#USE THEM PROPERLY YOU NITWITS!!!!!!!

[omi-papus]

Light The Lamp

Part: 1

Fandom: Subnautica

Pairing: Robin x Al-An

Ao3 link

Content: Age difference, ADHD x Autism, Ableist slur, Ice Hockey AU, Modern era AU, Human Al-An AU, Drug use, Eventual smut

Summary: Rookie ice hockey player Robin Ayou stuns the league with a controversial but impressive debut, catching the eye of popular YouTuber Alan Silvester. Known for his hockey insights. After an awkward first encounter, he begs her to feature in one of his videos. And she after thinking shes found her new babygirl cant help but agree.

Word count: 12.5k

A/N: Hey guys. This is going to be very diferent from my usual writing style. Ive decided to drastically improve my formatting and actually got a beta reader if you can belive it. Hopefully this will be a step in the right direction for me. Enjoy!

This was going to drive him up a wall. His assistant had to be testing him because there was no other explanation as to why he would fail so spectacularly. He weighed the pen deliberately between his fingers, awful. A mere ballpoint pen, with weak half-carbon ink that could not write worth a damn under pressure, Robinson had brought it to him and had left far too quickly to be questioned as to why he brought him this garbage and where his Uni-ball Jetstream RT pen was. He had a box specifically for them, if the last one he was using had been damaged, and the refills were in a color-indicated container so that running out of the non smudging, waterproof oil based ink was never a problem. He vehemently refused to waste the precious paper of his Moleskine Pro notebook on this abomination and was forced to scramble around to find a stack of printer paper. The mere horror of having to write his notes on such a thing took up a whole two minutes, and his process of stapling enough pages together took him a whole other three, so his attention was only halfway with the commentators as they discussed the preamble for the game. He knew all of it anyway, but he would have much rather been properly focused on the TV standing tall in front of the desk he had set up.

Even when he had finally settled down, he was still irked senselessly by the memories that flooded his mind of his assistant telling him to take it easy on this game. That it wasn't a big deal, as the novelty of the Alterra Giants forming a twin female team had worn off. To be fair, it was Alan's first dive into the female hockey division. And the response from his audience to him covering women's hockey hadn't exactly been a fantastic incentive to continue. From a purely financial perspective, a stack of stapled paper and a barely functional pen would be what this game deserved. He would be better off getting his notes for his final coverage of the female division of the Alterra giants done quickly, making it a short section on the video, and preparing to talk about the Reapers’s new coach. Unfortunately for him, there was a problem. A big gaping hole in that sound line of logic.

The women's division of the Alterra Giants was one of the best teams he had ever seen.

Ryley suggested that it might simply be lackluster competition and the significantly higher funding that came with being associated with a famous male team, but Alan knew better. The way they played was impeccable. They were simultaneously ruthless and extremely synergized as a team. The team members' individual stats rivaled most men on the rink, and those team members were all from highly successful teams beforehand. By all means, the Alterra Giants were a phenomenon to keep track of. Alan easily found himself frustrated by the reaction on social media to his coverage of them. He had believed that he would have cultivated an audience that cared enough about the sport itself and how it was played, as opposed to a bunch of nitwits that used his channel as a vehicle to engage in endless drivel about the same seven teams and would throw a tantrum when he dared to look away. He had given up on discussing historical games because of the low engagement, and he did not want to give up on something he cared about again. He had quit his job as an official commentator to pursue this path with his own Youtube channel, to have the freedom to discuss what he wanted however he wanted. So he would stick to his choice of subject matter as stubbornly as he stuck to his choice of pen.

There were some other particular points of interest in this game. They were playing against the Trivalves, a much older team but one with very little fanfare. Mediocre win streak and only one title to their name in two thousand and ten. What was somewhat intriguing was that this would be the debut of three new players on the team. Olivia Lopez, Sarah Church, and Robin Ayou.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had broken a tooth. It was nipping the side of her cheek in a way she was sure would leave a mark, but she had yet to taste blood. She had tuned out most of coach Maidas speech, she was sure she would get scolded for it. She kept quiet mostly, only offering vague vocalizations of acknowledgement to test out her ability to speak. It didn't hurt horribly. She ran her tongue over it carefully, confirming it was one of the left teeth on the side, hopefully not immediately obvious if she kept a low profile.

It had been a goal. That's all that mattered. She had humiliatingly fallen to the cold ice floor when she hit the puck from halfway across the rink and managed to score. She was sure as hell not going to get kicked out of the match now, three minutes into the game. The injury could be dealt with later; no one had to know about it. Her mouth guard still fit just fine and actually dulled the pain. She adjusted her helmet and gripped her stick tighter. Stepping out onto the rink, she could only wish she had done her hair a little tighter.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You are one hell of a stupid kid, ain't ya girl?” coach Marguerite Maida let out while pinching her nose bridge standing opposite to the young woman that sat on the locker room bench pressing an ice pack to the side of her face, the taste of blood finally making its appearance.

“I got us three goals. I won! Shouldn't we be celebrating right now? Ow! Ooooohhh…” Robin failed to protest. The coach ran her palm across her face before gesturing wildly, slouching her posture and bending her knees almost as if to get down to her level.

“That is the BARE minimum you can do! And the next time you won't have beginner's luck riding on your dick.”

“It was against the Alterra Giants! That can't be luck, I destroyed them!”

“And destroyed your goddamn mouth to boot!”

“Listen- ow ow ow ow… You told me to never be a pussy and get back up no matter what. And trust me coach, if I can get over you fucking my sister, I can move past anything.”

She expected a scowl but received a smirk, almost as if the coach suddenly got some malevolent idea.

“Oh yeaaaaah, what will Samantha think of you galavanting around, breaking teeth like they're candy?”

Robin's smile dropped. Her brows furrowing and her shoulders tensing up, she lowered the ice pack and glared at the woman in front of her.

“You wouldn't dare…”

"Oh, I would sweet cheeks. And I'll do it right now.”

She pulled out her phone, and Robin was ready to jump her and get it out of her hands if her life depended on it, but at that precise moment, the rest of the team burst into the locker room, cheering and chanting in celebration. Robin was quickly picked up by a larger teammate and paraded around like a trophy. She got too caught up being red in the face to realize the coach leaving the room.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Woman, you are in your twenties, she's not gonna hit you with a belt.”

Calvin looked over at his friend, who was fretting over her phone right next to him on the couch. They were supposed to be celebrating, beer and pizza abundant across the table, the TV gleaming in the mostly dark living room. He was shocked that she was glued to her phone even as the documentary narrator started talking about Ventgarden leviathans, her favorite leviathan that just yesterday she had yapped his ear off about a new documentary that had come out where they actually got footage inside it, and now that they were watching it, all she could do was wait for a scolding like she was a little kid.

“What would you fucking do if your mom called wanting you dead?!” she yelled hysterically, gripping her phone so hard she might break it.

"Robin, you have a mom, you don't have to be more afraid of your sister than you are of her.”

She pouted at him and proceeded to aggressively finish another slice of pizza. It was her cheat day after all. If Maida knew about this, she would surely finally just up and kill her.

"Well, you should be asking Sam why she's dating a woman old enough to be her mom.”

“Weren't you thirsting about that old guy in the commercial last week? I'd say it runs in the family.”

“He was hot! Shut up! And also even then she didn't have to date my fucking coach.”

“I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.”

“I win three to two against the Alterra giants, and this is how all of you thank me?!” She crossed her arms and sank further into the couch.

She had every intention to stay like that the rest of the night, but her eyes focused on the TV. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. The diver was at the bottom of a heat vent overlooking an adult Ventgarden, its maw beneath the tentacles fluttered open and the diver with the camera strapped got closer. Robin held her breath as she watched it, expecting a cut, but she couldn't help but have her eyes wide open and her mouth agape as they moved inside when its mouth opened. The diver spun around, showing a full three sixty view of the mesmerizing inside of the creature; large tree-like protrusions decorate the inside, alive with a multitude of plants and minerals. The large cone shaped structure at the top of its translucent bell shone like a divine chandelier. It took her a couple of seconds to remember to inhale.

“You know they base a type of underwater greenhouse on this leviathan?”

“Yes Robin, you've told me this six times.”

"Yeah yeah, fuck you too.”

They sat in silence, finally enjoying the documentary. Mostly Robin did, Cal opted to fiddle with his phone and briefly chuckled at a text he received.

“Yo, actually. Turns out Ryley works for a guy that has a hockey channel on youtube.”

Robin looked over at him, unimpressed and mostly annoyed that she had to divert her attention from the documentary to respond.

“You waited until now to find out what your new boyfriend does for a living?”

Cal turned slightly red at the accusation, scratching the back of his neck.

“Shut up you nearly got engaged to a girl you knew for a week.”

“THAT WAS A JOKE!”

“Sure, anyway, Ryley's boss is apparently insane and he's telling me he just went ballistic on him for bringing him the wrong pen.”

“Well what the hell do you expect from a man with a youtube channel.”

“True, but check it, it's Alan Silvester.”

Her expression barely changed.

“Don't play the name game with me.” she deadpanned.

“The commentator??!” Whether he sounded incredulous or offended, she couldn't tell.

“NHL?”

“Yeah!”

“Haven't kept up with it, sorry.”

“You are the only person who doesn't watch the NHL.”

“I do! Ive just been busy, you know, playing my own fucking league!”

“He was a commentator four years ago!”

Robin returned to looking at the screen, they were now talking about Snow stalkers, which was much more interesting to her.

“Who cares? He sounds like an asshole.”

"Yeah, you'd know.”

“Piss off.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stayed late. It nearly felt like it was going to boil him alive but his routine took a back seat today. He needed to do this now. He stayed late in his office, the game long over, and the arena now silent. The harsh glow of his computer screen and the soft hum of the heater kept him awake. He had his computer and his two notebooks and finally his preferred pen all lined up as he paused and unpaused the tv. This was his third rewatch of the game. He watched it re-reading the notes he took initially, then again finally taking new notes with the right notebook and pen, and finally, what he had originally planned on doing tomorrow, go through the game bit by bit, pausing and rewinding while writing down on his Midori MD notebook. After that, he would use all he had written down to begin writing the script for the video.

He paused the screen on a frame of her face.

She was injured. Seemingly nobody else could tell. He hadn't seen a goal like that in months, somehow flying past the other team's perfect coordination. It was almost as if it were mathematically calculated on the fly. Only to then proceed to fall flat on her face. It was undeniable that she carried the game, but her apparent inability to do so without nearly breaking her jaw was fascinating. He couldn't help but chuckle at himself as he watched her smash into the boarder of the rink for the second time. Clumsy wasn't quite the word to describe her. It would have been much simpler if he could pin her down in any way. Her playstyle was erratic, she played well enough with her team, but there were times where it appeared as though the world around her disappeared and she was locked in to the goal. She simultaneously had incredible and terrible spatial awareness, and the crazy thing is that it all somehow brought her to victory against one of the most ruthless teams he had ever seen. To say she had potential felt like both an understatement and also blatantly wrong. She was more akin to throwing a bull in a flock of sheep and seeing what happened. The entire time, he couldn't help a certain giddiness from filling him. He wasn't going to be covering anything other than the PHF for the time being. Audience engagement be damned. This was too damn fun.

His determined scribbling was interrupted when he felt a buzz in his right pocket. He stiffly put the pen and notebook down as his back straightened subconsciously. Suddenly the glow of the television in the otherwise dark room felt like something he had to fix, his jacket something to take off indoors, his shades neatly contained in their case in his left drawer something to be ashamed of, and the hour he was out of the house at a death sentence. His chosen ringtone, the only one that didn't drive him insane, made him feel cumbrous. Alan hesitated for only a second before pulling out the phone and staring at the screen. He already knew who it was. Nobody else ever called him. He paused the game. Both sounds at once were searing to his senses. Of course. This was inevitable. He had sworn to himself that he would call at the right time from his office and save himself the trouble. This was just his unavoidable punishment for breaking his perfectly calculated routine, because the damage it did to his nerves wasn't suffering enough.

The phone was still ringing. He took a deep breath and placed it down on the table and answered, immediately putting it on speaker.

“Mothe-“

“Why didn't you call me?”

“I-“

“You scared me beyond belief! Where are you?”

“At home.”

He definitely felt his eye twitch as he said that but he would live.

“Who are you with? You should have called me, Alan, who is at your house right now?”

"Mother, no one. I am here alone.”

“You would have called me if you were alone at home, or are you out there somewhere? Why don't you call me when we agreed to?”

“I simply got caught up in… work, in work I have to do around the house. I was going to call you. It is only ten minutes late.”

“Hah! Tell me what of all the times you've yelled and cried and threw a fit when I was late to something then?! When I started lessons five minutes late Alan?! Are you going to pay me back for that?!”

“I have apologized multiple times for that mother. Please.”

“Oh! But then what about when the doctor took all of ten seconds to arrive and you threw a fit?!”

“I was five.”

“Don't get smart with me, I am still your mother. Now where are you and who are you with?!”

He thought about it. About the semantics of putting up a lie. Of how much it would take to convince her. Concluding that he could not fool her as she would eventually demand he share his location on his phone. He threw in the towel.

“Fine! I stayed late at the office working. I'm sorry. I won't let work interfere with our call agai-“

“Don't call it work! You had a job four years ago, and when you finally make something out of this obsession of yours you throw it away because, baby can't have everything exactly how he likes it!”

Her high pitched mocking tone made him grip the edge of the table.

“Mother, I have paid your electricity bill, water bill and phone bill for the month and I've been affording my medications just fine. You can't deny the fact that I make a living honestly.”

“I have done nothing but support you your entire life, the doctors told me you might never so much as be independent. I never gave up on you and even when you could have been a doctor you chose to throw our lives away because you could never let go of this game.”

He sighed, leaning back on his chair. He was too worked up by the game, that's why this felt more irritating than normal. Breathing out, he took the phone and turned off the speaker mode, putting it to his ear.

“What can I do to make this up for you?”

His voice was calm. Gentle. A practiced measure of breath that flowed just right in his voice to sound like what he had learned was supposed to be the sound of sincerity.

“Well you can get a real job first of all. But for this we can have lunch tomorrow. I haven't seen you in a while. I miss you Alan. You barely ever talk to me anymore.”

He pointedly ignores the urge to correct that he calls her every day at eight pm sharp. And that she visited his apartment unprompted last week.

“I miss you too.”

Gentle. He could not risk a hint of anything hard making its way onto his voice.

“I'll have something prepared for you tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Sweetie, I am not eating meat with peas again. We're going to a restaurant. It really is time you eat like an adult sometimes.”

He wanted to ask what exactly she meant by that but knew that doing so would only bring trouble.

“Alright sure. There are three places I like so-“

“I said like an adult. I'll pick the restaurant. There is this one near the house that I've been meaning to try.”

“What's it called?

He was already opening up a new tab on his computer to look up this restaurant, wanting to have a good look at the menu beforehand.

“I'll tell you where it is, when you come pick me up.”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself and immediately regretted it.

“What was that? Are you mumbling to yourself? What did you say? Are you giving me lip right after I give you a chance for me to forgive you?!

He felt himself deflate as he listened to the ranting on the other line. Dammit. While he listened he turned off the tv and began to pack his things to go home. He wouldn't be getting any more work done now.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She bonked her head against the wall. Leaning against it with all the weight of her misery. She had forgotten, she always did, and yet it felt worse every time. Robin groaned. No wonder her hair felt wrong. She had left her cornrows for an entire week too long. Sam having been the only one to have made note of it. Perhaps it had been her own dread that had led her to subconsciously procrastinate the hair appointment; those were the bane of her existence. She should just do what Sam did and cut it all as short as possible, but she knows she would cry at the mirror if she did that.

She removed her face from the wall. It was embarrassing to be moping like this out in the open. She wished they would have at least let her wait inside the hair salon, but she couldn't complain given that the stylist still chose to do her hair after she arrived twenty minutes late and let the next person take her spot, this was more of a time out than anything.

It didn't help that it was an absolutely miserable day. It wasn't raining but it could at any minute, the gray clouds overhead making their presence known citywide. It was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, and she had naturally overestimated her tolerance and had brought only a thin jacket. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, phone too low on battery for her to mindlessly scroll her time away.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—

He was not faring much better, fighting for his life to not cave and order something from the children's menu out of pure desperation. The menu was an amalgamation of salads and pasta, and every time he found something that seemed fine, some ingredient showed up that made him shiver at the mere thought of it on his tongue. He measured how long he stared at each page after he read it, knowing that going through them too quickly or too slowly would earn him a comment from the woman sitting across from him. Who at the moment was rambling about her hair.

“It is only natural that hair begins to turn white mother, you shouldn't be this worried about it.”

“I know, but I don't want to look like an old lady, Alan. There is nothing more loathsome than white hairs on a woman.”

“And what about a man?”

“You know what I mean!”

He did not.

“I have white hair.” he uttered flatly. Her face did not change in the slightest at his words, but she did turn to look at him.

“You know I don't mean you baby. You are very handsome for having your condition.”

He only held in a breath and took the compliment as it was. Alan had never truly understood where he fell in the spectrum of physical appeal. Years ago, his coworkers had relentlessly mocked him when he revealed that the only reference he had at the time for his own appearance was his mother's opinion. And after, during his very short lived relationship, his girlfriend had only ever called him “unique” or "interesting." He eventually concluded that he was most likely unattractive, as he had observed that those who were societally considered the most appealing lacked any sort of condition or physical defect. A state of being incompatible with his albinism.

Thankfully, today the weather was easy on him. It was dark enough outside that he could comfortably leave his shades in their case, saving himself a lecture from his mother about wearing them indoors. The restaurant they were in was only being lit by the large windows that took up the wall, leaving their table in relative darkness at the corner of the space.

His mother kept on talking about the hair salon that was on the other side of the street and how nice the hairdressers were until he finally decided to look over.

He did not recall standing up.

His mother was already frantic, asking him what was wrong and telling him to sit back down, his eyes were glued to the other side of the street, at the wall that was barely there before it turned into a corner, and the woman leaning against it. On their own accord, his legs began to move. He only managed to barely stop himself to let out a breathy, “I'll be back.”

Before he was rushing out of the restaurant, fumbling with his cap and sunglasses, barely putting them on before stumbling outside. Alan damn near forgot to look for a crosswalk and was almost about to beeline it across the street. The fact that the woman had already caught him staring right at her and looked back only delighted him further. It took him much longer than he would have liked to cross the street properly and jog his way up to her.

“You're Robin Ayou!”

He basically cornered her against the wall with his massive stature, quite a feat given that Robin was quite tall herself.

“Oh my goodness I saw your debut yesterday, I must say it was fascinating! I need to know what your thought process was during that first goal and how you measure your passes, because I've only ever seen a few players do anything like it. It is only a first impression for the PHF but I briefly looked at some of your games in the NCAA and I noticed that you have been-“

“Wow wow! Ok pretty boy slow down!”

“I-... What?”

The rambling was abruptly cut off, as his shoulders fell along with any sign of life he exhibited. It seemed that he nearly stopped breathing for a second. As for Robin. She stood there, mouth open and eyes wide.

“That… was supposed to be an inside observation.”

She freaked out when his face got redder than she'd ever seen on anyone before, almost making her ask if he was ok and if she needed to call an ambulance. But she guessed it was inevitable, because this guy was fucking pale. The very little skin she could see was nearly flat white with a fleshy pink undertone. Now that she thought of it, she doesn't know why she ever thought he was pretty if she could barely see him under his sunglasses and the Florida Stalkers cap.

“Listen, I'm not the weirdo in this situation!” She flusteredly pointed at him, and his dumbfounded expression quickly made its way into one of epiphany.

“Oh. I did not introduce myself.” He deflated as he spoke, stiffening his shoulder and lowering his head to look at the floor. “My name is Alan Silvester.”

She could have sworn she'd heard that name before but could not for the life of her remember where.

“Alright… you clearly know who I am. Big hockey fan? Must be if you've got me pinned after being in the PHF for a day.”

There was something. An ever so subtle tug at the corner of his lips that Robin wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't looking so intently.

“Absolutely,” he said somewhat breathlessly. Robin couldn't help but smirk coyly.

“So what, you want an autograph or something?” She was only half joking.

“Oh, no. I actually work as an independent ice hockey analyst and it would be incredible if I could get your direct input for my content.”

It took her a minute trying to figure out what “independent analyst” meant. She could only guess he was some kind of reporter.

“What like an interview?”

Alan lit up just a little.

“That is a good way to format it. I've never had the opportunity to interview a player before! If you could be in the video, that would be incredib-“

“ALAN!”

He was abruptly cut off by the voice of a woman screeching from further down the street. His panic returned stronger than ever and he turned to Robin, frantically pulling out a receipt from his pocket and writing down a couple of things on the back of it.

“This is my channel and my assistant's phone number.” He barely got her to take it from his hands before he was yanked by the arm, a shiver violently rushing through his body leaving him grimacing and struggling against the older woman that had come up to grab him.

“I am so sorry! He didn't mean to scare you. He won't bother you again I promise!”

They were already halfway across the street when he yelled, “Call my assistant if you're willing to do an interview, please!”

“Shut UP Alan!”

The two began arguing until they both returned to the inside of the restaurant they came from and Robin was left staring at her own reflection. She nearly dropped the paper in her astonishment. She looked down at it and saw a number and the name of the man that had just accosted her. The woman could not think of what to even do with herself at that moment, so with the only brain cell she had left, she took out her phone and called Cal.

“I am not getting you coffee. Do that yourself,” was the first sentence she was greeted with when he answered the call.

“Cal, some guy just recognized me in the middle of the street and begged me to do an interview with him.”

“Oh shit after only one game? Who the hell was it?”

“He said his name was Alan… uuuuuh Silvester?”

The pause that ensued was unbearably long, so much so that she had to wonder if her signal had gone bad.

“Robin what the fuck?”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took all of one afternoon for Robin to lose the receipt with the phone number. She had intended to keep it, and she swore up and down she had put it in her pocket, but that was not good enough, and when she looked through the pockets of her entire wardrobe trying to find it, and was unsuccessful. It left her horribly distracted during practice, along with the feeling of her newly fucked tooth which she would keep accidentally poaking her tongue against. Fortunately, if Robin had only one thing, it would be exceptional luck. It was five pm by the time she stepped out of the arena, barely tired from the day's training. Normally she would take this time to go on a complimentary run, but she had to meet someone.

The bus takes light years to get there. Her motorcycle was still at the repair shop, and she had already spent enough on ubers for one day by taking one to the arena that very morning. She goes through the gates of the apartment building, and gets on the elevator. Her and Cal had keys to each other's houses. It was often very convenient, as it allowed them to get stuff at any time.

Robin obliviously opened the door and was greeted with a sight she had never hoped to see.

It was Cal and who she could only assume was his brand new boyfriend of two weeks, up against a wall, one shirtless, making out in the middle of the living room.

“Oooh! Ew! What the shit?!”

She yelled in disgust. They stopped what they were doing, and Cal turned around hysterically.

“Robin! Get out!”

“You are disgusting! You literally invited me over, and this is what you're doing?!”

They yell back and forth, and the other man awkwardly finds his shirt not too far away on the couch and puts it on again. He stands there for about ten minutes until the other two have argued for long enough that they fell bitterly silent. He eventually builds up the courage to speak.

“You're… the hockey player, right?”

“And youre the guy whose fucking my friend I see,” she responded sharply, making Cal step in between them with the intention of defending the other man's honor.

“Don't be mean to him, it's not his fault.”

She laughed almost bitterly. “I can only guess whatever editorial you work for only hires people with no social awareness.”

Ryley slid his hand across his face, almost painfully so, before taking a step towards her. "Ok, bitch, I WISH it was a fucking editorial, I work for a youtuber.”

“Oh, my god, I would actually kill myself,” she said quickly, though her voice did not have a hint of sympathy. Cal once again interjected.

“Robin, your entire electricity bill is basically just youtube.”

“Yeah, and it's stupid. I thought you knew that.”

“Ugh, I wish my boss knew that. He is genuinely convinced he is a legit analyst. He takes it all super seriously,” Ryley huffed, hunching his back over in exhaustion at the mere mention of his work.

“I mean, sure he might… have a screw or two loose, but it just looks like he really cares.” Robin definitely didn't think the man seemed normal in any way, but she didn't detect anything malicious or really unforgivable about him.

“Oh he cares. He cares a lot. About every little thing. He only uses one specific brand and type of pen, and then writes his short notes in this one type of notebook and then writes his other notes in a different kind of notebook and he goes actual batshit if you don't bring him that. Like a third of the budget is only his supplies.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds insufferable,” she had to concede.

Ryley stepped forward, standing now in front of Robin. “Take it from me. Don't do it. He interviewed me when I applied for the job, and I've never been that uncomfortable in my life.”

Robin sighed and put her bag down on the floor by the door. She slumped over to the fridge, not bothering to ask for permission, and looked through it. Cal and her had completely opposite diets, meaning his fridge was always stocked with tasty food and drinks that a professional athlete should definitely not be consuming. Robin liked to make the excuse that because it wasn't her place or her money spent on the junk food then it didn't count. She took out a beer and made her way to look for a bottle opener.

“I mean sure this isn't as cool as being interviewed by like Sol Sports or whatever, but when am I going to get a chance to do this again?”

“You'll definitely be on youtube often if you keep falling over like that,” Cal chuckled. She did not find it funny and had no qualms about playing dirty.

“Shut your mouth or Imma tell him the thing.” She pointed at Ryley with her thumb.

Cal suddenly tensed up and whispered sharply: “You fucking wouldn't!”

“What thing?” Ryley asked, suddenly feeling stupid for not understanding whatever insider knowledge was being discussed. Robin only raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing! There is no thing to be talking about!” Cal hissed adamantly, and that was that. She finally got the beer open and chugged down. There was a hot minute of silence while she finished half the bottle.

“Listen“ -she burped. “How many subscribers does he have?”

“Gross. Last time I checked, about eight point fifty k.” Ryley quickly recounted.

“That's not that big.”

“It's been tanking quite a bit recently. He gets way more traction on his twitter.”

He approached to show her his phone and Robin took the opportunity to look up both the channel and the twitter account.

“Well now he's got eight k and one.” She tapped the subscribe button on the screen and soon after pressed follow on twitter.

“You're really doing this?” Cal wasn't surprised. Robin had always been somewhat of a diva, it didn't make him any less uneasy about the prospect.

“Fuck it. Why not? I get to look cool and professional, and he gets something to talk about. He's basically my number one fan. Come on.”

“He'd harass any player. You're not special,” Ryley dryly interjected, making Robin almost spike up like a cat in defensiveness.

“You don't know that!”

“Will your coach approve this?” Cal reminded her of her position in the metaphorical race. She winced at the mention of that woman.

“She's not the boss of me. I can do whatever I want.”

“Robin, she is quite literally the boss of you.”

“It'll be fine!” She looked over at Ryley with a smile. “Tell him I said yes. And that he's going to need to remind me cause I'm definitely going to forget.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His videos made their way onto her feed a few times now, but she kept putting them on “Watch later," telling herself she'd get around to watching them eventually. Some of them were hours long, how was she supposed to sit through that? She still had a while until her next game, so she fell into the lul of training, running, coming home, making impulse purchases online, and sleeping.

She had given Ryley her phone number and he then gave it to Alan. He had a… unique way of texting, sending absurdly long, multi paragraph messages that Robin could only skim through. What she had managed to keep up with was his twitter. He was really active. Talking with everyone who commented about the latest game, player, or strategy and would get into heated arguments with anyone who disagreed with him. Though he never seemed to do what you'd normally do on twitter and just insult them and have that be it. No, he would genuinely structure arguments, cite sources, and go on multi tweet rants, reaching the daily tweet limit constantly. She tried to find a picture of him or food or a tweet about the weather but every single thing he posted was dedicated to hockey through and through. It only took Robin a few minutes of scrolling to find a very common response;

“Bro is acoustic.”

Usually along with some meme. It triggered something sour in her mouth. She almost responded many times that it was wrong to assume things like that of people. That it wasn't some joke. But she knew she'd only look like a killjoy and might get some flack for it if she did. She thought, sure, he cared about this game a lot, it didn't mean there was anything…. wrong, with him. She could only think of how she would feel if people talked like that about her. If they joked about her being… deficient. She would distract herself quickly with internet brainrot before she got too caught up in that thought, lest she start drowning in memories of middle school again.

What mattered is she had a date, well it was technically a business meeting but she used that word to mess with her mom when she had to turn her down for dinner that day. Alan had scheduled it at a rather cheap restaurant, which she was happy about. She fucked up and showed up a whole thirty minutes early just to prevent being late, so she was walking in circles around the block, looking through her friends instagram stories as she went. Quickly going past one of Sam going out with her coach, ugh. She was on her ninth lap when she spotted an uproariously tall man with a jacket, sun shades, and a cap, this time with a Reapers logo on it. She only knew it was him by intuition before she waved at him as he walked over.

They only exchanged minor pleasantries before they made their way inside. By the time they had taken their seat at the table they were already approached by a waiter who clearly recognized him. He said that he would like some before ordering this time and the waiter left them alone. Robin could only smile amusedly.

“Come here often?”

He jumped a little, as if he wasn't expecting her to speak.

“Once a week. I am sorry. I chose this place because it is one I'm familiar with. I don't do well eating in new places. I know this is no place to bring a pretty lady.”

Robin briefly choked on her water, her expression hiding nothing. His deadpan face only made the ordeal stranger.

“What? I thought it was fair after “pretty boy."“

“I… thought you would forget that.”

“Miss Ayou, come on. I am autistic, not stupid.

The atmosphere dropped immediately. Her flustered expression quickly changed into one of deep discomfort. It took her a minute to figure out what to say next.

“Don't... don't say that about yourself.”

“It's true. Most people who are familiar with me have already figured it out. What's that stupid word they use on the internet for it now? Acoustic? I have no idea what the joke is supposed to be.”

Despite everything, he appeared as relaxed as ever. It only made her tense up more.

“It's not funny.”

“No, it is not. But when is X ever truly funny?”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

She insisted, leaning towards him. His relaxed expression fell away, replaced with guarded confusion as he finally took his shades off. His pale eyes looked at her with hesitant intensity.

“I never said there was anything wrong with me.”

Robin was slightly taken aback, some words she didn't know stuck in her throat. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity.

“I have made you uncomfortable.”

His sorry tone got the blood pumping back in her veins.

“No no no! You didn't! Ah, I'm just stupid, don't mind me. Heh…”

“You're not stupid.”

She smirked in a way that was weirdly tense but frighteningly natural for her. “Oh you don't know me. I'm a mess!”

She detected a hint of that smile again. At that moment he put away his sunglasses and took his cap off. Robin was a little shocked when seeing him. White down to his eyelashes. She was only mildly disturbed out of unfamiliarity and concern but at no point did she think the title of “pretty boy” was any less accurate.

“Well, messy maybe. I can't quite deny that after seeing you trip over yourself the way you did in that game.”

She sunk back in shame, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh! Don't remind me.”

“Are you alright by the way? You clearly hurt yourself.”

She looked at him in horror. “You could tell?”

“Apparently only me. I am sorry, the staff at your game didn't do a very good job at taking care of you.”

“They're not there to take care of us.”

“Yes they are. And so should you.”

She sighed. Just when she thought she'd met someone who wouldn't lecture her. “Ok, you're right.”

“You didn't answer me.”

“Answer what?”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh yes! I'm fine now, don't worry. Also…” She turned meek, playing with a coil of her hair now only in a ponytail.

“Hm?”

“Maybe, don't mention that in the video?”

“I can't make any promises. I aim for accuracy and transparency. Actually that is why I wanted to meet with you. I have written down the interview questions and wanted to give them to you before the day of recording,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to her. She looked at it briefly, only noting the first three questions before folding it up and putting it in her pocket.

“Wouldn't you want to ask me those, you know, on the interview?”

“I am not very well versed at interviewing people. So I decided to give you a heads up. I want you to go through them carefully and come up with the best, most detailed responses possible. And I wanted to discuss them all with you in case you took issue with any of them.”

She stared a bit dumbfounded before chuckling. “Well you sure are prepared.”

He straightened his jacket. “I am.”

She liked that.

“Sure, we'll talk about them in a minute. My friend told me that you used to be a commentator?”

“Oh yeah. Four years ago.”

Robin did some quick math and took a good look at his face.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty years old.”

“Oh shit!” she let out without meaning to. Her face went hot at the information, suddenly making her feel a little shy in front of him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing! That's great!”

“Really? That's a… pretty neutral piece of information.”

She laughed nervously. Fuck, she really was no better than her sister. “You just don't… look thirty.”

He suddenly snorted. Flushing red like crazy himself. She almost got scared again.

“I don't go out in the sun very often, so that might be it?”

“Oh yeah, I didn't want to say anything about it, but you're the single whitest person I've ever seen.”

“Albino. I mean, I am ethnically considered white as well. But my appearance is mostly the result of being an albino.”

“Oh like a Biter.”

Whatever smile there was dropped and he looked at her bewildered. It took Robin a second to realize that was a weird as fuck thing to say and she hurried to explain herself. “I- I mean… Agh! Sorry, I just thought of albino Biter fish and, oh nevermind, forget it, I'm sorry.”

“I didn't know fish could have albinism.”He couldn't help staring when her face lit up in delight. She excitedly pulled out her phone and began typing.

“Oh it's super cool! Look!”She pushed the phone to his face. It showed an image of a small, yellowish wrinkly animal with disturbing white eyes, two on each side.

“That is one strange looking…thing.”

“Well it's technically called a Blighter not a Biter. They’re slower than Biters and often get rejected from packs so they hunt alone.”

“They're really odd looking.”

“Oh you haven't seen shit. Wait a second.” She typed something again and happily pulled up the image.

“Oh, what the fuck is that?”

The image showed a massive creature, with four huge eyes, attached to a bulbous body stuck inside some sort of translucent jell sack, lord knows how many spindly legs and thousand yard stare.

“That's a crab squid! They're super hard to study because they can produce electromagnetic waves that temporarily shut down submarines.”

“Well I certainly wouldn't want to find that while swimming in the ocean.”

“Oh they can be aggressive. Lowkey filled with hatred. But I would give anything to dive with one of these.”

“Do you just like getting hurt?”

“I would be careful! I wouldn't want to scare it!”

“Well I'm a little scared of you right now.”

“Well how do you think I felt when you ran at me out of nowhere in the street after gawking at me like a lunatic?”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “Alright that is fair.”

She laughed and they finally ordered: he just said “the usual”. Meanwhile she had visions of coach Maida yelling at her about nutrition and ordered a salad. It had chicken at least. She suggested they share the cheapest wine bottle on the menu but he said he had to drive, and she couldn't convince him. After a few seconds of silence and eating, Robin proposed something.

“You know? I'm gonna try to get you tickets to my next game, get you the best look at the action.”

“Oh no, do not bother, I don't go to games.”

“What?! But you have to!”

“I don't like it.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“It's too loud, there are too many people, it's too bright and a myriad of other things. I tried it once when I was a kid and had a meltdown.”

He didn't catch on to how sad for him she felt in that moment.

“Im so sorry…”

“Don't be. If anything you should be sorry for my poor mother who worked extremely hard to obtain tickets and had to deal with me and leave early because I couldn't handle it.” He looked oddly neutral while he recounted the story. Not sad, but not warm either. His eyes looked dead as he stared down at his food. An omelette. It was awkward between them for a moment, before Robin took a long sip of her drink.

“So you've liked hockey since you were little?”

A certain liveliness came to his face. Not an expression, his features (as they had for most of the night) remained generally unmoving. It was something else. An unimaginably subtle opening of his eyelids and a straightening of his eyebrows.

“Yes, since I was nine.”

“How'd it start?”

"Well, it was one of the only sports I could play.”

“You played?!” She leaned back, entertained by the prospect.

“Only until I was eleven. The equipment got far too expensive. I don't miss it all that much to be honest.”

“Oh that sucks. But why could you only play that?”

“My school did a lot of extracurricular activities, that included multiple sports, but most of them were outdoors. I could not be outside the way the other kids could, so I played inside.”

“And you just got hooked on it.”

“I took it significantly more seriously than anyone on my team did. I always tried to strategize and play based on research, but unfortunately that is not a substitute for raw athleticism.”

“But you're huge! Like what? Two meters?”

“Two meters and ten centimeters, to be exact.”

“God, how do you even find pants?”

“It is, in fact, a nightmare, not to mention the right texture as well. But anyway, it is highly debated how much size matters in ice hockey, obviously it is an advantage, especially in defensive situations but there is more to the subject. There is a very interesting video about it, I'll send it to you. And also, I was actually very short when I was younger. The shortest one on my team.”

“Oh like a Gargantuan leviathan baby.”

“Are you always going to compare me to animals?”

“Hey, I'd take it as a compliment. Did you know adult Gargantuans are the biggest animals to have ever existed that we know about?”

“I don't know much about zoology, but surely there were prehistoric species that were larger.”

“Nope! The biggest animal they've found since was the Sea emperor. That one was only two hundred meters long. Unfortunately, that one just went extinct recently…”

He didn't know what to do when she suddenly looked genuinely sad. He resorted to changing the subject.

"Well, the tallest recorded player in the NHL was Zdeno Chára.”

“Who is that? I thought it was John Scott.”

He gripped his fork a little tighter.

“I am always shocked by how little players actually know about their own history.”

He was lucky she thought his grumpy attitude was cute.

“Sure, boss. How many players have you met?”

“I used to meet them a lot more when I was a commentator. I've met Danby Fidle, Jochi Khasar and David Hollister.”

“That sounds amazing. Why did you stop?”

He answered immediately, with a blistering honesty she almost felt assaulted by. His nearly imperceptible smile as if he were saying the most obvious thing in the world brought up a certain feeling in her chest. “Because like this I get to talk about things I truly find interesting. Like you.”

They never did get around to talking about those interview questions. She only said she would read them later.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A knock sounded at the door at the apartment. Six pm on a Friday.

“You better not be fucking in there or I'm gonna kill you.” Robin's voice was muffled by the door. The two men on the couch scrolling on their phones cringed at the comment.

“Alright. I'm coming in. One, two, three!” She opened the door and walked inside. When she saw the unimpressive scene before her, she was quick to throw her bag aside and stomp over to where they were. She stood tall by the couch in front of Ryley. He didn't look up at her until Cal nudged him.

“What?”

“What is wrong with you?!”

He squinted at her, expecting her to elaborate, which only made her more angry.

“Why would you talk about him like that?”

“How did you find that? Listen, I said what I said. Milei is a leech on the country, I don't care how progressive he is, the chainsaw shit was pathetic.”

“Ah- What? No! You idiot! I'm talking about Alan!”

“Oh, my god. Don't tell me youre on his side.”

Calvin gave a tired expression and sighed. “Please don't start fighting.”

To no avail.

“He's a sweetheart!”

“He's neurotic!”

“And so what?! He likes stuff a certain way. What's wrong with that?!”

“You don't know him like I do!”

“Oh really? What's his favorite color?”

“Oh my god, I hate you both.” Cal would have put on headphones if he could, but he contented himself with going back to looking through emails on his phone.

“Why the fuck would I know that?!”

“Well it's green, so checkmate!” She walked away, over to the counter where she saw the hair ties she had left last time she was there.

“That is not a checkmate!” Ryley burst out, looking at Cal for support, but he refused to look away from his phone. Making it clear that he was tuning them both out.

“He's so nice and patient. I said a ton of stupid stuff when I was out with him and he didn't get mad once.”

“Well just you wait until he complains about the smell of your deodorant and makes you change it.”

“Well if he asked me to, I just might!”

“Listen whatever! He said he would give you the interview questions. Do you have them?”

“Yeah! Right he-“ She reached into her pocket. Then stopped. She looked again. Deeper this time. Then at the other pocket. Then at her left pant pocket, then the right one. After a second she went over to her bag.

“I have them.”

Ryleys jaw dropped. “No… YOU LOST THEM?!”

“No no I didn't, just give me a SECOND!”

Cal finally zoned back in and stared at her with knowing concern. Ryley was already sweating.

“He's gonna kill us…” Ryley murmured almost inaudibly. Robin winced and grunted, kicking her bag and standing up to pace around the room. “God fucking dammit. I had them…”

She stopped dead in her tracks and massaged her temples. “Ok. Ok ok ok ok ok. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. It's fine. It's fine! This is an interview. It's about me! I know me! He'll ask me about how I started playing and what my training routine is, stuff like that.”

“He won't! That's what a normal person would ask!”

She fumed. “Hey! He is perfectly normal!”

“Yeah! So is the current state of Buenos Aires!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“You know what? This is not my fault. He said he wanted to give them to you himself. This is beyond my job description.” he said as he took deep breaths. Robin on the other hand was chewing her nails, going back to pacing. Cal let out a deep sigh and finally spoke.

“Just ask him for the questions again. You have his number.”

“What?! No! I don't want him to think I'm an idiot! Or that I don't care!”

Ryley was annoyingly quick to add; “Well if he's so nice and patient, then surely he won't.” The sarcasm in his voice made her blood boil. She couldn't decide if she wanted to kill herself or him. She looked over at Cal. “Why are you dating him again?”

“Why do you care so much about what some youtuber thinks?”

She pouted and he just raised an eyebrow at her. The stare off lasted for a few seconds before she gave up.

“You know what? It will be fine. I'm good at talking. I've always been best when I improvise. Having all the questions laid out would have probably only made me overthink it.”

“Sure. This is your problem. I'm going to the bathroom.” Ryley left the living room and Cal finally stood up and walked over to Robin. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Robin, just ask him. I know it might suck but you'll regret it if you don't.”

“Hey hey don't worry. I can handle an interview.”

“Why are you so scared of him judging you?”

“I…” She realized at that moment that she didn't have an answer. She bit her lip for a moment, before getting a determined twinkle in her eye.

“I'm done looking stupid in front of people.”

“Who cares what they think?”

She took him by the shoulders, leaning down to his level and shaking him slightly. “You wouldn't get it because no one thinks you're an idiot. You remember how it was in school. I'd ask a teacher to repeat what they said and they'd yell at me. The coach thinks the same.”

Her face tightened, and she took a shaky breath. “This guy respects me. For once someone doesn't see me as a complete disaster. And I don't want to ruin that.”

He looked her in the eye and squeezed her shoulder. “I respect you.”

There was a sour look in Robin's eyes. Almost making the man think she might doubt his words. He wanted to reassure her, but she interrupted too quickly for him to do so:. “Ugh I know. But you know me too well.”

She smiled dolefully. It only made him more uneasy.

“And what happens when he gets to know you too?”

In that moment, the heavy expression faded away. As if dissolved in water, almost instantly. And it was jarringly replaced with a manufactured confidence. A nonchalance that glowed in her features as she slightly tilted her head.

“He won't.” She took a deep breath and straightened herself up. His hand falling away. Her smile was bright and her head was held high.

“He wanted Robin the hockey star. And that's exactly who he'll get!”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She debated on how much makeup she should have on, or if any at all. She opted for a light look. Covering up some bruises and scratches. Checking herself over and over in nearby car windows and storefronts, she had made her way to the location Ryley had given her. It was quite a boring small building, but to be fair she was still surprised that he had an office at all. Expecting a youtuber to run their entire operation from their bedroom. It had only been a few days since their little dinner meeting and during that time Robin had made the attempt to text him more. It was during those text conversations where she had finally truly realized.

It was really hard to talk to him about anything other than ice hockey.

She guessed at first that he was maybe just being professional. But then again she didn’t know what strategies of games from 1967 or the individual weights of other players had to do with their arrangement. She suddenly had to wonder, did he… have anyone to hear him talk about this endlessly? At no point did he mention any friends. Making Robin feel oddly protective of the man, letting him ramble to his heart's content and doing her absolute best to keep track of as much of it as she could. Ryley's incessant comments made that protective instinct even stronger. To the point where she was determined to not only steamroll this interview, but to have a great time with her new buddy doing it.

She arrived soon enough and was let in by Ryley, who did little more than give her the side eye and point to where she needed to go. The office consisted of four rooms that she didn't bother asking permission to look through. One was a small room with nothing but a desk and a television mounted to the wall, it looked vaguely creepy if you asked her. There was Ryley small dedicated office, full of a variety of labeled boxes that she couldn't quite believe were his doing. A storage closet that had been made into a makeshift audio recording booth, and finally the recording studio. It was a somewhat small room with a large whiteboard. Opposite to it, she could spot a mounted camera and what looked like a projector. Robin remembered a few of the videos' thumbnails, where he would draw complicated diagrams over the projection of a frame of the game, she thought it was fairly clever.

It was in that room where she found him. Scribbling on a pristine looking notebook on a table that was set off to the side. He didn't notice her immediately, but was most likely startled when he did. Most likely because Robin wasn't entirely sure given that he only tensed up and threw up his eyebrows slightly.

“Mis Ayou.”

She smiled, tilting her head. “Need help with anything?” She approached and saw him put his notebook down on a chair and hold his pen a little tighter.

“You arrived twenty minutes earlier than the appointed time. I am not ready to receive you.”

Robin looked at her phone. He was right. She did it on purpose. She knew that if she didn't get there as early as possible, she would inevitably end up late.

“It's fine. I can help set things up. I don't mind.”

“You should have come when we agreed to, please do that next time we have an arrangement.”

Robin took a step back suddenly feeling a little uneasy in the room.

“Are you mad at me?” She sounded incredulous.

“Upset, yes”

“Oh.” She shrunk back. Fidgeting with her hair, his face doesn't change as she asked herself, should he be at least a little happy to see her?

“Should I leave?”

“There would be no point to that now. If you are offering to assist, please move this table in front of the whiteboard.”

She swallowed uncomfortably. The shut blinds of the room made it seem smaller, making her feel somewhat trapped in. She did as he asked, and the table was quickly in place. He took little time taking a pair of chairs to stand behind it and began to fiddle with what she assumed was a pair of microphones. She sighed. “So… how have you been lately?”

“Stressed beyond belief. I have been receiving calls from debt collectors for a specific debt that has been sold and purchased at least four times by different companies. All of them have tried to bait me into paying it without sending verification that it is even mine. I've been disputing it for months and I know it isn't mine, for which I am not worried about payment but it is a hassle.”

She barked out a laugh so loud she thought the lower floor might have been able to hear it. Alan only stared at her, even seeming startled.

“What is it?”

She chuckled a little more. “Nothing, nothing. It's just you're the only person I've met that answers that question that honestly.”

“I… am sorry? Have I bothered you?”

“No no, I like that about you.”

He looked away from her and back to the microphones, finally setting them up each at either side of the table. “The exact value of honesty is difficult to quantify.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been told countless times that honesty is a desirable trait. But it's entirely circumstantial in a way that seemingly can't be telegraphed.”

She approached him again, feeling lighter this time. "Yeah, it's one of those things you're just supposed to know somehow. I can see how that can get pretty annoying.”

“I do appreciate you tolerating that fact about me.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked. “I don't tolerate you. I like you.”

He was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, leaving Robin to wonder if what she said was out of line.

“Thank you” he mumbled just high enough for her to hear, she couldn't help but smile wider as she looked at their setup. She walked around the room slowly, carefully eyeing the camera. She saw at the corner of her eye that Alan was already back to looking over his notebook. She got closer again and reached out to his hand carefully.

“Yo, pass me that pen, check this out.”

He hesitantly passed the pen over to her, letting out a quick “Be careful with it”. Robin weighed slightly in her palm before moving it up to her fingers and spinning it multiple times in different directions before rolling it back and forth between each finger before finally spinning it quickly over her thumb.

Alan threw up his eyebrows slightly, a small sign that made Robin feel more excited than she probably should. She continued spinning the pen in every way he knew and watched him stare at her hand with nearly mesmerized focus.

“That is quite impressive. How did you learn to do that?”

“Well it's better than chewing on it.”

His eyebrows came down again. “Do not chew on my stationary.”

She laughed. She continued doing tricks for him until a voice came in from the entrance to the room.

“Alright you two, it's time to start setting up and get recording.” Ryley could not have sounded less enthusiastic if he tried. Alan quickly took the pen from her and set it down on the right seat of the desk, where she guessed he would be sitting. She went over and sat down on the left side and waited for further instructions. Soon enough, the mics were turned on and Alan tapped on his a few times.

“Testing. Is the audio recording correctly?”

Robin couldn't help but chuckle. He looked over at her confused, the complete stillness of his face somehow communicated his perplexity in such a perfect way that it made her stifle another laugh.

“Is something funny?” He sounded so neutral about it that Robin didn't feel bad.

“Its really nothing, its just that I just now noticed how old you sound.”

Ryley was actually able to stifle his laughter, and set himself to face down at the floor. Alan should have been at least a little frustrated, but he found the sound of her laughter too pleasant to be bothered.

“It's just, you're thirty, look twenty-five and sound like sixty-seven.”

“And is that amusing?” he asked her simply. It's actually kind of hot. She thought to herself but obviously had no intention to say that.

“Just interesting. Like the rest of you.”

That tiny hint of a smile made its way onto his face again. Robin would have visibly celebrated if she wasn't being watched.

“Mis Ayou, I think it's important to remember that I'm the one interviewing you.”

“I really think it's time you start calling me Robin.”

“You did not ask before referring to me by my first name.”

“Was I wrong to do that?”

“No. The informality is pleasant. I'm glad you feel relaxed. Robin.”

Ryley was two seconds away from killing himself. “Hey! Yeah, I have lunch after this.”

The other two tensed up and she quickly looked away from Alan, she didn't know if his gaze remained on her.

Any remaining preparations were minimal. Robin had already imagined nearly every possible scenario of how this could go and at worst he would ask her an invasive personal question, and she would joke it off and make it seem like it's nothing. Like she said: she was best when she improvised. In what seemed like no time at all the camera was rolling, and she was keenly aware of how Ryley was intensely leering at her as Alan finally began.

“Hello everyone. Like I promised. I have a special video. Today I get to interview the debuting player of the Trivalves, Robin Ayou.”

She had expected a much livelier introduction from a youtuber but he had never seemed like the type. Robin was under the impression that he would put on some sort of persona for his videos but just by that one bit, she figured that was not the case. Wanting to lighten things up she waved at the camera.

“Hi. It's so cool to be here. Thank you so much for inviting me on.”

“Let's get to the questions.” He nearly cut her off. Robin had been prepared for a few minutes of on screen pleasantries and banter, just like how they had on their dinner. She had seen enough shows to have thought that interviews were supposed to be fun. She took a second to straighten herself up and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Alan wasn't looking at the camera or at her, face firmly fixed on his notebook where she could see neatly organized rows of text that she couldn't quite read.

“Do you believe you have improved since your days in the NCAA?”

Wow.

Her mouth nearly fell open and her eyes widened ever so slightly. She wasn't really sure why. Maybe she was so certain that the first question would have been; How did you start playing? that anything else would have caused her to short circuit. Still, she was quick to come up with an answer.

“Well, it would be pretty bad if I hadn’t. Of course I've gotten a lot better since I competed in college.”

At that moment Alan finally looked at her. For some reason, it was unnerving.

“Elaborate.”

She fought not to swallow her saliva. This time it took her a bit longer to come up with something to say in response. “I’ve gotten a lot faster. I was still kind of a newbie in Uni. Compared to most of my teammates, I had only played since later in high school. The others had been since they were little. But here I am anyway. I think that just goes to show that it's never too late to start, you know?”

Bingo. An answer, a little backstory, something inspirational to cap it off. She's got this in the bag.

“And?” Alan's eyes were back on the notebook. His voice was unreadable as he flipped a page.

“A-and?” she questioned in a higher pitch than she would have liked.

“You have increased your movement speed. What else?”

“Well I clearly score a lot more than I used to.”

“With only one game, it is hard to test how consistently you can do that.”

“Well you could say that about anything when I play. Why ask at all then?”

The slight crinkling of paper under his thumb could be heard over a sudden deafening silence that lasted only a few seconds that stretched on for a while.

“Alright. Next question.”

“Y-yeah sure.”

She looked over at Ryley who at this point had turned his attention to his phone. She could see him holding back a giggle, clearly looking at something he found far more entertaining than this.

“What do you do to distinguish yourself from the average player?”

That question suddenly reminded her of the horrible job interviews she had at the beginning of high school. She took a second to put herself in that mindset again. Maybe that would flow more smoothly.

“Well, I am very direct and quite ruthless when playing. I go straight for the shot and don't hesitate when I see an opening.”

“Similarly to Hua Yu. Though not quite comparable.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“I don't think I'm particularly similar to anyone right now when I play.”

He had basically implied that before, right? He said she was truly interesting. Fascinating even. He meant it, right? That hadn't been just sucking up to her to get her to agree to be on here with him… right?

“I agree. You are uniquely rough while playing.”

“Rough good or rough bad?” She almost put her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to ask that out loud. It made her sound pathetic.

“Rough is a morally neutral descriptor.”

“Uh- I don't mean like tha- nevermind. Umm, but yeah, I'm quite big for a woman and I use that to my advantage.”

“Alright. Next question.”

She kept trying to find his eyes, to find some type of understanding, but his gaze would simply not connect with her, it was at that moment that she realized that the entire time they had known each other, he had not looked her directly in the eye once. She didn't know why. And suddenly, it made her incredibly nervous.

“Why were you allowed into the Trivalves?”

She blinked a couple of times. “W-why wouldn't I be? I was drafted.”

“Were you given any specific reason?”

Suddenly, a cold shiver ran up her spine. It brought her back to a few days ago, to the words Cal had said to her.

I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.

It had her digging her nails into her thigh.

“It's very simple actually. I was good and they saw that.”

“Many university players are good.”

Her breath hitched a little. She could swear a drop of sweat was running down her neck and her foot was tapping nervously on the ground under the table.

“Well I'm great then.” she nearly scowled, having to remind herself that she was on camera. Ryley had suddenly directed his attention back at them and was looking at Robin with a strong sense of dread, realizing the furrowing of his brow and the tensing of his shoulders. Alan, as always, remained unreadable save for the very subtle way that he had caused the ink on the page to slip from the pressure he was putting on it.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes. Why wouldn't I believe that?”

He was quiet. Something that was starting to infuriate her. The pause had lasted long enough that Ryley was gesturing from his place to try to get them to move on and only after Alan caught sight of it did he give any sign of life.

“How do you justify your excessive clumsiness while playing?”

Oh.

Oh.

Is that how it fucking is?

“And tell me, why would you say something so stupid?”

Finally she saw a reaction, like she wanted. He put the notebook down on the table. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“You continuously injure yourself, either crashing or falling over.”

For the first time Alan looked at the camera. Ryley was nearly biting his nails when he did so. He tried to shrug as if to communicate that he had no idea of how to fix the situation.

“Well I don't see any more “graceful” players single handedly scoring three goals against the top women's team right now, so what about that?”

“That… is unrelated to the question.”

“Well move on to another question. I’m not fucking answering that.”

Robin was many things. But a pussy was never one of them. And she wasn't about to get bullied by some wannabe reporter. She looked fiercely at Alan who seemed to only take interest in her tapping foot.

[panda-writes-kpop]

A/N: Last part of the series! This might be my favorite series I've done from a narrative point of view, I love how the story has weaved itself together over all of the parts. I hope you enjoy the ending! (and await to see what project will be coming next... 👀)

TW: SPOILERS FOR EVERY PREVIOUS PART, mind fuckery at its finest, Yooh's villain era, OOC Yoohyeon (ofc)

Summary: You finally unmask the Author, but you realize that she's not the villain you've been looking for. Maybe the villain was the friends we made along the way...

♡ Masterlist ♡ 》 》 》 ♧ AU Masterlist ♧

"Where am I?"

"Back with me." The Author's voice rings through the darkness that has surrounded you.

"Wasn't I just with Siyeon?"

"But you wished to speak with me, no?"

"I-" You pause as your mind scrambles to find something to say. "I can't properly speak with you unless I can see with you."

"Fair enough."

A snap of the fingers pushes you into the light. You shield your eyes from the brightness as you find yourself surrounded by more books. 

You melt into the comfort of the armchair as you stare at the women opposite of you.

Blonde hair…

"I know you." 

A gentle smile breaks out on her face as she visibly relaxes.

"You do?" The tenderness in her voice, it's welcoming, soft, and… familiar.

"Dami-ya!" You cheerfully say as you hand her the drink she ordered. "You're coming with us, right?"

"Of course I am." She offers you a warm smile before gently brushing her hand against your face. "I wouldn't miss a moment I spent with you…

"And even if we were to part…" You repeat aloud, as you hope that Dami will finish your statement.

"...I'd seek to find you, again and again." She thoughtfully says as you smile in return.

"You remember."

"Why wouldn't I?" You softly ask. 

"You didn't remember the other girls… I was worried that I would suffer the same fate." Dami answers as a sad look briefly crosses her face. "Do you remember them?"

"Bits and pieces."

"That's good. It means your memories are returning… which means that I can send you home."

"Home?"

"The world of the Awaken. You still don't remember much about it, do you?"

"Not really, but I have an inkling that there wasn't much to remember."

"It's no matter. When I get you home, you'll be able to pull your life back together." Dami reassures you before grabbing a book from a nearby bookshelf. "Are you ready to go home?"

"What about all of you?"

"We'll figure a way out of here, one way or another. Our predecessors did, and so will we."

"Predecessors?"

You're about to ask another question, but the sound of someone crashing through a wall causes you to jump out of your chair.

"You can't let them go home!" Yoohyeon appears out of the rubble before approaching you. "Don't you like it here? You've met so many great people! Isn't this all you were hoping for?"

"Ah, just the person I wanted to see." Dami mumbles before shutting the book. "Do you want to tell them, or should I?"

"Doesn't the magic bound you from-"

"Yeah, the magic did, but some nitwit broke the rules and nearly collapsed the foundation of the world that we live in!" Dami huffs before folding her arms. "Fine, I'll do it. Alice, Yoohyeon is-"

"No, I can't let you do this, Dami! It's not fair that they get to go home!!" Yoohyeon whines before nearly shoving you out of the way to get to Dami. "We had a deal!"

"You lied to me, Yoohyeon," Dami accuses her before regaining her composure, "so don't get preachy with me unless you want me to do the same with you."

"I didn't mean-"

"I know what you meant to do. You tried to find an unwilling replacement for your role. How does that make you feel?" Dami asks as Yoohyeon bows her head in shame.

"Unwilling of my role… as Alice."

"Alice?" You softly repeat as the gears start to turn in your head. "You… took me away from my life because you were unsatisfied with a choice you made?"

"I know it sounds bad-"

"Yes, it fucking does, Yoohyeon! You could've not only harmed yourself, but six innocent women as well. That's not even including those in the Kingdom of Hearts!" You explode as you vent your frustrations at Yoohyeon. "Is all that you wanted was to go home? I don't think it was because you could've easily gotten a child to come with you, but you chose me. So you might as well start talking."

"I-I… I was jealous." Yoohyeon admits.

"Of what?"

"Of how quickly you moved on from me when we dated in the world of the Awaken!" Yoohyeon yells as you stare at her in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? This all… is for your petty revenge?"

"Okay, I didn't plan the Wonderland part, but when an opportunity like this falls into your hand-"

"I cannot believe you, Yoohyeon!" You scream at her. "You're vile."

"I know." She mutters in shame as you approach Dami.

"Did you know about this?"

"Handong figured it out before I did. The memories you traded, along with Yoohyeon’s…"

"-helped her put the puzzle pieces together, and then she told me." Dami explains before grabbing the book. "Are you sure you still want to do this?"

You glare at Yoohyeon before nodding at Dami.

"I want to go home."

"Okay, I'll get you home." She says. "Close your eyes, and focus on a memory that you have from the world of the Awaken. It'll anchor you to that world forever, and you'll never be able to come back to this place. Are you sure you-"

"Yes, Dami!" You exasperatedly say. "Let's go."

You close your eyes as your mind scours for a memory. You find yourself reaching for a memory from your youth when you read a book about a blonde haired girl and a magical world. She ended up going to that magical world because she fell through a rabbit hole, and that rabbit hole took her to Wonderland, where-

~

You force your eyes open as you look over at the clock in your bedroom.

I must've overslept.

You check the group chat with your six best friends before getting out of bed.

SuA: Morning sunshines!! How are my favorite people doing today?

Gahyeon: It's too early. I'm going back to bed.

Siyeon: Me too. I need my beauty sleep. 💅

Handong: You can get as much sleep as you need, but you won't be able to stop the acne breakouts that we all get.

JiU: Morning, SuA! I've been trying to bake cookies, but I haven't been able to make a batter that will hold up in the oven.

Dami: Morning, everyone. ☀️

You smile at your phone before typing out a message.

You: Good morning everyone! I have to work today, but maybe we can all go out to eat afterwards? 🥂 Last one to reply buys shots!

You laugh as they all race to answer you the fastest.

I missed you guys, even though I was only asleep for a few hours… I must've had some weird dreams.

You find yourself staring at a book on your shelf. You are drawn to it, and you abandon your phone to take the book in your hands.

It's a copy of Alice in Wonderland, but something's off about it.

Then you notice that the girl on the cover has black hair.

That's weird. I must have a misprint or something.

[smilingangel582]

What a crazy night?

OK, alright, well... ahem! So I know you guys are sick of this anime tk fics... but! I just finished all these seasons (though I doubt they'd consider making S3)... my point is *sigh* um... I felt like writing another. Tehe! I promise I'm gonna write something trendy next time! Soooo enjoy!

Warning spoilers alert!

"No,"

Hanae Ashiya ran a hand through his face with deja vu. Meanwhile, Fushimi and Saga held their pillows together with a look of disappointed children grounded from Disney land. Their mature friend just declined a childish offer.

Haruitsuki Abeno folded his arms, now sitting back down on his futon with an irritated expression. He looked older now, Ashiya was worried partly about his age if he was actually older than sixteen.

"Abeno~ please... come on, you never join our group so easily..." Saga whined now reaching over to the blond by grabbing his arm.

Abeno just rolled his eyes "What children"

"Hey guys... I told you Abeno's a real party pooper" Ashiya nervously added, sensing the death glare.

Saga pouted more, still holding Abeno's arm as he attempted to leave, "At least smile... I've never seen you so happy before!"

"I don't need to smile to be happy" was Abeno's stingy response. The argument began with Saga and Abeno while Ashiya tried to calm them - specifically worried if he would be a victim in the next job with the master's foul mood currently.

However none of the boys knew Fushimi's plotting from the shadows. After observing the situation and analysing his options available, he smiled internally with an evil plan.

Creeping behind Abeno, he suddenly pounced on the blond. This startled the trio and Saga exchanged surprises glimpses with Ashiya who still cuddled the pillow.

"Oi! Fushima! W-what the he -hehehell?"

Ashiya blinked in surprise by thst sound. Abeno, the master of the monokean, actually giggled like a child.

The pale boy's face was flushed with panic. He struggled to escape the fingers that firmly kept kneading on the bones of his ribs. He let out another surprised cry when Fushimi wiggled them properly.

"I felt like Abeno needed to lighten up," he mentioned simply with no indication of menace.

Saga grinned back by slowly catching up to the incident at hand, crawling towards them he stepped down to pin Abeno's failing legs.

"Oh, the grumpy pretty boy isn't ticklish, now is he?"

Ashiya never expected Abeno to be ticklish. After all this time, the thought never crossed him. He felt a twinge of excitement to join in and hear Abeno sputter in bright giggles like a child. Suddenly becoming his own age.

"Ahahahashiyaaa mahahake thihihis idihihiot stohohop!" Abeno snapped through his cheerily titters.

"Rude... He's such a stubborn and ungrateful guy, " Saga huffed, now pinning his knees so he could get his feet, which made Abeno's giggles increase pitch and volume This was a rare sight indeed. Cute...

Ashiya was glad Abeno can't read minds. Otherwise that will spend the end for his life.

"Wait up! Get his shoulders... I bet he hates that" Fushimi snickered with pondering intentions of curiosity. Abeno shrieked at the when Ashiya reached out to grab his shoulders... although he barely tickled him, it made the later laugh even more contagiously.

"Wow... your this sensitive?" Mumbled Ashiya now massaging them to make things worse for his employer.

"QUIHIHHIT IHIHIT! YOHOHOHOU GUHUHUYS SUHUHUCK -GOHOHOHO AHAHAHWAYYY!"

"He's finally getting tired, now I can get these," Ashiya chuckled, worming two fingers between the sides of his scrunched neck, though this revealed another tickle spot, which Fushimi just lunged after.

"Nohoho thehehehere! Gehehehet OOHOHOUT OOHOF THEHEHEHERE!!"

Ashiya blinked in content "Oh don't back down... they are good targets!"

"Roger that Ashiya!"

Abeno wished he could use influence on these nitwits. But at the same time, he didn't want it to stop (though he wouldn't admit it), then he didn't want to hurt them.

"So cute..." Saga from the bottom muttered as he felt bored being further away from the view of Abeno's red face.

"I know," Fushimi calmly stated, taking down a knotch with his attacks on Abeno's armpits

"Ohoho fihihine! Ihihihihill plahahahay thihihis stuhuhuhupid gahahahame ohohof yours!"

"You swear?" Ashiya threatened mockingly, pinching his ears and making Abeno squeak in bewilderment."Yehehehes Yehehes YEHEHES! HAHAahaha, stohohop nohohow... plehehehease! -Gahaha.... Ohohohoii!"

Saga and Fushimi exchanged delighted glances with Ashiya, who winked. "I didn't expect him to agree so easily... he's that weak, eh?"

Abeno growled now and then got up on his elbows the other two preparing the Fort which they wanted to build for this 'game'.

Ashiya whispered, now being teasing, "Hope the yokai don't find out the great master of the mononkean to be ticklish..."

Abeno frowned "Say that again and I'll slap you"

Ashiya paused on that now reaching to poke his side and it made the blond jolt away with a gasp "Hey! Ashiya!".

Ashiya snickered like a child "If you decide to slap me... I can tickle you to stop you... simple as that"

Abeno glared, being speechless for the first time. Adorable... Ashiya thought again when Abeno sheepishly, but infuriated, approached Fushimi and Saga.

Forts did happen but tickles followed and Abeno might, or perhaps if his pride does allow, get revenge with the similar childish method... even if he hates it.

Still, he smiled more unbeknownst to him. Ashiya was glad.

[anthonybialy]

Posted in Order

Twitter seems confused about what it is.  I can tell you it’s not X.  The worst rebranding in human history makes the Willis Tower look like an accepted name change by comparison.  Drink a New Coke and post.

Treating an app like it’s enduring a personality crisis is just one more way AI is preparing us for conquering.  Destruction will be subtle.  We braced for Terminators and instead got cyborgs who nudged us into irrelevance.

The ultimate time-squandering site reflects confusion of the humans ostensibly in charge.  Its original and prevailing purpose is not grasped by those who decide its direction, which frustrates those who want to use it properly.

Users dash to a haven for sharing the trite during breaking news or when one feels the need to explain what’s wrong with a mild annoyance.  A simple yet useful outlet functions as a virtual steam valve.  The CEO should know that.

Post what you observe.  Man, journalism is easy.  It’s similarly effortless to to call out fibbers, which is particularly satisfying when they claim to speak on truth’s behalf.  Verifying in real time is fairly easy, which is why alleged professionals despise it.

The only training needed is to avoid journalism school.  It either drains common sense or attracts attendees who never possessed any.  Flagging fibs the media used to get away with not only shows how anyone with the slightest bit of awareness and suspicion can perform the job with zero college credits in a little bit of free time but also be way better at it than those who are rather snotty about being trained.

Twitter is the primary place where fact checks check facts.  Community Notes might be the first worthwhile group effort.  Taping an asterisk on liars is the most satisfying way to strive for truth.  Readers free to check the footnotes, as well.  It’s verification all the way down.

Alerts stay red.  Constant patrolling is crucial.  Those who think government offers the last word on truth wait for a scientist they agree with to proclaim what can never be challenged.

Employees should be grateful to not have to toil much.  Twitter embodies the punk aesthetic, and not just by using its real name.  Rebel with a DIY vibe against pompous dolts in power by to mock their shameless lies.  Filling an open space is what anyone with creative urges desires.  The lack of technical proficiency may be obvious.  But the Ramones didn’t need to be virtuosos to get their point across.

Account holders just want back to pre-Elon times  That’s not not the stifled climate where anyone to Pol Pot’s right fretted every time they logged in that some woke nitwit tattled on them for an imaginary offense.  But it’d be nice to return to freewheeling ways.  Elon Musk is to big ideas what Michael Bay is to movies.

Remaining Twitter diehards miss the fun of discovery.  Coming across fascinating posts was like finding fun parody accounts on MySpace or realizing you didn’t need to know addresses once you discovered Yahoo! categories.  You could even type in a search if you were feeling freewheeling.

Quality doesn’t conflate with quantity, as seen now on Twitter.  Engagement numbers that used to look like shares show how compelling and/or hilarious content gets buried.  People with worthwhile things to say just want to be heard.  The timeline has gotten rather echoey.

I wish there were an easy way to learn what users want like reading responses.  Worthwhile responses undoubtedly got buried.  The erstwhile bird app is nothing more than a place to vent.  Participants compose a pithy reply after seeing something stupid that we used to have to fume about to eye-rolling spouses while watching the news.

Twitter doesn’t merely alleviate stress from marriages.  Bitching is cathartic.  Our stupid existence features countless indignities worthy of a quick harangue.  It’s relieving to find others who, say, think John Stewart is a sanctimonious prick.

Leave us alone.  That applies to everything, including how we organize our feeds.  Personal curation means we can see the abbreviated notions of others just like others can with ours.  The ability to set up our own feed of news and interests is the whole reason users turned to Twitter in the first place.  It should remain the primary spot ranting about everything else, including other social media sites.

Holding out is a matter of pride.  It’s amazing how many tweeters still haven’t told friends and relatives about their little corner for diatribes.  Twitter is the virtual place where users most feel like themselves.  Idealized versions on other applications don’t compare to the gritty filth of smirking honesty.

Click a different square if you’re into pretending to have a delightful family, visit exotic locales on a regular basis, or be adept at today’s dance craze.  Head to Twitter if you want to keep it real.  Tired people sometimes find the most excitement in life is commenting on it.  But at least your brain’s running.  People who have nothing to say fail to understand those who do.

Lamentably, many of the best notions get buried.  An algorithm is an advanced method of keeping users from seeing what they want.  Users chose their follows because that’s the content they want to see.  Crazy notions about personal autonomy are reflected in seeing what we’d like.  The authorities think they know better despite constant evidence to the contrary.

Overlords decide to decide for you, which you’re still free to decide is a lousy annoyance.  Twitter leans toward Biden-style life-running where pathetic humans are unaware of what they truly desire.  No app should want to imitate this White House.  Ceaseless attempts to show what micromanagers think you would like or need to view have failed to convince.

Snotty commentators often say social media is not real life.  It’s just real people discussing what’s happening, that’s all.  It’s as if humans don’t present the image they want while talking to each other.  Interacting with others while sharing personal details sounds like a nice setup.  The real question is why life isn’t more like Twitter.

As in the outside world, the tendency persists to ruin something that ran just fine without interdiction.  A timeline of your choosing is a simple request in a time when so many other decisions are confiscated.

[the-firebird69]

There's a few other things happening these people are realizing that the clones meddled with them and they're doing it daily. Does a ship above and it is messing everything up and it's horrible and there's a lot of people who are dead because of it and people want him in court and they're seeking him on Warren and that's more luck and pseudo empire and some empire and it's going to heat up pretty good today and tomorrow and the clothes are going to try going to go after the diamonds and we'll try and hold people out and that's the kickoff on top of that

-there's a whole bunch of other people here who need out but they're just sitting here and they come back in and the pseudo empire figured his clones are helping and they are and they tried to start trouble I didn't do much they had her son tried didn't do anything then they looked at their notes and saw a severe effort on his part using what he can and did nothing I am they researched and said they were doing nothing about it and it smackdab in the way. Now this is a huge event. It's getting bigger and bigger. Where issuing APB on Dan and Trump I'm tired of hearing their baby s*** and we're going after you for your comment that's what it's for and yeah it's for your comment that it's that's what it's for I'm going after you for your comment it'll say it a million times cuz you're so stupid. We already noticed you Trump now going after you again and you're a spastic desperate Satanist so what you ran around yesterday getting rid of your people cuz I think you have the AI and you going to die we are so sick of you people you can't go up to us and threaten us we're going to f*** you up that's so stupid you can't see yourself dying everyday cuz that's what's happening to you too nitwits I'm going to wrap some orders to get rid of you and the way people can see it over and over

-there's other things happening we have a large number of dumpsters wandering around they're getting fired and we have to eliminate them so sending in teams and others are sending in teams and we're finding them and getting rid of them it's happening today and it is happening quite a bit we are also going over the math and stuff like that on their important behavior it is atrocious they stick out like a sore thumb a rude as hell we're checking on their projects a few of them are highlighted by that and at this stage they should not be one of them are the Giants they have quite a few but they're in strategic locations and they are near other Giants yes but really big huge shifts the intend to force their way in with Giants and take over the ships and it's Tommy f ships and the max and it will activate a series of events that will be very hard to control so we need to stop them idiots and we know this is the last this is the last one for Trump he's going to have to go we're getting ready to eliminate him in his. The machines can keep his body alive or all the Giants that they have because they're much bigger and shielded pretty well shielded not properly but the shielded it's an idiot design and it seems to work it's just a huge thing of gold.

-a lot of people are on to them now but we're going to publish to make sure

Thor Freya

Zues Hera

Olympus

[tellywoodtrash]

FUCK MY HEART, TOO MUCH CUTE. 😫😫😫

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 4: The Three Stooges 

AN: At least it hasn’t been two months again 😅. Let’s check in with the other batboys and see how they’re handling Damian and Marinette’s chaos. 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Tim wondered when his day took a solid dive off the cliffs of normal and into the waters of weird.

It probably started when Dick dragged them out of bed at eight in the morning – on a Saturday – piled them into the car, and drove them an hour and a half out of the city to an IKEA. If they had actually been there to shop they would have either burned the store down or killed one another. 

Not that those things were off the table yet. 

Tim had work, actual work, that he could be doing. But no, instead he was playing a demented game of hide-and-go-seek, which was careening into an all-out war. The destroyed shelving units, shopping carts, and forklift were unmistakable evidence of that.

How had the demon spawn accomplished this in less than a minute?

Bruce would kill them, once he came back from off-world.

That is if Alfred didn’t get to them first.

“Uh, order 177? Shit, my pay isn't enough for this.”

The words shook Tim from his stupor. He walked over to the counter.

“Hi,” he said, flashing his most charming CEO grin. “I have a quick question?”

The server's fixed smile contrasted with his dull eyes.

“I need to know what way the boy who ordered this headed.”

“No.”

Tim sighed, “Look, it’s important. My brother-”

“I mean, no, it wasn’t a boy.”

Tim paused. “Huh?”

“It was a girl, a teen girl. Black hair, big blue eyes, French accent. She was sitting over there,” he waved at an empty table. “But I think she walked away before that happened.” Referring to the giant train wreck occurring a few aisles over.

“Oh,” said Tim. “Thanks.”

“Do you want the order?”

Tim held back an annoyed sigh.

“Sure.”

So that’s how he, Jason, and Dick, sat at the abandoned picnic table, staring at the abandoned meal bought with Damian’s credit card. Jason grabbed a couple of fries and shoved them in his mouth.

“That’s evidence, nitwit,” hissed Tim.

Jason ignored him, stabbing a meatball with the plastic fork. “What? It’s going to go to waste. Girlie obviously ain’t coming back for it.”

“We should be more worried about how a random girl used Damian’s credit card!”

“She could have stolen it?” offered Dick.

“Demon spawn would have broken her arm before getting pickpocketed,” countered Jason, eating another fry. Silence. A weird glint appeared in Jason's eye. He turned to Tim. “What did you say the girl looked like again?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, French accent.”

“Shit,” muttered Jason.

“What?”

“I think I ran into her earlier, about an hour and a half ago. Asked her if she had run into demon spawn – she sounded confused and tourist-like. But maybe…”

“Maybe she’s working with him?” offered Tim.

“Could be.”

“Damian? Working with another person? A stranger?” Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like him.”

Jason shoved another fry into his mouth. “The brat’s a competitive little shit, if he thought teaming up would help him get ahead, he’d do it in a heartbeat.” He pointed a fry at Tim. “Can you look at the security footage?”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you,” Tim said, flashing his phone with the hacked in security camera footage on-screen. Jason and Dick huddled in close as a small girl walk on screen and stood at the counter.

“Yep, that’s her. Can you ID her, Timmy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, “This is a smartphone, Jay, not a laptop.”

“I thought Mr. World’s Second Greatest Detective would be prepared for anything.”

“Well excuse me for not having facial recognition software, on my phone.”

“Guys chill.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason and Tim said in unison.

The footage played out and they watched the girl order two meals and pay with Damian’s credit card. They switched to another camera when she left and sat at the picnic table. A few minutes later Jason and Tim walked into frame.

“Look, there! She tenses. Look at her body language, she’s panicking. She knows who you two are.” Dick looked shocked that, yes, Damian had teamed up with a partner.

They watched the girl panic, although she managed to keep her body from reacting too much. She placed her phone to her ear and walked away from her spot.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Maybe Damian was watching out of sight?”

“Shoot, Tim, she’s out of frame. Do we have another angle?”

It took another minute or so, but Tim found the right security camera catching the mysterious girl leaving the food court. As she walked away the image on the screen flickered, and a moment later the shelving units fell.

“Oh crap,” swore Jason. “Do you think she has magic? Fuck, it would be just our luck if demon spawn teamed up with someone dangerous.”

Dick shook his head. “It could be a coincidence. We didn’t see her do anything. The chaos could have been a coordinated effort between her and Damian.”

Tim wasn’t so sure. “Come on Dick, you’ve been in the game long enough to know just because something looks one way, doesn’t mean it's true.”

They watched the girl hurry out of sight, this time it was much more difficult to follow her progress through the store. She would randomly duck in and out of showrooms, coming out differently than how she came in. If the three boys hadn’t been trained in stealth and detection for years, they would have had a challenging time tracking her.

Jason whistled low. “Who is this chick? I’m impressed. She has serious skill.”

Finally, she ducked into a showroom and didn’t come out. Tim couldn’t find a camera giving them an unobstructed view, but it didn't matter. They had a destination.  

“This was ten minutes ago, they could already be long gone,” said Dick.

“Or they could still be hiding there,” countered Jason.

“We’ll find out when we get there.” They walked out of the cafeteria and past the closed aisles. The forklift that had been buried under the collapsed shelving unit was being unearthed by a flock of bewildered employees.

“Ten bucks says she has magic,” said Jason.

“Yeah, no.” Tim was good at math and the odds of everything happening just as she left was too big to be a coincidence. “I’m not stupid enough to take that bet.”

“Come on you guys, let’s focus here,” chided Dick.

Walking back through the showrooms Tim kept an eye out for any sign of his brother or his accomplice, but it was as if they had disappeared into thin air. Arriving at the last location they had spotted the girl, they waited for a touring couple to leave before descending on the tiny, boxed room like the detectives they were trained to be.

It didn’t take long to discover the lasered off vent.

“Shit,” groaned Jason. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Tim can you-”

Tim had his phone in hand, “I’m already on it. I’ll have the vent layout in a minute.” He felt insulted they even needed to ask.

Jason peered into the vent, “Damn, I think we’re too big to follow.”

 Dick sighed. “I miss my vent crawling days; they just don’t make them as big as they used to.”

“That’s what she said,” snickered Jason.

“Focus you two,” Tim snapped. “I’ve pulled up the air duct plans.” He flashed the screen to his two brothers who settled down. “This particular vent runs a couple of places. We have one entrance at the back of the store in the storeroom. Then another veering off near the daycare center, and the last which comes out near the unloading dock.”

“I’ll take the one next to the daycare center,” said Dick. “I’m the only one who isn't demented,” pointing to Jason, “or sleep-deprived,” pointing to Tim.

“Hey!” exclaimed Jason.

Tim sneered, repressing a Damian-like growl, “I wouldn’t be so sleep deprived if you hadn’t dragged us out of the house at eight in the morning. I arrived in from patrol at three.” He hadn’t had coffee in hours, and the weight of his body pressed on him like a panini maker.

Dick ignored them. “Jason can take the one at the loading docks, and Tim you’ll be able to bypass security and get into the back the easiest.”

“Sounds good to me,” grunted Jason.

“Alright,” agreed Tim. “The second any of us spots them, text the group chat, will box them in from there.”

They nodded and headed off their separate ways. Despite the tiredness in Tim's bones, there was a heady rush of the hunt thrumming in his veins. Damian, and whoever he had decided to pair up with, were going down.

Tag List: (Closed, sorry!! I’m so glad you all like it though.)

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[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

summary: Y/n begins to harbor feelings for a certain hufflepuff and the twins try to take it into their hands to try and get you together.

word count: 2.7k

enjoy <3

___________________________________

Astronomy was always one of your favourite classes. Spending hours looking up at the midnight sky and learning about the glittering stars that lit up the night always amazed you, whether you were at home lying in the grass or glancing into a telescope on the astronomy tower. Taking another look into your telescope you chart the last few planets for your project and take a deep breath of the clear, autumn air. Looking over to your right, you see a handsome boy with a mop of brown hair gazing at you. When the brunette sees you looking back at him his face goes a light pink and he quickly turns his attention back to his star chart.

Cute. You think to yourself, smiling slightly.

“Hey Fred, George?” you ask the red-headed twins by your side as you walk through the halls to breakfast. “What’s up, little star?” Fred questions. Little star was the nickname the twins had come up for you when they first found your love for astronomy and pairing it up with the fact you were much shorter than them, they thought it was perfect.

“Who was that brunette in our astronomy class? He was in Hufflepuff I think.” You started. “Ooh, does someone have a crush?” George teases. You can feel the tip of your ears go bright red at this. “what?! Oh, no, no” you stumbled quietly, taking a seat at the gryffindor table, the twins sitting across from you. “I just saw him looking at me in class and I was wondering who it was.” you finished quickly, starting to butter a piece of toast.

“Well my dear y/n,” Fred starts of dramaticly. “That was Cedric Diggory.” George finishes for him. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him before, he’s pretty popular.” He continues. “Cedric Diggory...” you test the name in your mouth, “Rings a bell, but i’m not quite sure, he plays quidditch doesn’t he?”

“Right you are y/n!” Fred smiles, shoveling a spoon of cereal into his mouth. Fred seems to take a glance behind you and his eyes widen as he breaks into a smile. “Speak of the devil, the bloke’s lookin’ at you right now!” he laughs and starts to wiggle his eyebrows at you. Rolling you eyes you slowly turn around and sure enough you’re met with a pair of beautiful grey eyes. You quickly swivel back around again and bury your pink face into your arms. “Blimey Georgie seems as though our little star’s got a big, fat, crush.” Fred jokes as he notices you embarrassment. “Can it Weasley, I haven’t even talked to him before.” you mutter. This seems to only send the twins into even more hysterics. Deciding to try your luck again, you turn around and look at the table filled with yellow and black ties, eventually again meeting the eyes of Cedric Diggory, this time feeling brave you offer him a smile and a wave. He grins back at you, and you decide you were going to try and talk to the adorable hufflepuff.

“shit, shit, shit.” you mutter to yourself running as fast as you could between crowds of confused students, you had spent too much time planning a new prank with the twins that now you were going to be late. You silently curse them under your breath. What made it worse was you had potions first thing in the morning and you knew Snape would bring hell down on you if you were late. Bursting into the classroom you made your way to the last open seat and hurriedly got out your parchment, quills and text book. “Nice of you to finally join us L/n.” Snape sneered at you. “you’re lucky this time, being right on time, but don’t think I won’t hesitate to take away house points next time, understood?” If looks could kill you’d be dead where you sat.

“Yes sir.” You say quietly, still slightly out of breath, you look up and suddenly the wind is getting knocked out of your lungs again, because sitting there is the boy himself, Cedric Diggory, you catch yourself staring and offer him a small smile before turning back to your papers, you didn’t need Snape lashing out at you again, he was being very generous already. As Snape continued to drone on and on about the importance of cutting your ingredients properly, after another gryffindor had botched his potion, a small piece of parchment is pushed your way.

Hey, how are you today?

reading the note, you grab your quill and scribble something back.

Bloody tired how bout you?

you slide the note to the brunette and await his response.

Bored, don’t understand how snape can go on and on for this long at a time, ridiculous really, no one cares.

you giggle silently and the note is ripped from you hands. Glancing up terrified, Snape is glowering at the two of you. “Writing notes in this class is strictly prohibited you two, 10 points from hufflepuff and gryffindor!” He shouts. You sigh and lay your head on your arms, wishing you were up in the astronomy tower with Professor Sinistra gazing at the constellations, you had always been one of her favourites.

When Snape finally dismisses class you stuff your parchment back into your bag and set off for transfiguration, turning out of the class you feel a warm hand gently grab your wrist, you turn around and meet those beautiful grey eyes, Godric you could stare at them foreve- “I’m sorry about that.” he apologizes, his head hanging motioning towards the classroom. You give him an understanding smile. “It’s alright, if anything im upset at Snape, that prat’s always getting in others business.” you say with a light laugh. Cedric seems to smile at this. “Guess we kind of got started on the wrong foot, I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory.” He smiles, stretching out his hand. “y/n l/n” you say, taking his large hand into yours and shaking it. “Where are you headed y/n?” he asks. “Oh i’m on my way to transfiguration.” you reply back, “I’ve got herbology, but I was wondering if I could walk you to class?” You can almost see a light pink hue on his cheeks. You smile and agree making your way down the halls and corridors, making small talk with the hufflepuff, you don’t want it to end, the ways his eyes light up reminds you of the stars. “Well this is my stop.” you sigh sadly and look back at Cedric, thanks again for walking me.” you smile sweetly at him. “Anytime y/n, you’ve got astronomy later tonight, right?” he asks hopefully. “yup, I’ll see you there?” you wave at him. “see you then.” He agrees turning and heading to the green houses. You can barely focus on Professor Mcgonagall’s lesson, your mind constantly drifting back to those stunning grey eyes and soft brown curls, sighing in contentment you find yourself looking forward for astronomy even more than usual.

Fred and George immediately notice the look of love on your face and they silently began forming a plan to get the two together.

“Well hello there little star.” George says casually, sliding in beside you at lunch time with a wicked grin playing on his lips.“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask suspiciously. “What? Little ol’ me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” putting emphasis on the no. Fred chooses then to appear on you other side as you bring a spoonful of soup to your lips. “It’s just we couldn’t help, but notice you and little Diggory walking together, and you looked quite happy during class today.” Fred nudges you with his elbow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, me and Cedric were just talking.” you state turning your attention back to your lunch. “Really?” George asks “because your blush seems to beg to differ.” he continues teasing you. You mentally curse your red cheeks, and continue to sip on your soup.

As midnight rolls around you all but jump and run out the portrait door to get to the astronomy tower almost running over the twins in your path. “Woah, slow down there y/n what’s got you in such a rush?” you sigh and try to push past them, “I’ve got to get to the astronomy tower you nitwits.” unsuccessfully pushing them over. “Alright, alright little star.” let’s get going, don’t want to keep your little prince charming waiting.” he says in a sing-song voice, referencing a muggle fairy tale you enjoyed. “Oh shut it you twat.” you roll your eyes at him.

Finally climbing up the tower, the sight of the scene in front of you never ceases to take you breath away, the beautiful carved stone of the castle and the midnight sky, littered with thousands of twinkling lights. You take a second to appreciate the sight in front of you until George pushes you out of the way.“Christ y/n you realize there are more people in the class right?” you scoff lightly at him before turning to see Cedric climbing up the stairs, his bookbag on his shoulders. “Hey y/n” he says when his eyes land on you, “hey Ced, you say sweetly, walking over to greet him. Fred scoffs at you “you’ve never greeted us like that now have you little star.” you give him a warning look feeling the tip of your ears heat up again before making your way towards Cedric.

“Beautiful night isn’t it love?” He says turning towards the dark sky, your knees start to weaken at the nickname, but you stay strong. “Sure is, did you get the paper done for today?” you continue on.

George nudges Fred, “let operation get Ceddy and y/n together begin.” he says with a smirk. Professor Sinistra soon begins today’s lesson, “alright everyone, grab a partner and head to your stations, make sure you have your. star charts and a quill” she announces. You immediately turn to Fred and George, you had the habit of working in a group of three and Profeser Sinistra never minded. The two red-heads must’ve had other plans though because they began to turn and walk away from you and your usual spot. Frowning slightly you turn around and run into what feels like a wall... There isn’t a wall here... Looking up you blush and begin to stutter out an apology, for you had run straight into Cedrics chest. He seems almost baffled, but soon regains his train of thought. “H-hey, um- y/n, would you like to be my partner? I-I noticed the twins already left so...” he asks quietly, you have the urge to just lean up and kiss him, but instead you take a second just to admire the adorable boy before you, his pink cheeks, the way his gaze seemed to wander, never landing on you, and how he figeted with his wand, twirling it around in between his fingers. “Of course Ced, let’s get started.” you smile at him and you see his usual happy personality return. Sinistra begins to explain the assignment in depth. “I would like you to locate and chart these stars for me...” she began to call out a list of stars and planets and you and Cedric began to jot them down. “Do you want to alternate looking into the telescope?” you ask, turning to the brunette again. “It’s alright little star, I know how much you love Astronomy.” Your breath catches in your throat. “you know about that nickname?” you laugh nervously. “Of course y/n, I always hear Fred and Geoge calling you it.” Was it just you or did he sound... Jelous? you didn’t get to finish your thought as Fred called across the tower. “Oi, Diggory! Get your own nickname for her, that ones ours!”

“Mr. Weasley!” Profeser Sinistra snaps, “turn back to your telescope and focus!” You laugh again and turn back to Cedric. “Well you heard him, you’re going to have to find a new nickname.” Cedric starts to think this over. “I’ll think of one soon, let’s get started.” You nod and clasp your hands around the telescope, pulling it closer as you peak into it. you begin to search for the different points, but instead get lost in all the beautiful sights. Without noticing you begin to trace the constellations and stare in awe at the faraway planets. You eventually start to call out coordinates to Cedric, but he doesn’t answer, turning to look at him, confused, he seems to be lost in thought, pondering a great question or rethinking a happy memory as he’s got a small grin on his face. You snap him out of his trance by waving a hand int front of his eyes. “Cedric? You in there?” you say jokingly, poking his nose. “hm- oh yeah! sorry about that where was Sirius again?” you roll your eyes and smile, repeating the coordinates again. This little exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by the red-headed pranksters, who feel the edges of their lips perk up. “Hey George, I guess they didn’t really need our help after all, they seem to be all over eachother already!” Fred sighs to his twin. “Maybe we can give them one last push later?” George suggests. “What did you have in mind?” the eldest twin grins mischievously.

“And done!” you clap your hands together and start to tuck your parchment back into your bag. “Thanks for writing those down for me Cedric, it gets kinda hard when i’m always looking at things off topic.” you giggle softly. “Anytime y/n I had fun.” he grins back at you, smiling fondly at the memory of you gazing into the stars, permanently engraving it in his mind. Handing over your star chart to Profeser Sinistra, the two of you begin to make you way back down the astronomy tower, joking and laughing all the way down. As you reach the bottom you feel a shoulder bump into yours and you stagger, tripping over the last step. You brace for impact, but instead you feel two strong arms embrace you and a distant voice saying, “can’t go wrong with the classics.” and a loud high-five. You were going to kill the twins. Looking back up at the hufflepuff boy, you begin to mutter out an apology for what felt like the millionth time today and begin to back away, the arms around you only tighten, you glance back up and meet again with those piercing grey eyes and melt. “It’s alright love, glad I was here to catch you.” If possible you can feel your check heat up even more trying, but again failing to look away. You’re about to open your mouth when Cedric speaks again. “I think I found a good nickname for you. Of course, if you like it.” he begins. “Oh? Do enlighten me Ced.” you tease. You can feel Cedric lean in slightly closer to your ear and with a soft voice he whispers.

“My star.” he says simply. “what do you think?” he’s smiling hopefully at you now. You changed your mind, the twins were now your favourite people in the whole wide world, well second maybe... “I quite like it.” you finally say finally, finding your voice again. “But, I’m not exactly yours yet am I?” you’re surprised at your own confidence. “Well, I suppose we’re going to need to change that huh? How’s Friday, 7 o’clock by Black Lake?” He says his smile growing wider. “You’ve got yourself a date Diggory.” you wrap your arms around the boy in front of you and feel him spin you around in circles, the both of you laughing happily. You and Cedric walk hand-in-hand back towards the gryffindor common room. “Thanks for walking me back Cedric, I’ll see you tomorrow.” giving him one last hug you turn back around and walk towards the portrait, whispering the password before walking in. “Soo?” George begins. “Are we the best or are we the best?” Fred finishes smugly. You wrap both of them into a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you whisper into their shoulders, grinning like a madman, Fred and George were congratulating you and patting your back. Little did you know, down in the hufflepuff common room Cedric was smiling into his pillow as he drifted off into dreams, picturing the perfect date the two of you would share. He decided, maybe Astronomy was his favourite subject too.

[blue-writes-things]

Loved By A Heartbreaker | Chapter One

Sirius Black x Reader | Fluff

“…You’re just a boy trying to outrun karma, but it’ll catch up to you Sirius, you’ll see”

| Masterlist | Series Masterlist |

Words: 1106 A/N: Posting chapter 2 here in a bit! Inspo Playlist

Feedback is always appreciated! - Blue

Being at Hogwarts with the marauders was annoying.

Being in the same house as them was frustrating.

Being in their friend group was interesting.

Sirius Black being a marauder was infuriating.

 You were basically dropped into that band of nitwits (and Remus) when Lily finally said yes to a date with James. You liked and were friends with everyone in the group, other than Sirius you two had a…strange ‘relationship’.

 You were one of the few people there who didn’t worship the ground he walked on. You think that’s why Sirius was determined to ‘date you’. And yet you, and everyone with a brain, knew that all he wanted was to be your boyfriend for a month (if you’re ‘lucky’ to not be a one night stand) and get in your pants just to move on and to leave you to join the broken hearts club just like everyone else, misery loves company, right?

 You were walking back to the common room with Lily. The two of you talking about how your days had been going.

“…Oh by the way! Me and James are heading to the black lake tonight, wanna join us?” Lily smiled at you with bright eyes. When she and James started dating her eyes seemed brighter than they used to be. If that was even possible.

 “I’d rather not third wheel you two love birds, It’s bad enough I have to listen to you sleep talk about him” You teased with a grin. Even though she laughed with you, her freckled cheeks turned pink and she started playing with the ends of her hair. Something she had picked up when you first started teasing her about James. She knew you’re joking, and you knew how much of the teasing she was ok with, you two were best friends and knew eachother like the back of your hands, practically sisters.

 “I don’t sleep talk! Especially not about James”

“Then who is it I hear at three am mumbling ‘James you’re so lovely’ ‘Aww James’ ‘You’re so handsome’ ” She shoved your shoulder both of you laughing as you shoved her back.

The moment was ruined when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. You instantly knew who it was without even looking. Sirius is the only person who would pull that on you, plus you could smell his cigarette smoke.

“Oh! You think I’m handsome?”

You have him a quick once over before he could notice and use it against you in someway, it was like he wasn’t even wearing the uniform, yes he had the white shit and black pants on, but his tie was just laying on his shoulders and you didn’t think even he knew where his cloak was.

“You wish Sirius. Still addicted to cigarettes are we?” You pushed him off your shoulders

“The only thing I’m addicted to is you” He flirts, you had to admit, you set yourself up for that one.

“Can we ever have a normal conversation, Sirius? Why do you always have to be flirting with me?”

“Cause I want to be with you darling!” He grinned with a smug look on his face. You raised your eyebrows with amused irritation. Lily was still walking beside you two, grinning ear to ear, she always loved when you put Sirius in his place, it was very entertaining for her.

“How long will it take to get it though your head that I don’t want to have sex with you Sirius?” 

“I’m not trying to have sex with you, I’m trying to be your boyfriend, although, I wouldn’t turn down a night. Or more. With you.” He winked

Rolling your eyes you swung around and pushed him to the wall, pinning him there with your hands at the sides of his head. He could feel your warm breath on his chapped lips. His eyes widened and his smirk faltered for a moment. If you blinked you would have missed it.

“Why can’t you let me be sad and lonely?” You whispered seductively in his ear, making him shudder a bit, even though he tried to hide it. He was glad that the wall you pushed him too was dark enough that you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks. 

“Cause I can’t let a pretty girl slip away, now can I?”

Rolling your eyes again, you tied his tie around his neck properly, and pulled it a bit too tight choking him a bit (although he didn’t seem to mind that much) before you pushed yourself back off the wall and started walking away, he stayed at the wall for a moment to catch his breath and reagan his composure, pulling his tie down so the knot was at his chest, not near his neck where it should be (apparently he’s too edgy to wear a tie properly) before he goes after you.

“Just give me a chance! Buttercup please don’t break my heart!” He fake pouted. Merlin you hated the nicknames he gave you, he always seemed to be finding new ones too, you swore he had found stolen a book from the library that was full of them and studied that instead of his school work.

 “Sirius! I don’t want to participate in your game of manipulation. Just like everyone else, you’ll kiss me and then forget me” You called back to him not bothered to look over your shoulder. You just wanted to go back to the common room and study with Lily and Remus, why was that so hard?

“I would never and could never forget you beautiful!”

“Sirius, how do you always feel so proud? After all the people you’ve hurt, after all the people you’ve dated and left heartbroken, you expect me to want to be with you just so you can do the same to me? Yeah no, I don’t think so. You’re just a boy trying to outrun karma, but it’ll catch up to you Sirius, you’ll see” You turned to him and glared

“You think that now doll, but when you say yes, you’ll see I would never do that to you” As you both continued to walk thought the practically empty halls back to the Gryffindor common room he wrapped his arm around your waist, but you didn’t bother to move away or shove him off, as he’d only end up holding you in some other way again but pull you even closer. 

Anytime you two talked or were even near eachother, he’d make you lose your mind again. And you’d lose it another thousand times.

Sirius Black was going to be the death of you.

[plush-rabbit]

Bouncing Knees

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I am just sorry for the amount of time it took. So sorryヾ(_ _*)

As a child, you've always been rather timid, too nervous to greet family members, too scared to make friends at school in fear of rejection or humiliation, even into adulthood, you keep your head down and follow what's put in front of you despite knowing that it could be improved, despite seeing the flaws in it scribbled with black ink. You’ve been too nervous, too awkward and shy, keeping your tongue bit and wishing that you would be picked on to share your ideas and pleading to any listening god that no one would call on you.

You’ve tried to share your ideas, eager and clutching a pen until your knuckles pale. It has happened multiple times, but when you opened your mouth, you were talked over, ignored and not even spared a glance with the room growing hotter and your face burning with embarrassment. You were too new and fresh to input your own ideas, too scared that you'd be murdered for treason if they thought you let them go on these dangerous missions beforehand if and when you finally decided to open your mouth. But each time you did, you’d stutter out the beginning of your sentence with a halfway raised hand, voice low but then someone else always talks above you, rising above and speaking clear without so much of a stutter or shortness of breath. You’d shrink in your seat and avoid eye contact, deciding that perhaps the original plan was the best and you were just not seeing it correctly.

Why bother to try to input your own ideas- it never worked out when you tried- you just accepted what you were given and nod with a strained smile on your face. There was no need to call further attention to yourself, to make the inside of your mouth bleed and lips peeled and marked by your own teeth. All you had to do was stay quiet and know that the plans that were made were good plans- no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

You've been with the League for a while now. Since it was still called the League of Villains but now that it's the Paranormal Liberation Front you feel smaller than usual. Granted, it’s not like you were close to any of the members before, always managing to remain undetected, something you both cherished and hated all at once. You’ve never had a soul listen to you, never had the courage to make someone listen to you, to call out the plan and scream about the flaws. You’ve seen how angry they can get, how the sadistic gleam in their eyes would snuff out any other type of emotion. You shiver and feel queasy at the thought of being on the receiving end of those eyes.

You read the papers in front of you, the detailed plan printed in a neat font and at glance, it looks proper, well thought out but it's showboaty, trying to make a big impression. But that's the issue. It's all too much, too big and brash. It's doable but it doesn't fit what the Lea- The Paranormal Liberation Front stands for and needs to do. Worry lines crease your face and you glance down at the papers in front of you.

No, you’ll keep your mouth quiet even if the plan is obviously flawed and why does the rookie have more courage than you? You’ve been here for years! You’ve done so much and yet this rookie wants to implement their own ideas that are preposterous! It would never work, you can’t just aim for something so big without having such hundred percent accuracy that it would work. It’s dumb and if you aimed a little lower, scared just the right people to hate the system more and then move it upwards to people who hold status and see just how long it takes to get to them when the resources are strained then, there’s a possibility at hitting society and chipping away a bigger piece! But no! Go for a fucking-! You suck in a deep breath and roll your tongue in your mouth, indents popping up on the sides of your cheeks, the clip of the pen digging into your skin and you’re furious. Your leg is bouncing and the water held in glasses is sloshing around. You ignore the glances given to you, too annoyed at what this absolute nitwit had the audacity to show and parade it around as if it were an original concept and not something taken out of a cheesy old action movie.

“You keep shaking,” the rookie’s voice is clear and laced with irritation. “Is there something bothering you?” His eyes are narrowed at you and he looks at you with absolute disgust, sneering and raising his upper lip as if it were hooked, his face twisting into something horrible.

This is your chance. All you have to do is open your mouth and speak, speak in front of people, in front of unblinking eyes that are scrutinizing your every movement. Eyes that seem to multiply until there’s hundreds, until they fill the room and- you can’t breathe. Your bottom lip wobbles and you shake your head, bowing it and mumbling an apology, digging your hands into your thighs and ignoring the hushed snickering. Acid fills your mouth and you try to focus on the blood pumping rapidly inside of you, heating you up until you’re fearful that you have sweat stains on your underarms. You try to focus on anything else, trying to drown out the agreements and claps on the back and praises sung to the rookie. Ignoring the stares given to you and the not-so-accidental kicks to the leg of your chair, you hold your breath and wait for people to leave, hearing the door close with a loud slam, making you jump in your seat. 

You’re alone. You let out a sigh and bury your face in your hands. Tears sting your eyes and you have to shake your head and dig the heel of your palm deeper into your eyes, forcing yourself to suck it up. Your vision is spotted and you have to blink away the colors and loosely formed shapes. There's a dull ache in your temple, and you blindly reach for the room temperature room, taking it all in a big gulp that makes your chest hurt. The cup makes a sharp sound in the room when slammed back onto the table. You double over, forearms resting on your thighs and fingers interlocked with each other.

“You know glasses aren’t cheap right?” His voice cuts through the air, sharper than any glass. 

You look up, eyes wide and fearful, mouth dry even after drinking half a glass of water. “I- uh.” You clear your throat and stand straighter. He isn’t one to be treated lightly. You’ve known about him, you've even held a few conversations where you would end up coming out shakier than when you entered them. “My apologies,” you speak quietly. His hair is stark white and eyes that are red like the blood that pumps in your veins, red like the fear and rage. His jaw gives a slight flex, just a slight movement that you caught and you stand from your seat. “I apologize. I didn’t know you wanted to be alone. I’ll leave now.” You really can't handle another humiliation today.

You’re scurrying across the room, mouth pulled into a thin line and cringing when the chair won’t go in properly and stick outwards. You can’t stay here for much longer. You take long strides and keep your arms clamped to your sides, pushing with all your might on the door, wincing when it swings wide open and startles the people on the other end. You walk away, keeping your head lowered and head shaking with a body that runs too hot and makes your clothes stick to your back.

-

It's a few hours until you realize that you didn't take the papers with you. You drag your hand across your face and let out a muffled groan between closed lips. 

“I can’t ask for a copy, that’s just poor etiquette,” you whisper to yourself. “Plus I’d never hear the end of it,” you say that part under your breath. You have a pained expression on your face, and there’s a soft twisting in your stomach, ready to form into something tougher and much more painful than what it currently is.

It’s dark out, few people are walking around, talking in  hushed voices and not sparing you a glance as you make haste towards the conference room used earlier. There was a slim chance that your copy would still be there, but it was better than nothing. You keep your eyes fixated on the path in front of you, not daring to look at anyone in fear that they would begin to question where you were headed off to in such a hurry.

Your hand holds onto the door handle and it clicks open without resistance. The room is dark and your hands are splayed across the walls, fumbling for the light switch. Half of the room is cast in a soft glow, while the other half is still in shadows, only visible thanks to the fluorescent lighting. You walk in quietly, stepping softly as if that would conceal your whereabouts, as if the lighting is invisible to everyone’s eyes but your own.

You let out a sigh of relief when you spot the papers still laid on top of the wooden table. You’re filled with unease when your eyes skim over the neatly printed words. You roll your eyes. “All of it such bullshit,” you mutter out loud. You take a peek at the door and grab the papers, folding them into neat squares and you walk to the front of the table where that damned rookie was spewing his nonsense. “More copies, I should have guessed.”

You sit down and grab a forgotten pen. You run your finger over the smooth surface and take another tentative glance at the door. You take in a deep breath and grab a loose copy and begin to jot down your own invisions for the plan, correcting and scratching out words with black inked loops. This is your forte. You may not be good at speaking out loud, to voice your own thoughts and opinions but you can certainly fix plans. You can spot their flaws and weak points, you know how to fix this. You’re enthralled with your work, your neat and pristine penmanship covers the paper, little symbols mark the paper, juvenile depictions of weapons cover the paper, little descriptions of what can be improved and what might work are written above or next to the text. You don’t notice the shadow that looms over you, too busy with eyes trained and flipping between pages, clicking your tongue and blowing out a raspberry in vexation.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” a raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Oh my god!” You yelp and and jump out of the chair, landing on the floor with a loud thump. You hiss and scrunch your face, your hands coming to rub at the sides of your body, trying to soothe over the pain that has begun to bloom.

His eyes are shaded over with his bangs. He runs a hand over his face, parting his hair and revealing his wide eyes that stare at you. “Are you okay?”

You make a flustered noise and your body tenses, muscles going rigid and hands curling into each other. Heat is building up in the shell of your ears and there’s a tightness in your throat. “Ah! Shigaraki-sama-” You pause when he holds up a hand. 

“Shigaraki is fine. You’ve been on the team long enough, right? Since we were the League?”

You nod slowly, surprised that he recognized you or even noticed you for that matter. “Yes,” you give him a hesitant smile.

Your eyes dart across the room and land on him and with a start you realize that you’re still firmly planted on the floor. He clears his throat and offers his hand to you, keeping the one with the brace stuck to his side. You rise to take it, only pulling back at the last second in shock and you rise by yourself, pushing yourself off of the floor and dusting your hands off on your thighs.

“I have control of my quirk now,” he states, bringing his hand to rub at his jaw. “I’m not going to dust you.”

You give a curt nod and clamp your legs together. You stand up straight and wet your lips. “I heard. I uh, congrats?” It comes off more as a question than a statement. 

The room is still as you stare at each other, shoulders jolting when he shuffles over to the table, picking up the paper you’ve scribbled on.

“Oh! Tha-That’s just nonsense! Really!” Your body moves before your mind can register what’s happening. Your hands reach over and grab at the paper, yanking it out of his hands that spread open and you take it into your palms and press it against your chest. “Oh my god,” you mutter. “I’m so sorry!” Your fingers dig into the paper, pressing it deeper against your body.

He gives you a side glance and shrugs his shoulders and picks another paper with your notes on it. He’s silent as he reads the paper, eyes scanning and flipping around, humming in thought. You wait for him to finish, swallowing nervously and keeping your eyes on him. Red eyes glance at you and he holds his hand out, beckoning his fingers for you to hand him the other page. You do so with a shaky hand and burning face.

“Why didn’t you say anything at the meeting?” He puts the paper down and turns his body to face yours. “You had an opportunity.”

“Oh I uh, don’t usually talk. I uh- No one really listens when I have something to say,” you chuckle nervously. “Plus, with everyone’s eyes on me, it just felt so… wrong. I mean, you must have noticed how smug they looked when they asked if something was wrong.”

“Okay, but these are pretty solid plans. Much more than the original shit that was given.”

“You don’t like the original plans?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“No. Not really. But,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I was waiting until after the meeting to tell him something.”

“After? That’s not like you.” You edge closer to him, scratching your leg with the other. “In the League you never had a problem with calling out people.” You have a vague thought that perhaps Toga or Twice is pulling a prank on you; you wouldn’t put it past them.

“Eugh.” He scoffs and turns his head sharply. “I was told to make myself more approachable. Better leadership or something,” he mumbles under his breath. “Don’t change the subject,” he snaps. Some things never change. 

“I was-”

“These are good plans.” He looks up at you and his red eyes peirce yours with intensity. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. You grab the papers and put them in order, fixing them in a neat stack. You take a deep breath and hold them out to him, smiling politely at him. “Here. You can take them if you’d like.”

He bites his nail and his jaw clenches. He takes in a deep breath and lets his chest fall. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You can’t speak up. Right?”

You nod and slowly lower the papers. “Yes. I- Shigaraki you can just take the papers. Really, just it’s okay.”

“Okay,” he walks past you and he turns back to look at you, tossing his head to the side towards the door. “Let’s go. You’re sticking with me.” He walks without waiting for to catch up, his strides long and powerful, a hand wrapping around the doorknob and he looks back at where you stand with a dumbstruck look.

“Really?”

“Come on, let’s go. We’re going to go talk to the smug asshole and tell him his plans suck.”

You take in a sharp breath. “Right, of course!” You hurry to step next to him, clutching the papers in your hand. 

You both step out of the room, with him by your side and making small chat while he leads you to go find the rookie, a giddy smile on your face as you think about the look he’ll have on his face. 

“Thanks for the opportunity. I won’t disappoint you Shigaraki.” You give him a confident grin and roll your shoulders.

You pause in your steps when he gives a tentative pat on your head. “I know you won’t.”

[they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon]

Loved By A Heartbreaker Chapter One

Sirius Black x Reader

“...You’re just a boy trying to outrun karma, but it’ll catch up to you Sirius, you’ll see”

Chapter One - Chapter Two

Words: 1107

A/N: Possible new series? Here is the playlist I made that has the songs that inspired me to write this, and the songs that I used a few lyrics from Feedback is always appreciated! Sending love from the moon

- Blue

Being at Hogwarts with the marauders was annoying. Being in the same house as them was frustrating. Being in their friend group was interesting. Sirius Black being a marauder was infuriating.

You were basically dropped into that band of nitwits (and Remus) when Lily finally said yes to a date with James. You liked and were friends with everyone in the group, other than Sirius you two had a...strange ‘relationship’.

You were one of the few people there who didn’t worship the ground he walked on. You think that’s why Sirius was determined to ‘date you’. And yet you, and everyone with a brain, knew that all he wanted was to be your boyfriend for a month (if you're ‘lucky’ to not be a one night stand) and get in your pants just to move on and to leave you to join the broken hearts club just like everyone else, misery loves company, right?

You were walking back to the common room with Lily. The two of you talking about how your days had been going. “...Oh by the way! Me and James are heading to the black lake tonight, wanna join us?” Lily smiled at you with bright eyes. When she and James started dating her eyes seemed brighter than they used to be. If that was even possible.

“I’d rather not third wheel you two love birds, It’s bad enough I have to listen to you sleep talk about him” You teased with a grin. Even though she laughed with you, her freckled cheeks turned pink and she started playing with the ends of her hair. Something she had picked up when you first started teasing her about James. She knew you’re joking, and you knew how much of the teasing she was ok with, you two were best friends and knew eachother like the back of your hands, practically sisters.

“I don’t sleep talk! Especially not about James”

“Then who is it I hear at three am mumbling ‘James you’re so lovely’ ‘Aww James’ ‘You’re so handsome’ ” She shoved your shoulder both of you laughing as you shoved her back.

The moment was ruined when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. You instantly knew who it was without even looking. Sirius is the only person who would pull that on you, plus you could smell his cigarette smoke. “Oh! You think I’m handsome?”

You have him a quick once over before he could notice and use it against you in someway, it was like he wasn’t even wearing the uniform, yes he had the white shit and black pants on, but his tie was just laying on his shoulders and you didn’t think even he knew where his cloak was.

“You wish Sirius. Still addicted to cigarettes are we?” You pushed him off your shoulders “The only thing I’m addicted to is you” He flirts, you had to admit, you set yourself up for that one. “Can we ever have a normal conversation, Sirius? Why do you always have to be flirting with me?”

“Cause I want to be with you darling!” He grinned with a smug look on his face. You raised your eyebrows with amused irritation. Lily was still walking beside you two, grinning ear to ear, she always loved when you put Sirius in his place, it was very entertaining for her.

“How long will it take to get it though your head that I don’t want to have sex with you Sirius?”  “I’m not trying to have sex with you, I’m trying to be your boyfriend, although, I wouldn’t turn down a night. Or more. With you.” He winked

Rolling your eyes you swung around and pushed him to the wall, pinning him there with your hands at the sides of his head. He could feel your warm breath on his chapped lips. His eyes widened and his smirk faltered for a moment. If you blinked you would have missed it. “Why can’t you let me be sad and lonely?” You whispered seductively in his ear, making him shudder a bit, even though he tried to hide it. He was glad that the wall you pushed him too was dark enough that you couldn't see the blush on his cheeks. 

“Cause I can’t let a pretty girl slip away, now can I?” Rolling your eyes again, you tied his tie around his neck properly, and pulled it a bit too tight choking him a bit (although he didn’t seem to mind that much) before you pushed yourself back off the wall and started walking away, he stayed at the wall for a moment to catch his breath and reagan his composure, pulling his tie down so the knot was at his chest, not near his neck where it should be (apparently he’s too edgy to wear a tie properly) before he goes after you.

“Just give me a chance! Buttercup please don’t break my heart!” He fake pouted. Merlin you hated the nicknames he gave you, he always seemed to be finding new ones too, you swore he had found stolen a book from the library that was full of them and studied that instead of his school work.

“Sirius! I don’t want to participate in your game of manipulation. Just like everyone else, you’ll kiss me and then forget me” You called back to him not bothered to look over your shoulder. You just wanted to go back to the common room and study with Lily and Remus, why was that so hard?

“I would never and could never forget you beautiful!”

“Sirius, how do you always feel so proud? After all the people you’ve hurt, after all the people you’ve dated and left heartbroken, you expect me to want to be with you just so you can do the same to me? Yeah no, I don’t think so. You’re just a boy trying to outrun karma, but it’ll catch up to you Sirius, you’ll see” You turned to him and glared

“You think that now doll, but when you say yes, you’ll see I would never do that to you” As you both continued to walk thought the practically empty halls back to the Gryffindor common room he wrapped his arm around your waist, but you didn’t bother to move away or shove him off, as he'd only end up holding you in some other way again but pull you even closer. 

Anytime you two talked or were even near eachother, he’d make you lose your mind again. And you’d lose it another thousand times.

Sirius Black was going to be the death of you.

[her0brine]

do you have any headcanons for, like, little quirks or maybe small superstitions? (like maybe a lucky charm or if anyone refuses to do something because they would consider it unlucky)

• A typical irl ‘good luck charm’ such as a rabbit’s foot can be easily found in the MC universe, and it’s even more common to find, as many keep them around to sometimes use it in emergencies to create any potions of leaping if they need to! The dual functionality of being a potion ingredient and still a lucky charm overall makes this incredibly popular with more ‘exploratory’ Villagers and numerous Pillagers. Almost always a Wandering Trader will have at least one on them, and they also tend to keep differently colored fur or pattern variations to trade these internally amongst themselves.

• Cats are NOTORIOUSLY hard to befriend and tame, and thus if one were to warm up to you and even give you a gift, it’s considered to basically be a gift from the Universe itself! Rejecting a gift from a befriended cat is a huge no-no, and many believe if you do this, then you’ll be cursed with absolutely atrocious bad luck for MONTHS. Fortunately, getting befriended by or taming a black cat in this universe isn’t seen as bad luck.

• Nobody is really sure why, but staying out in the rain for longer than just a few minutes is seen as a MASSIVELY HORRIBLE MISTAKE, and essentially ensures that whoever stayed in the rain for too long will somehow pass in the next few days. This makes sense to say for Villagers, as any that are stuck by lighting when it rains are ‘miraculously’ gifted the ability to work with magic, but are quickly mentally corrupted and become evil towards their former kind. This superstition of the rain ‘cursing’ or ‘ensuring a upcoming death’ oddly enough can be found in Illagers as well! It seems like this odd superstition is one of the remaining fragments of their former historically old past of being part of Villager culture. In the present day, any attempt at researching to see if this superstition really does ensure somebody will die soon, just from being in the rain too long hasn’t been done yet, as no Cleric or Librarian are foolish enough to try it on themselves or force even a innocent Nitwit to do it.

• It is VERY taboo to mess with the dead in any sort of capacity, to the point where even sympathizing with basic zombies and their ‘plight’ is heavily frowned upon. This belief can be found across in essentially every single advanced mob society, except for of course, the undead mob societies (zombie piglins, wither skeletons, etc) and also Evokers/Witches who want to manipulate the undead to do their bidding. Humans are more so of a outlier, as sympathy for the undead is quite common, and concepts such as mercy killing to ‘free their soul’ is well documented in old journals and novels that were written ages ago by human scholars. Even though Steve for instance LOATHES even looking at the undead, they will still mercy kill any that comes across their path, and in certain times, they’ll even bury them in proper graves. (They also built a well maintained graveyard thats eerily close to their home, and the amount of filled up pet-sized graves in it is deeply concerning. There is also a freshly dug human-sized grave amongst the tombstones, that they probably don’t need to use..... hopefully.)

• Totems of Undying are..... complicated. It is widely believed that the totem’s ability to revive the recently diseased is far fetched as it hasn’t been properly documented to work on any sort of Villager, Pillager, nor Piglin, but supposedly it DOES work as intended on humans. However, as humans are incredibly rare and are borderline extinct in the MC world, this aspect of the totem has become forgotten over time, and instead these totems are now seen as a good luck charms in boosting the rate of recovery from a near-fatal injury. It is common to see them get stockpiled by Evokers, in which the majority of them do believe the supposed revival effects of these totem CAN work on their species, but all attempts so far have failed. Because of this, many non-evokers genuinely believe those totems are either deeply flawed or cursed, and it’s kind of seen to be a bad omen to hold onto one if you’re not magically inclined.

[dakogutin]

nightmares and cuddles

thank you to @swottypotter​ for hosting this comfort mini-fest! and to my beta @windywings who helped me get into the mind of a ten year-old hehe

9/27 prompt: gratitude

summary: harry thanks moomy and dadfoot for being brave with him

word count: 2.1k

ao3 link

---

A blinding flash of green light. Screaming— a woman’s. Deafening explosion then a piercing ring as everything turns dark once more… Forehead burning…

Harry woke up in cold sweat, panting. He felt adrenaline coursing through his veins as he sat up, hands subconsciously running through his untameable wild hair. The silence made his thoughts yell louder and the darkness felt eerily inappropriate to his turbulent feelings.

This wasn’t new; the nightmares, the insomnia, the constant panic in his restless mind alerting him that Voldemort was by his bedroom door— a forceful pull back to consciousness. Sleep has been a challenge for Harry, he’s set the bar so low that sometimes he forgets it’s not normal to wake up crying in the night at all.

That doesn’t mean it gets easier each time.

Harry hugged his knees tight, cursing himself through harsh sobs for not being brave enough to face his demons alone. Everyone tells him that both his parents were brave, so why wasn’t he?

The worst part is, he doesn’t even understand why the vivid flashes of weird images in his dream cause him to fall apart this quickly. He just feels embarrassed. Stupid. Mad— in both definitions.

It was getting more and more difficult to breathe as he refused to let his cries out; the lump in his throat obstructing his air flow as it simultaneously intercepted with his continuous sobs. Harry sounded like he was choking through air but at the same time felt like he was drowning in it.

He pulled his blanket up to his chin and looked to his window, contemplating on whether or not he should move to open it, when he heard the doorknob slowly click open, the sound shattering the silence of the room… 

Harry jolted and an involuntary yelp escaped his restricted throat. Instantly, warm but strong hands wrapped around his apparently trembling self, gently holding him in place and stroking his back in a soothing manner.

“Breathe, Harry…” The voice said. “Come on, do it with me.” A deep inhale followed and Harry felt his body slowly relax as he focused on mimicking the action.

More minutes passed until Harry finally felt calm enough to snuggle into the soft but firm arms around him. He opened his eyes and saw locks of black hair by the person’s shoulders and felt guilt replace the momentary ease in his stomach.

“Padfoot, did I wake you? I’m so sorry…” He rubbed his eyes from the stale tears there.

To his surprise, Sirius huffed a laugh. “Nah, Moony woke me up.” Harry felt the hand resting on his back still its movements. “But I’m kinda glad he did.”

“Why?”

Sirius was quiet for a while, like he was mulling over his answer. “So you didn’t have to go through this alone.” he said simply.

Harry knew those words meant more than they suggested. After all, Sirius only hinted about his own past, never really giving Harry the full picture. Harry wanted to finally ask about it, but a concern persisted in his mind. He leaned back to face Sirius properly, “Why did Moony wake you up? Is he all right?”

Sirius broke into a soft smile before fiddling with Harry’s disheveled duvet. “You really are your parents’ child, Harry. Just like them you’re uncommonly kind. I went here for you yet you go asking about others as soon as you can.”

For a second Harry felt conflicted about this comment. The looming thought of him not being able to live up to his parents’ braveness suddenly entered his mind once more. “No, of course I am thankful you’re here. It’s just that… well, with the moon just yesterday, I couldn’t help but wonder…” Harry couldn’t finish this sentence as he found himself too distracted with Sirius who was shaking his head.

“Listen, kid, I don’t mean it that way.” He grinned, ruffling Harry’s unkempt hair. Then he sighed, looking more forlorn this time. “We— er, couldn’t sleep too, you see.”

“Is he still awake?” Harry blurted, eyes scanning around Sirius’ features in the dark.

Sirius already scooped Harry in his arms and stood up. “Let’s go wake him up if he isn’t still. Merlin knows it’s time for my revenge.”

“Are you sure it’ll be okay?” Harry asked tentatively, gripping onto Sirius’ shoulder.

He scoffed. “As long as it’s us. You know Moony can’t hate us— even if he tried. We’re irresistible like that, Prongslet.” Sirius winked.

And for the first time that night, Harry cracked a smile.

--

Sirius glanced behind at Harry, a sly grin etched on his face. Harry put a finger to his smiling lips, shushing his godfather. At this, Sirius placed a finger over his own lips, as if scolding himself as well. Harry quietly giggled before Sirius carefully opened the bedroom door where Remus rested.

Together they tiptoed to the rising and falling lump of sheets on one side of the wide bed, only his tawny mess of hair was visible. But as they approached, stealthily avoiding the creakier floorboards, a startling grunt sounded from under the sheets.

Sirius hastily carried Harry to sit on the bed and spoke, “I present you this offering! Please don’t impair upon me your wrath for disturbing your slumber.” They snickered as Sirius also hopped on the mattress, rocking the bed slightly as he laid beside Remus with Harry right in the middle.

Remus simply opened the blanket with his arm for Harry to settle inside, the younger boy quickly complied, feeling himself immediately comforted by the warmth around him. Harry felt his forgotten drowsiness washing over him.

After a period of silence, Harry heard Sirius softly speak. “Hey, what about me?” He couldn’t help but chuckle at this.

“What’d you think, Harry? Should we invite the gaudy nitwit inside our cave?” Though facing away, Harry can hear the grin in Remus’ slurred words.

“Sorry Padfoot, I don’t think you’ve earned your place yet.”

Harry knew it was all in good fun but he was too soft on Sirius after calming him down from his earlier ordeal, he told this to Remus who pulled down the blankets, revealing a giant black dog where Sirius previously sat.

“What do you mean? What happened?” Remus sat up, piercing eyes steady on Harry.

“I’m fine now.” Harry chewed his bottom lip. 

Remus looked unconvinced but acquiesced, sighing. “I’m glad Padfoot could be there for you then.”

At Remus’ reassuring smile, Harry felt this newfound courage to open up more about it. “It’s just the same nightmare again.” He then felt a cold nose press to his arm. Harry scratched the dog’s neck then fully wrapped his arms around Padfoot, burying his face in the soft shampoo-smelling fur.

“Do you want to talk about it, pup?” came Remus’ voice beside him as he felt a gentle hand rest on his back, it reminded him of Sirius’ soothing pats earlier. 

Harry doesn’t know what it was about Remus that makes it so easy to want to talk to him. Maybe it was the underlying desire to want to be comforted; that while Sirius’ presence always inspires him to be brave, Remus’ presence is more on reassurance— telling him that he doesn’t have to be brave all the time. He’s never been more thankful they balance each other so well and that he was blessed with both of them all to himself.

As quick as that gratifying thought occurred, he felt an unsettling churn in his gut.

He turned his head so his face was visible to his other godfather. “Is it selfish that I sometimes forget my parents?” 

Harry sat curious as silence hung in the air. He sat up to face Remus and felt the familiar gentle incentive of being vulnerable. He was aware this was a rather sensitive topic but he wasn’t planning on backing out of it now that they’re willing to engage.

“You have to understand, Harry…” Remus began, “Sirius and I always bring up your parents because we miss them so, so much. It’s cruel that we got to spend so much time with them while you so little.” He patted Harry’s cheek. “It’s perfectly forgivable if you sometimes… forget. Moments you shared with them are ever so scarce, Harry, it’d be quite impossible to keep holding on to them all your life.”

Harry sniffed, indignant not to cry twice this night. Just then, he felt Padfoot gradually shift back into Sirius behind him. 

“You’re not selfish for feeling too happy to think about what you’ve lost. Remember that.” said Sirius.

Remus gave an approving smile to Sirius before sighing wistfully. “We feel guilty about it too, Harry.”

“About my mum and dad?” Harry asked softly. This part about his parents was new. Neither of them deliberately bring up the events after they graduated so needless to say, Harry’s interest was piqued.

They both nodded then Sirius replied, “We talk about them a lot because you’re a living reminder of them, pup. It’s just uncanny.” He smiled, shrugging.

Harry smiled back.

Remus chimed in, “Look, we know we will never fill their shoes in your life—”

“No that’s the thing…” Harry interrupted.

Both his godfathers looked taken aback by the sudden loudness of his voice but waited for him to continue.

“When I think of parents, I just now think of you two.” He stared intently at the ruffled duvet. “I can’t help but feel like these nightmares are punishments for it.” Harry felt Sirius pull him into a crushing hug and heard shuffling before feeling Remus join them.

Remus was first to pull apart and maybe it was the dim lighting but his eyes appeared to be glistening. He then heard Sirius behind him. “You are not to be blamed for anything, Harry. You hear me?” The ten year-old turned to glance at his speaking godfather and nodded.

“I’m sorry about these nightmares Harry.” Remus says. “But you shouldn’t think of them as punishments. They’re nothing more but bad memories. It has absolutely nothing to do with your relationship with Lily and James, alright?” He tilted his head to level with Harry’s gaze under his ducked head.

“And besides,” Sirius spoke. “Who says you’re limited to just one pair of parents?” he grinned.

Harry hung his arms around their necks. “Thank you.” He mumbled, pulling their heads together, feeling their cheeks press against his own. Harry poured all of his profound gratitude through his tight grip before pulling away and beaming at them.

A thumb swiped his cheek and Harry realised he had apparently failed to keep his tears from flowing until then as he looked up to Remus smiling softly at him.

“Well, I’d say you telling us that we’re nearly good enough replacements for your parents is the highest form of compliment in my life so far. And this is coming from me, who got voted Witch Weekly’s most charming smile of the year — and I was still a student!” Sirius beamed.

Remus rolled his eyes as he leaned in for a whisper. “Still lost to Gilderoy Lockhart, though.” He then made his voice louder, positioning to lie back down. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

Harry giggled. He was about to make a move to head back to his room but Remus was already making space for him in between them on the wide bed.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Remus. “Just this once I won’t say anything to that since I’d rather savour every last moment we can sleep with Harry still here.” He then shifted into a lying position with them.

“Damn right.” Remus mumbled.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at this. “What does that mean?”

“Hogwarts, Prongslet. This is your last year before you finally become an official student there after all.” Sirius replied, yawning. “Couldn’t wait for you to become our little prodigy.”

“Sirius.” Remus said warningly but was simply met with a lazy chuckle.

That’s right, Harry mused. Soon, he would be surrounded by other magical children. He suddenly wondered how different his life would’ve been if he were raised away from the Wizarding World, but then he just couldn’t— and that was all because of Sirius and Remus. Harry felt overwhelmed by this relief.

“Moony?” He called to the darkness.

“Hmm?” came his response.

“Padfoot?” Harry called once more.

“I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

Harry doesn’t know which of them did it, but there was a kiss near his scar and he felt his cheeks strain from him grinning so much that night. Not quite what he expected since being woken up, but undoubtedly the best turn of events since.

[daydreamed-snippets]

@gingerly-writing - thank you for this wonderful prompt. I love your blog!!

Prompt #2623 --- “Don’t lie to me,” the villain snapped. “I know your commanders are planning to kill me. Just tell me how they’re going to do it. Please. I’d- I need to know.”

“Don’t think of it as death, per se,” the agent murmured, grabbing the villain by the collar and pushing them up against the smooth, plaster wall of the institute. With a jerk of their head that unequivocally conveyed ‘hands where I can see them’, the agent watched with a satisfied smile as the villain slowly slid their arms up the wall to rest their hands on their head. The edge of the agent’s weapon goading them into compliance. “Think of it more as a rebirth. A release. Think of it like your past catching up with your future.”

“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?” The villain’s expression was tight, the irritation they showed earlier steadily drained into unease. Still, they kept their chin high, the agent noted. Docile in all accounts but this--their eyes. 

The way they looked at them. Glowering, yes, but more importantly questioning.

Questioning them. Looking for the ruse. Searching for the persona of that civilian that they hit it off with--back when they first met. And wondering about this civilian turned agent, or if they were an agent the whole time.

For their part, it was easier than the agent thought it would be. Just act like an unassuming nitwit. A fool trying to do the right thing and befriend the estranged villain. Because the villain would trust that an idiot would pose little to no threat to them.

Stupidity always did invite those who felt a sense of blind superiority to morons, like a vacuum. Well, the right kind of stupidity at least. Act innocently stupid and they won’t notice. Act youthfully dumb and they’ll excuse anything.

But the villain was playing at ignorance too. 

“Is this because I stole your security badge and broke into the institute?” the villain asked, daring to shift a bit.  The agent pressed the weapon closer, jabbing it in their side. They had thrown their full weight against the villain, being the taller of the two, knowing that they had the advantage. Hips pinning them, one knee between the villain’s legs driving them on the tips of their toes. Keeping them off balance. There was little competition between the agent’s more toned muscles to the villain’s lanky form.  “Look, I know I wasn’t…that I haven’t been the greatest friend or the most upstanding citizen. So, yes, I’ve broken a few minor laws, but—but do your commanders really have to do this?”

“Oh, sunshine, this has nothing to do with our farce of a ‘friendship’, or your little excursions around this shithole of a city,” they drawled, and with their free hand they pressed a button on the communicator they kept in their pocket. The security alarm the two had tripped in the scuffle cut out, letting diminished lighting illuminate the room.  

The villain dared to look surprised. The agent only chuckled. “Yes, I know about that. Your ‘secret identity’, your fights with heroes. But all of that is inconsequential, really, to the bigger picture.”

“Which is?” the villain whispered in askance.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” the agent faked a pout, shifting their weight to ease off the villain. Their weapon still trained on them as a reminder to keep perfectly still. “I’m a little perturbed. Had I known what you actually were when I was first sent on this assignment, well.” They shook out their free hand before catching the villain’s belt loop, tugging them close. Off of the wall so that they were a breath away again. They then trailed their fingers up the villain's torso, across their chest, relishing the erratic beat of their heart. They skimmed a thumb over their chin, before grabbing them by the throat, ignoring the villain’s agitated expression.

“I would have likely kept you for myself. My commanders be damned. I don’t know exactly how I would pull it off. Probably make up some little lie that you skipped town. That you slipped my grasp.” They let go of the villain’s throat and  fished in their pocket to pull out a syringe, concealing it at their side. “I get excited even now thinking about the ways I could have played with you. Played with your powers. The power you so rarely use.”

“What I am?” the villain echoed. The confused look was endearing, if not strained. Like if they could only stick to the role of cluelessness, maybe they could stop what was about to happen next. “You seem to think that I know what this is, but I don’t. Please…”

“You can drop the sniveling coward act. It’s unbecoming.” It was their turn to snap. “You may be easy on the eyes. A punk of a villain, but my commanders and I know who and what you are.” The agent makes a showing of licking their front teeth, as they lean in and brush their lips against the villain’s ear. 

They whisper their name. 

Their real name. 

An ancient name that once spoken was said to immediately draw the aid, power, and ambition of that being. A name only found encased in tomes hidden in long-forgotten burial mounds. A name which whispered of gods and powers beyond temporal appetites.

Something changed then. The agent can feel the villain shutter and grip the front of their shirt as they let out a quivering breath. Perhaps they'd get their wish after all. Perhaps, this was all it took, and the villain would now bend to their myriad of passions.  

But the villain finally spoke, with an incensed sigh. “That’s not how it’s pronounced.”

The agent blinked, letting out a line of curses in their head. Keeping their fortitude, they laughed and leaned back. “I’m sure it’s close,” they said. The villain let go of their shirt, flickering their gaze to the floor. “We'll figure it out. It will be enough for my commanders to proceed with your conversion by killing this body. Setting the immortal residing in it free. And by saying your name, your true name, in the binding ritual, you will have no choice but to lend your strength to us.”

Without warning, the villain lunged, ignoring the weapon pointed at their side. Believing that it wouldn’t be used against them. That they were too precious an asset to risk injury to.  

The agent didn’t hesitate. 

They discharged the weapon as they were driven back, stumbling to land on their back. There was barely a grunt, as the villain righted themselves and stocked towards the agent.

“You’re right. What use is there for pretense now?” the villain said, lowering into a crouch. Blood oozing through their fingers as they clutched their wound. It splattering on the floor. “You mortals are always confident that your schemes will work. But you’ll soon realize that when mortals plan, gods laugh.” 

They grab the agent by the throat and lift them onto their feet like they were a ragdoll. “I haven’t’ heard my true name spoke properly in over four thousand years. I very much doubt you, or anyone for that matter will be able to say it correctly. And I won’t respond anything less.”

The villain squeezed hard, grinning madly. The agent claws at their arm with one hand, remembering their concealed syringe in the other. Black spots dotted their vision, but it was enough. They plunged the needle in the villain’s arm, emptying its contents. The villain let go and they fell like a sack. Hitting the ground they gasped in air, coughing rudely into the tiled floor, half expecting the villain to topple over them, unconscious. That serum was enough to knock out three grown men. But the villain stumbled back.

“What…was in that?” they stammered, looking at their fingers, running a hand over their face. “It’s not supposed to—”

The agent coughed up phlegm, practically giggling. “Modern medicine's a bitch, you damned immortal.”

The villain staggered towards the door, hearing movement down the hallway. Wishing they could kill this idiot, this monument to their own nearsightedness, but they had bigger problems. Namely footfalls of the rest of the agent’s comrades eager to secure them in chains. 

Making their way out the door, their vision swayed again; rising, and falling. They clutched the wall for support. Leaned against it to regain composure. Making a run for it, the villain stumbled down the hallway, towards what they’d hoped was the way they came in. The wound at their side was slowing them down. They couldn’t heal properly with that serum in them. They could feel their blood trying to burn it’s way though the sedative--the added benefits of this body not being entirely mortal. And on the other hand, being mortal enough. 

They tripped again, begging whichever god that they would make it out of there. And put as much distance between themselves and this blasted facility. The irony of that wish was not lost on them. 

They looked back to catch a glimpse of facility guards. Blindly rounding the next corner, the villain slammed into something solid. Toddling backward, they righted themselves just in time for someone to grab them by the arm.

It was the hero. 

The alarm must have alerted not only those in this compound but also to the outside authorities. Hence their hapless appearance here.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” the hero said, throwing a glance at the direction the villain just came. “Come with me.”

“Like hell!” The villain gasped, attempting to back away. Wrenching their arm free. “Don’t you—”

“That wasn’t a request.” 

A well-aimed punch to the villain’s solar plexus knocked the villain out cold. More blood splattering on the floor and wall. Apologetically the hero threw the villain over their shoulder and darted out a side window.

[akajustmerry]

everything you’ve said, anon! 10/10!

though its not so much that the narritive comes down on Bucky’s side, it’s more that when it comes to those racially tense moments between Bucky and Sam, the show takes a centerist angle. It portrays both sides as equally valid. The producers want us to think that Bucky’s refusal to see the racism factor in Sam’s decision to give the shield up is an equally valid perspective alongside Sam’s conflict on being a mascot to a country that hates him as a Black man. spoiler alert: it isn’t equal. mcu!bucky is just a dick. i was prepared to let it slide in the first ep because yeah okay i can understand in the moment bucky would be upset, but we’re four eps in and this dickhead is still bullying sam over giving up the shield.

comic!bucky would not even recognise mcu!bucky for behaving like an absolute nitwit with zero self-awareness because you’re 100% right. comic!bucky is painfully self-aware of how much he has and can hurt people and does everything he can to prevent that and help people instead.

the inconsistencies in this recent ep alone with bucky as a character are so frustrating. you have Bucky in Wakanda at the begining of the episode asking Ayo to not let him hurt anyone, but then he’s shocked to learn Shuri put a fail safe in his arm??? seriously?? a whole reason he went into hiding in Civil War was so he couldn’t hurt anyone by being a weapon anymore. but suddenly, he’s shocked the Wakandans did [checks notes] exactly what he wanted them to?

Sam and Bucky needed their own limited series to properly establish them as characters independant of Steve and then tfatws should have served as a complimentary series to their induvidual ones. ideally, in the same way that Daredevil, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, etc all got at least one season of a show on their own to establish the characters and THEN we got the defenders.

But here’s the really fucked up part, anon. If Sam and Bucky got their own shows induvidually before getting one together. You know what would have happened? No one would have watched Sam’s show. You know how Disney knows that? Look at what happened with Luke Cage. Disney/Marvel’s experiment with Netflix taught Disney that if you make shows about Superheroes, the one about the Black hero will rate the lowest.

Sam does deserve his own show. This arc of him reckoning with what the Symbol of Captain America covers up vs what he can make it is stunning and its too complex and rich for it to be sandwhiched between Bucky’s rehab, Wakanda Sharon’s return and whatever the fuck Zemo is here for. Seriously, why did Bucky have to be the one to show Sam Isaiah? Why couldn’t we have a show where Sam discovered this for himself as a Black man, rather than being chaperoned this entire narritive by white men who are CONSTANTLY positioned as people who know more than him about his reality. 

And a huge reason this show SUCKS is because of the Disney Military Industrial Complex. The military is paying for this show so we can’t have any decent exploration or criticism of the systems these characters operate in which is INSANE BECAUSE THESE ARE THE SYSTEMS THEY’RE SHAPED BY.

I’m not gonna talk more on Bucky’s rehab being built on Black emotional labour, but I am beyond angry that the comic!bucky’s very well established mutual character development arc with natasha romanoff was completely disgarded for this racist disney miltary bullshit. 

Anyways, thats a long rant for a long series of asks. hope that’s what you were after! x

[gerbiloftriumph]

The Silence Between Snowflakes

(also on ao3) ~ 2/8 - Footprints

~*~*~

Alexander had met the villagers and royal knights, but Graham wanted more than ballroom politeness and hastily muttered, “yes, I’m fine, lovely to meet you”s. He wanted them to be comfortable with each other. His son and his citizens. He was eager to show Alexander all that Daventry had to offer. Almost as soon as Alexander was able, Graham started hovering and gently steering him toward walking the paths with him, to explore what was theirs together. To actually get to know each other.

Even in winter, Daventry glittered. Perhaps even more so in winter, what with the ice in the tree branches and the crunchy snow glimmering in the sunlight. The little waterfalls that cascaded over the rocks in the spring froze into twisted natural sculptures, shards sharp as goblin spears. The air was crisp and clear enough that you could hear a twig snap halfway through the forest.

Alexander dutifully pulled his scarf up higher around his ears and trooped behind his father, silent but observant. Graham chattered to fill the empty air between them, pointing out this place or that.

“Starberries grow here in the late autumn—it's like constellations in the trees. And you won’t believe how loud the frogs in that pond in spring are. You'll hear them from the castle on clear nights. Most of the birds have migrated, but wait until they come back. The sounds they make in the early summer mornings before that golden sun properly comes up over the hills…. Oh, and this path, this one leads to a gorgeous lookout. It’s icy now, but maybe in a couple days we might be able to try it, and you can see the whole valley. It’ll look like it’s been dipped in sugar now, and in the summer the lavender fields make the whole valley purple.”

He desperately tried to paint his kingdom in all its colors for his son. Like he could wrap up the whole thing up as a gift. His son listened and nodded and made occasional noises to let Graham know he was listening, and that was about it.

The first couple walks were the same. Graham babbled endlessly, pressing down his unease that he was being annoying and overbearing. At night, he confessed his apprehension to Valanice, and they talked long into the night together. She insisted that what he was doing was helpful. “He comes back with such a rosy blush in his cheeks.”

“It’s windchill,” Graham fretted, crumpling his cloak in his hands.

“He’s happy,” she said. “Well. Happier. I think. Don’t stop. It’s important for him to see and to hear. But don’t forget to give him space. I know how much you can talk about Daventry when you get started. I know how much you love it. But...give him room.”

The walks continued, and Graham kept himself quiet as much as he talked. Alexander, when he noticed the lengthy pauses, seemed all the more nervous, as though he was expected to fill the silences. And that made him jumpy. But Graham didn’t expect things, just cautiously helped move the conversation forward. It was a bit like trying to help one of the nervous courtiers speak, he decided. He might not know how to talk to a son, but he knew how to talk to his citizens, and while that might not be a long-term solution, at least at first, at least for now, it might help.

And it did.

Alexander, gently coaxed by Graham, started to talk. Not about the past, not yet. But about their present. Started to ask about where they were going. Wanted to risk the icy overlook to see the valley spread below them like a frosted painting. Wanted to know where people lived, what they did. As he talked, Graham realized how starved the boy was for information. He had spent his life locked in Manannan’s grasp, watching the world go by from a distance, and while he was clever and sharp, he simply didn’t know. So Graham showed him everything.

~*~*~*

“What do you think that is?” Alexander pointed down the path.

Graham leaned around a bend in the trail to see what Alexander had found. “Looks like a scarf.”

Alexander fidgeted with his own scarf. “I bet whoever dropped it is cold.”

Graham knelt to pick it up. It was well crafted, a bright green that positively glittered against the slushy path. It had snowed earlier (it seemed to be snowing more often this winter, each day bringing another flurry of flakes), and there were all sorts of tangled footprints crisscrossing each other. Graham hadn’t been paying them much mind before—it was a road, there were footprints in the snow. Not exactly something to write a fantasy novel about.

But now he looked a little more carefully, looked at the size of the tracks. Most were blurred, but he had an uneasy prickling at the back of his neck. They almost looked like children’s footprints, but he remembered dark caves, ropes, salamanders, and a gut-punch sense of fear rippled down his spine for an instant. His head snapped up, searching the trees for any additional signs of the goblins he knew were out there.

In the distance, now that he was paying attention, he could hear something hammering, very faintly. The twenty-something, newly crowned king in the back of his head immediately decided the goblins were building cages to take the villagers again. The fifty-something established king told himself to stop exaggerating and assuming the worst. The twenty-something king muttered that inattentiveness was how they’d been captured in the first place. The fifty-something king didn’t actually have an answer to that.

Graham glanced at his son—but if there were goblins out there, and if they did mean harm, it wouldn’t be safe to send the prince back to the castle on his own. And Graham couldn’t leave the sound uninvestigated.

“Come with me, but quietly,” Graham said, motioning Alexander down the path, following the goblin tracks.

The hammering got louder. As they walked, though, Graham realized what it was. Not goblins, at least not in this exact instance. Someone was hammering signs into trees. Brightly colored sheets of paper lined the path. Wanted signs, for stolen socks. They rounded the corner and found the source of the hammering and the sheets.

“Aaah, Acorn,” Graham said, relief sparking through his tense shoulders. “Having trouble?”

“Someone raided my stock,” the knight growled, thumping his hammer against the nail in the tree, lodging the sign firmly. The tree had a ring of impact in it from the weight of the hammer. He had blue and green paint streaking his armor from painting the signs in an angry hurry. “Not so much as a single glove left behind.”

“I think I know who.”

“I knew it! That rival craft shop across the river, right? Knitwits or whatever they’re called? Buncha nitwits. I knew it. Mafia creeps. I’m gonna lodge a formal complaint with the royal guards. Trying to button in on my service area, how dare they?”

“No, not them,” Graham said, and offered the scarf. Acorn gently took it, brushing the dirt off it, looking all the more upset about its condition. “Goblins, I think,” Graham continued. “There’s a whole bunch of their tracks just up the lane.”

Acorn seemed taken aback. “No. Really? They haven’t caused trouble for decades. They’ve kept to themselves. Why would they be stirring up trouble again?”

“Good question,” Graham said. “I intend to find out. Something must have happened.”

Instinctively, both men turned and looked at Alexander. Alexander’s eyes widened and he shrank back, stepping into the shade of a tree and tripping over an upraised root hidden in the snow.

“Possibly,” Graham said, mostly to himself. “I wonder if an audience with the goblin king would be useful.” He realized what his mouth had gone off saying and froze, imagining himself down in the goblin tunnels again, those bleak roads he had once trekked as a prisoner, to keep that appointment. He shook his head, scaring the image away. “I’ll deal with that later. For now, we’ll notify the royal guards and let the rest of the villagers know. I’ll head back to town now.”

“Would you take this back to Amaya if you’re going that way?” Acorn asked, holding the hammer out. “I ran out of signs, but I’m gonna go look around, and I promised I’d get that back to her quick.”

Graham was about to protest, about to suggest it wasn’t safe, and then remembered who he was talking to. The strongest knight Daventry had to offer, and surprisingly deadly with a pair of knitting needles. “You be careful,” he said, grinning. “Don’t scare them too badly or anything if you find them. I’d hate to look bad in front of the goblin king.”

Acorn laughed, and then wandered further down the path into the forest, leaving Graham holding a surprisingly heavy hammer and Alexander shivering with wary uncertainty.

“Would you like to go into town with me?” Graham asked. “If you want to go back to the castle, we can do that too, and then I’ll go on to the town myself.”

“Do you...do you think I’m really...the cause of something?” Alexander asked, his voice hardly audible.

Graham was going to flippantly answer, but the look on his son’s face drew him up short. He put the hammer down—stars it was heavy, what did Amaya want it for—and stood beside Alexander. The cold wind had picked up again, and the threat of a storm was blowing in from the west (always from the west these days, so odd, when winter storms normally blew from the north over the mountains). They drew closer together as a screen from the chill.

“Truly, I don’t think it’s anything you did,” Graham said, after a pause. “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or unwanted. Daventry has a long and unsettling history with the goblin kingdom, and we were thinking of that more than anything else.”

“Unsettling history?” Alexander asked. He still looked nervy, a deer startled and ready to run, but that eternal curiosity about everything, so delightful in the Cracker family, was roused.

“It’s...you might not want to hear it,” Graham said, uneasy as he looked ahead to where this conversation might go. “It’s a story about goblins...kidnapping all the villagers. And me. They took me. I don’t...it might...” It might trigger your own memories, were the unspoken words. It might ruin everything, to hear this story.

But Alexander perked his head up, looked toward his father with surprise. And maybe some respect. “What happened? Did you...escape? By yourself?”

“Not completely by myself,” Graham said. “I had help from the villagers. But, yes, we rescued ourselves.”

“I had to rescue myself, alone,” Alexander whispered, so softly Graham wondered if he had been meant to hear it or not. It was the first time Alexander had voluntarily offered any detail regarding what had happened to him. “I...” his voice faded to nothing, and then, in almost a normal volume, like he was trying to force himself to speak, “Would you tell me what happened? If...if you’re okay with that.”

With a kind smile, Graham said, “Yes, I can tell you what happened. Would you like to walk back to town with me while I do? We’ll keep a bit warmer if we move. It was a summer evening, then, but the rain was endless. You’ll get a sense for how monsoon season is in July.” And he unraveled the story about what had happened to him just a few short months after he’d been crowned. How he’d been ambushed by goblins, hauled underground, locked away, and what had happened next.

They hadn’t gotten far into the story by the time they reached the town. Graham had told this tale many times, and it always seemed to get a bit longer with each telling. Real life details fuzzed into something with more defined story structure, tugging wrinkles into out into a proper narrative’s smoothness, with highs and lows that seemed effortless to tell. Privately, though, he knew the raw edge of fear occasionally jangled and caught him off guard at unexpected moments, especially on certain lightning-struck nights when he was feeling tired and edgy. Sort of like catching his arm on a jagged nail in the dark.

But now, in the weak sunlight and the sparkling snow and the crisp air, it was light and easy to tell. He was just explaining about the cure-all potion he would need to restore Bramble’s fading health when they walked through the town gates and found Bramble herself shoveling snow off her front step.

“Ahh, Majesties,” she chirped, sweeping low into a bow, shovel held at attention and dripping slush back onto her stoop. “Lovely day for the moment, though I think you should go inside if that storm keeps heading our way.” She thumbed meaningfully at the clouds racing toward them, chasing the last scraps of sunlight away. “Always a joy to see you in town. Anything in particular you’re up to?”

“Bramble, you haven’t noticed anything strange lately, have you?” Graham asked, ignoring pleasantries.

She hesitated, a little put off by his haste. She wrapped her gloved fingers in her snow-crusted apron strings, considering. “Noticed anything? Acorn went off in a huff this morning, but I’m afraid he’s often in a huff in the mornings. Rather a knight owl. But...no, I can’t say that I’ve noticed anything strange, no more particularly than usual. Is there something I ought to be watching for?”

Graham glanced at the roof—goblins had crowded it once, pounced him flat. It was empty now, except for the snow. It was building up pretty high. He wondered if he should order the royal guards down to help clear the rooftops. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for the shingles to crack under the strain, especially when winter was only getting started. With more snow on the way some of these older structures might warrant a little extra care this year.

He couldn’t dance around the issue. “Bramble, I’m afraid there might be an upsurge in goblin activity.”

She clapped her hand over her mouth, abandoned shovel falling into a snow-covered shrubbery. Of all the villagers, she had been most affected by what had happened, had been very pregnant and very sick for most of her captivity. “You can’t be serious, Majesty.”

“I’m not entirely sure yet, but I have some pretty solid suspicions. I don’t think they’ll do anything. The treaties are still being upheld as far as I know, and Manny is...apparently indisposed.” He glanced at Alexander, who gave an almost imperceptible nod, although he was playing with his scarf uneasily, too. “I don’t want to cause alarm. I only want everyone to be a little careful. Maybe don’t walk through the forests alone right now, not until we straighten this out.”

“Of course. Did you tell everyone else?”

“Acorn knows, but I haven’t seen anyone else yet. I’m being proactive. They hurt the town first, last time.” He looked at the worry cracking her normally sunny features and smiled warmly, reaching out and taking her hands. “It isn’t something to worry too much about, yet. They like causing mayhem, remember? Stealing scarves seems like just the sort of trouble they would love. I would recommend caution, of course, but don’t panic. We’ll take care of it before it gets dangerous.”

Relief softened her face. “Come inside, then, lad, let’s get you warmed up. King Graham, something hot to drink?”

“You know you don’t have to call me king,” he said, gently, for the thousandth time.

“I know, Majesty. Still. Cocoa?”

“Let me get this to Amaya first,” he said, hoisting the hammer in his hand to show it off, almost losing his balance as he misjudged its weight. “I’ll stop by after.”

Alexander made to follow Graham, but Graham gently shooed him toward the bakery with Bramble. Overhead, the garlands the villagers had used to decorate the town for the season swayed in the increasing wind.

Amaya’s shop always smelled of hot metal and oil, a tangy greasy feeling in the air that felt like sparks were going to crackle off his arms. Graham rapped his knuckles against the counter’s scraped and battered wood until Amaya shouted from her workroom, “In a minute, hold on to your crown!”

Bemused, he leaned back on his elbows, examining the array of weapons nailed to the walls. She eventually came out a side door, wiping her hands on a rag tucked into her skirt. “How’d you know it was me?” he asked.

“No one else knocks that pattern. Sounds like a song, the way you do it. Ridiculous, dreamy. Like a dopey lullaby. What’s up?”

“Got your hammer.” He dropped it onto the counter with a thump. He winced, having added yet another dent to the rest, but Amaya scooped it up as though it weighed nothing. “Acorn said you needed it back quick. What are you working on?”

“Something for Rosella,” Amaya said.

“Um. Something I should know about?” He still remembered the flaming poisoning raging sword of doom fiasco.

“New game board. Faster version of the home game Battle of Wits—the arrows hurt if they hit the players, ha! Adds some extra tension to rounds. Gotta hammer the board together, and the weight on this hammer in particular is perfect. Wanted to get it to her today if I could. I think she plans on teaching her brother how to play. Speaking of, he here?” She had pulled out said game while talking, hammering the top pieces with wild, ear-ringing abandon.

Graham flinched back from the clanging blows. “He’s with the Feys.”

“That hot chocolate’s gonna fatten him up. Good. Kid needs it.”

“There was something else, Amaya,” Graham said, trying to get a word in edgewise as she delivered a series of ringing whacks to the pieces.

“Has to do with Acorn, I bet. He was in a temper this morning. I mean, he’s always in a temper in the mornings. But he’s usually good at calming down. That bull training or whatever. Not this morning.” Amaya put down the hammer and looked expectant.

“I’m worried the goblins are stirring up trouble again,” he said.

“Ah.” She crossed her arms. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“I have reason to believe they were in town,” he said, glancing at the shop windows—crusted with snow, hard to see through. Unless you were pressed right against it you wouldn’t see anyone outside. “They stole Acorn’s winter stock. All his scarves and gloves and socks.”

“That might explain why my order of icepicks and chisels has inexplicably gone walking.”

“They’re not arming themselves, do you think?” Graham asked. He could remember spearheads jabbed against his shoulders, could remember the wooden handles slamming against the back of his knees to bring him to their level before they yanked the ropes around his wrists.

“With a chisel? Unless they’re carving some lovely ice swans and bringing them to life with some black magic to attack us, I doubt it. The picks, maybe, but they’ve still got their spears as far as I know, so they don’t need my stuff. This might just be petty thievery. They like that. I never did get my bed back.”

“You didn’t want it back. I did offer to ask.”

“Not worth the effort.” Or the memories. “Still. I’ll keep an eye out. We started barring the gates again this year—this winter is colder, have you noticed? It's driving the wedzels into town, looking for warmer hearths to sleep against. If I catch one by my forge there will be hell to pay. But we’ll be more diligent. I’m not sure if the gates were closed last night or not. I assume I can expect a visit from Number One about patrol schedules?”

“As always. Number One likes to keep you involved.”

“Whisper thinks he’s flirting with me.”

“Whisper thinks everyone’s flirting with you.”

Amaya scowled. “Ridiculous. Still. We’ll be watchful. We’ve dealt with this before, and we’ll take care of it now. Don’t worry, Graham.”

“I’m supposed to be telling you not to worry, not the other way around,” Graham said.

Amaya laughed, handed Graham the completed board game (which weighed considerably more than the hammer had) and pushed him out the door. The light had a distinct gray quality to it, now, the clouds pushing into place. After the forge-warmed shop, the incoming storm’s biting chill nipped Graham’s cheeks, and he shrugged deeper into his cowl, shifting it up around his ears while trying not to lose his grip on Rosella’s order. It would be best to head back to the castle now, to get the royal guards involved, before the storm hit. The villagers would warn each other about the possible threat, and Number One and the other guards would soon have the place safely under patrol.

Wente and Bramble were crammed around a table with Alexander when Graham pushed through the door. A couple of early snowflakes also entered with him, though they melted the moment they hit the hot air. Everything tasted like cinnamon and sugar dust, and Wente had lit a large number of candles to keep the darkness at bay.

“It’s not at all like it was under Edward,” Wente was saying cheerfully, dunking a cookie in hot chocolate and getting crumbs all over the tabletop. “Your father is really doing some delightful expansion work. Used to be we’d lose half the lavender crop to rain. The irrigation system he implemented? That alone has done wonders for Daventry.”

“Oh, King Graham, let me get you a cup of something,” Bramble said, pushing to her feet. “Cider? Cocoa? Something a bit stronger? Your nose is five shades redder than usual.”

“The storm is on its way,” Graham said, shifting the board game but looking longingly at the sweet cider tap.

“Yes, but Daventry Castle is no more than ten minutes up the road. Come on, sit. We’ll get you warmed up before you head out. No goblins will want to move in weather like this, so don’t worry about raising alarm yet.”

“They’re armed with winter caps now, though,” Graham said, trying to spin it into a joke. “I’ve seen them in grass skirts—I'll bet they look ridiculous in scarves.”

“Wrapped around their helmets!” Wente accidentally dropped the last of his cookie in his cup and his mustache drooped as he looked forlornly at the soggy remnants.

“Mistletoe on their spears,” Bramble said.

“Wearing bright green gloves,” Alexander offered, quiet, with what might have been the trace of a smile.

They didn’t stay long—the storm truly was impending, and it made Graham anxious to get back home, but they stayed long enough to drain their mugs, to tell some awful jokes about snowmen, and to speculate about what the goblins might actually be up to. Nothing at all was decided, other than perhaps they’d sensed the oncoming worse winter and had decided to prepare in the only way they knew how: thievery.

By the end of their brief ten-minute chat, Bramble didn’t seem nearly as frightened as she had before, and Wente remembered he had a cupcake he wanted to send up with Graham for Royal Guard Number Two’s birthday (it smelled a little bit like syrup). Alexander had to carry the little paper box, as Graham was still struggling with the board game. He wouldn’t tell Alexander what it was, sure Rosella meant it to be a surprise, and mumbled something about it being for dull castle business.

Acorn stomped in right before the royalty left, shaking snowflakes from his cloak and demanding a frosted bear claw—Alexander looked horrified and confused before Wente handed over a specific type of pastry. He told Graham that the royal guards knew about the goblins now. Acorn had run into Numbers One and Two making a loose patrol loop through the forest, and No1 wanted to see him as soon as possible to confirm their strategy.

“Absolutely, on the way,” Graham said, and waved farewell to his friends and his citizens. Bramble and Wente both gave Alexander warm goodbyes, Wente offering a huge goodbye hug and Alexander gently refusing (although he openly smiled when he refused, definitely the first true smile Graham had seen). Acorn sprayed crumbs everywhere but still managed to cough out a dry “see ya,” and then the king and the prince walked back toward the castle, glowing with the contentment of companionship.