." 

You bit your lower lip and quickly changed the subject. "So, Randy...You like the job so far?" 

Time flew by as you all talked about family, old memories, friends. You honestly thought halfway through your meal that Randy forgot and you could get away from coming up with a believable excuse. 

Then Randy said it. "So...YN, why are you here?" 

'Shit.' You thought as you let your fork hit the plate with an annoyed groan.

Dewey stared at him. "Because you invited her; something I don't think was the wisest choice." 

"I did not invite her!" 

"You called her." 

"I did not call her. I swear, I didn't! She left two days prior to me supposedly calling her, which I didn't, and she won't explain where she was." Dewey glanced over at you as Randy spoke. "So YN, kindly explain because I'm trying to understand what the hell is going on here." 

"Randy, I told you I wanted to get away from solitude at my house." 

"So, what? You just go right into the fire with wall to wall people here on set?" 

"Maybe." 

"Why lie to your parents then?" 

"I don't know, Randy. Maybe because I didn't want them to worry about me? Or to get the third degree from them, like you're doing to me right now." 

"Well, YN, it's natural to question it. Especially when you drag me into the lie." He held up a finger. "And don't tell me I invited you because I wasn't even on set yet when they called to tell me what you told them." 

You held up your hands in front of you towards him. "And I'm sorry for having you lie for me! But I don't have any other excuse. They worry so much about me. You all do. I'm tired of people worrying about me!...I mean, damn! I've been through more in my 5 years of young adulting than most people three times my age have dealt with in their whole lives. And yet you all think I can't handle myself? If only you all knew." 

"No one is saying that but it is...Concerning." Dewey trailed off.

"Why?" 

Randy sighed. "Well...You're not going to therapy anymore and you never said why-" 

"Because I'm better, Randy." You growled out with a glare.

"Better?..." He listed off his fingers. "YN, you swore I called and invited you here when I most certainly did not. You leave your dog at your parents house and just take off with no warning. You lie to them and claim you're coming to see me but it took you two days to get here...You don't think we can't be concerned?" 

You put your fingertips on your temple. "Randy…I am not going fucking crazy!…" You put a hand on your forehead to think a moment before getting up. "I'm not doing this...Excuse me, I need some air." 

You went to get up and Randy instantly got up and blocked your path. "Hey, hey, hey. No one is saying that and you need to talk this out! Whatever is going on with you, you need to get it out." 

"I don't need to talk, Randy. Especially when I'm getting the third degree and looks that are screaming 'she's done cracked', okay?!" 

"No one is doing that, you're just hiding things and deflecting right now." 

You hissed under your breath as you glared at him. "Bullshit. This is Windsor all over again! You know how Tim and James were just figments of my imagination even when two cops saw them?!-" 

"No one said figments! We just saw two guys that looked similar to Billy and Stu and ran with it! We know they existed but it wasn't them!" 

"No, that's not the point I'm making! You want to just stick your head in the sand and ignore what I tell you and then get mad when I hide things from you because you've rejected ANY thoughts pertaining to Woodsboro or Windsor...Now you're doing it here!" 

"What does this have to do with you being here?" 

You stomped your foot, feeling cornered. "EVERYTHING! No one believed me at Windsor until it was too late either." You rummaged in your purse for your keys, trying to keep yourself from getting emotional at all the bad memories. "I didn't tell anyone about Woodsboro and got flak for it. I told everyone at Windsor something was wrong and who they were and no one believed me." You released a frustrated growl when you couldn't find your keys and some things fell out of your purse. "THIS is why I keep my new life a secret from everyone. No one knows the half of it because you all think I'm nuts until it's too damn late!" 

Dewey intervened. "Hey." He shuffled over, giving you a pleading gaze. "YN...We're just trying to help. We can tell some things off and you're upset...Please?" He gestured to the table, a few people eyeing you from other tables on the mostly vacant patio. 

You sighed, putting your keys back and dragged yourself back over to sit. Dewey followed but Randy hesitated. Eyeing something on the ground. He picked it up. At first, you thought it was a napkin...But then his face changed as you saw him reading it and your heart dropped out from under you.

"YN…" Randy read it, shaking his head and looking at you in shock. "What's going on? What is this?" 

It was the letter….You hid it in your suitcase. So how did it end up in your purse? 

Randy walked back over and read it before showing it to Dewey. Dewey's face dropped as you avoided eye contact...You were scared to death. Everything was narrowing in and you gripped your seat. 

"YN, this is like what you got at Windsor." Dewey concluded under his breath.

You hesitantly nodded. 

Randy sank back in his seat with an uneasy expression. 

You were waiting for it. Waiting for the accusations. Waiting for the mistrustful stares. Waiting to have to flee tonight and change your name and never come back.

"God, is this another crazy fan?" Randy asked.

Dewey shook his head in disgust. "Whoever this is, we'll get them. We'll contact the detectives-" 

"NO." You snapped, terror in your voice at the idea.

"Why not?! YN, you almost died from that wackjob megafan attacking you a few years ago. You need to report it to the police!" He stared at you with a dumbfounded look. "What the hell is going on?"

Both men stared at you as you sank helplessly in your seat. You sucked in a breath and looked at them. The letter was exactly what it was days ago.

It read: "You're not innocent, YN. You helped them kill. You helped them hide. You, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are going to pay." 

You stared a moment before letting it out. "Okay...I got this letter in the mail 3 days ago." 

"YOUR mail? How?? No one knows your address?-" Dewey said louder than you'd like.

"You tell me?" You gave in a hushed tone. "If the killer found my address, I knew I wasn't safe." 

"Why didn't you say anything??" Randy asked. 

"Because I was scared!" You snapped. "I was scared and confused and I didn't want to drag anymore people into this then I had to." 

Randy looked offended as he frowned at you. "...You're not doing this again." 

You blinked at him as he leaned over to you. "You are not hiding this from everyone like you did 5 years ago and getting yourself killed!" 

You felt a heaviness in your chest. "What was I supposed to do Ray? Gale and every other media buff would use this letter as evidence I helped them when I didn't...And-" You stopped yourself before you said too much. Your voice barely above a whisper. "I just didn't know what to do but to get as far away from the house as possible." 

Dewey sighed with worry in his eyes. "We never did find those two men you, Cotton and Gale saw at the theater...Do you think it's them?" 

Randy shook his head. "And why the hell are they mentioning those idiots like they lived? They're dead. This is clearly some crazy conspiracy theorist courtesy of Gale's book." 

You didn't know what to say at first. Mouth opening then closing before shrugging. "I...I don't know. This seems more...Personal. I was coming here anyways and then Randy called-" 

"I swear, I didn't! You think I would drag you here?" He quickly held up a hand at the look on your face. "I'm not saying you're crazy, okay? Just that you're mistaken because you're scared and lacking sleep too...But if...If you are seeing things or hearing things. I can tell...Please, YN. You gotta talk to us." 

You frowned with a heavy sigh at his response. "...I swear to you. I didn't make any of this up and I NEVER helped them at that party. I didn't." You felt your eyes burning as you rolled your lips to try and fight the tears. 

You hated lying or hiding things but what choice did you have? You only hid Stu because you knew he'd kill you before the cops ever got him. Why poke a sleeping bear if you could appease him and pray he would get bored and eventually move on? And you had no idea where Billy had been all this time! You told the cops about Billy and Stu and they didn't believe you; no one did. Who was saying even Dewey and Randy would trust that you were being forced to side with two killers or they'd make this situation 1000 times worse? 

Dewey leaned across the table to touch your arm. "We believe you...You have to go to the police." 

You grabbed the letter from Randy and hid it back into your bag. "No. We can't. " 

"What? YN!-" 

"No, Dewey! Didn't I just say the cops thought I was pranking them that night? They didn't believe me at Windsor and tried acting like I was just a dumb college girl off her meds. If I go to the cops with this; it will piss the killer off and we're all dead." You mumbled. "Besides, if they find out about any of my missed therapy sessions they would love to paint me as crazy and write it off." 

Dewey looked unconvinced but Randy nodded. "YN has a point, Dew...I mean, the cops never get it right in horror movies." 

Dewey gave a frustrated scoff. "But this is real life! Randy-" He paused when his phone rang. He struggled with himself before sighing and answering, excusing himself from the table. 

You looked at Randy as he rolled his eyes. "Probably Jennifer. I've been here two days and that's all I've heard from him is 'Jennifer likes mint tea, Jennifer doesn't do polyester, Jennifer and Gale aren't the same, Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer'." He mocked with an imitation of Dewey's softer voice. "I swear that guy has a VERY specific type of woman." 

He noticed you weren't smiling. Gripping your hands in your lap and staring at the table. Your mind racing. 

Randy nudged you. "Hey...No one thinks you're losing it and I know you didn't help them. Okay? I know you're not making anything up but I also know I didn't make that call to you." 

"I checked my phone earlier when you were talking to me and...It was an unknown number. I just answered it this morning out of habit and heard your voice. I didn't think anything about it at the time." 

Randy stared intently at that. "...You think someone impersonated me?" 

"I...I don't know, Ray." You quietly gave. "It was your voice exactly inviting me to come welcome you to your new job on Set of Stab 3...I'm getting creeped out by all of this." Your voice cracked a bit. "I don't want to say anything to Dewey but...This letter came from mail he sent me. It was opened then resealed." 

Randy sighed heavily and scooted his chair towards you and placed his hand on your shoulder blade, rubbing your upper back a moment to offer some form of comfort. "Hey, we're here now. Hopefully this weirdo freak gets sloppy and gets caught soon. Hopefully Cotton and his girlfriend were his only ones." 

Dewey came back with a cringe and got out his wallet. "I'm sorry guys but Jennifer needs me." 

Randy raised his hand from rubbing your shoulder blades and gave you an 'I told you so' expression as Dewey laid out his part of the bill. You grabbed his hand quickly so he would look at you.

"Dewey wait!....Please, I'm begging you to keep this one under wraps. Please, no cops involved. We can catch this guy faster than anyone...Please, for me." 

Dewey's mouth moved as he pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek in thought before nodding as you released his hand. "Okay...For your privacy and safety; we'll keep this secret. But don't do anything risky, okay?" 

You felt the guilt already welling up in you as you nodded. "I'll try." 

Dewey gave you the same look your parents would if they thought you were fibbing but accepted it as he walked away and waved goodbye. 

You looked at Randy with dread. On one hand; they didn't believe Billy or Stu were alive and therefore you were scott free of any wrongdoing. On the other hand; this opened a pandora's box you were afraid you wouldn't be able to close ever again.

"...Randy, someone sent me this letter with malicious intent and it was through Dewey's mail. And they got my number somehow through someone."

Randy tilted his head in thought.  "Welp. Either one of two things; Either the killer was near your house." 

You finished for him. "Or it's someone close to Dewey." 

"Gale or Jennifer...Shit." Randy mumbled as he slid his hand down his face. 

"Now do you believe it has something to do with us? Why was I invited here? Or Dewey? Or you? Of all the movies to get offered a job to work on, you got this one." 

He countered your argument.  "Okay but how do you explain my voice? And why Cotton? Why the picture of Maureen Prescott?" 

You wished you could tell him more but it died on your tongue. The silence between you both stretched on.

Randy eased his chair away with a groan. "...So we're doing this again?" 

"I guess." You sniffed with a roll of your head. "See what happens when you ask questions and won't let up? You get answers you don't like."

Randy groaned. "...Fuck my life." 

—————————————————————

You made your way up to your motel room, spray in hand as you unlocked the door. You felt like being sick. 

Yes, you were grateful Dewey and Randy didn't believe the letter but it was still more info than you wanted given out. It was enough to plant a seed that, if evidence arose, then maybe they would believe that letter. 

Then, there was the question of how it got into your purse in the first place and trying to confront the only two people in your room that could have done this.

The door opened before you were finished turning the handle as Stu ushered you inside. 

"What did you find?" You asked.

"Nothing. Cops had the place tapped off and were still searching there. It was a wasted evening to say the least." Billy informed you as he sat on the bed. 

You rolled your lips in thought before you decided to rip off the bandaid by taking out the letter from your purse to show them. You held it up as you spoke.

"Who put this in my purse?" 

They both gave confused looks as you shook the letter. "Damn it, I know one of you did this! Thanks to you, it fell out at the restaurant." 

Both their eyes widened as Billy stood up and Stu stared down at you near the door. 

"Did they see?" Stu asked with an urgency to his voice.

You shoved the letter away onto the table. "Yes but you're lucky they believed me and think it's another hyper fan obsessed with Stab." 

Stu huffed. "And we're supposed to just trust that? They know-" 

You interrupted him. "Stop. They don't. Don't start something that isn't an issue right now. What is an issue is the fact that this letter was in the bottom of my suitcase and how it ended up in my purse." 

They both gave each other skeptical glances as you ranted.

"God...Maybe it really is one of you?" You gripped your head, leaning against the wall.

Billy raised a brow and gave glares to both you and Stu. "Yeah, the question is which is it?" 

Stu sneered at him. "We both know who, Billy." 

You shook your head, incoherently mumbling to yourself to form the pieces together. "First the letter, the phone call this morning, now the letter again-" 

"Wait...The one with Randy?" Billy asked.

You bit your lip, cursing at yourself inwardly for probably saying too much. "...It wasn't Randy." 

"Whaddya mean? You know his voice. He's the most loyal, bestest best friend you ever had, remember?" Billy mocked. 

You looked back at Billy. "Yeah, it was Randy's voice that invited me here but he swears he didn't." 

Stu scoffed with a mocking smirk. "Pft, yeah and you're going to believe that? Kids probably doing this." 

You jerked your head towards Stu with a scowl. "Don't even. Besides, I rechecked and it was a hidden number. If Randy did invite me here for the reason you think...Why would he hide his number? I know his voice, he said his name was Randy...So why would he block his number?" 

"He wouldn't." Billy gave.

You looked back at Stu. "Exactly and didn't you claim I called you?" 

"Yeah, you did." 

"Well, I didn't...Can I see your phone?" 

Stu hesitated. "Uh, why would you want to do that?" 

Billy stepped forward with a glare. "So we can see the number, dumbass...Unless you have something you're hiding?" 

Stu scoffed with an offended glare. He hesitated before reluctantly giving you his phone. "Okay, whatever. Here." 

You took it and started going through it. You paused seeing a picture of you sleeping. It made you clench your jaw as you turned it around to show him. "What the hell is wrong with?" 

"You got an hour?" Billy retorted. 

Stu fumbled with a chuckle. "W-What? You looked cute sleeping so I took a picture...Just get to my recent calls, alright? You can't snoop on a man's phone and not intend to find questionable shit." 

Billy gave Stu a judging glance as Stu glared back at him and you shook your head and kept going till you finally found it. 

"THERE. LOOK." You showed it to him and it was the same. "If it was me, it would have my caller ID!" 

Stu faltered. "Shit...But, I mean it wasn't saved though? I just answered because not too many people have my number and I was really hoping for that phone call from you, Sweetcheeks. You know, that you changed your mind." 

"It would still say my number." You gave, ignoring the comment. 

Billy folded his arms. "So...You're suggesting this guy is imitating people's voices? How the fuck is that even possible?" 

"I don't know but...Wait a minute." An idea struck you as you ran to your suitcase. Billy and Stu watched as you jerked clothes out and dug to the bottom. Your mouth dropped and a gasped escaped you...There was your original letter. 

You picked it up and then got the duplicate. Same handwriting but when compared the letters were slightly different. Billy and Stu came up behind you to look.

"...Well damn." Stu mumbled before glancing at Billy. "What the hell does this mean exactly for us?" 

You put the letters down with a sick feeling in your stomach. "It means the killer followed me tonight. They saw me at the restaurant with Dewey and Randy shoved it in my purse when I was distracted." 

Billy bit his inner cheek and looked away with disdain. "He's screwing with us again." 

You were close to crying at realizing just how close this new killer was to you tonight.

"At least we're on the right track." Stu offered with a shrug.

You all heard something near the door as your eyes traveled to it. You all hesitated a moment before you all looked to see a piece of paper on the floor. Billy was the first one to react, racing that way to pick it up. You and Stu both saw his entire face drop and pale at whatever he was looking at.

You both rushed over when he dropped the paper and ripped the door open to the outside...No one was there. 

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FOREVER! YOU'RE GONNA SLIP UP AND WHEN YOU DO; YOU'RE DEAD!! DO YOU HEAR ME?! FUCKING DEAD!!" Billy yelled into the night near the railing of your second story room. A fall breeze blew by, an eeriness to the air as you saw his knuckles white from gripping the rail. 

Stu went to him, arguing that he needed to stop shouting as you saw him grip his hair in anguish. You looked down at what had Billy so frazzled. Picking it up with wide eyes and a shaky breath. Your blood went cold.

It was a picture of all three of you in broad daylight near your car with a note attached.

"Will they still believe you're innocent, YN?" 

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Some thoughts on “Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness” (late on this, but only because I was busy with finals):

1) I know that people were mad that Reed Richards, the so-called “smartest man in the universe” acted like an idiot in the movie. In the movie’s defense, 838!Reed wasn’t aware of how dangerous MCU!Wanda was. If he only knew about his universe’s Wanda, then he just assumed she was this soccer mom with basic magic abilities. Plus, even though Strange warned him about MCU!Wanda, Reed didn’t have a reason to trust Strange, especially since his own Strange almost wiped out Earth-838.

As a side note, Reed acting like an idiot while being called the “smartest man in the universe” feels on-brand for his character. See: Reed Richards is Useless trope.

/

2) I’ve already written about this, but I love how this movie was basically Evil Dead 4 / Army of Darkness 2. Sam Raimi really just used the MCU in order to create another Evil Dead movie.

/

3) If I had to make a criticism, it’d be the shift from Wanda being a hero to a villain. First off, I’m absolutely in favor of this heel turn. In fact, one of my main criticisms of “WandaVision” is that it tried to justify what Wanda was doing, when the show was really doing a great job at setting up Wanda as the next potential threat (she imprisoned a whole town to live out her fantasies, for fucks sake). If you take away Monica Rambeau trying to repair Wanda’s image, “WandaVision” comes off more as a villain origin story.

But I do feel there should’ve been a clearer descent into madness. It didn’t even have to be a full rewrite, there could’ve easily been one extra montage showing Wanda using the Darkhold and then slowly being corrupted by the book. And right after the montage, you cut to Strange meeting Wanda in the garden. Sure, the “surprise” reveal is lost, but the villain arc has better foundation in the story.

/

4) My favorite scene has to be the Sinister Strange universe. One of my favorite tropes is when characters visit an alternate universe that’s been completely fucked for reasons unknown. I just love how creepy that whole universe was, like it’s this forbidden space that no one should visit. 

/

5) I do like how the movie approached Doctor Strange’s character. Going off of Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy, one of the things that he had Peter Parker wonder was if he was truly happy with his life. It seems like Raimi brought that same mindset when it came to Doctor Strange, especially with how Strange kept being shown how he could’ve messed up when it came to his actions. 

Defender Strange represented how he was willing to sacrifice people for the greater good (America Chavez even came across as another Peter Parker). 838 Strange represented how his ego could lead to devastating consequences. Sinister Strange showed that he could be corrupted in his pursuit of happiness aka Christine Palmer (which we’ve already seen with Supreme Strange).

Not to make the obvious comparison, but it did remind me of “Everything, Everywhere, All At Once”, where Michelle Yeoh was being shown how amazing her life could’ve been if she had made different decisions. The difference here is that MCU Strange is being shown how terrible his life could’ve been/how awful he could’ve become had he strayed off the righteous path. Which makes sense with Doctor Strange as a character since his character is all about learning through his mistakes and suffering.

/

6) This is just a dumb observation. Was Bruce Campbell’s character being a pizza vendor a reference to “Drag Me to Hell”? I know the uncontrollable hand gag was an Evil Dead reference, but Pizza Poppa made me think of “CHEESE PIZZA, CHEESE PIZZA” from “Drag Me to Hell”.

[raggaraddy]

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh. 

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n.  I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

[automatonz]

C-3PO and R2-D2 are a severely underrated ship and that makes me sad, so here's a list of some things that I love about them:

-Bickering old married couple vibes

-Just how much they genuinely do love eachother despite how different they are

-Whenever Threepio puts his hand on Artoo's head or shoulder

-How happy they are to see eachother again in the Jawa Sandcrawler

-The "Hang on tight Artoo you've got to come back" and then the "You wouldn't want my life to get boring would you" bit in A New Hope

-When Artoo is badly damaged and Threepio is pleading with everyone to fix him. This is after they've been bickering the entire movie and now Threepio, notoriously selfish as he can be, is desperately offering up his own parts to save him

-That part in The Empire Strikes back where they're all preparing to flee the base on Hoff and Threepio runs over to Artoo and tells him to take care of Luke, but the bit that gets me is how softly he then adds "And do take care of yourself"

-Threepio gets so excited at the thought of Artoo being in Cloud City that he wanders off from the group because he thinks he hears him (and subsequently gets blown up RIP)

-After getting back to the ship on Cloud City, when they're in the middle of being pursued by the Empire, the VERY first thing Artoo does is start on putting Threepio back together. I just find it sweet because everyone else was too preoccupied to bother with him, (shoutout to Chewbacca for at least trying) but Artoo immediately goes to help him the first chance he gets. You get the sense that he's had to repair Threepio a lot, which is probably true and also very wholesome.

-Which reminds me of a similar scene in the prequels where Artoo appears out of nowhere in the middle of this huge battle and reattaches Threepio's head.

-That part in the droid torture chamber thing. Threepio is being taken away and shouts "Artoo don't leave me!" and upon seeing this Artoo proceeds to cuss out the droid that had him taken away lol

-I was gonna say all the times they rescue eachother but let's be real it's just Artoo saving Threepio.

-Artoo's little chuckle when everyone finds out that the ewoks see Threepio as a god

-When Luke uses the force to make Threepio float and Threepio calls out to Artoo for help, (like he'd be able to do anything even if he wasn't tied up lol). He's just too used to Artoo saving his dumbass lmao.

-I haven't watched much of the prequels but the first time they meet is adorable. Artoo is just like 'you're naked' and then they hang out for the remainder of Artoo's stay on Tatooine

-Double wedding at the end of Attack of the Clones (I'm kidding but the moment is still cute)

-That one time in the droids cartoon where Threepio is ready to physically attack this bigass robot because he thought it killed Artoo

-Then the moment afterwards when he sees that Artoo is alive and basically throws himself at him in a hug. "You foolish, wreckless... wonderfully brave little unit." 🥺

-The comic where Artoo hijacked a ship, flew to where Threepio was being held captive and went on a stormtrooper killing spree all by himself, just to save Threepio (because nobody else thought sending out a rescue party to save a droid was worth it 😤).

There's gotta be some more moments but I've only seen the original trilogy and bits and pieces of other Star Wars media here and there.

EDIT: I've remembered a few other moments so here we go

-When Luke is flying to Cloud City to save his friends Artoo says something to him and Luke replies with "No 3PO's with them". So he presumably said something along the lines of 'What about Threepio? or 'Did they leave Threepio behind?' or maybe he was asking if Luke could sense if Threepio was okay. I just love how they add little details like that. They didn't need to include it at all but it's moments like this that really flesh them out as characters by showing how much they worry about eachother.

-In Attack of the Clones, when Threepio is on that conveyor belt thing in the droid factory, instead of worrying about his own safety he's like 'Hmm. I wonder what happened to poor little R2'. Like boy you've got bigger problems right now, not to mention the fact that Artoo pushed you off the edge in the first place lmao

-Lego Star Wars: Droid Tales has quite a few moments. The whole plot is Threepio trying to find and rescue a kidnapped Artoo (the tables have turned for once omg!) And he's so determined to save him it's so cute.

-Lego Artoo carries around a copy of Threepio's memory with him.

-Lego Threepio pulls a photo of Artoo out of nowhere then proceeds to gaze longingly at it, lamenting over whether he'll ever see him again.

-Admiral Ackbar is reminiscing over his stolen ship the same time Threepio is trying to talk about Artoo, so Threepio goes 'A ship is just a machine. A droid is a person...' and idk I just love the way he says it.

-There's a flashback to the end of the Empire Strikes back and Threepio is like 'R2 I thought you were lost for good. I am so happy to see you again!' And he's so excited it's so cute.

[destinysbounty]

I feel like you could fix a lot of the Fire Chapter's major issues with just three minor changes:

Include a scene where Lloyd makes an appeal to Wu about how harsh he's been on the ninja regarding their supposed laziness. Here, Lloyd mentions that due to all the near-death experiences and periods of loss/separation they endured throughout the Oni Trilogy, the ninja have realized the importance of spending time together and forming meaningful memories. You never know if the next mission might be someone's last, right? So they've been goofing off in an attempt to make up for lost time and make some fond memories to share. Wu softens up a bit at this and gently concedes that their reasoning is completely understandable, but still suggests that they find a more constructive bonding exercise that will allow them to stay in shape. And thus they go on their little desert road trip. It wouldn't even have to be a long or super emotional scene. Just a few lines of dialogue, a few lingering shots, maybe a quick trill of sentimental music, and then boom you're done. This would make Wu feel less insensitive and out-of-character, would be a quick and simple way to address the emotional fallout of the Oni Trilogy, and would also justify the more goofy, lighthearted tone of the season - the ninja aren't just 'slacking off', they're acting like this on purpose

When Lloyd and Kai are having that argument about Kai's attitude towards losing his powers, give Kai an emotional outburst. In the heat of the moment he confesses that the reason he's so upset about losing his powers is because this time he's the only one. Every other time he lost his powers, the rest of the team did too (ex. the Tournament of Elements, Lloyd's possession, etc.). But now he's the only powerless one here, and he feels like the weakest link. He's the one who needs protecting. He's now worried that if something happens to his friends, it'll be his fault because he wasn't strong enough to protect them. This would not only make Kai feel less whiny, but also enables him to a marginally more satisfying character arc during the Ice Chapter as he blames himself for Zane's banishment. Not to mention that now we can characterize Kai getting upset at Wu as him projecting his guilt/self-loathing onto the only other person he can blame besides himself. Instead of confronting the insecurity that all of this is his fault, he lashes out at Wu.

Make Aspheera a human. Or like, literally anything but a snake. Seriously, we've have enough Serpentine villains, give it a rest already. Her being a Serpentine doesn't significantly impact the story in any way, and aside from giving us a bit more lore regarding Serpentine history, it doesn't add anything to the season or to her character either. You could just as easily achieve the same complexities and depth by making her human, sustained in her tomb for all those centuries by her dark magic. Seriously. Aspheera doesn't need to be a snake. The Serpentine have already been redeemed. Leave them alone.

There are a few more changes you could make here and there, obviously, and this doesn't fix everything, but I feel like this is a quick and easy way to repair a lot of the major complaints regarding the Fire Chapter. The Ice Chapter, on the other hand, is...a bit trickier. But that's a topic for another post.

[willgrahambf]

the here trilogy by petronia

 rated e, 9k words, post-fall

while sailing across the ocean after the fall, will and hannibal navigate a growing physical relationship, fashioned out of will’s acceptance of whatever hannibal gives him and hannibal’s desire to give will exactly what he wants

the painted veil by princesskay

rated e, 27k words, post fall

after the fall, hannibal and will are sequestered in a defunct lighthouse on the coast of iceland where long alternating stretches of light and dark torment will while he tries to come to terms with hannibal’s devotion to him

measured against death, this sort of a pain is a feast by firstaidkit

rated m, 4k words, ep: mizumono

after hannibal and will’s final dinner, will stays the night and dreams

daylight savings by thebeespatella

rated e, 6k words, ep: fromage

hannibal set up a test when he sent will after tobias. it’s an unexpected surprise when will passes that test and effectively jumps the wall that hannibal had so cleverly built

in vino veritas by lovetincture

rated e, 5k words, post fall, warning: alcohol abuse, drunk sex, dubious consent

will’s drinking problem has been getting worse for awhile. living with hannibal after the fall doesn’t help that. hannibal takes notice, and as usual, makes things much, much worse

trotline by colonel_bastard

rated t, 7k words, s2b, warning: animal death

will takes hannibal fishing, but when they run into an inhumane trotline trap, the bloodsoaked desires that rage between them rise to the surface

only the tender meat by isagel

rated e, 7k words, s1a, warning: vore fantasies

will spends the night at hannibal’s house after an especially harrowing crime scene where hannibal entertains his fantasies of being relieved of a brain

and so i raise me up from sleep by bendingsignpost

rated e, 10k words, mid s1

in between blackouts, will grapples with a confusing and deepening relationship with hannibal. meanwhile, reality slips further and further away.

rise up with the dew by lickrish

rated e, 10k words, post fall

will spends his time post-fall by repairing the house they now occupy together; hannibal spends his time yearning for will

the postman’s knock by ironlotus & laststop

rated e, 48k words, au

a small baltimore suburb is disturbed by the arrival of a new, rude postman, will graham. secret serial killer hannibal lecter determines to unriddle this disturber of the peace

la génie du mal by ajaxthegreat

rated e, 9k words, s1 au-ish

will unravels the identity of the chesapeake ripper and finds himself wooed into a dinner invitation of blood and lust

with his hands by voxmxchina

rated e, 6k words, s1

hannibal notices that will has very nice hands. he thinks a lot about what he’d like those hands to do to him

i’d be remiss if i didn’t plug some of my own fics here as well:

the hunger by honeybeebear

rated e, 32k words, post fall

hidden away in a parisian apartment, hannibal does his best to nurture will while will struggles with a hunger that seems to have no end and no solution

here in the deepening blue by honeybeebear

rated e, 12k words, ep: the wrath of the lamb

in the cliff house by the sea, hannibal and will finally cross the distance of three years time and a thousands wounds

[nikethestatue]

Happy Solstice, everyone!

Here is the final installment of the ‘Cabin’ trilogy, the prequel to Of Fawns and Shadows

Day V of 25 Days of Elriel Solstice

Words: 7756

Mistletoe

“Here,”

Azriel was holding Elain’s wide, thick, warm scarf in his hand.

She said nothing when the moment had passed and he stepped away from her, without touching her skin with his lips. In true Elain fashion, she knew exactly what he was planning to do, even if she might not have understood the gravity of the gesture, and the ramifications for herself and for him. But she knew. She always could read him—an unsettling feeling for someone like him, especially when he worked so very hard all his life to hide his emotions behind his darkness. This girl though…this girl stepped in, and dispelled his shadows and peered straight into his soul. His heart was an open book to her. His mind did not surprise or frighten her.

He tittered on the edge of desire. The need to mark her pulsed through him with such ferocity that he growled. Growled. A hungry, desperate roar of primal Fae male need to claim and to dominate rattled them both. Her beautiful neck, the light flush of her skin, the inviting tilt of her head, the mass of her soft, thick hair against his lips, the beckoning scent of her, the flow of her arousal which he scented immediately and which she didn’t even try to hide—everything was offered to him, and still, he did not take it.

He had a good reason for it. But he hated himself for being reasonable. Always so fucking reasonable, so annoyingly cautious, so irreversibly honourable. Sometimes, he wished that he wasn’t. He wanted to be like Cassian, with his fiery passion and wild determination and relentlessness that swayed even Nesta. Damn Nesta, who was a pillar of fire and ice and who was sucking Cass off at the dinner table in the dining room within two weeks of moving in with them.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t bring himself to even kiss the girl he desired for almost two years.

“Thank you,” Elain took the scarf. “Are we leaving?” she asked quietly, her eyes dimming with sadness. 

There was relief in him, one that he didn’t anticipate to wash over him when she was so open and trusting in her desire not to leave here just yet. For the two of them to remain together for just a little longer. 

He chuckled softly and said, “Well, I don’t think that my wing is quite repaired yet.”

With that, he flexed his wing, which worked perfectly.

Elain smirked under her breath.

She reached for him and took the scarf, while running her hand over his arm.

“No, I don’t think that it’s healed. I wouldn’t trust you to carry me yet.”

“No,” he agreed innocently, “it’s really quite far to the border.”

Two leagues or so. Something he could do in about fifteen minutes, maybe a tad longer, considering the weather. 

“I wouldn’t advise it,” she agreed with a soft laugh. “So, where are we going?”

“I was thinking we should go outside,” he proposed. “The snow’s stopped falling and I think it might be nice to get some air in our lungs. And I might teach you something,”

“What?” she interrupted, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “You’ll teach me to fight?”

Azriel, pulled on his trousers and sat down to put on his boots. His gaze was amused, watching Elain’s feral delight at the prospect of learning to fight.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he began, but she interrupted him, frowning,

“Why not? Don’t you teach those ladies? From the Library?”

He nodded, watching her pull on her breeches and boots, and then held her coat for her. She threaded her arms into the sleeves and then turned around, frowning.

“So why can’t I learn?”

“I am not arguing,” he assured her softly, and began buttoning her up. “You can absolutely learn. But I didn’t know that you wanted to learn how to fight? Why?”

“Why?” she was scandalized, “why wouldn't i want to know how to fight? Defend myself?”

“All excellent ideas,” he agreed and pulled his hat on, before putting on hers. She laughed and muttered, “You look funny in a hat!”

“I don’t want my ears to fall off,” 

“Are you sure you are alright?” she began to worry, looking at him and his thigh.

“I am fine,” he teased, “I think you just enjoy staring at my behind.”

She flushed, but didn’t exactly deny it.

“You are very…” she sighed, and then added, “sculpted.”

“Sculpted is a nice way to put it.”

She grabbed his hand, always eager to hold it, to his neverending amazement. Never cared about the looks of them. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if she’d even noticed the scars. Never did her gaze linger on them, and never did she refuse or hesitate to touch him. Never did she ask about them either, and he wondered if someone told her, or she simply didn’t care and accepted him as he was. 

They left the warmth and coziness of the tiny cabin and the cold washed over them as soon as they stepped outside. It was a bright day, with perfectly blue skies and the eerie winter stillness that wrapped everything with crystalline clarity and icy beauty. 

“Alright, let’s go inside,” Elain squeaked and Azriel laughed.

“Come on, show me that winning spirit!”

“The winning spirit is frozen. Nothing is left,” she moaned. He walked in front of her, creating indentations in the snow with his boots, and she stepped into them, following him scrupulously, clutching his hand. 

“Never!” he chuckled. “Treat this as the final climb to Ramiel. The Breaking!”

She frowned in confusion and said, “I have no idea what you just said. What’s breaking? What’s Ramiel?”

“Ramiel is a sacred Illyrian mountain,”

“Oh,” she stumbled in the snow and almost fell, but Azriel turned around with his unnatural Fae speed and swiftly caught her in his arms. Her face bounced off his chest and she wrinkled her nose, as he looked down at her, holding her in his arms. 

“Careful,” he murmured, but did not release her.

Elain looked up at him, her breathing heavier and faster than before, and not because of the fall. Her hands went around his neck and she held herself up, back still arched against his massive palms.

His scent washed over her and she almost drowned in it, fighting for her eyes not to roll back and biting her lip, so as to keep a moan from escaping. He watched her closely, silent, but those remarkable hazel eyes, so bright and forest-green in this light, gleamed with silent admiration and longing.

Elain pulled her mitten off and the next thing he knew, she was cupping his face in her palm. She’d never touched him like this before, so closely and intimately, even considering how close they got yesterday, this was still unexplored. His skin was smooth and she suddenly, after all this time, realised that the Fae did not grow facial hair. No beards. No scruff. Only smooth, blemishless skin over high cheekbones and sharp panes of his face. 

“You are beautiful,” she murmured stupidly, suddenly awed.

He wasn't pretty, or simply attractive, or even handsome, he was beautiful. Almost unbelievably so. The most beautiful Illyrian, by far the most beautiful man or male that she’d ever seen. Even among the Fae, even compared to the uniquely handsome Rhysand, Azriel devastated with his beauty. No matter how much he tried to mute that beauty, it thrummed from him, turning heads, dropping panties–Elain was sure of that–and paralleled his incredible power. 

He huffed shyly, embarrassed at the praise and murmured, “So are you.”

He finally straightened her, but she kept her hand on his face, and he leaned into the touch, wordlessly urging her to stroke his hollow cheek. 

“I like the name Ramiel,” she said suddenly.

“I don't know if it’s a name…” he corrected, “it’s a mountain.”

“Well, it’s a mountain named Ramiel,” she explained impatiently. Azriel opted not to argue. He loved her little hand on his face, then on his neck and if she looked at him the way she was looking at him right now, he didn’t need anything else in his life. Those brown eyes with dark eyelashes blinked slowly, round and amazed, like tiny saucers.

“Will you take me to Illyria?” she asked suddenly.

He huffed in indignation and immediately replied, “No!”

She glared at him and snorted, “No? Just no?”

“There is absolutely no need for us to go to Illyria,” he insisted, taking her by the hand again and pulling her behind, resuming their track.

“But I would love to go,” she insisted. “I want to learn about Illyrian food…customs…”

“The customs are barbaric and the food is bland,” he offered.

She shrugged a little unhappy shrug and said, “Fine. I will ask Cass.”

“You are not asking Cass,” he cut her off abruptly.

“He’ll take me,” she insisted.

“I know he will. But you are not asking him. If anyone is taking you anywhere, it will be me.”

She teased, “Even Illyria?”

“Even Illyria,” he grunted.

“So territorial,” she whistled softly. “You wouldn't let Cass to take me somewhere?”

“Taking you places is my job,” he growled, “Cass has Nesta. He can take her.”

“You can’t possibly be jealous!” she mocked him gently, amusement lacing her voice.

Azriel trudged forward steadily, his grip on her hand firm, but carefully un-abrasive. He did not respond, and she grinned into his back. His shoulders were just a touch more tense than a moment before she brought up Cassian. 

“I can’t believe,”

“I am not jealous of Cass!” he grunted, “I am not.”

“Alright.”

After a beat, he added, “I…nevermind…”

“I am not jealous,” she informed him. “Even if I know that you are training all those women…Females.”

Azriel turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder, incomprehension written on his face. 

“But they are priestesses!”

“So what?” she shrugged, “gods above, where are we going?!” she muttered under her breath, wiping her nose with her hand.

“Almost there–I noticed that clearing over there,” he pointed a gloved hand ahead and added, “for the record, the priestesses,” he shook his head vehemently, “I don’t even look at them as women. They aren’t, to me. They are my charges.”

“What about Nesta’s friends?”

“I don’t train them,” he explained. “And if you would like to know, Emerie prefers females and Gwyn is babe.”

“A babe?”

“Yes, she is 28. A babe.”

“And they get along?” Elain asked curiously.

“Seems like they do indeed. We’ll be starting them on an Illyrian obstacle course soon. They just don’t know it yet,” he laughed a little evil laugh and Elain smiled. 

“You are enjoying this?”

“I am. It’s nice to watch the progress. It means a lot to Cass,”

“Because Nesta is doing better?”

Azriel knew that the rift between the sisters was difficult for Elain to work though. She loved Nesta, who was her sister and her best friend for the duration of their lives, and Nesta’s rejection of Elain’s very presence from her life was hard for Elain to accept. He didn’t want to get between the two, but he certainly wished that they’d patch things up between each other. 

“She is. And she has friends, which is important, because they don’t judge her. But Cass and Rhys had tried for centuries to get the Illyrian females to train, to be more independent, and it hasn't happened. So even though this isn’t how they planned on having things happen, they are happening, at last. Maybe not the females that they expected, but still females.”

They reached the clearing that Azriel was aiming for, and finally stopped. 

“This looks good…” he glanced at Elain and then inquired, brow furrowed, “what?”

She was watching her, bright-eyed and with a small smile on her soft, plump lips.

“What?” she shrugged at him.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he crossed his arms on his chest.

“Like what?”

“Like the little mix that you are.”

She blushed softly and then said, “You talk,”

“I’ve been known to do that once in a while,” he nodded once, someone perplexed by her comment.

“No, no. Once in a while is correct. But with me…we talk.”

He looked at her, chewing the inside of his cheek and then reached out and tentatively brushed his fingertips over a lock of her golden brown hair that escaped from under her hat.

“You are right,” he agreed at last. “I don’t think that I’ve noticed before. Hm,” he bubbled his lips and smirked, “I guess I do talk to you.”

“Thank you!” she declared dramatically, making a grand show of it. 

He smiled and said, “I enjoy it. You are nice to talk to and I like your sense of humour.”

Now it was Elain’s turn to stare at him, as she wrought her fingers, glancing at him shyly.

“You like talking to me?” she asked softly.

“Yes. Why?”

“Men just say that I am pretty. But no one ever wanted to talk to me. Not even,”

“Graysen,” he interrupted her, “isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the barn. I’ve met him and I can assure you. So I wouldn’t take him as an epitome of male intelligence.”

She smiled impishly and Azriel was pleased that she didn’t become upset or saddened at the mention of her former fiance. Dick as he was. 

“So, we are here,” she looked around. They stood in a clearing, surrounded by majestic pines and other coniferous trees, which jutted out proudly against the azure sky.

“We are.”

“Are you going to teach me how to fight? Swords?” she proposed immediately.

Azriel chuckled and spread his legs, placing his hands on his hips.

“Swords, huh,” he whistled loudly. “You think you can swing a sword at me?” he pressed.

Elain scrunched her nose, thinking that maybe swordplay was a little premature. She’d give him that. 

“What is it with the Archeron sisters and swords,” he pondered out loud, while bending to scoop some snow in his hands.

“What?”

“Nesta wanted to start with swords as well, with Cassian,” he couldn’t help but smile at the preposterous image of then-Nesta, holding a sword against his mountain of a brother. 

“Daggers then?” 

“Something even more useful,” he announced and threw a snowball at her. “We are,”

“We are not doing this!” she screeched, wiping the snow off her jacket.

“Oh yes we are!” and he hurled another snowball at her, but this time, she dodged, and it flew past her body.

“Let me make some!” she demanded, grabbing heaps of snow, which was heavy and wet, and perfect for making snowballs, and began slapping them together. He approached and watched her work, shaking his head,

“Do something productive and help out!” she growled, watching his silent critique.

“That’s not how it works. You have to create your own arsenal!” 

Muttering under her breath, she stacked another ball in her pile, and then whispered, “You must be fun at parties,”

Azriel laughed out loud, throwing his head back. 

“And you are more mouthy than Nesta,” he laughed and laughed, and then filled both of his palms with snow and said, “watch! because with your speed, we’ll be here till the next Solstice!”

She stuck her tongue out at him and rolled her eyes. 

“Watch that tongue,” he said slowly, eyeing her, “or I’ll find things for it to do…”

Elain stopped mid-ball and her brown eyes shot wide open at the comment. He paused as well, but didn’t say anything else, observing her reaction.

“Do enlighten me,” she offered, her tone playful and not offended.

“Perhaps one day,” he promised and winked at her.

“Why not sooner?” she pressed, cocking her head and looking directly at him.

“You surprise me every day, Elain Archeron,” he admitted. “It’s unexpected and wonderful.”

“I am glad that something still surprises you, Azriel,” she said.

“You do. Always. From the first moment when I saw you, you were not what I expected. It’s a shame that so many underestimate you, including your sisters.”

“You underestimate me too,” she slapped a few more snowballs together. “You are better at hiding it. But I know you didn’t want me to scry,”

“No, absolutely not,” he nodded. “Look,” he slapped both of his palms together, “push together, then twist once. It’s done.”

Elain tried and repeated his motions, and just like that, a nice, tight snowball was formed. 

“Oh, that was quick,” she was almost surprised. He smiled. 

“We go one point for one hit–up to 20 points. To start with.”

“That’s it? I just have to hit you 20 times and we can go back to the cabin?”

He laughed softly and told her, “I am not so easy to hit.”

She immediately threw a snowball at him and said, “One!”

“Cheater!” he cried and tossed one at her, but she rolled in the snow and avoided being hit.

“One for Elain!” she yelled and ran across the clearing, panting and zigzagging, so he wouldn’t be able to mark her.  He waited for a good while, patient as always, but at last she felt the snowball land on her back. 

He called out “One-one!”

The place wasn’t ideal for hiding, which made avoiding being hit difficult, but Elain immediately began building a fort behind which she could hide. She’d heard Cassian and Rhys discuss the annual snowball fights, their strategies and tactics, and she learned that building a barrier of some kind was the first line of defense. So here she was, pushing snow frantically, assaulted by a barrage of snowballs, but escaping most of them somehow. Azriel wasn’t one to go easy on her, so she didn’t think that he missed on purpose.

Hiding behind her little fort, she raised her head and then aimed and shot the snowball, hitting him squarely in the chest. Her aim was pretty good and she surprised herself by the strength of her throw.

“Still nine to five!” he yelled out smugly. She, in turn shouted, “well, it was just nine to four a moment earlier! Fortune favours the brave!” and she shot up to her full height and a snowball at him. It hit its target, but at the same time, one smashed into her face, blinding her for a second. It was sharp and wet and stung her skin, which hurt from the impact and the tiny ice particles that embedded in her cheeks and forehead.

“Elain!” he called out, worry in his voice, “are you al-,”

“Why?” she cried out, pretending to weep, “why would you do that?”

He was running to her, a mask of horror on his face.

“Why would you hit a girl?” she sobbed.

“By the Mother, Elain, I am so sorry, I,”

“Sucker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she screamed triumphantly and smashed him with two balls at once.

“Fucking hell!” he exploded. “You gave me a fright!”

She already ducked behind her fort, laughing hysterically. “Nine to seven! Take that Fae boy!”

“Fae boy?!?” 

“Don’t you dare cross the demarcation line!” she warned him, seeing how he was about to step over into her territory. “You do that, the game is forfeit! I win!”

“How do you even know that?” he grunted through clenched teeth. “May I check your face?”

“My face is fine, and you have three seconds to get away, before it’s going to be nine-eight,” she warned.

“I swear I will beat your bottom once this is over,” he threatened.

She peeked from behind her fort, and said, “Stop promising and not delivering!”

“Where has this Elain Archeron been all my life?!” he exclaimed, tossing a snowball between his hands.

“Always been here. No one’s been looking,” she shrugged and then added, “two…one…”

He ran away and threw the ball at her, missing her and listening to her laugh.

They were at fourteen to eleven when Elain felt something…an unease that entered her peripheral vision, and then, she observed five or six men–humans–step out from behind the trees, and onto the clearing.

They were clearly coming back from a hunt, as two were carrying a deer that hung on a stick which they carried between the two of them. Another hauled a few rabbits which were strung together and thrown over his shoulder. Two more had some other kills behind their backs, and weapons–bows and arrows, knives, and daggers. 

The group stopped, observing Azriel and Elain, who were separated by the width of the field.

“What do we have here?” said one–the tallest, and probably the leader. “Two Fae, frolicking in our forest.”

Elain didn’t answer, as she stood up and brushed her hair from her face.

“What are you doing here?” asked the human. “On the other side of the Wall?”

“Scouting?” asked another, suspiciously.

“There is no Wall,” Elain reminded them.

All attention turned to her and she wished that she’d kept her mind shut. Though she was sure that they would have looked at her anyways.

“You are quite the pretty girl, aren’t you?” two of the men moved towards her. “What’s a pretty female Fae like you doing here?”

Azriel's low midnight voice cut through the icy air and he said, “Gentleman. We are minding our own business. I suggest you do too.”

“A Fae is telling us what to do on our own land,” snickered the leader. “We haven’t had your kind do that to us for a while! and we don't intent on starting now,”

“No one is telling you what to do. You were on your way, so proceed…”

“Oh, we think we’ll stay a while,” decided one of them, “play with the pretty Fae girl.”

“Never had myself a Fae,”

“Do they feel the same as humans?”

“Same three holes, I think!” laughed one of them.

Elain winced. Azriel’s expression did not change, and he remained still as a statue, though those hazel eyes of his tracked each man, as they herded Elain further away from him.

Azriel considered.

He only had one siphon on him, having left the rest at the cabin. At least he didn't forget Truth Teller, which was strapped to his thigh as always, though he had no other weapons. He didn’t need any weapons at all, even if the presence of his dagger was always comforting . Five human men wasn’t something he even considered a threat. Even ten humans were not much of a threat. However, they did have a bow, and he spotted ash arrows in the quiver, which was somewhat concerning, but by the time they slung it, he’d be far away. He considered just shooting in the air and grabbing Elain, before they even understood what was happening, but that meant exposing his wings. Would they be stupid enough to test a Fae?

“Gentlemen,” Elain suddenly said, her voice steady, “as my companion suggested, let’s part on good terms.”

“Do you have any special powers, sweet pea?” asked one. “Or are you just a pretty…oh, so pretty, face?”

“Are you mated?” spat another, using the word as an insult. 

“Not to that Fae freak with the wings?”

Azriel stepped forward, half-forgotten, as four of the men surrounded Elain, taunting her.

The new treaty with the humans stipulated that the Fae weren't allowed to attack humans, under any circumstances, unless in direct and immediate danger. The Fae had to be threatened, outnumbered and at risk of being overpowered, to defend themselves. And other such bullshit. And it’s not like he wanted to attack them. He wanted to abide by the treaty, because it was only fair and neither did he feel like fighting right now. Most of all, he wanted to be with his girl. He had so little time alone with her, that every minute was precious and he didn't want to waste it. He also didn’t want to explain 5 dead bodies. And neither did he want to start some bloody mess in front of Elain. It would spoil her day and she was enjoying it so far.

He was thinking about all of this, as he moved a little closer, and that was until one of the men reached for Elain and touched her arm, wanting to pull her to him.

That turned out to be a mistake.

The next thing that Azriel and the rest of them observed was the man…sailing in the air. He didn't drop, or fall, or stumble. He flew. 

Elain had pushed him off of her, hitting him with an open palm square in the chest. The man flew in the air before dropping like a bag of potatoes in a pile of snow.

Azriel smiled to himself.

His sweet girl forgot that she was Fae, who possessed Fae strength.

He’d just experienced it, when she hit him with the snowballs full force. 

And so did this poor stupid sap, who sat, dazed in the snow pile, moving his head back and forth, clearly stunned.

The men, wisely, took a few steps back. 

“Hey, you stupid Fae bitch, you can’t,” screamed one of the men, and then,

Elain roared.

Azriel stopped in his tracks, rooted in the spot.

The roar was beastly–loud and threatening, coming from the depths of her chest. She rattled, much like a wyvern would, when challenged, and a deep rumble followed, that of an awakened beast. 

She did nothing else, but roared.

The only time Azriel had witnessed anything similar–and only certain High Fae, those from very ancient bloodlines still roared, like their beastly ancestors–was when Rhysand allowed his beast out. It was so rare, it only happened twice, maybe three times. The last time, it was during the war, when Rhys and Helion both took their natural forms, turning into what lurked beneath the humanoid veneer–claws and teeth and scales, in the midst of the final, bloody battle against Hybern. 

Azriel knew that he too had the beast, but it was entirely dormant. He supposed that his wings were the best manifestation of that, but there were times where he sensed the creature lurking somewhere inside of him, though he couldn’t imagine why. Only the High Fae, some said those who interbred with the Daglan back in the primordial times and gained some of the Daglan’s power, had the beasts inside themselves. And only the High Lords could actually release them, turning into them fully. Tamlin, for one, preferred the beastly form, while Rhysand and Helion did not like theirs.

“Fuck this, let’s go,” called one of the men to his companions, while Elain still garbled that warning goar, which reverberated around them.

“Fuck them,” agreed another, stepping away from Elain, not taking his eyes off her. “The Fae are wild beasts.”

“Deceivers,” shrieked another, clearly absolutely freaking out. He was making wild gestures with his hands, which, Azriel assumed was for warding off evil? 

“They look all pretty, but look what’s inside!”

And then, they took off.

Running through the snow, stumbling, falling, shouting, they ran, barely remembering to grab their deer, which four of them pulled behind unceremoniously. The one who was carrying the rabbits dropped them and didn’t return to pick them up.

In a matter of minutes, they were gone.

Azriel crossed the field. 

Elain stood still, shaking lightly, and he wondered if it was from fear, or something else.

Her eyes beheld him, and he watched horror and embarrassment written on her face. Wordlessly, he came over and dropping his gloves, he cupped her face in his cool hands. He looked down at her, and smiled gently.

“What sort of a beastie do you have inside of you, sweetheart?” he wondered.

“I am…” she swallowed, “I don't…Azriel,” she grabbed his wrists and begged desperately, “please, don't tell anyone. Please.”

“How long have you known?” he asked gently, and then permitted himself a soft kiss on her brow. 

“For a while,” she confessed, stepping into his embrace. His arms closed around her and he rocked her slowly against himself. “After I was Made.”

“Don't be frightened,” he advised carefully.

“How can I not be? I don’t know what it is? I feel it–slumbering inside of me. It talks to me,”

“It’s you beast,”

She twitched in his arms and threw her head back, “You say like it’s a normal thing! To have some entity, some beast inside of you…a thing that talks into my mind and roars when upset,”

“You are a Cauldron-Made High Fae–a woman of valour and mysteries. If your sister could have silver flames in her eyes when she is angry, why shouldn’t you have a beast inside?” his wings wrapped around them and he held her close, stroking her head. 

“I don't know who to ask about this,” she lamented. “Who to share with…”

“I will find more information,” he promised. “I reckon Amren would be a good source to discuss this with, but I would caution you not to divulge this secret just yet. Not to her. And not to Rhys, who in fact, possesses his own beast inside.”

Azriel’s gaze drifted somewhere, and she watched him think.

“It makes you even more powerful, Elain. More powerful than anyone’s ever imagined,” he said quietly. “A gift..or a prize, for any Court. For any High Lord.”

“I will not say anything,” she promised.

“Good, good,” he patted her head, still lost in thought.

She took his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing tenderly.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Protecting me.”

“I think you’ve protected yourself quite well, my girl,”

She smiled.

“Not a trembling fawn, after all,”

“But a fanged beast,” he concluded.

“Dinner!” Azriel easily slung the pile of rabbits over his shoulder.

She clapped excitedly, “we have salt and pepper, and more mushrooms! We can make rabbit stew!”

He winked and nodded, taking her hand, “I like the way you think, Archeron.”

“Let’s go see if we can find anything else,” she proposed, “maybe juniper berries? Some herbs we can use?”

They walked inside the forest, where the snow was not as deep, and the air not as brisk. 

She scoured the green patches among the trees, spots of moss and bushes covered in winter berries of bright red. 

“Oh, these are boysenberries,” she explained, “but we have no sugar and they are too tart.”

“Do you know what this is?” Azriel reached up and with his enormous height didn’t fail to pick at a green bundle that was nestled in the branches of a tree and Elain nodded, saying, “I think it’s mistletoe.”

“It is!” he nodded, and dangled the bundle above their heads. “I should’ve thought before asking a gardener about plants!”

She laughed and warned him, “some varieties are poisonous, so don’t eat the berries.”

“Hmmm,” he lowered his hand and shook off the white berries onto his palm. With Elain, he didn’t care if she looked at his hands. She cupped them in her soft, but slightly calloused ones and he added, “do you know what mistletoe represents in Prythian?”

“Do tell,” she bit her lower lip, anticipating the answer, and he couldn’t help himself and put his thumb on that plump lip and gently pulled it down from behind her teeth. 

“Are you ready?” he smirked. 

She rolled her eyes a little and then, to his surprise and delight, kissed the pad of his thumb. “Something nasty, I am sure,” she muttered, while drawing the thumb over her lip, exploring the tender, soft skin against his scars. He was happy that he could feel it, that the thumb wasn’t so covered in scar tissue as to prevent him from exploring.

He laughed and said, “A little nasty. It’s a symbol of fertility, and the white berries represent seme…Well you know,”

“I am not too put off by the word ‘semen’,” she shrugged and he grinned.

“Good to know. In Illyria,” he continued, “they are disgustingly superstitious and hang these over their doors, to protect them from evil spirits and other such nonsense. I mean, they train to be warriors all their lives, and they are afraid of evil spirits…”

Elain did not comment on his ferocity and disdain, but gently reached up and placed her hand on his neck. He shivered, probably because her hand was cold, but she stroked his neck lightly and then pulled his collar to the side and he bowed toward her, knowing innately that she was going to reach and …ohhh, 

His eyes closed.

Her cold, soft lips pressed to his neck and she kissed him. His neck, his hammering pulse, before whispering, her breath hot, 

“I can hear your heartbeat,”

“Yes?” he almost moaned.

“I can always hear your heartbeat,” she confessed. “Since I was…Made.”

Surprised, he even pulled away, immediately missing her touch and her lips and then absurdly, pushed back, almost butting his neck into her face. She laughed softly, pressing her lips and nose into his skin, and inhaling his heady, mouthwatering scent of cedar.

“Only yours,” she admitted, head buried in his neck, “when I was Made…it was the tether that brought me back. Your heartbeat was so weak…so shallow,” she wrapped her arms tightly around him, as if afraid to let go. Azriel stilled, holding her to him. “All I heard, even when I was inside, in that dark still water, feeling my blood boil in my veins and every bit of my humanity being stripped and annihilated, was this boom-boom, boom-boom—it was the only thing that I was aware of throughout the entire…ordeal,”

“I am sorry,” he lamented into her hair, holding her even tighter to him. She didn’t let go.

“No. I think you were the only thing that made me consider coming back. All thoughts eddied from my mind, but one…” she exhaled deeply and offered, “I wanted to see your face again.”

She looked up at him, blushing a bit. 

He stood, almost breathless at her confession.

She continued, “And that heartbeat encouraged me to come up for air. It was there, like a string pulling me back—a rope that was thrown to me and I clutched at it and it allowed me to pull up, and out.”

“Elain,” his voice was strangled, hoarse. He cupped her face between his hands and peered down. Snowflakes softly landed on her face, melting instantly, some hanging on to her long lashes, and she smiled at him.

“Do you know what it might mean?” he gasped. His eyes flew wide open and she could sense the shock reverberating off him. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why,”

She pressed her finger to his lips and shook her head, “It’s different,” she explained. “You think it’s a mate bond?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I don’t know what to think. I always felt…but then you and Lucien, and I…” he stumbled, brow furrowed, lines bracketing his mouth. 

“It’s something else,” she reflected calmly. 

She threaded her fingers with his and then kissed his neck again.

“What though?”

“I don’t know…I think it’s something deeper. More meaningful,”

“What’s more meaningful than a bond?”

She gave him a cool look, cocking her brow at him and he scrambled, “That’s not how I meant it, you know. I mean a good bond.”

“You are the spymaster, so you investigate,” she ordered. He smiled and nodded.

She looked at him and he requested, shyly and quietly,

“Kiss me again?”

She reached down, way under his collar, and then kissed him again and teased, “someone got these tattoos for luck and glory on the battlefield, as I recall? You never removed the markings of the superstitious and backward Illyrians,” she noted. “So, maybe someone is also just a bit gullible?”

He chuckled, “Suppose you are right.”

“Will you take me to Illyria?” she insisted, pulling away at once.

Azriel slung his arm around her shoulders and they slowly began making their way back to the cabin. It’s been a couple of hours now since they were outside and he worried that she might get a chill.

“I will take you to Illyria,” he promised somberly.

She laughed, “Try to rein in your excitement.”

“We’ll go if you promise that we can stay in a cabin there?” he said. “I have no desire to stay in Windhaven.”

“Whatever you’d like. I will be in your capable hands.”

“Alright then. I think it might be more tolerable when it’s just the two of us…”

Hunched over the reports, without his shadows to warn him, Azriel didn’t notice Elain close by. Her presence was so comforting and welcoming that it felt completely natural to him. Her smell settled him. Her skin, her hair, her voice—they stopped the demons in his head from running amok. She puttered about, doing something of her own and as long as she was near, next to him, all was good in his world. So, when she suddenly pressed her thumb between his brows, he looked up at her with surprise. 

“You look so serious,” she teased him, playfully sticking her tongue at him.

Then, looking him up and down, he stroked his bare feet, which he had planted on a storage trunk. The cabin was small and he struggled to get comfortable, or stretch his body, so when he spotted the trunk, it was the only way for him to spread out.

She drew her fingers over his toes and then said, “Unfair that even your feet would be beautiful…”

“What?” he swallowed, watching those little fingers palm and squeeze his sole. 

“Is there any part of you that isn’t beautiful?” 

“They are feet!”

“Yes. That’s what I am saying.” She laughed, “What man has sexy, handsome feet? You. You apparently do!”

His arm wrapped around her hips and he pulled her to him, and then pressed her into his lap.

The rabbit stew has been bubbling quietly on the stove for a bit now, and behind the windows, shadows were falling.

The bundle of mistletoe hung from the lamp above the table. 

The shadows had delivered a whole pile of reports, dumping the papers unceremoniously on the table for him to go through. Elain told him to take his time and do his work, while she set out to prepare dinner.

“What’s making you look so serious?” she asked, smiling at him. “Reports?”

She felt warm and soft against him, bundled in a sweater and long socks that reached above her knees. But the silky smooth thighs were left uncovered for his enjoyment. Her skin was so velvety-smooth, and he drew his knuckles over the tender skin, stopping at the hem of the sweater. Elain licked her lips, and he marked the movement of her tongue with his acute gaze.

“Honestly?” he whispered.

She nodded.

He pushed his face into her shoulder and rested his head there, next to her neck, obsessing silently over the desire to mark her. It was so close, the light thrumming of the pulse, the open, lovely curve of her throat, the deliciously plush, indescribably desirable body.

“I am thinking of ways for us never to leave this cabin,” he let out a strangled laugh.

Elain’s fingers threaded in his hair and she looked down at him, cradling his head to her shoulder and neck. 

Finally, she asked, “Is that what you want?”

He gave a single nod.

“Cabin…apartment…palace…hut…any place. But you and me, together.”

“Yet you did not kiss me,” she reminded him, no anger lacing her voice, but incomprehension. “Not then, not even here–when we are together,”

Azriel looked into the pools of her brown eyes and stroked the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

His voice was more gravelly than usual when he offered,

“I don’t move quickly, my girl…”

The voice alone made Elain squirm on his lap, but he held her firmly, planted across his thighs, as he continued, “I am a slow, deep and hard type of a male.”

The tip of her tongue darted out again, teasing him innocently, as she listened and watched him with rapt attention, barely breathing.

Tightening his grip on her waist, he explained further, 

“I like knowing that my female is satisfied thoroughly…that she feels me inside of her, deep in her, hours, and even days after I’ve been in her. Some males are all fire and speed, others are gentle and thoughtful and romantic. I go slow, but hard..and I don’t stop. Once I’ve had you, and once you’ve had me, it won’t ever stop.”

“But,” she began, yet he cut her off,

“No, Elain…Listen to me,” he cupped her cheek and made her look at him, “you will have to make that decision. Not I. My decision’s been made for years now. But I am not going to back down. But when I claim you as my own, once you become mine, it will be forever.”

He whooshed a breath and his thumbs skimmed against her thighs, stroking gently.

“I cannot kiss you, Elain,”

She started, but he continued quickly,

“You don’t understand. Listen,” he urged her firmly, even if she looked put off by his comment. “We’ve shared food–just the two of us. You’ve cooked for me, Elain. You’ve accepted me as your own, a male for you. The hearth–it’s ours now. A home. We’ve shared a bed and you’ve touched my body and more importantly, my wing,”

She blushed and made to say something, but he stopped her with a look.

“No one’s touched my wing before, and certainly not in bed. But after a kiss, I don’t think that I would’ve been able to stop,”

Her lips twitched with a smile, but he added, “No, you assume that I am stoic and capable of self-denial. I am not. Not at all. Don’t think that I would’ve stopped myself from being buried so deeply inside of you, that my name would be written with my seed inside your womb. You’d bleed and you’d cry and you’d beg for me, for more.”

She leaned into him and murmured breathlessly, “But I want to. I want all of that.”

“I know, my beauty, I know. And it will come. I did not mark you today–true,” he sighed. “The mark…my mark,” he pulled her even closer, “it would be a shadowsinger’s mark. Irreversible. Binding you and I forever, a mark that would imprint on your very essence, because my shadows will enter that mark, and it will be visible to everyone.”

He paused. Then, fell completely silent. His body stilled. 

“What?” she whispered finally, watching him struggle with some decision. “What?” she repeated.

Azriel sighed a deep, tremorous sigh and said

“You must understand—there is a beast in me as well. I have one, inside.”

Elain gasped softly, staring at him in awe,

“You do?”

“And my beast has been slumbering all my life inside of me. I’ve always known it was there–that’s where the power and the darkness comes from. The power that is far beyond any Illyrian Killing Power that I possess, which is already significant in itself. This is a different kind of power–it answers to yours. You asked me earlier today what I think it might be, that pull that you had felt–and it is a bond, but I think it’s my beast responding to yours. I think it woke up inside of me once I’d met you, because it sensed an equal. It came alive, because there was another one out there that called to it. 

“You are unique and unlike anything else that exists in this world of ours, and I think that perhaps, so am I. And I want you with a ravenous desire that is inexplicable and so overwhelming that sometimes, I can barely think. Can hardly function.”

“Me too, me too,” she chanted, understanding at last, comprehending, her mind and vision clearing as it did when Azriel had told her that she was a Seer. “You saw me,”

“My beast saw your beast and it…knew. The voice, the Seer voice, it was your beast speaking to you, and the reason I realised what you were and what you were hearing was because mine told me,” he explained at last. “It lurched inside of me…when Lucien,” he swallowed, “when he tugged on whatever is attached to you–that thread between you and him. And my beast roared. It hated that tug with such vicious violence that I barely managed to stop it from tearing Lucien apart.”

“Azriel,”

“I had to stay away, Elain,” he groaned desperately. “My beast–it wants you with a hunger that is threatening to rip my very being apart. It scents the bond with Lucien and it–the smell of it, Elain, it destroys me. Everything rages inside of me at the thought of someone else having a claim on you. I had to stay away…when I was told to stay away, I had to,”

“Who told,”

Her hand squeezed the back of his neck, pressing so tightly it was almost painful. It dawned on her. There was only one being out there who had the power to stop Azriel.

Her hand covered her mouth, and she was shaking her head side to side, slowly. 

“Do you understand now?” he pleaded, glaring at her.

She nodded. She understood. At last.

“What I feel for you,” he murmured, “is beyond even love. My bond to you is power and desire and lust and devotion and need…constant need. I ache for you, Elain. I crave you most ardently and passionately. And there is no escape for me. The pull is always there.”

“The pull is always there,” she agreed, pressing her hand to her chest.

Her beast growled with satisfaction, as if finally placated by the revelations and the knowledge that Elain knew it all at last. Azriel pressed her other hand to his chest and she felt it in him as well, a thing of immense power clawing towards her, feeling her proximity, sensing that she now knew him too. 

“Now you know,” Azriel sighed, his voice soft, his shoulders sagging from relief of being unburdened of his secret. “You are my trembling fawn and my fanged beast. And you get to decide the rest of our immortal lives.”

[vickyvicarious]

I was in the shower a minute ago when suddenly, out of the blue, I realized how much symbolism there is in Phoenix's fall from Dusky Bridge. So I came running over here, wet hair and all, to write it down before I forget.

And no, when I say 'symbolism' I don't just mean the obvious line about a phoenix burning and 'dying' (at least Edgeworth thought he was) before being reborn a short time later. The 'rebirth' here would be his debut as a self-sufficient lawyer, when Mia says he no longer needs her and it's implied he is ready to begin his career in earnest from now on at the end of the trilogy. (AJ kinda messed up the long-term effects of that storyline, given how soon the timeline has Phoenix's disbarment after this, but that too could be seen as its own kind of death/rebirth, and in any case when the trilogy was first written the analogy worked just fine.)

But that's not what I just noticed. What I thought of has to do with fire as well... but not on a mythological bird.

A burning bridge.

Burning one's bridges is an idiom that stretches back to ancient military history supposedly. It means to commit oneself to a course of action by cutting off all avenues of retreat. There's no going back across a burned bridge; you have to keep pressing on ahead.

There is a second meaning as well, not quite something defined totally separately, but I've definitely heard the phrase used this way. Namely, to burn your bridges in an interpersonal sense means to destroy your relationship with someone. Usually by doing something unforgivable, but just generally to completely cut ties in an irreversible way.

Phoenix is trying to cross a burning bridge to save a friend on the other side.

I cannot think of a sentence that better sums up what kind of person he is. It basically sums up his entire story in the first game. What is he doing with Edgeworth, if not trying to cross the bridge Edgeworth is actively trying to burn down, in order to save him from being trapped on the other side?

In case that's not very clear:

The bridge = their relationship.

Burning = Demon Prosecutor, telling him to stay away, trying to convict him of murder, etc.

Trapped = not just convicted in that one case, though that too, but remaining the Demon Prosecutor, becoming a corrupt and cruel person forever.

In the second game, the positions reverse... sort of. More like, Edgeworth is now standing out of sight on the other side of a bridge that Phoenix keeps trying to burn but can't quite bring himself to fully burn up/keeps telling everyone else the bridge is long burned down already. In the final case, Edgeworth comes back across the bridge partway, or maybe works on repairing it, and invites Phoenix to come join him, which Phoenix eventually does end up doing.

Still, 'crossing the bridge' comes back with a vengeance in the third game. Phoenix only goes to Hazakura Temple because of Iris, after all. And then he insists on defending her, even though by all rights he should consider that bridge as having been long burnt. But he doesn't want her to be trapped on the other side any more than Edgeworth in the first game.

Once again:

The bridge = their relationship.

Burning = colluding with Dahlia, lying to him for months, not trying to save him - or in his eyes, attempting to murder him, faking that she ever loved him, using him as nothing but an alibi.

Trapped = once again, technically getting convicted of murder, but moreso giving up on the person he knew and loved, accepting that she is truly an evil or worthless person with no hope of change.

Just like Edgeworth in the first game, Iris doesn't want Phoenix to cross the bridge. She's trying to burn it away completely. Her reasons for doing so are different, but in the end she tries to push him away just like Edgeworth did. She pretends not to know him, and needs to be convinced to let him defend her.

But once again, he is able to cross the bridge. He is able to save her.

On a less emotionally significant level, this is in some sense what Phoenix does with every case. He is always trying to reverse irreversible decisions and situations, often with not much more to his name than an intense determination to save the person about to be trapped by said decisions/situations. And a lot of the time, he's able to do it. He manages to get across the bridge before it burns away beneath him, he reaches the person, he reverses the situation.

But other times, he falls.

You can't just run across burning bridges without consequence. Sometimes, they're too far gone. Sometimes, you fall through, and not only is the person on the other side no better off, but you're the one hurt.

Just like what happens when Phoenix runs across Dusky Bridge.

Except... think about what happens next. About who returns to save Phoenix, to build a new bridge where the old one has burned away.

Miles Edgeworth. The first person whose bridge Phoenix successfully crossed. Edgeworth flies in, he comes back from somewhere far away (just to extend the metaphor even further - he can do so now because he has a bridge. Phoenix saved it for him and they rebuilt it together) and takes over where Phoenix can't continue any longer. He holds the fort until Phoenix is recovered enough to fight on.

And this keeps happening. Because of all the effort and determination and heart Phoenix has, he slowly develops these all-important relationships that help him to cross what would otherwise be insurmountable gaps. It happens with Mia returning as a ghost to help him solve her own murder, with Edgeworth and Franziska and Gumshoe helping to track down de Killer, and again to coordinate the effort to save Maya when she's trapped in the temple.

It even happens in AJ, in a way. That's probably the biggest fall Phoenix has ever taken, and for a long time that bridge (his badge, his ability to keep saving others) seemed completely burned away. But not only does Apollo aid him in finding justice and clearing his name (rebuilding a new bridge), but Edgeworth helps him to get his badge back, and Trucy is his light and brings love into his life for so many of his darkest years (rebuilding/crossing the bridge). At least in Trucy and Edgeworth's case, there's a definite element of them being people who Phoenix has saved himself in the past (or for Trucy, concurrently; they saved each other at the same time).

Crossing burning bridges, it turns out, is a contagious habit.

.

A final bonus: Phoenix is crossing Dusky Bridge to try and save Maya. Maya, who from early on served as a bridge herself, connecting Phoenix and Mia across what would normally be the impossible divide of death. Not to mention, every other time he's running over bridges, she is following right behind him and helping him to watch his step and make it safely across.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I've read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please read the tags and warnings before deciding if the fic is for you.

DC (Batman)

Only in Gotham: Craft Store Edition by carolina_batboys

Bowie Chandler is literally just trying to pay her Gotham U tuition by working overnight shifts at Gotham’s 24/7 craft store. That’s all. That’s IT.

Then the bats start dropping in, and her job gets a lot more complicated.

the grief wheel by dustorange

“I couldn’t save you,” Alfred whimpered, fingers slipping out of Bruce’s. “I could never—”

(Alfred gets trapped in a time loop of the night that Bruce's parents die. For Bad Thing Happen Bingo: Time Loop).

ATLA

Laundry Day by Hello_Spikey (+ podfic)

Shortly after rescuing Suki from Boiling Rock, Katara introduces her to the spectacle, the magnificence, that is Zuko doing laundry with his shirt off. Sokka has to explain to Zuko why the girls are even watching him. Zuko is remarkably slow on the uptake. Poor Sokka.

Star Wars: Original Trilogy

The Rod is Mightier Than the Lightsaber by Anonymous

In which Luke sacrifices himself on Cymoon-1 to make sure everyone else gets away, and Vader takes things too far before figuring out that this insolent young Rebel is his son.

Compromising by samvelg

Five times Admiral Piett misunderstands the nature of Luke and Vader's relationship, and the one time he doesn't.

Clone Wars

A Treatise on Breaking and Repairs by glimmerglanger

Obi-Wan Kenobi survives for three years on Tatooine before Vader finds him and takes him back to Mustafar, where Vader has already gathered members of the 212th. Things... don't go well for anyone.

OR: The oof!au. Heavy whump leading to an eventual happy(ish) ending. Please mind all the warnings. Written for the first 16 days of whumptober, so each chapter has it's own prompt, but they are an interconnected, completed story.

The Other Side by RobinRoost

There was a door in the bottom of the temple that was always closed. All the Younglings told stories about what was on the other side of it. For as long as most of the padawans and initiates could remember, it had been locked. No amount of slicing, prying, or force pushing could open it.

Anakin asked Master Qui-Gon about it once. His Master’s (though not the same type of master as before) face grew cold and distant and told him never to mention it again. What was behind that door was dangerous and a threat to the stability of the galaxy.

Obviously, he had to investigate.

What Friends Do by Trixree

“You have a choice,” Cody begins. “I don’t want any of you to think that you don’t. If you want no part of this, all you have to do is say so. But if I know any of you half as well as I think I do, this choice won’t be particularly hard to make.”

He takes a deep breath and counts his heartbeats against the reverent silence of the mess hall. “We may belong to the Republic, but we were made for the Jetti.”

And thus, the 212th Attack Battalion abducts their General. (It's for his own health, really.)

Displacement by missmollyetc (+ podfic)

A moment in the exciting lives of Waxer, Boil, and Adenn Squad. What could go wrong?

[stromuprisahat]

Alina doesn't care about Novokribirsk, only her public image

“Stay back,” I warned.

“You aren’t a murderer, Alina,” said the Darkling.

“I think the Ravkans I just helped you slaughter would disagree.”

Let’s start with stating Chapter 22 of Shadow and Bone is one huge clusterfuck, trying to convince the reader about one thing and not only completely failing (In case you posses reading comprehension and actually think about the situation instead of just taking unreliable narrator’s word for everything.), but showing something entirely else.

The first quote would suggest our noble hero isn't comfortable with collateral damage. Generally speaking, that might be hero’s characteristic. Short-sighted, considering the situation Ravka’s in? Certainly, but this is trilogy and everyone, including the main character, is still at the beginning of their journey. They’re allowed to be uncomfortable with morally grey concepts as long as they’ll grow and come up with better solutions in the process. (Spoiler alert: Alina won’t.)

Far ahead, I saw a flash of green, and I realized I was seeing the other side of the Shadow Fold. We were looking into West Ravka, and as we drew closer, I saw their meadow, their drydocks, the village of Novokribirsk nestled behind it.

~

People were streaming from the village and crowding onto the drydocks, pointing at the light that had split the Fold open before them. I saw children playing in the grass. I could hear the dockworkers calling to each other.

~

A frightened wail went up from the crowd on the docks as darkness rushed toward them. They ran, and I saw their fear, heard their screams as the black fabric of the Fold crashed over the drydocks and the village like a breaking wave. Darkness enveloped them, and the volcra set upon their new prey. A woman carrying a little boy stumbled, trying to outrun the grasping dark, but it swallowed her, too.

The drydocks and part of the village are swallowed by the Fold. I’m gonna make another post about plot-device volcra, so that aside, we know the inhabitants went to see what’s going on after noticing the light.

We have the classic "poor innocent bystanders" situation- the only victims noticed were mother and child-, except it doesn't hold up against scrutiny.

How far can you recognize facial expressions without any aid?! Is Alina some illegitimate child of Legolas?

A woman- alright, she’s probably wearing skirt, but “carrying a little boy”? How close would you have to stand to be certain of child’s sex? Is there considerably different fashion for boys and girls? I honestly doubt that. First of all gender-specific clothes for children is a matter of last century in our world due to smaller number of children and richer society in general. Ravka’s not there yet and even if it was, they’re in war(s) for generations. People are starving, they won’t waste money on new clothes just because the newest child is a boy, while the others were girls, as long as the clothes is repairable.

So why mention a woman with child specifically? Pity points! These people matter! Not those who’ll die a page later!

Alina's body count:

While Novokribirsk should be blamed on the Darkling, whole skiff’s purely on Alina.

(No wonder they had Sasha order to kill the ambassadors in the show. What if the viewer remembered the other skiff Alina got slaughtered? This way the only casualty on the “Good Guys” were Second Army soldiers, and no one cares about those, right?!)

The Grisha followed us in an ordered processional all the way to the drydocks. There, only a select few were permitted to board the sandskiff. It was larger than any I’d seen and equipped with three enormous sails emblazoned with the Darkling’s symbol. I scanned the crowd of soldiers and Grisha on the skiff. I knew Mal must be on board somewhere, but I couldn’t see him.

The Darkling and I were escorted to the front of the skiff, where I was introduced to a group of elaborately dressed men with blond beards and piercing blue eyes. With a start, I realized they were Fjerdan ambassadors. Beside them, in crimson silks, stood a delegation from the Shu Han, and next to them, a group of Kerch tradesmen in shortcoats with curiously belled sleeves. An envoy of the King stood with them in full military dress, his pale blue sash bearing a golden double eagle, a stern expression on his weathered countenance.

~

Three Summoners raised their arms and the great sails snapped forward, swelling with wind.

~

Huge clouds of flame burst from the Inferni on either side of the skiff, briefly illuminating the night sky. The ambassadors and even the guards around me stirred nervously.

~

A cheer went up from the crowd. I saw a few soldiers muttering to each other. Even some of the Grisha looked unnerved. But most of their faces were eager, triumphant, shining.

Second Army: 3 Squallers, min. 2 Inferni, Ivan, Sasha, “select few”- so let’s make it one from each group- 7, another Heartrender or two, oprichniki to guard their General & Sun Summoner & the prisoner- 6 at least, that’s about twenty people (20). But that’s okay, because they’re *checks notes* soldiers and power hungry and generally evil.

Ambassadors: “group of men”- that’s three, four? for each delegation plus their guards- two at least, let’s keep it only symbolic. Nothing bad was supposed to happen anyway, right? That’s another twenty (20).

non-Grisha Ravkans: Envoy of the King won’t be alone either, especially for such occasion! And we should add some First Army representatives- we can’t have Grisha take all credit. If “few soldiers were muttering”, there’s more not doing it. Another twenty (20) for Ravkan otkazat’sya?

Alina let about sixty people in total die and/or directly killed them. Yet somehow that doesn’t seem to weigh on her conscience too badly.

Behind me, I heard the sounds of slaughter on the skiff as the volcra attacked and clouds of Grisha flame exploded in the darkness. But I couldn’t stop to think of the people I’d left behind.

My arc of light flashed over Mal, crouched in the sand. The volcra looming over him screeched and whirled away into the dark. I sprinted toward him and pulled him to his feet.

A bullet pinged against the sand beside us and I plunged us into darkness again.

“Hold your fire!” I heard the Darkling shouting over the chaos on the skiff. “We need her alive!”

I threw out another arc of light, scattering the volcra that were hovering around us.

“You can’t run from me, Alina!” the Darkling shouted.

I couldn’t let him come after us. I couldn’t take the chance that he might survive. But I hated what I had to do. The others on the skiff had failed to come to my aid, but did they deserve to be abandoned to the volcra?“

Victim blaming. The others, who had no idea, what’s going on, aside from an execution of a deserter and the Sun Summoner’s desertion, didn’t come to said Sun Summoner’s aid. Whatever makes you feel better, Alina. You're obviously the wronged party here.

“You can’t leave us all here to die, Alina!” the Darkling shouted. “If you take this step, you know where it will lead.”

I felt a hysterical laugh burble up inside me. I knew. I knew it would make me more like him.

“You begged me for clemency once,” he called over the dead reaches of the Fold, over the hungry shrieks of the horrors he had made. “Is this your idea of mercy?”

Another bullet hit the sand, only inches from us. Yes, I thought as the power rose up inside me, the mercy you taught me.

Except his transgressions are at least for “the greater good”, yours are for yourself and The Only Other Person You Sometimes Care About™.

I raised my hand and brought it down in a blazing arc, slashing through the air. An earth-shaking crack echoed through the Fold as the sandskiff split in half. Raw screams filled the air and the volcra shrieked in their frenzy.

She Cuts the skiff in half. I repeat: She Cuts a large skiff full of people in half. How many stayed on the board bleeding to death after their limbs were separated from their bodies? How many ended up mutilated to serve as volcra fodder? If a bit of screaming was enough to make the animals unafraid of light that was there just seconds ago and chase after the citizens of Novokribirsk, what would screaming and blood do, I wonder?

Now, what's the difference between Novokribirsk and the skiff?

There is the reason for their deaths- show of power and national security versus personal delusions.

There is the distance between possible death and safety- the town and its people are still closer to the new edge of the Fold.

I refuse to pretend one of those groups is innocent. What did the ambassadors do to deserve their fate? What did those soldiers, aside from fulfilling their duty?

The Darkling used Alina’s power to engulf the town, the volcra attack is just a result. Alina decided to abandon the skiff on her own. The blame for that is entirely on her, yet she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it nearly as much as something she couldn’t even prevent.

Let’s not give a shit about the bigger picture- gods know the narrative never does anyway- what’s the biggest difference between these two deeds?

Number of surviving witnesses.

It’s awfully convenient almost no one from the skiff survived. Who’s to say what happened there? Scared people from (partially) destroyed village, who have no idea what happened, only that there was light and then the darkness moved? People, who will hear about the Darkling’s journey and the Sun Summoner’s disappearance? The evil dark wizard went into the Fold and destroyed a part of the country just as his ancestor did. The poor Sun Saint tried to stop him and heroically died protecting people. And the few survivors? Who would believe Grisha or Darkling’s oprichniki that the Sun Saint Cut the skiff in half and left them all to die?

How many deaths had I just helped to bring about? How many more would I be responsible for?

...asks Alina after the Fold swallows part of Novokribirsk, yet she shows surprising lack of remorse, when she takes dozens of lives herself. 

The thing is, her light was visible from outside the Fold. Even if the engulfing itself didn’t leave any survivors, there will be people from outside the Fold, who saw it. Who heard of the only Sun Summoner, who might figure out she was there and she didn’t stop the tragedy from happening.

The skiff? Who will care about another skiff lost, when there’s half a town destroyed?

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

I'm looking for fics where they, or one of them, live on an island or in a small village near the sea or in the lighthouse etc. but not on a deserted island, and without pirates, fantasy, knowing each other since they were kids, and tropics. I'm thinking about a colder climate - UK, Canada, north US, Scandinavia, preferably slow built, mystery, but really anything. I already bookmarked Rose Island Romance, Between the Moon and New York City.

The ones you have bookmarked are really good (I’m listing them below for our other followers). The first fic rec is an excellent mystery series set in Seattle (which is located near a bay). The other rec are fics where they are at the coast, mainly on holiday. It seems that everyone likes to write them in warmer climates when they are at the coast. - HKVoyage

The Boy With The Unicorn Tattoo by inkystars

Murder mystery novelist Blaine Anderson finds himself becoming increasingly obsessed with introverted high school drop-out Kurt, as a murderous psychopath stalks the rainy streets of Seattle.

Note: Part 1 of The Boy From Oz Trilogy

~~~~~

The Proposal by drunkonwriting

Based on The Proposal. Kurt is a super uptight music producer from Canada whose work visa has been revoked. Cue Blaine, all-American poster boy from Alaska, who has been Kurt's assistant (or indentured servant, depending on who you ask) for three years and counting. They pretend to get married so that Kurt doesn't have to leave the country, and end up falling in love instead.

~~~~~

The Beach House by Cleverboots

Kurt is rushing home in a thunderstorm and finds a small boy cowering in fear from the storm. Blaine goes to pick up his son from daycare only to find they have left him behind when the storm hit. Can one little boy reunite two estranged lovers who have lost their way in the world? A trip to an isolated beach house on the coast of Maine might be the answer they're looking for.

~~~~~

Domus Civita by @jayhawk-writes

While on vacation to a city he's never been to, Kurt Hummel finds himself in a place that he recognized from his dreams. The person he always sees in those dreams is there, too, and they spot him and ask, “Is it really you?”

~~~~~

High Tide by twitchysquirrel [PDF] [EPUB]

Ryan Murphy is quoted in Entertainment Weekly as saying that Blaine was never meant to be Kurt’s love interest. Drawing on that possibility, in this story, Blaine and Kurt meet at Dalton during Kurt’s junior year of high school but never become boyfriends. Now in the summer before his last semester of college, Kurt sees Blaine while vacationing on Nantucket. Can he get up the nerve to approach the man he’s been fantasizing about all these years?

~~~~~

Three Weeks of Summer by AntarcticBird

Kurt just wants to get some work done, Rachel just wants him to relax, and Blaine shows up and makes everything even more complicated than it is already.

Note: You must be logged into an AO3 account to access this fic.

~~~~~

Between the Moon and New York City by jackabelle73

Kurt arrives in a small coastal town in North Carolina to join his dad and Carole for a few days of their vacation, but under duress. He can't imagine that this sleepy southern town has anything to offer him...till a very attractive local goes jogging by on the beach.

~~~~~

Rose Island Romance (or, "Cute Boys Don't Grow On Trees But They Do Like to Sail") by @flowerfan2

AU. Exhausted from city life, and frustrated at his inability to get a good part in summer stock, NYADA student Kurt Hummel decides to spend the summer on a small New England island helping his uncle at Hummel Marine. When a cute boy in a tight polo shirt brings in his outboard engine for repairs, Kurt begins to think that summer on the sleepy island might hold some excitement after all.