#average people are standing up for us and god dammit we are going to make it out of this

[not-that-taliesin]

sometimes it’s hard to get up and do the things i need to do, even out of love. sometimes my fuel is spite. whatever helps you to survive to the next day is what you need to do. i’ll be damned if they force my hand against myself. the bastards are gonna have to kill me first!!!

[the-i-can-dig-destiel]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Inspired by Aceriee’s Art

My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and I have always believed, firmly, that I will meet my end staring down the barrel of a gun. 

And, well, not that I haven’t. I’ve had my fair share of death by a gun. Dare I say, more than the average Joe. But those never seem to stick in our family. Anyways, I digress. 

If not a gunshot, then I was absolutely sure that it was gonna be a heart attack! My very unhealthy eating habits aside, I figured there’s only so much stress a heart can take before it gives up. I mean, how many apocalypses would I get to prevent, and/or stop before the sheer terror got too much? 

And then of course, there was the obvious choice. Death at the hands of a monster. This one I always tried to avoid thinking about. First, because it was bad juju, and second, because I thought myself better than that. 

But, here we are! At the age of 41, I have finally met a foe strong enough to defeat me. 

Heart, meet rebar. And just when I had found the perfect dog! 

I mean, really, I blame it on the poor judgment of whoever thought this would make for a good interior design. Who goes around leaving rebars out of walls? I have worked construction before, I know the safety codes, and if it isn’t obvious by my state right now, this is so against most of them. 

SAM: Alright. Let's go find those kids, get them outta here.

Oh boy! Sam doesn’t know yet. As Donna would say, hooftah! Hmm. How to break this to him?

DEAN: Sam...I don't... Mm.I don't think I'm going anywhere buddy.

I should tell him to remember to take Miracle for a walk when he’s done here. Preferably before burning my body to ashes. That takes too long and my boy is too tiny. I just cleaned the bunker. 

SAM: What? What are you talking about?

Dammit Sam. Must you choose this moment to go dumb? 

DEAN: There's something in my...Something in my back. It feels like it's right through my heart man. 

Finally! That gets Sam to stand directly in front of me, still a few inches away and he reaches around to my back. Don’t know about him, but I’m not surprised to see his hand come back bloody. Too much blood. He better not get blood on the bunker floor either. 

DEAN:Oh, God.

SAM: Alright. Um… Hold on. Okay. Uh, I got you.

The fuck does this fool think he’s doing?

DEAN: No, no, no, no, no. Don't... Don't... Don't move me. 

Ugh, how many times do I have to repeat myself before he hears me? I’m literally at my deathbed and the kid still hasn’t learned to listen to me. 

Figures. 

DEAN: Don't move me.It feels like this thing's holding me together right now. Just give me… Just give me a minute.

SAM: Yeah. Um... alright. I'll call for help. I'll get the first-aid kit.

Might be the bloodloss, but time starts to stretch as I watch Sam take out his phone and move to walk away. I do remember what I said to him earlier today. 

The whole “I think about 'em, too. You know what? That pain's not gonna go away.Right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.”

The thing is, I lied. I do that. And honestly, if Sam believed that bullshit, it’s on him. Anyways, yeah, I lied and though I always hoped for more dignity in my death, truth is, I don't want him to get help. Not gonna do anyone any good, even if by some miracle they get me to survive this. 

DEAN: Sam, Sam! Sam… Stay wi… Stay with me… Can you stay with me, please?

SAM: Okay. Yeah.

Huh! Can’t believe that actually worked. Maybe he is learning to listen to me. Better put it to use. First thing’s first. 

DEAN: Okay. Okay. Uh... right. Alright. Listen to me. Um… You get those boys and you get them someplace safe, alright?

SAM: Dean...We are gonna get them somewhere safe.

Bless his heart. My little brother. 

DEAN: No. We knew it was always gonna end like this for me. I mean, maybe not exactly like this, not the kinda penetration I’m into really, but It was supposed to end like this, right? I mean, look at us. Saving people, hunting things… It's what we do. What we’ve always done. 

SAM: No, no. Stop, okay? Just... Just stop.

But I’m tired. How do I tell him that I’m so tired? How do I make him understand this is happening because of the sleepless nights I’ve had these past few weeks, escaping images of nothingness taking away all the light in my world? 

DEAN: It's okay. It's good. We had one hell of a ride, man. But I’m done… 

SAM: I will find a way, okay? I-I will find another way.

DEAN: No, man. No. No. No, no, no, no. You’re not hearing me! No bringing me back, okay? You know... You know that always ends badly.

SAM: Dean...

DEAN: Sammy I’m done.. I can’t do this anymore.. Not without him… 

God, please let this be enough for him. Please let this get him to let me go. 

SAM: P-Please… what about the beach? Our feet in the sand, drinks with tiny umbrellas, Dean, you… you said it yourself! You said if Jack… you PROMISED ME!  

Oh Jesus, here come the fireworks… how do I make him understand, if I can’t have matching hawaiian shirts with Cas… What the hell am I supposed to do without his pretty ass there? How am I expected to just go on, when I know Cas is surrounded by darkness? By nothingness? By the empty…

DEAN: I'm fading pretty… I'm fading pretty quickly, so... there's a few things that I need you to hear… Come here. Let me look at you. Yeah, there he is.

Ok, Winchester. Take a deep breath. You can do this. You can make this ok for your little brother. 

DEAN: I'm so proud of you, Sam. You know that? I've always looked up to you. Man, when we were kids, you were so damn smar... smart. You never… You never took any of dad's crap. I never knew how you did that… And you're stronger than me… 

Yeah kid. You lived your life unafraid of what he would say. You dared to love and you … not like me. You never let it get too late to say… I wish I had told him Sammy… I wish I could tell you what really happened that night in the dungeon… I wish I could tell you how Cas was brave, and selfless and the best goddamned thing that ever happened to me and I was a coward, I was scared and selfish and to nobody’s surprise I let both of us down… 

DEAN: Hey, did I ever tell you... Did I ever tell you that night that, uh... that I ca... That I came for you when you were at school? You know, when dad hadn't come back from his hunting trip? I must have stood outside your dorm for hours... because I didn't... I didn't know what... What you would say… I thought you'd tell me to... to get lost or get dead…

I know I could never bring myself to tell you about him Sammy. Even if I wasn’t choking on my own blood, I still would never have enough time to tell you about how he made me wanna stay alive… He was it for me, and I can’t tell you that… But I can tell you about you! 

DEAN: And I don't know what I would've done... if I didn't have you. 'Cause I was so scared. I was scared, 'cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me…

Sam is crying now, and well, what’s one more thing for me to hate myself for, right? 

SAM: Then don't leave me. Don't leave me. I can't do this alone.

DEAN: Yes, you can.

Because I need you to… 

SAM: Well, I don't want to.

Well, ain’t that a bitch? Kids feeding me my own words from all those years ago. Well, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s bullshitting. Hunting used to take the first place but after this colossal mess, I can’t really give myself that. 

DEAN: Hey. I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be with you… Right here... every day. Every day you're out there and you're Li... And you're living and you're fighting, 'cause you… You always keep fighting. You hear me? I'll be there every step. I love you so much. My baby brother.

Oh, man. I can’t believe I’m crying too. Shit. I used to think at least when I die, I’d get to spend the rest of it with Cas… Not that I would ever be caught dead admitting it… Oh, well, doesn’t seem to matter now anyways. 

DEAN: Well, I did not think this would be the day. But it is. It is, and that's… Man... that's okay. I need you to... I need you to promise me. I need you to… To... to tell me... that it's okay. I need you to tell me that it's okay… 

SAM: No! 

Sam don’t look away from me. Please brother, I need you to let me go. Shit, what if I become a ghost? I mean, does never getting to say I love you to Cas count as unfinished business? Sure as hell sounds like it to me! Shit, Sam better burn all my stuff just to be sure. 

DEAN:  Look at me. Look at me. I need... I need to go Sammy… and I need you to tell me that it's okay. I need you to tell me… Tell me it's okay.

SAM: No, goddammit Dean! No. I will never!  

Uh-oh! Sammy’s letting go of me and I just don’t think that’s such a good idea. Should I tell him I can’t really feel my legs? Would be nice if I could be spared the embarrassment of a faceplant pre-death. 

SAM: JACK! Jack, you better get down here and help me or so help me, I will make a way up there and… JACK! You fucking promised this wouldn’t happen! You said you would be a better god! 

Ok, this might be a good time to tell Sammy to stop yelling and get moving, but the light behind him is pretty distracting and shit, man, I used to be able to focus before… 

“Sam! Sam, I am here. There is no need for you to yell. What’s goin…” Jack finds himself in the middle of a barn, dead bodies of what seemed to be vampires littering the floor, and it’s not until Sam moves towards him that he spots the reason behind his calls. 

“Oh Dean…” Just as he moves towards the older Winchester, Sam gets a hold of his shoulders and Jack feels his heart break for him. His eyes look hollow, as if it was him who was on the edge of death. 

“Please… you have to do something! You have to save him! He’s not… please Jack!” 

“Hey, Sam, Sam! If you let me take a look at Dean, I can try and help.” 

Sam takes a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself, then nods once before stepping aside and Jack finally gets to look at Dean. It hasn’t been long since he left the brothers on earth and went to sort out the universe, but Dean seems to have aged decades. 

“Dean?” He calls out once, but just as he thought, Dean’s out of his reach. At least, physically. He tries not to imagine all the self-deprecating jokes Dean must have come up with over being impaled by a rebar in a bar. 

He tries and fails. Winchesters. 

“Sam, help me pull him off the rod.” He knows just as well as Sam, that he does not need any help moving Dean’s body. They’re both aware of the pity he takes on Sam, letting him do something before he loses his mind for good. 

“Ok, yeah, gently on the ground.” And before Dean’s body hits the ground, he is healed. He ignores the voice in his head, metaphorically speaking, accusing him of ignoring his own rules. What happened to being a hands off God? Well, this is DEAN! 

“Jack, what are you waiting for? Heal him! Bring him back!” 

“I have healed him, Sam.” 

“Then why isn’t he waking up?”

Yeah, Jack was never a fan of the on brand Winchester’s lack of anger management. He pushes his annoyance aside and reaches for Dean’s soul. 

Huh. Interesting. He’s fairly new to being God, but he’s got a good track record with resurrections and he’s pretty sure no soul has ever resisted being pulled back so hard. 

Typical. Leave it to Dean fucking Winchester. 

“It’s like he’s resisting his body’s pull. Sam, what happened here? What am I missing?” 

“I… shit, Jack, I dunno. We were on a hunt, and we just rescued these kids and, he just wouldn’t let me get help, and he kept saying this is good, and he wants to go, and I … I didn’t know what else to do Jack…” 

“Ok, ok, Sam, look at me. I need you to go and take care of the kids. I am going to try and find out where Dean is.”

He leaves the second part of that sentence unsaid. Why does he not want to live?

The sky is a beautiful blue/green, as Dean and Cas watch the sun set. Dean pushes his sunglasses up on his head, then holds Cas’ hand in his, and relishes in the sensation of their arms touching. Cas’ hot skin against his, contrasting with the ice cold drink in his other hand, makes him feel dizzy. Or is it the blood loss?

“What?” He asks, not really sure who he’s talking to. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Cas replies. Taking a sip from his martini. The blue shirt brings out the ocean blue in his eyes, breathtakingly infinite. 

“You know, you really do look good in floral patterns…” Dean’s not really sure why his heart aches at the exclamation. This has been the most flawless day, a long overdue vacation for just the two of them. Then why does it feel cold?

“Well, you don’t look too bad yourself, Dean.” Castiel studies him, and Dean immediately feels warmer. “I like your tan. And your sunglasses on your head. It makes it easier for me to see your eyes.” 

The sheer openness with which Cas talks to him is enough to make Dean want to run away. But not here. It’s safe here. Why? 

It’s almost easy for the words to fall out. “Yeah? What about my eyes?”

“They never lie to me… never have, never will…” Dean resists the urge to shy away. 

“And what are they telling you now?” 

“I’m sorry Dean, I will not make it that easy for you… If you want to tell me something, you have to say it yourself.” Cas says in a cheeky tone before looking away again. 

“I know, I know that! I just... Ca–” Dean is interrupted by a sudden shock of pain. He drops to the floor, clutching his chest, crying out in pain. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen here… not here… 

Castiel is staring at a figure behind him.

“Billie.”

“What? That’s impossible Cas!” But even as Dean’s fighting to get the words out through his pain, the world around them gets eerily darker, and all of a sudden they’re back at the bunker.

Cas grabs Dean by the shoulders and tries to guide him away. But Dean’s legs are cemented into the floor. He knows exactly where this leads, and he is not about to relive it. 

“My heart... I can feel her.” He hears himself say. No, no no no. Go back to the beach. Please. 

“Come on, Dean. We gotta go. Come on.”

Castiel pulls Dean away, almost carrying him through the bunker as Dean gasps and grunts in pain. Hold on to his arm. 

At the bottom of the stairs now, Billie’s following them slowly. 

“It's you, Dean. It's always been you. Death-defying. Rule-breaking. You are everything I lived to set right. To put down. To tame.”

Dean collapses beside the bookshelves just out of view, gripping his chest. Castiel looks over his shoulder where Billie still approaches.

“You are human disorder incarnate.”

No. I was ok to go this time. Please, I wanted to go… I was… 

In the downstairs hallway now, Castiel's supporting Dean's weight with Dean's arm over his shoulders as he hurries him through the bunker, away from Billie. Dean clutches his heart, groaning in pain. Please, Cas, I don’t want to do this again… I can’t… Please, just let me go with her…

But nothing comes out of Dean’s mouth. 

“I've got you Dean.”

They round another hallway corner, but not far behind them is Billie, still holding her scythe.

“Come on, Dean. You can't escape me.”

Dean wants to say he’s not trying to. He wants to scream and ask her to just take him. Anything to stop them from entering the dungeon. But Cas keeps dragging him, and Dean is not in control here.

Billie drags the blade of her scythe against the tile wall. 

“Don't you think it's finally time? Time for the sweet release of death?”

Yes, I do… 

Around another corner, Castiel guides Dean into basement storage room 7B and closes the door behind them. Dean coughs, still holding his chest as he doubles over. No no no no no.

Castiel finds a pocket knife in Dean's back pants pocket and uses it to cut his own palm. He uses the blood to paint warding onto the door. Dean wants to die. 

Castiel turns towards him.

“It blocked her grip on you.”

Billie pounds her fist against the door. It shudders. The warding crackles, but holds. The slow pounding continues.

“Dean, she said that wound was killing her. Maybe we can wait her out.”

Yes, please, that’s a fantastic idea, let’s just wait her out. 

“Yeah, and if we can't?”

“Then we fight.”

Yes, I will fight till my dying breath for you, just don’t go…  

“We'll lose. I just led us into another trap, all because I couldn't hurt Chuck. Because I was angry and because I just needed something to kill, and because that's all I know how to do…”

“Dean…”

“It was Chuck all along. We shouldn't have left Sam and Jack. We should be there with them right now. Everybody's gonna die, Cas. Everybody.” You’re going to die… and “I can't stop it. She's gonna get through that door.”

“I know.”

“And she's gonna kill you, and then she's gonna kill me.”

Dean wishes he was already dead. He wishes he’d never said those words… He wishes… 

They share a look. Castiel agrees, their situation is hopeless, but he can't bring himself to say it.

“I'm sorry.” and Dean’s never said any truer words. 

“Wait, there is... There's one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her. When Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.”

Dean wants to be mad at him, he really does, but he would make any deal, in a heartbeat, just to stop Cas from doing this. Who’s Dean to blame him? 

“You what?”

“The price was my life. When I experienced a moment of true happiness, The Empty would be summoned, and it would take me forever.”

Dean Can’t breathe. 

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it.”

Then just stay and be goddamnit! Dean should have just hit him in the head hard, should have knocked him out cold. He should have stopped Cas, right there and then. 

“What are you talking about, man?”

“I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're daddy's blunt instrument. And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.” 

Cas is crying and Dean is paralyzed. He’s as paralyzed as he was the first time around. And as paralyzed as every night ever since, lying in bed, reliving this moment over and over and over again. 

“You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you.”

Yeah, and look where that got you… 

“You changed me, Dean.”

Fuck you for doing this to me Cas… 

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Please don’t say goodbye like this…  Don’t say it…  

“Because it is.”

It still lands like a punch to his guts, and Dean inhales, ready to argue, but Castiel confesses before he can.

“I love you.”

“Don't do this, Cas.” I love you too. 

There's a wet noise from behind Dean and he turns to see black goo from The Empty squeezing through the bricks in the bunker's wall as a portal begins to open. They both know what this means. No more matching hawaiian shirts, no more tiny umbrella drinks, no more mix tapes, no more cowboy dressups, no more running away from their profound bond. 

There are tears in Dean's eyes as he turns back to Castiel. Castiel is still smiling tearfully. I wish I could hate you… The warded door busts open. Billie stands behind it with her scythe. There's no more time.

“Cas…” don’t go… please just don’t go… I can’t go on without you… 

Castiel puts his hand, bloodied from when he'd cut it for the warding, on Dean's shoulder. Right where he had laid hands on him for the first time all those years back in hell, and he might as well be throwing Dean back in hell with this. 

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Castiel shoves Dean aside. He hits the floor beneath the portal. A handprint of Castiel's blood remains on the shoulder of his jacket. Billie enters the room. Castiel looks at Dean one last time, smiling, and inhales as the black liquid tendrils of The Empty wrap around him. The Empty crashes against Billie, pulling her in along with them. Dean wants to get up, wants to run over and hold on to Cas’ hand, keep him here, or go with him dammit, but instead he watches in shock as the portal to The Empty closes, and he's left alone, panting, stunned, gutted, heartbroken, empty.

Dean, who is still alone in the basement of the bunker, still sitting against the wall where Cas had pushed him. He’s impaled on the wall. He holds his cellphone in his hand as it vibrates, ringing again, and again, and again, he looks at it. "Incoming Call: Jack" He stares at it, then looks around, tears in his eyes. He drops the phone, leaving it to ring on the stone ground as he buries his face in his hands and begins to cry.

“DEAN!” Jack tries to break the memory again, reaching for Dean, but his father seems to be lost to his sorrows. He seems to be stuck in this horrible loop, and Jack had no idea what had really happened the night that Cas was taken. None of them did. Dean refused to talk about it, and Jack knows why now. 

But if Dean just opens up to him, if he just picks up the phone and answers, Jack can reach him, and then he can tell Dean about where he’s been. He could tell Dean where he was when Sam called for him. 

He could tell Dean that Castiel was back. That it had taken them weeks to help him get through the worst part of his trauma, but he was back, and he was safe, and he was recharging his batteries as Dean would say, and that he would soon be ready to come back to Dean. 

But Jack needs Dean to make that choice, to take that leap, and to answer his fucking phone. 

He’s not sure how many times he’s watched Dean go through his loop, sunset at the beach, then The Empty, how many times has he cried and felt his heart break for his dads, before he folds and accepts that Dean’s just not going to open up to him. 

It’s not Jack that he wants. 

And it’s not Sam. and it’s not Mary, or John, or Bobby, or anyone else. 

It’s Castiel. 

And when it comes down to it, it has always been Castiel. 

And maybe, just like the first time around, it would take saving Dean from this hell, for Cas to find himself again. 

“Hold on just a little longer Dean…” He says as he leaves for heaven. He has the perfect plan. 

Dean holds his cellphone in his hand as it vibrates, ringing again, and again, and again, he looks at it. "Incoming Call: Castiel". He stares at it

The hell? Didn’t he just watch Cas be swallowed by The Empty? Doesn’t that mean he’s now in Gay Super Hell? Don’t be weird about the name ok? His brain’s been through a blender.

This has never happened before. Dean’s been through this loop a million times over, his own personal hell, and it’s always either Sam or Jack, calling and calling and … 

But it says Castiel on the phone now. Dean puts the phone down, tries to take a deep breath, and pickles it up again. 

 "Incoming Call: Castiel"

He pinches himself. His tears have dried up, he feels the pinch, stares at the screen, still says Castiel’s name, he takes another deep breath. 

Well, he’s been wanting a chance to change how it happened right? 

Guess this is his brain taking pity on him. God(huh) knows he doesn’t deserve it, but fuck if he cares. 

He’ll be damned before letting this chance go. 

So he slides his finger on the phone, and puts the phone to his ear. 

“C… Cas?” 

Lights explode in his eyes, and he opens them to a familiar scene. 

Well, mostly familiar. 

He’s lying down on the barn floor, close to where the rebar is poking out of the pole, and right in front of him is Casfuckingtiel in his stupid trench coat, with his stupid perfect hair and his fucking blue eyes and he’s staring at Dean with all the worry in the world, as if it wasn’t him that was just swallowed by the fucking empty right in front of Dean’s very own fucking eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Dean?” Castiel barely gets the word out, and just like that, Dean’s zapped into movement. He feels wired, live electricity running through him, and he pointedly ignores Sam and, is that Jack, AKA God? 

“Dean? Really? DEAN? That’s all you have to say to me? After putting me through… through that?” He’s only faintly aware of the fact that he’s on his legs, wobbly, he was literally stabbed in the back give him a break, and he steps forward, standing dangerously close to Castiel. 

“Dean…” 

“No! You’ve said all you had to say! It’s my turn you sadistic bastard!” 

“Uh, Dean…” Sam tries to cut in. 

“Shut up Sammy!” Back to Cas. “How DARE you! You don’t get to pull that shit with a human being Cas! You don’t get to wait ten whole fucking years, put them through the slowest burn of history, drag them along the whole god damned earth, in multiple universes, and declare your love in a selfless act of bravery and fuck off to the empty before said human gets a chance to reply! You hear me?”

“Dean, I understand you’re upset…” 

“Upset? You selfish son of a bitch, you… I …”

“You do NOT get to call me selfish Dean! I sacrificed EVERYTHING for you! For YOU! And what do you do with it? You go around and get yourself killed on a hunt! A fucking vampire hunt Dean? Really? It hasn’t even been a year! Couldn't you have given my memory that little bit of respect and kept your sorry ass alive at least a year?”

“You just fucking left me there Cas! On the ground! With NOTHING! I had nothing! You didn’t even give me a chance to say it back, you asshole! WHat did you expect to happen? The fucker I’m in love with says the big I love you and then immediately is sent to Gay Super Hell and I’m left to pick up the pieces! How was I supposed to live with that? Did you even consider how that affected me Cas? When you made that deal, did you even for a second stop to ask yourself, what about that poor son of a bitch who’s been head over heels in love with me for the past decade?” 

See, Dean has this bad habit of running his mouth when he’s angry. And it always gets the best of him. And it’s only when the silence falls that he realizes what he’s said. Well, shouted. 

You know what they say, when in Rome… 

“I love you, you stupid son of a bitch!” He clarifies, just in case Castiel missed it in all the shouting. 

“What?” Castiel looks pale. Yeah, take that! Not so nice when you’re on the receiving end, is it?

“I love you! And I don’t want to be alive without you! You’re it for me Cas!” Dean’s not even sure at this point if this is life, or death, purgatory, heaven or hell, or the fucking empty. He just knows for some reason, somehow, Cas is standing in front of him, and it’s not a memory or a wish. 

All of a sudden, Castiel launches towards him and before Dean knows it, his lips are pushed into Cas’ and oh my GOD, this is absolutely heaven. 

He kisses Cas, for all the times he didn’t, all the times he wished he had the guts, and he kisses Cas with a vengeance. It takes a while, drunk in the feel and taste of Cas’ mouth, in between the sorrys, and the I love yous, and the I thought I’d never see you agains, before he decides that he needs to know. 

“Cas… Is this real? Are you… are you real?” 

“Yes, Dean. I don’t think I have ever been more real than I am at this moment…” Of course he has to make this sound romantic. Big doofus. 

“But how?” 

“Jack got me out… I, I wanted to come to you sooner but I wasn’t sure if you… Dean I didn’t know how you’d feel about me after what I said…” 

“Well, I will be yelling at you some more for that later, but for now all I need you to know is I love you… and I need you to always come back to me Cas… Always!” 

“I think I’d really rather stick around for good instead…” 

“Well, that’s fine by me…” 

*the end*

[valenhell]

From the studio that brought you “I can’t find good Byler fics in the ao3 tag”, comes:

"The Definitive Byler fic rec list"

Literally no one asked for this but because I spent the majority of last year (...and 2019, and 2018...) reading byler fics and coping with life, I thought I’d make a list of some of my absolute favorites. 

The other day I was basically starving for some byler fics and the angel @magicalfairy provided me with some of her faves so I thought I’d do the same, because I love reading, and I love all of these fics and I appreciate their writers💗 And fic writers in general, come on!

- This is a mix of long works and one-shots/short stories. - Everything is mostly fluff with a tad of angst and a lot of internalized homophobia conflict.  - Every fic is completed, except for the ones I mention that they are not. - I try my best to lay out the stories in a way that I won’t spoil you the plot but also warning you of some stuff you might don’t like. Either way, all of these fics are correctly tagged by their respective authors/owners, so read at your own risk. For better understanding, in between brackets I denote Rating, Words and quantity of Chapters. - I feel like I should clarify, none of these are narrated in the singular first person. None of that “And I told him...”, no. 

Long fics

a dream always the same (T, 99k, 35 chapters) What happened in those few weeks between the Battle of Starcourt and the Byers leaving Hawkins. Literally a satisfying and very needed fill in of season three, with a good dose of Mike’s thoughts and conflict. Mike’s characterization is specially amazing in this one. The writing style is amazing and I know the author put everything into making it historically accurate, and it was really sweet. You probably read it, it’s by the amazing sevensided here on Tumblr🧡

Spring Break (T, 120k, 14/15 chapters) The slowburn of my dreams. Lots of internalized conflict and conflict with each other. Conflict within the Party (uhh kind of), conflict with Mike and Will. Byers family has moved and the kids are visiting! Chaos. Characterization is on point. Yeah, I know it’s unfinished, but the fourteenth chapter actually serves as a pretty nice ending. 

This is where it starts (M, 148.8k, 24 chapters) Aged up characters. The Party is in college and Will disappears again, but now it’s different. Mike knows he didn’t vanish from thin air, and the discovery he and the Party end up making is pretty insane. Mystery solving/fantasy/third dimension, throw in a bit of D&D and Mike realizing some shit, and you get this marvelous fic. It’s a breath of fresh air. The world building is definitely one of the elements that stands out the most, because it’s very nicely described, it sounds like a dream and it’s completely immersive. Absolute gem of a fic. 

there’s a Starman waiting in the sky (M, 30.6k, 8 chapters) Do I need to say anything? Will is out there living his best life and Mike realizes that wow, umm, maybe his best friend looks a bit too nice with that costume... and wait, is he getting horny? It’s actually really fun and sexy.

The Evening Speaks (T, 23k, 7 chapters) In where Mike is a late-night college radio host and Will is the art student that stays up till late to catch up with Wheeler on the Mic. They flirt through songs y’all, this one is really sweet. 

heads or tails? (E, 24k, 3 chapters) Aged up characters. I know most people don’t enjoy sex in fics and with specific characters but this one is insanely well written. It’s a slowburn that commits to the tension and with every word you are grasping and anticipating their next move. I think you can find the author here on Tumblr as yousaidyes🧡

The Man of Average (M, 56.7k, 5/? chapters) Aged up characters. No but you don’t understand, the writing here is absolute gourmet. The story is exciting as well, it’s super interesting. Weirdly enough, for being very aged up characters, they are well characterized but they don’t feel like teenagers. They are naturally Mike and Will. The author really captured Mike and Will’s essence. I know, it’s unfinished and it’s updated very rarely, but this is the typical fic you can’t believe someone just posted on the internet for free. I will say though, I think it’s definitely not for everyone. Read at your own risk.

Heartstrings (E, 82.8k, 24/? chapters) Aged up characters. By the same author of The Man of Average. A collection of memories, the road to Mike and Will’s happy ever after. And fucking hell!!!!! You’ll cry and get angry, you’ll cheer for them, then you’ll want to crash their faces together because god dammit you love each other!!! But yeah, same thing here. The writing and the way the story is laid out as a nonlinear narrative is brilliant. And I also think this is one of the best Will versions I’ve read. The author might as well be the og creator of this two characters tbh. You can find the author here as mylesimeblr🧡

Sinners behind the walls (T, 1.5k, 1/1) And because I can’t stop recommending this author, a little thing of Mike tormenting himself but also being too deeply committed to Will. 

The Red Envelope series (T/E, 167K, two completed works) Something happens that Will thought was impossible and from there, pure drama and romance. Anything by this author has the potential to become your absolute favorite fic, but this series in particular is amazing. I doubt that any of you haven’t read this, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in this list. I’m pretty sure the author is serendipitous-magic on Tumblr🧡

A New Fight series (T, 91k, two completed works, one WIP) And finally the Star Wars AU that we all needed. But this isn’t your typical “Mike is Han”, “Will is Leia” and “El is Luke”, it’s way more interesting than that, and the author has appropriated the Star Wars world like no other. I’ll admit I’m not a 100% fluent in SW lore but this is amazing to me either way. This author is also on Tumblr, tea-for-one-please🧡

- Yes, most of these are (if not all), in a way, canon compliant/canonverse/canon continuation into fanon. (In a way)

One-shots and short stories

Sundae for Two, Please (G, 4.8k) Steve being the supportive friend and older brother these kids collectively need. (not Jonathan erasure, we love him). Steve is very sweet himself, and this little cute thing through his POV is gorgeous. Yes, it’s byler.

Backstage (T, 10k, 2/2) Jonathan, you forgot to mention to Will how hot your new band’s guitarist is, dude. Now he’s hyperventilating and weirdly flirting with him in the corner. Background Stonathan because why not.

102 Peach Street (G, 3.8k) Established relationship, but not only that, they are married :’’))) PURE fluff. Extreme fluffiness. Diabetes. 

sweatshirts and bottled up feelings (T, 3.2k) Or, Mike thinks that the sweatshirt Will wears looks insanely good on him. And kitchens are for lovers. 

kiss it better (T, 16.3k) Basically one of the best character studies of a few precise moments of Mike and Will’s relationship and feelings. 

will wonders ever cease (T, 11.3k) #i ship will and happiness. Omfg what a beautiful piece of fanfic. Will centric, this kid really deserves all the good in the world.

The Calm After the Storm (T, 1.6k) Tooth rotting fluff, boyfriends in love. Boyfriends being lazy, cuddling, love words, kisses. Boys loving each other’s company... Basically, Mike and Will in their element. What more can you ask for?

neither of us ready to let go (T, 4.8k) That scene from season three, but a bit of a fix it. 

Still in love (G, 1k) Domestic, married life au fluff. Y’all, I’m a sucker for established Byler, even if I can’t find many fics with it. But this is very sweet. It takes place in 2020, but I don’t think there are any mentions of the COVID-19 crisis that I remember.

I Nver Find Out ‘Til I’m Head Over Heels (G, 12.5K) Classic 5+1 fic. If you haven’t read it, where have you been? This is your moment. In where Mike keeps inviting Will to the school dances and Will thinks it’s just a joke until he realizes it’s not. 

Before You’re Gone (T, 5.9k) Will is leaving Hawkins and Mike thinks this is a great moment for a confession. This one I discovered last friday, thank you friend @magicalfairy 💗

You’re weird Wheeler (M, 4.5k) Mike unintentionally starts a tradition of going to each other to talk about their sexual encounters just after they finish. Will keeps getting more explicit with the details he shares, and he makes his best friend interested. This one is really fun y’all.

Out-Of-Town Friends (N/R, 4.6K) It’s not rated. I haven’t re- read it but I’d say it would probably fall in a T rating. So cute!! Will has new friends and sneaks off every friday and the Party doesn’t know where he is going, so Mike decides to follow him and is surprised. 

Snowed Under (G, 1.3k) By the same author of The New Fight series. Mike is spending christmas by himself in college because a snowstorm hits Chicago and Nancy can’t drive to see him, but then he has a surprise visitor. Ahhh just a lil sweet holiday fic. Super cute. 

you love me anyway series (T, 7.1k, three completed works) Literally just the cutest thing ever. Established Byler. Will loves to take pictures and he loves taking pictures of Mike. It’s adorable. 

you wanna be friends forever (i can think of something better) (T, 9k) This one is so amazing. So. Amazing. From Will’s POV, my kid deserves the world and he gets it. 

okay not to be okay (T, 4.9k) Mike is a bit sad but then everything is okay. 

can’t hold out forever (G, 18.4k) Y’all!!!!! 5+1 sweetness. Mike has been falling in love since kindergarten. And it’s long af, you’ll enjoy it. 

even if it takes forever (G, 1.3k) College short AU, they miss each other, they love each other, they promise all to each other. It is sappy y’all.

clear as day (N/R, 18.4K, 4 chapters) It’s not rated, but I’d say it falls in the T category. Strangers to friends to lovers. And also, everyone is pretty gay; we have our dynamic trio Mike, Max and El as disaster lesbians (and gay). Will works at the library and he is also gay. Lucas and Dustin and Will are the best friends we needed. It’s very sweet and the Party is kind of formed here!

I went overboard with the one-shots, so you must have realized how much I love long one-shots and I favor them over long works lmao but they are all amazing!!! If it’s on this list, I probably read it at 2 am, sobbing in my bed. So. Hope you enjoy it☺️🧡

[dogbearinggifts]

What are your thoughts on tua S2? Did you feel like the characters grew? What did you like? What did you not? I’m interested in your perspective. Your analysis are super thoughtful and interesting!

Aw, thanks, Anon!

Overall, I really enjoyed S2 and thought it was a solid follow-up to S1. I do have my quibbles about it, so I think (for ease of reference and because my thoughts are a little scattered today) I’ll list some of my personal highlights (in no particular order) before getting into what I didn’t like as much.

Big spoilers ahead.

Allison. I thought they handled her storyline especially well. Of all the siblings, I think she had the most difficult obstacles placed in her way (not only is she a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas, but she’s a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas who can’t even speak in her own defense for a year) and they sugarcoated exactly none of it. The writers pulled no punches when showing what civil rights protesters went through, which just made their nonviolent response all the more breathtaking. Allison’s fear and anger during those scenes were palpable even as she kept them hidden. But along with that horror, we see the kindness and warmth of the Dallas Black community, the women who take her in simply because she needs their help, and her love for Ray, perhaps heretofore THE most thoughtful husband ever portrayed on screen. I loved him, and I loved him and Allison together. While I understand and respect his choice to stay in 1963, I wish they’d gotten more time together. They both deserved it.

Vanya. We got to see how much the baggage from her past affected her by glimpsing what she might be like if it were taken away. It’s an interesting philosophical question, and it was explored well, in my opinion. She finds it easier to love and be loved, and she stands up for herself more readily—but she also doesn’t hesitate to use powers she can’t quite control and threatens Five without fully realizing how dire her threat is (or how it might dredge up traumatic memories she doesn’t know exist). The moment where Ben finds her curled up, fully convinced she’s a monster, was heartbreaking. I loved watching her find happiness with Sissy, even if that was fleeting (and dear god, Sissy deserved her happy ending with Vanya, dammit, I don’t care if it would fuck up the timeline). Her patience and sweetness with Harlan were just beautiful. And the way she used the confidence she gained during her amnesia to fully come into her own not to exact revenge on her siblings, but to save them, was fucking phenomenal.

The humor. There was a lot more humor this season, and it was awesome. So many iconic scenes—Olga Foroga, Luther babysitting two homicidal Fives, Elliot awkwardly lecturing his guests on the history of Jello, “NEW TIMELINE NEW ME,” “Your vagina needs glasses,” AJ the fish gobbling up the cigarette bubbles, Five getting to say “fuck”….this season was a lot funnier than the previous one, and I think that was one of its strengths.

Klaus’ cult. It was played for laughs, which I both expected and thought was the best way to handle it. He didn’t want to start a new religion with himself at the center; he just wanted to not get thrown out of any more diners, but Destiny’s Children had other ideas. The “I too am a fraud!” scene was hilarious and tickled the question of whether or not a religion founded on false pretenses can still help those within it find meaning.

Luther. Getting him away from his dad, his siblings, and the Academy was exactly what he needed to become the pure of heart and dumb of ass genius we always knew he was, but his first major step in that direction was heartbreaking. We all knew he’d be rejected once he got to the Academy. We all knew Reginald would rip his heart out and stomp on it in his admittedly fashionable shoes. It gets Luther out on his own and forces him to become his own person apart from his dad, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. He got the positive character development he needed, but the catalyst was tragic.

Diego. We see, for the first time, exactly how Reginald kept him in line—not with meds or with PTSD-inducing torture, but with words. Even when he knows Diego as little more than a stranger, Reginald is able to rip off his skin and fling it in his face with a single diatribe; and even at 30, with years away from his dad, Diego is left unable to speak, feeling as if all of his accomplishments up to that point were the work of a dumb kid who thought he was smarter and more capable than he actually was.

Luther and Diego sharing a braincell. Luther has bad ideas. Diego has bad ideas. When they put their bad ideas together, they get terrible ideas. I loved watching them work together as a team, rather than being at each others’ throats for most of the season, even if I’m left hoping Olga Foroga had a pleasant and quiet day after that phone call.

Reginald. At first glance, it may look like the writers were trying to make him likable so they could parade him around as your average abusive-parent-with-a-soft-side. But it’s more nuanced than that. Abusive parents (and abusers in general) often fly under the radar because they fool outsiders into thinking they’re good people. They’re active in their communities. They give to charity. They have friends who attest to their virtue, significant others who think they’re the greatest. And that’s what we see with Reginald. We see him as the rest of the world did: an intelligent, eccentric man with a sharp sense of humor who cared deeply about scientific advancement. That’s how he evaded suspicion—because there were stories from years past of lively parties at his mansion, of what a gentleman he was to Grace and of how he did everything he could to save little Pogo. But those stories would all have come from people he considered his equals. When he’s with people he considers his inferiors—aka, the Umbrella kids—he’s openly condescending and demeaning. We get to see how he fooled the world, and it is chilling.

Elliot. He deserved better, and you can ship him with any one of the Hargreeves kids and get the cutest thing ever. 

The Swedes. They said so much while speaking very little.

Ben. He got more personality and screen time, and it was glorious. His love of his family and resentment toward Klaus practically leapt off the screen. The way he says “I’ve missed you all…so much” once they’ve all left was one of those right-in-the-feels moments; and watching him get so much of what he’s wanted for years when he possesses Klaus was beautiful.

Now, as for things I took issue with….

Ben. I understand why they ended his arc the way they did. I get that they were probably afraid the Klaus/Ben dynamic would grow stale if they didn’t change it somehow and wanted to give him a larger role in S3. His death(???) was heartbreaking and extremely well-done. But it also wasn’t foreshadowed. We never got any sense of what ghosts in the TUA ‘verse are, so the fact they can be destroyed by a ton of sound-turned-energy or by going too far into someone’s psyche or whatever happened….it’s not that it doesn’t make sense so much as there’s not enough evidence to determine whether or not it makes sense. It feels like the writers just kinda made that up so they’d have a reason to change Ben’s relationship dynamics, but if that’s the case, couldn’t they have done it another way? Couldn’t they have made it so the immense energy or psychic woo-woo or whatever gave him a power-up instead of destroying him? Vanya transferred some of her energy into Harlan and brought him back to life. Couldn’t something similar have happened with Ben? And if it tied him to Vanya as well as to Klaus, great! More fodder for angst and humor! (”Vannyyyyyyyy, stop hogging Ben!” “You got him for 17 years, Klaus, you can part with him for 20 minutes.” “Guys, don’t I get a say in this?”) I’m glad they didn’t write him out of the series entirely, but I still wish they’d kept him and all the character development he’d gotten throughout S2.

Episode 10. It looks like they tried to cram half a season’s worth of developments into 45 minutes. Twenty minutes in, I’d already said “Wait what the fuck” half a dozen times. A lot of those moments were explained later on, and I was able to make enough inferences to fill in any lingering plot holes, but…still. Too much stuff, too little time. E9 was a perfectly satisfying ending to the season. Yes, it leaves the siblings stranded in 1963, but they could’ve tied up those loose ends in the S3 premiere.

Lila. She’s an incredibly fun character, but her arc is kind of a mess. Most of that is due to E10, and I do feel that more time to let her arc breathe would’ve worked wonders, but I’m left feeling like her turn from “Handler is the best mom ever and I lurve Diego too” to “KILL DIEGO AND HIS EVIL FAMILY” to “Handler is a bad mom and Diego is right” happened too quickly.

The Commission. Okay, so, the Handler announces the entire Board has been killed, and she’s stepping in as director even though everyone appears to know she’s been demoted (and demoted pretty severely—she went from having an office bigger than some apartments to being a case management drone). There’s suspicion and lots of it. But then, La Resistance is….ten or so people in a single room? And when she calls the temps agents to her side, thousands of them show up ready and willing to fight and die? I dunno. Just seems like there should’ve been more splintering going on there. Again, I think they needed more time to tie everything up.

Aside from those complaints, I loved the season. I set aside most of a day to binge it, and I do not regret that decision at all.

[hopelessly-me]

Winterhawk in a haunted house

Hehehehe. Okay so- I didn't know what flavor of haunted house you wanted- like paranormal or jump scare. But I went with paranormal. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Winterhawk, rated T. Mostly silly and goofy but probably contains a swear word or twelve. 1868 words.

“Spooky spooky spooky,” Clint muttered as he climbed the stairs inside the old Victorian house, using his flashlight to check the floor below them, half expecting someone to be standing there ominously. Just the thought of it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Clint,” Bucky said, half annoyed from the sounds of it. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Yeah, I used to not believe in aliens too,” Clint said as Bucky reached the top floor and looked either way before turning right. “And then I met gods and had an alien try to makeout with me, and then Venom did makeout with me.”

“Not sure those things correlate, doll,” Bucky said gently as he opened a door and peeked into a room. “Oh hey look, it’s you,” Bucky said brightly before he flashed a light into the room, illuminating a few dozen dolls. “You’re my doll, and these are some dead person’s dolls.” Clint glowered at Bucky, not amused. “Come on. Six hours and we can go.”

“I really don’t see why I have to be punished for you losing a bet with Sam,” Clint grumbled, leaving that room and hoping that was the only room with those porcelain abominations in it.

“Yeah, I thought that was implied in the whole ‘til death do us part’ part of our marriage contract,” Bucky replied, closing the door after Clint. “I have to deal with your stupid shit, so you are stuck doing my stupid shit. Forever.”

“Charming. Romantic even. Ten out of ten recommend,” Clint rambled on.

Everything about this house screams demon in the basement. The furniture was old and covered in fabric which was under inches of dust. The shades on the lamps were at least from the fifties, cobwebs in the shades and gleaming off the metallic bases, shimmering in the dim light. The floorboards creaked under even the slightest amount of pressure.

It was spooky and Clint hated spooky. It was right up there with magic, might even be tied for first place. He could handle fake haunted houses- he had done them when he was in the circus, learned how to pickpocket that way even. But places that were rumored to be haunted? Yeah- that’s where Clint threw in the towel.

“Spooky spooky spooky,” Clint whispered as he followed behind Bucky as they toured the house, Bucky holding a camcorder like the old man he was. But was Clint going to comment on it? No. Because that old man was the only thing between him and whatever creature from hell lived in the basement. If push came to shove, Clint was fairly certain he would sacrifice Bucky and take off running. That might result in a divorce but… Clint had been divorced before, right? He could handle being divorced.

“Clint.”

“Leave me alone,” Clint sang as he peered into a bathroom. Back in the day, Clint had a feeling this bathroom was glorious- the tub alone was so deep he was pretty sure he could properly soak in it. Now- it was lackluster at best. Clint closed the door and caught a glimpse of Bucky as he went to go back downstairs.

“Why do you believe in ghosts anyway?” Bucky asked as they walked into the kitchen. The kitchen from hell. The murder room. It looked like a murder room.

“Agnes from the circus,” Clint answered.

“She was a con.”

“Oh, she was definitely a con when it came to reading people, but she wasn’t a con when it came to a lot of other things,” Clint answered. “She’s the one who taught me not to whistle in the woods, and to leave weird things found in the woods alone.” Bucky reached to pick something up and Clint slapped his hand. “No.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Bucky said, turning around, camera coming closer to Clint. “Tell everyone how much fun you are having, sunshine.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “I would rather drink bleach than stay in here overnight.”

“Clint.”

“I mean, yay, look at me, having so much fun,” Clint said in a monotone voice. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Just so we are clear, if Mothman climbs out of the basement, I am shoving you down the stairs and running for it.”

“You know what? If Mothman comes out from that basement, you don’t even have to push me,” Bucky said with far too much confidence for Clint’s taste. “I will gladly stand between you and a Lunar moth.” Bucky turned around and walked. “How about this? Why don’t we talk about something else to get your mind off of whatever Agnes traumatized you with.”

“Yeah, sure- let’s make that attempt,” Clint said.

“Since I am forced to do this as punishment… why don’t we gossip about the others?” Bucky asked. “Like… did you know Sam actually owns more Avengers merch than he admits to?”

“... he what?” Clint asked.

“Yep. I raided his apartment one day when he was gone because I was going to set up a prank and I looked in his closet. He has a Captain America teddy bear,” Bucky said.

“You’re lying.”

“Swear on my mother’s grave,” Bucky said. “He has Cap bear, and a Iron Man figurine.”

For what it was worth, Bucky was very good at distracting Clint from their situation. Clint was into the gossip, whether it was Bucky telling him things or Clint sharing what he knew, careful to skirt over anything about Natasha because he didn’t have a death wish. And when they weren’t gossiping, they were talking about needing to go for a grocery run and needing to buy new pet beds because Lucky had decided the beds were stuffed animals. Which then turned into needing to send Lucky to Kate and America’s for a bit so they could take a vacation. Clint wanted a beach vacation- any excuse to lay under the sun was his favorite thing. Bucky wanted to go tour historical sites, which Clint knew he would cave to because he liked seeing the wonder in Bucky’s eyes when he toured sites he had only heard about or seen on television. Scratch that- he was a sucker for anything that Bucky did. Since when did he become a sap?

They finally settled down and were sitting in the living room, both of them wordlessly agreeing that sitting on the furniture wasn’t an option so they cuddled up in a corner. Bucky had set up a lantern so they could see what was around them, and they used their sleeping bags under their legs to prop them up better. Clint reached over and held Bucky’s hand and fiddled with his wedding ring, smiling as it gleamed. Bucky took care of that ring like he did his arm. He was constantly cleaning it, checking to make sure it was perfect. Clint was currently on replacement ring number three- which averaged to one ring per year so he was taking that as a win.

The conversation fell and Clint snuggled up, resting his head against Bucky’s shoulder. He was exhausted, unable to sleep the night before. Clint went to close his eyes, maybe take a nap, and that’s when he heard it- a creak on the floor above them. He tightened his hold on Bucky’s hand and looked up.

“Its an old house,” Bucky reminded Clint. “And it’s windy out. Creaks are going to happen.”

Clint nodded and settled in again. Bucky was right- houses settled and creaks, and the wind was howling outside occasionally. But then the creak happened again before he heard what sounded like a boot step, followed by another step, and another. And they had toured that house, twice, top to bottom, minus the basement because Clint outright refused, and there was nowhere anyone could have hidden that they wouldn’t have seen. They were trained, for goodness sake- if there was a place to hide, they would have checked it.

The creaking ended at the top of the stairs and Clint and Bucky both leaned over to peer up the stairs. “Someone probably snuck in here and is trying to mess with us. Probably Natasha.”

“Probably my sleep paralysis demon catching up to me,” Clint muttered.

Bucky turned his head to look at Clint. “I understood that reference and I worry about you.” Bucky got up. “I’m going to go check.”

“You’re kidding me, right? I know you have watched horror movies. That never ends well,” Clint insisted.

“I love you but you need to start taking therapy seriously,” Bucky said, grabbing his flashlight and heading towards the stairs.

“As if you are one to talk. How many knives you got on you?” Clint retorted. “Not that you can stab a ghost to death.” Bucky waved him off and stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up, slowly moving his flashlight to get a better image. Clint half-assed crawled over a few places to take a peek for himself.

“Well, I don’t get to stab a ghost because there is no such thing as-” Bucky began to say before there was a noise from the kitchen. Bucky frowned and turned his flashlight. “... definitely Natasha. She uses windows.”

“Hey! Hey! You can’t just leave me here,” Clint said, scrambling to get us. “Again. Horror movies. Respect the horror movies.” Bucky just waved him off and disappeared into the kitchen. “... dammit.” Clint snatched his flashlight on his way to the kitchen to follow Bucky. “Listen, I know you think it’s dumb but I really think- Buck?”

Bucky was staring at the floor, his head tilted to the side. Clint walked over to him and looked at a knife that was on the floor. Clint’s eyes traveled from the knife over the cabinets, every single one of them open.

“You alright?” Clint asked.

“It… just came flying out,” Bucky said. He reached out and waved his hand around before he picked up the knife, using his flashlight to inspect it. “But there’s no string attached.” Clint leaned over Bucky and looked at the knife as well, frowning.

“Spooky.”

A noise caught their attention and they both looked over at the basement door. It sounded like someone coming up the stairs, heavy footsteps and creaking boards. Clint slowly started to stand up, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

But just as quickly as all the noises came, everything seemed to stop. Clint hadn’t realized he was gripping onto the back of Bucky’s shirt, slowly letting it go and smoothing it out. Bucky was starting to lose his tension, his muscles starting to relax it seemed.

“So… that was weird,” Bucky commented. “Should we go-”

“You will have to drag my corpse to that basement if you want me to go with you,” Clint said. “I want to go find a corner, I want to take my hearing aids out, and I want to sleep. Or try to sleep.”

Bucky turned and smiled, reaching a hand up to hold Clint’s face. “I promise that if I see Mothman or… whatever… I will wake you up and let you have the headstart.”

Clint smiled a little and leaned down and kissed him. “My hero,” he murmured against Bucky’s lips.

[tothemeadow]

Serendipity [Chapter 1]

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of blood

words: 3.8k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 00:43

“The king! The king is dead!”

As soon as the declaration is shouted, there’s a growl of pain, then the unceremonious thump as a body hits the ground.

All around, flames lick at the stone walls, set the sky ablaze. The inky hue of the night is abruptly ruined by a brilliant orange, the smell of burning wood and bodies drifting along with the night’s breeze. The clamoring of swords crashing against each other rings throughout the air, seemingly traveling for miles. Horrified screams and blood-thirsty growls make for a gruesome, twisted melody, one that imprints itself on the brain and promises itself its unholy stay.

Heavy pants, cloudy eyes, a desire for murder.

This is what keeps Prince Shouto pressing forward.

Flanked by two guards, the three scramble through the narrow halls – the hidden passageways hidden behind the castle walls. A mere torch is their only source of light, a pitiful flame compared to the hellstorm raging through the city’s streets. Their movements are rushed, silent; there’s no time to be discussing the finer details of the invasion when the only thing playing on their minds it escaping. Gods be damned if more royal blood be spilt on the stone, seeping through and leaving a burgundy scar.

Despite the silence cloaking them, Shouto grits his teeth, the urge to turn back and fight ever present and growing. That’s his kingdom who’s suffering, hundreds of innocent people dying, suffering. And for what? Power? Wealth? If it were up to him, he’d go back and slaughter those intruding the lands, planting their flags and proclaiming their victory.

This isn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Please, my prince, we must keep moving,” the guard in front throws over his shoulder, as if sensing Shouto’s inner turmoil. “We have to get you away immediately.”

Funny how this works, how simple guards think they can control their prince, a member of the royal family. He could easily rip them a new one, put them in their place and insist they stand their ground, but he knows they’re right. There are too many enemies, even by Shouto’s standards. Even if he stayed around and fought, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be slain right there on the spot.

Up ahead, a rickety wooden door comes into view, a heavy bolt holding it shut. The metal creaks as the frontmost guard slides it loose and opens the door. Heavy smoke hangs in the air, slowly spreading towards the surrounding woods and farmlands. Shouto’s heart clenches at the sight, at the putrid odor of death, the sounds of petrified screams. Closing his eyes, he tries to calm his rapidly beating heart, the anger boiling in his blood twinging the outlines of his vision red.

He’s a complete and utter fool for abandoning those who need him most.

Still, he allows the guards to lead him to an awaiting horse, a brilliant beast the color of ivory. Swinging up and onto the saddle with graceful ease, his cloak flutters behind him.

“Go! Now!” the guard with the torch bellows, eyes latching onto a group of enemy soldiers scaling a wall. “Get out of here!”

“You’ll be killed, dammit!” Shouto proclaims, his anger finally boiling over. “I refuse to have anybody else shed their blood!”

“You’re the prince, your highness,” the guard shoots back, both he and the other one drawing their swords. “There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.”

“Bastards, the lot of them,” Shouto hisses, “I can stay and fight.”

“No! You must go!” Before Shouto is given a chance to say anything in return, the guard strikes the horses rear. Letting out a shrill whinny, the horse rears up, landing back down heavily and taking off at a breakneck speed.

Cursing under his breath, Shouto watches over his shoulder as the two guards confront the enemy soldiers. They soon disappear from sight, leaving only the smoldering haze and raging fires encompassing the silhouette of Shouto’s childhood home. As the castle and surrounding city grow smaller and smaller with each impounding trollop of the horse, he can’t tear his eyes away, even long after it disappears from the horizon.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 10:14

Easy does it now, easy does it… Don’t get too close… And… Gotcha!

Snatching his hand away, Zenitsu quickly stashes the pigskin coin purse underneath his cloak. Heh, suckers, the lot of them. Most of them couldn’t tell the difference between their right hand and a horse’s ass, much less when someone steals their coinage. Briskly turning on his heel, he walks away, whistling casually.

It’s so easy.

On the market streets of the town, a large sea of people roam from stall to stall, buying smoked meats, freshly baked breads, the farmers’ latest pickings. It’s a jolly scene, the constant chatter of patrons and high-pitched yelps of young boys trying to direct potential customers to their father’s stalls. Zenitsu grew up on these streets, raised right alongside other peasant boys with no home or family to call their own. Perhaps it’s a sad story, one meant for lonely nights and listening ears, but it’s Zenitsu’s lineage. It’s what made him into what he is today, a thief with deft fingers and a pair of legs that could challenge a horse in a race.

An easy smile comes to his face. He’s long since grown used to the smell of piss and sweat clinging to the cobbled street, the hollow-eyed children staring long after the people carrying baskets and sacks of food. Everything is so horribly imperfect, but this is home. Hell, although he’s making his living in a dishonest way, it’s enough to keep a roof over his head and food in his tummy. And maybe, if he saves up enough coin, roll around in a bed of hay with a large breasted whore.

Sidestepping the crowd, he makes way towards the local tavern (Ye Olde Wife, can you believe that?), breakfast and busty barmaids on the mind. If possible, the patrons inside the tavern are nearly as loud as the ones outside. Kicking the door shut, Zenitsu heads for his usual spot at the bar, sliding onto the wobbly stool and shucking his hood down. Ale and body odor permeate his nose, the smell foul yet welcoming. Nothing is more greeting than sweaty men and alcohol.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” the owner’s crackly voice says.  A stout old man with wild hair and a bushy mustache, he’s about as rough as they come, but to Zenitsu, he’s probably the closest thing to family that he’s ever had.

“Oh, come on, Gramps,” Zenitsu says, tapping the bar top with his fingertips. “You love seeing me, eh? I bring you plenty of service-“

“You flirt with the girls in here more than you order anything,” Gramps spits. Even so, he starts to step away, already heading to the kitchen to fetch Zenitsu something to eat. “Ungrateful bastard – it’s a wonder you’re not a father yet.”

“Yet!” Zenitsu calls after him. “Don’t jinx me, Gramps!” Easing back, he turns around, resting his elbows on top of the bar. Now that he’s closer to the kitchens, the smell of succulent meat turning on a spit makes his mouth water and his stomach growl. Gods, he is hungry. While he could easily steal something from the stalls lining the market street, he normally comes to Gramps’ tavern for a proper meal. And yeah, maybe he ogles the barmaids while he’s at it, but it’s merely a dinner and a show for him.

“Oh, shit,” some random man sitting at a nearby table says. “You mean you haven’t heard about the capital?” Along with him sits another man – they’re most likely miners, if their builds and dirty fingernails say anything. Knocking back his cup, the other merely shakes his head. “Them bastards from the north – Nialliv – they stormed it. Took Dinton Keep as their own.”

Now, it’s usually polite to not listen in on others’ conversations, but this is Zenitsu here. For as long as he can remember, his sense of hearing is astronomically better than the average human’s, and it’s actually quite a useful tool when it comes to his particular jobs. But this… The capital city being taken over? How come he hasn’t heard anything before?

“You’re telling me that Dinton Keep isn’t ours? Watch the shite spilling from your mouth,” the other man grumbles.

“Aye, it’s true. Took in the wee hours of this morning, I tell you. Apparently, the king is dead.”

At that, Zenitsu stiffens. The king? Dead?

“Fuck,” the companion curses. “And they haven’t said anything yet?”

The first one shakes his meaty head. “Only a few know, I guess. The messengers probably all got their throats slit. Gods bless their souls. It’d be a miracle if we’re all not dead by the end of the month.”

“How many are dead?”

“Hundreds, I take it. Mostly guards and members of the royal court, probably. No point in killing civilians if you don’t want to clean up the mess.”

“And the prince?”

“Disappeared. Haven’t heard if they found his body or not.”

“Oi,” Gramps barks, slamming a plate down on the bar before Zenitsu.

With a jolt, Zenitsu yelps. Whipping back around, he flashes Gramps with wide eyes. “Gramps,” he whisper-yells, “is it true?”

Cocking a bushy brow, Gramps leans forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Is what true?”

“That the king is dead,” Zenitsu says, slowly. He can hardly believe the words are coming out of his own mouth.

Pointing a thick finger at him, Gramps flashes him a warning look. “It’s not your damn business spreading the news around. People are gonna be in a panic when it goes public.”

Zenitsu pales. “No way…”

“I had a carrier pigeon come in this morning,” Gramps continues, voice tight. “Unless they kick them bastards out of Dinton Keep, Ainamoryp can kiss its ass goodbye.”

Glancing down at the steaming meat and eggs in front of him, Zenitsu’s body immediately says that his appetite is gone.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Roman Sea, off the coast of Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 12:39

“Captain! Land clear up ahead!”

“Well, what the fuck you waiting for? This ship isn’t going to dock itself!” you screech.

The sky above is a limitless blue, not a hint of a cloud in the sky. The sun itself seems in a good mood, as does the waters. Your ship heads towards your homeland gracefully, the waves slapping against the sides in a hello, welcome back. As much as you love sailing and exploring new lands, home forever beckons for you, calls you back with welcoming arms. There’s nothing as relieving as setting foot on familiar land.

Although you’re young, you’re powerful. Already a captain of your own crew, the proud owner of The Pearl Lady, you’re meant to go places and the gods are surely smiling down at you. Granted, the overexposure of sun and salt water may have left your skin permanently freckled and mind scrambled, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re a force to be trifled with, and all be damned if they dare challenge you.

Hands settled on the wooden railing, you watch as the rest of your crew scrambles to prepare for docking, lowering the sails and readying the anchor. The coast of Ainanomyrp glimmers under the afternoon sun, truly a sight to behold, but something feels… off. Normally, other boats come to and from the mouth of inland, the capital city of Endeavor being a major port. However, there’s not another boat on the water, not even the small dingeys for fishing.

Your ship glides in smoothly, coming to a gradual stop by an open dock. Your crew pushes the anchor overboard, the salty water giving a final splash as your boat jolts to a stop. Hell, even the docks are unnaturally silent, not even a single ship hand or merchant in sight. All other vessels are docked, their decks bare of any people. Your crew shifts uneasily, clearly noticing the strange lack of other human beings.

“Uh, Captain?” the quartermaster asks you, hand instinctively landing on the butt of his pistol as he glances around, “Should we lift anchor and sail to another port?”

“Like hell we are,” you grunt, narrowing your eyes. Something’s coming. You can feel it.

Stepping away from the railing, you saunter down to the main deck, heading to the side where your crew set the bridge down. The clunk of wood striking wood echoes into the air; instead of it being a relieving sound – a sign that you’re truly home – it’s ominous. It’s only a matter of time before disaster hits.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” you tell your crew, “Something isn’t right.”

“Halt!” an unknown voice calls. Straining your neck forward, you catch sight of a small patrol of guards in dark gray armor clamber down the cobblestone steps leading from the streets to docks. While it’s somewhat of a relief to see actual human beings, you’re immediately on edge, body stiffening. Those are not the given uniforms of Ainamorypan soldiers.

“Fuck,” you grumble, biting the inside of your cheek.

Metal clanking against wooden boards fills the tense atmosphere as the patrol comes up to your ship. The group stands ramrod-straight, faces stoic, eyes sharp. The leader steps forward, neck craning as he looks up at you. “Who goes there?” he barks.

Clicking your tongue, you lean over the side of the ship, elbows resting on the weathered wood. “A bunch of merchants returning home. Everybody’s got to make a living somehow, eh? Now, if you’d kindly fuck off, I’d like to step on some actual dirt for once.”

The guard sneers, expression turning ugly as he flashes yellow teeth. “All incoming and outgoing ships are to be registered. And, as far as I’m concerned, your shitty dingey isn’t on the list.” With a metallic snap of his fingers, one of his followers hands him a clipboard and a hunk of charcoal. “Ship name, captain’s name, date of arrival and planned dismissal.”

At that, you bark out an incredulous laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? When was this instilled?”

“Just this morning, actually,” the guard snips. “Since I’m feeling merciful, I’ll let you off with a warning just this once. Follow these orders or we’ll have no other option than to imprison you.”

Prison? Seriously? Just who did this dickhead think he’s talking to?

Scoffing, you draw yourself to a full stand, placing your hands on your hips. You could easily pull out your pistol and try to shoot one of the damned guards, but lead balls aren’t going to do much against a full suit of armor. “And I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off.”

The same guard who gave the leader the clipboard and charcoal steps close and leans in, whispering something into the leader’s ear. The leader spares you a single glance, his eyebrow cocking in interest. With a wave of his hand, the rest of the patrol storm the ship, drawing their blades. Your crew readies their own blades and brandishes their pistols, murmuring unsure words.

“Captain (l/n) of The Pearl Lady,” the lead guard says, scribbling it onto his parchment. “Such a pleasure to meet a wanted criminal.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Dinton Keep’s dungeons, Ainamoryp, 492, May 3rd, 13:00

“Oi, oi! Keep your grubby hands off of me!” you bark, shoving yourself against the guards holding you by the biceps.

“Shut your damn trap, you filthy pirate,” the guard on your right seethes, his putrid breath clogging your nostrils. “Thinking you can just waltz right into Endeavor? What are you, an idiot?”

“Far as I was concerned, Endeavor used to be leagues more friendly than this horse shit.”

“I told you to shut up,” the guard barks. Lifting a hand, he cracks up alongside the back of your skull, leaving a thrumming ache. The other guard merely stays silent as he shoves you into the other’s arms, fishing a set of keys from his side and opening the door to a cell. “Fucking rot for all I care,” the guard spits, pushing you into the dingy space.

You sputter as you crash onto the jagged rock, your palms scraping against the surface. You hiss in pain as the guards slam the gate shut and lock it. The one who mocked you takes off with a bark of laughter as the other simply follows behind. “Bloody bastards,” you grunt as they disappear from sight. “I oughta wring their necks and hang them from the bow.”

“Are you alright?” a new voice speaks.

With a screech, you fling yourself to the side, your hip screaming in pain as a sharp rock digs into the flesh. You instinctively reach for your sword, only to be left blubbering curse after curse after remembering that the guards confiscated all of your weapons. Perched on the windowsill sits a boy no older than you, head topped with messy green curls and a face adorned with a sea of freckles.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” the stranger proclaims, waving his hands frantically before him. Hopping down from the wall, he holds his hands in front of him, much like he’s encountering a vicious wild beast. Which isn’t totally wrong, but still.

“Bullshit you didn’t! I’ll kick your ass, mate!” Scrambling onto your feet, your press your back against the cold stone wall, bloody hand clutching your bruised hip.

“I swear it! It’s just… Well…. Look, your hands are bleeding,” the stranger says, turning his hands so his palms are facing upwards. “Let me treat them.”

Your face curls into a snarl. “And why would I do that?”

“I’m a healer,” he continues, stepping forward and snatching your wrist. You yelp at the sudden contact and try to rip your hand away, but his grip is strong. Now that he’s up close and personal, you can’t deny the fact that he’s tall and muscular, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up and exposing the veins and scars riddling his forearms.  

Holding your wrist with one hand, the other hovers above your scraped, bloody palm. A golden light emits from his hand, casting a warm glow over your own. Ah, so this guy is a magic wielder. While it isn’t uncommon for people to practice magic, you yourself have never taken an interest in it. Magic can be a finnicky force to deal with, and one who cannot rein in its power may be subjected to a world full of hurt.

With a sigh, you keep your emotions under control and allow this stranger to continue his treatment. For one, this guy is healing you for free, and secondly, he appears as though he can easily throw you through the stone wall with little effort.

“There,” he says once he’s finished, gingerly retracting his hands and flashing you a tiny smile. “It’s all better now, see?”

Staring down at your hands, you flex them into fists, noticing how whatever tension that was in them had disappeared along with the scrapes. Magic can truly be a wonderous thing, but in the wrong hands… Well, things don’t turn out as pretty.

“I don’t get it,” you say, sidestepping the stranger and planting yourself on the pile of dirty hay strewn about the floor, “why is a healer in a dungeon, of all places?”

At your question, the stranger visibly perks up. He follows your movements, getting onto the floor and sitting across from you. “I guess a proper introduction is needed, huh?” he says, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. “My name is Izuku. Izuku Midoriya. It’s a pleasure!”

“I didn’t ask for your name,” you snap. “I asked you why you’re here, not who you are.”

At that, Izuku huffs and physically deflates. “You remind me a lot of Kacchan…”

“By the gods, do you know how to answer a simple question? You know what, don’t even answer that-“

“The king is dead,” Izuku says, cutting you off. His large eyes don’t hold their friendly glow anymore, but rather one of determination and anger. “He was killed last night.”

You blink rapidly at him, your mind throwing itself in for a loop. Wait, wait, the king is dead? How is that even possible? The king isn’t a weakling, and you’ve heard stories of him being a powerful fire sorcerer. But now that you think about it, it would explain the change in guards, the lack of people filling the once busy docks and streets…

You inhale sharply. “How?” you ask, voice small.

“Forces from Nialliv intruded the country last night and took Dinton Keep by force. People were…” Izuku stops, wets his lips. “People are gone,” he finally forces out. “The king is dead, the prince is nowhere to be seen, and all of Ainamoryp is going to lose hope.” Wringing his hands, his gaze drops. “I was here when the intrusion happened. I was fighting off enemy soldiers with all my might, but I couldn’t save the city. People are dead because I didn’t work hard enough.”

“And then you were captured,” you say. “But why not killed?”

“They found out I was a healer – well, I specialize in herbology, but the point still stands. They had men and women on their side who needed medical attention, and I was simply another pair of hands to them,” Izuku answers dryly. “They threw me in here once everybody was treated.”

“Then why’d you help them? They’re the enemy, you fool. You wanna know what I would’ve done? Slit every single last one of their throats.” Shaking your head, you lean back against the wall and laugh, but there’s no humor to it. “When you have the opportunity to fuck your opponent over, you take it.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Izuku snaps, clenching his fists in his lap. “I can’t stand seeing others hurt. I’m a healer, for gods’ sakes. Not everyone is some filthy, selfish pirate like you.”

Snapping your attention back to him, you send him a steely glare.

“Wait, wait,” Izuku hastily says, reaching up and smacking himself on the forehead, “I didn’t mean that-“

“You said what you said,” you interject. “And you know what? You’re right. I’m so fucking filthy and selfish that I’m the captain of The Pearl Lady. I bathe in blood and gold, you pathetic little twat. And I like it. So, do us both a favor, shut your damn trap, and leave me the hell alone.”

Izuku audibly gulps, his hands falling limp in his lap. You almost want to laugh at him; whenever somebody hears of your infamous title, their reactions are all the same. Despite the stigma towards pirates, you’re still pretty damn powerful, and your crew voted you as captain for a reason. Turning away from Izuku, you settle onto your side, willing for either sleep to take over or for Izuku to magically disappear.

Your quartermaster was right – you should’ve lifted anchor and docked somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

[asktheheirofslytherin]

[[OOC: Putting most of this one under a read more because it is very, very long. ]]

"Killing your father is not the greatest decision that you have made, Professor. It would mean that you have held a grudge against him for leaving you and your mother. It would also mean that you have at least pitied your mother for going through that and becoming mad at him for not being there for you, furious at your mother falling in love with that horrendous man. " Thirteen said absentmindedly before sighing.

"Don't mind about what I said." She told him as she waved it off.

She clenched her jaw and glared at him when asked about killing them.

"I may be powerful, Riddle, but I do not kill people without any real reason behind it. Yes, they may have tortured me throughout my childhood but I do not want to wish it upon anyone, not to mention, if I ever did kill them then it would mean that I have lowered myself to be at their level! I'm lucky and surprised that they have let life this long. Other escapees have tried to escape but they would always die. A miracle you would say for what happened to me yet a curse at the same time." She snapped at him unintentionally letting out a bloodthirsty aura, her eyes swirling red, her hair levitating a bit, and her mark glowing. She closed her eyes, let out a sigh as she relaxed, and went back to normal before she stood up from the chair.

"I'm sorry that I snapped, sir. It was uncalled for." She told him as she bowed to him before she sat back to her chair, holding her arm that held the mark, rubbing it sheepishly.

"Him? Oh, you don't want to know Him. Cain is a different person than Him. Too different, some might say that He is the punisher and Cain is the sinner." She told him as she looked down. Not wanting to look at him for her childish outburst.

"I'm sorry for my outburst, Professor. This conversation has fallen deep than it should have." She told him before she looked at him. She stood up and teleported behind him.

"It's too bad that you wouldn't remember any of this, Professor." She whispered to him before she touched on the back of his head and used one of her powers using the blue eyes, making him close his eyes and sleep.

His body limped on the chair and was about to fall on the floor before she catches him with the levitating spell.

She touched his shoulder and she teleported him to his bedroom. She levitated him in his bed carefully and tucked him. She snapped her fingers and changed his clothes to his sleeping clothes before walking to him. She touched his forehead lightly to lock their conversation away and hypnotized his memories a bit to the situation before the conversation and she dismissed him and she went to her dorm while he went to his home and sleep.

She sighed and teleported away from his room, after leaving him a small vial of blue grace, letting the professor sleep and gave him dreams on his dreams coming true, and protecting him without any nightmares.

She teleported to her dorm with her blindfold on and changed her clothes. She put the notes in her binder and went to sleep as the sun started to rise.

She silently thanked God that tomorrow was a Saturday and has no classes. She needs to get to the bunker again and fast. Some more research has to be done. But first, she was needed somewhere else.

Thirteen may have arranged his memories and such. But emotions were harder to control and manipulate. So Riddle will always have a nagging feeling about having to talk to Thirteen tomorrow morning, that is if he can catch up to her.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It was now Saturday morning and Thirteen had finished breakfast at the Great Hall. She walked to her dorm and waved her wand to reveal a fake floorboard beside her bed. She opened it and grabbed the backpack that was underneath it.

She concealed the board again then walked to the forbidden forest. She went deep inside the forest and then she saw the waterfall with some broken structures. Some of the structures had some unknown runes while some had sigils. For an average witch or wizard, they wouldn't recognize any of the drawings. But Thirteen did, how can she not if she was the one who put it there.

She was standing a few inches away before she put her hand in mid-air then the atmosphere started to gloss like it wasn't real, like it was a barrier. She smiled to herself and just went straight in.

She knew she was being followed again, she wasn't known for being discreet. She sighed but still kept walking towards a small cottage.

There was a little girl, with soft pale skin, black hair, and grey eyes and a little boy, with white hair, blue eyes, and pale soft skin who both looked to be 5 years old. They looked up to her and squealed as they ran to her, screaming, "Mama! Mama!"

She knelt and was tackled by her two loving kids.

"Hey, kids!" She told them with a laugh. She felt so carefree.

She kissed them both on their foreheads.

"Mama! When will you be staying with us again?" The little girl asked Thirteen.

"Summer is almost here, Constance." She replied to her with a pat on her forehead while her daughter smiled gleefully at her.

"Ma! After your school, can we go to France again?" The little boy asked her.

"Of course, Loki. Now that you mentioned school, how are you learning with Uncle Gabriel?" She asked the twins with a curious look in her eyes.

"We did good!" Loki told her with a grin.

"You two were the most mischievous and cunning little snakes!" A man with blonde hair and blue eyes said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

"Did you two do pranks to him again?" She asked them and they smiled sheepishly.

"I'll take that as a yes." She told them as she smirked at them.

"Hey, sis. Why do you have your blindfold on?" Gabriel asked her with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, about that, Gabes. Old habits die hard." She told him as she took it off before standing up and said to Gabriel, "Mm~ I smell something good. Did you cook fried chicken?"

"Yep and some adobo chicken and made some fruit salad."

"That sounds delicious! Come on kids, let's eat?" She asked her twins to which, to her surprise, shook their heads no.

That's odd, they would always jump at the word fried chicken.

"We want to play some more, mama!" Constance reasoned as Loki nodded.

"Hm... What about after eating I'll teach you some magical creatures?"

"Really?" Loki said to her with excitement in his eyes.

"Mhm, I learned about some new creatures from the books and professor,"

"Professor Riddle?" Constance said with her head tilted.

"Mhm." She said to her little angel.

"Yes! Professor Riddle is the best!" Loki said, jumping with glee.

"Really? Out of all the stories that she told you about her professors, you like Professor Riddle?" Gabriel asked the twins with a smirk on his face.

"Mhm! Oh, mom! Can we go meet him one day?" Loki asked his mother while Constance just nodded her head at her mother.

"Gee, I don't know. Professor Riddle is always busy with research and stuff."

"🥺" (←They did this look) This made the twins do the puppy eyes.

"Alright, I'll mention it to him later. Man, you two are so persuasive." Thirteen said to her kids as pinch their cute chubby cheeks.

'They're so cute and persuasive, damn. They might end the world with their cuteness,' She thought to herself.

"Yeah, after you explain about to these little twerps," Gabriel said to Thirteen as he walked to her.

"We're not twerps! You're just a jerk!" Constance retorted to Gabriel.

"Yeah!" Loki said as well. This made Thirteen and Gabriel laugh.

"Which reminds me, why do you like him so much?" She asked her twins curiously.

"I want to be like him when I grow up!" Loki reasoned to his mother.

"Makes sense since he is an interesting soul," Gabriel shrugged.

"I want to marry him," Constance said simply which made her mother's eyes go wide and Gabriel choke on his saliva suddenly making him cough.

"Why? You haven't seen him what he looks like, what if he had buck teeth?"

"I don't care, as long as he's mine! " Constance said a smile that made her mother worried, Loki says?" And Gabriel laugh.

"Great! My daughter is persuasive and possessive! What did you do, Gabriel?!" She said to Gabriel.

"Don't look at me! They're your kids! They came out of you! You should know that! And besides, it won't surprise me if she ever becomes a yandere." Gabriel said as he mockingly put his hands up in a surrender motion as he took a step back.

The mother and the twins looked at each other and tilted their heads at Gabriel.

Gabriel had his eyes wide and said, "Nope! Oh hell now! Just go inside and eat dammit. Food's probably cold now."

Then they went inside the cottage and ate some food.

---------

“Well of course I held a grudge,” Tom said, shrugging. “I do not see how the need for revenge could be a bad thing. The feel of the final act - the fear in the man’s eyes as I confronted him, raised my wand, let him comprehend what was about to happen-” Tom’s eyes glinted red for just a moment as he allowed himself to relish the memory - and then he recalled he was with a student. This was not appropriate in the slightest, he chided himself. “Anyhow,” he continued, shrugging. “I feel that more than enough of a good reason to kill, no? Ah, I suppose we are dissimilar. Perhaps for the best, then.” 

“Outburst? Oh, no, it is fine, and facinating - and perhaps even fair after my own indiscretio-” And then everything went dark. 

-

The following morning, with no memory of his late-night conversation with Thirteen, Tom ate his eggs with relative unease. He was not quite sure what caused this - he had a productive night working on research, then slept quite well - but he had a feeling he was forgetting something, needed to do something. He double and triple checked his calendar, both official and... extracurricular, but no, there was nothing. And so he scanned the Great Hall, eyes lingering on the Slytherin table. There had been a student he had to meet with. The odd girl, Thirteen. If only he could remember why. And he did not see her seated with her peers. Of course not. 

Still, he had seen her on weekends before, wandering the grounds, alone. Perhaps he would go for a walk after he ate, and if all went well, perhaps he would run into her.  

[erensnubs]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖

Colt Grice x F! Reader Dystopian AU

Chapter 1

Word Count: 1.6k

Chapter 1 

"Oi, Levi." 

The man looked up from his phone and swivelled his gaze towards you with a disinterested expression. 

"Dear lord, what is it now?" His eyes flicked back to the phone, tapping his foot impatiently. 

You rolled your eyes at his actions and spread your arms out. 

"Do I look hot enough to seduce men so they can sign a really important document because I know they won't listen to me regardless?" 

You twirled yourself around and walked to Levi and posed like it would change the way you looked. It was an old dress, pretty and it barely fit you but it wasn't up to the standards of fashion. It hugged your body in just the  way, and it didn't stand out as much but you felt clean and moveable. You tried to do your makeup but it was back to the regular eyeliner, dark eyeshadow and dark outer lips. You awkwardly smiled at Levi as you posed in yet another cringe worthy way. 

Levi looked up at you and set his phone down on the table. He stood up, and looked up at you and examined your dress. 

After moments of waiting he finally answered, "Why must you worry about your looks? You look beautiful as always and it's the actual document and effort you put in that counts, yes?" He looked at you again for confirmation. 

"God Dammit Levi, are you attempting to make me cry before going out?" you said quietly. 

Levi put out his arms and you fell into them, gripping on to his back, tilting your head back hoping the tears didn't fall. 

Levi was your friend from that hell hole of a place that was "home" for the majority of your life, he was 10 years older than you and you were just a child lost in an unfamiliar area where he found you attempting to make a map to retrace your steps. Your stupid 7 year old self was tearing up the leaves on the ground and tried making a pathway on the pavement when the wind just blew your "guide" away. Levi appeared from the gas station store, wondering how a kid like you was still awake at 3 in the morning. That was how you met. 

 Both of you were living in a place, where you couldn't really call home. You had other friends of course but you stuck with Levi through everything life threw at you, jobs, family issues, relationships. Despite all these hardcomings you were able to get an education, attend college and Levi was able to make a living working for the government as part of the Survey Corps, a specialized group that recons and finds new places and areas for sustainable living. 

Ever since what people called “The Warning”, a series of natural disasters and catastrophes that happened as if appeared from magic, governments have been trying to find volunteers who were willing to find homes for the people who were now without them, due to the catastrophic events going underway.  .

Though you didn't believe it was magic, since humans tend to fuck up their living in some sort of way, you went along with this magic thing, but in reality you knew if people would just believe this was caused by pollution, green house gases, and global warming then we could possibly be of more help than the public. But of course, you were the young, radicalized woman who spoke too much. So you kept quiet.  

Right now, you worked in the same sort of vicinity as Levi. You got a job as a researcher and data collector. While Levi was working out there finding areas to live. You were researching why these events keep on happening, what places ARE suitable, how we can help the common people find homes and security. Levi was the astronaut, you were the astronomer. 

Both of you decided to live together in a condo-apartment that was quite big, well because unlike Levi your job paid MUCH more than your average salary and much more than he made.  You lived together since you entered college so it wasn't that big of a deal. When you got engaged Levi offered to leave, but you insisted he stayed. Of course, you didn't have to worry about that anymore. 

Unfortunately. 

Levi patted your back affectionately, "Best keep going [Name]. I can see Erwin getting out of the car to pick you up." 

You peeped over Levi's shoulder and stared down at the ceiling to floor windows, and sure enough the blonde's slick hair was coming from his car and onto the sidewalk. 

You let go of your embrace and gave a half smile, "Ok… I'll see you later at the after party yeah?" 

Levi nodded and tilted his chin towards the door, signaling you to get a move on. You gave his shoulders one last squeeze as you walked over to the door, slipped on your dress shoes and walked to the elevator. 

*

The doors of the elevator opened and you were in the lobby of the apartments and sitting on the couch was the one and only, Erwin Smith. He was head of the Survey Corps and your "date" for the charity ball.

"Date" was the code word when it actually meant, "let's go to the higher up's ball together so we can convince them to sign papers and give us permission to do shit because you're too scared to take risks to help save the environment." 

You raised your eyebrow at Erwin as he adjusted his tie. He was definitely going all out today, dressed from black, head to toe with a clean blue tie to contrast. 

He walked over to you and hooked his arm through yours, "You look fancy [Name], seeing a special someone at the ball?" 

You swatted him, "Oh please Erwin, I [Name] is into the 50 year old men who just want money. Yes, I am dressing up for someone- and speak for yourself, is someone going that you're dying to see?" 

He rolled his eyes as he opened the glass doors, "You know I strictly mean business [Name]. That's why we're doing this, is it not?" 

You stepped through and outside the apartment complex where Erwin's car was. He opened the door for you, as chivalrous as he could always be. You slipped in with Erwin following.

"I know you're in love with Levi, Erwin sweetie stop denying it~", you say shifting your position in your seat as you kick back the recliner and lay down. 

"[Name]," he says sternly, putting the car in gear. 

You punch him in the arm, "You know it's true old man. The way you smile, the way you look at him with adoring eyes just screams-" 

Erwin cuts me off, "And we're now a happy couple, going to the ball."

You flexed your fingers and laid them on the dashboard, "Yes. Time to convince the higher ups to let us have more recon missions and funding for those." 

Erwin nodded and started to drive, "Hange will also be there to help support us in case you're wondering." 

You nodded. You and Hange were sort of old flings, but ultimately friends. It started back in college and in your earlier years of working for the government but now you were anything but romantic. Of course they teased you and made sexual and romantic innuendos at you for the sake of fun, and more than once you've fallen for it, but of course Hange just calls you "a friend with 'explicit' history". 

Right now, both of you worked as research experts. While you were head of the department, Hange was the bridge between your area of expertise to Erwin's. 

All of you have been hoping for some sort of funding and financial support to help with your recons and expeditions but the government officials weren't up to it. 

Unfortunately, for them that will all change for tonight. 

"Time to convince old men to write their name on a paper," you muttered to yourself, as you rubbed your forehead just thinking about it. 

Erwin laughed as he turned a right and stopped near the opera area where the ball was taking place. The whole block was covered in lights and people wearing suits, dresses. Limos were lined up on the sidewalk getting ushered into a parking area. The Opera, Frieda Reiss Opera House was designed so at night the reflecting lights would shine onto it making it glow a blue-white light. Leading into the house you could see the familiar marble steps that shone like ice, and were shiny like a mirror. 

The government was holding a special ball for their anniversary of having "successful" missions. Of course on the outside, everything looked progressive but the public doesn't know about the countless lives, sleepless nights, endless money that was counted. 

"Damn, Erwin we came in a Subaru and everybody else came in limos? You are a cheap skate," you say as you adjust your dress and unbuckle your seatbelt. 

Erwin pulled over to the side, and parked the car. He fixed his hair, even if it was already in place. He opened the door and stepped out and you did the same. He went over and hooked your arm to him and you started to walk over to the Opera house. 

"Yes [Name] call me a cheapskate, but we are acting very cheap considering our little plan." 

"True, true but we could've spared some to look a little more extinguished," you sigh. 

He scoffs,"Don't act too shallow now Dr. [Name], you need to get your act together to present the plan." 

You walk up the stairs of the opera house, shoes clicking. Right. That was what you're here for. Convince the higher ups to sign the paper. To save lives. So that this mission was not like the failure the previous turned out to be. 

So the others wouldn't suffer the same fate as he did. 

Next

[chefjarredjarred]

Anxiety. (excerpt)

People. “They're the worst,” Jerry once concurred with Elaine. And they are.

So I didn't really want a job as a verification specialist for a background check company,  making a hundred phone calls a day to anywhere in the country, but there was a time when it was a job I needed; it was remote so I could do it from my living room, it supplemented my main income from cooking and barbacking, and I was allowed to adjust my own schedule around that other work and my Tuesday morning therapy sessions.

But Jesus Christ, the people: the combative, the confused, the cavalier, the crotchety; the mousy, the crazy, the stupid, the lazy; the disgruntled, the bitter, the hateful, the bossy; the scammers, the liars, the paranoid; the unintelligible, or, through no fault of their own, the foreign; the mouth breathers, the assholes; the fast food workers, who are always a grab bag. I got them all, every day. And just one nice old lady from Florida, Ms. Charlene.

I got the job in part by cherry-picking some of my old chef experience and molding it all up into a wad of passable bullshit in the interview. Not lies, you know, just bullshit. I sold the personal importance of always speaking concisely and effectively, and of remaining cool and courteous and logical even when being angrily berated by the most ignorant, disrespectful know-nothings. Okay, so that one tiny lie. I made no mention of smashing saucers, slinging sheet pans, or every chef's favorite, smiting servers. (But come on, FOH, y'all know when you're asking for it.) I gave no indication that my rage, anxiety, and feelings of undeserved victimhood and exhaustion were a nest of coiled snakes, something every person who has ever worked in a kitchen around me could sense. Do your job, leave the attitude outside the kitchen doors, and speak only of pith and pertinence during service. Don't fuck with me, don't get fanged.

A bartender I worked with for years once called me unapproachable. It was in the same breath that she called me a dick, proving that the robotic personality of feigned professionalism and phony positivity (every company has their Stepford Wives, don't they?) on which she prided herself—loathed by so many in the restaurant—could be cracked, and I loved that I had been the one to do it. But the part about being a dick wasn't a bold quotable. My being unapproachable became a favorite running joke for years, perverted and perpetuated by me. Y'all think I'm unapproachable? I am. Fuck off.

But that's truncated, for effect and time. Fuck off, I have a job to do, is the real, full statement, and a linchpin tenet of my style of cheffing. I don't need loud voices, loud noises, disrespect, emotional clouding, confusion, excuses, etc., or that irritable anxiety snake could be disturbed. “Just the facts, ma'am.” There's just no time for the extraneous.

Don't disrupt the flow of food.

That's the principle I emphasized in the interview, just folded into the bullshit wad that made it applicable to phoning idiotic, ornery strangers—and Ms. Charlene. Obviously, I had to omit the venom, violence, viciousness, the vitriol. There was already a tiny stumble in there when the interviewer asked if I would describe myself as an introvert, and I, being honest to a fault at the most inappropriate moments, confessed that I would.

“You do know what this job is, right?”

I actually didn't, right up until about two seconds before that question, but I recovered gracefully, explaining some crap about being able to turn on the smiles and pleasantries when I meant business, something like that.

Fake smiles. Ugh. God dammit. I actively campaign against them. A fake smile is the opposite of Fuck off, of the pith and pertinence, the order and efficiency I expected, of just the facts. It's a capitulation, a white flag.

You know what I absolutely hate more than people? The expectation that I'm obligated to give them a fake smile. It's a banner that says you're willing to accept the extraneous, the unexpected, that whatever they are about to say and the way they will say it has some compelling power over you, and that you have all the time in the world to stand there and graciously let it be unloaded onto you. That your anxiety is not there and not real.

That you are approachable.

Fake smiles are blood in the water. That's right, when it goes from snakes to sharks.

“What we always say here is 'Smile and dial!'”

It was a virtual interview, and he couldn't see or hear my feet double-kick-drumming the floor. But what he did hear and what I couldn't believe was the fake laugh I forced through my fake smile. Jesus, Jarred, you're escalating? Allowance is support. “Sure, sure,” I said, as if I were a lifelong brown-noser. You're a disgrace.

“If you can run a kitchen, I have no doubt that you can do this.”

I didn't either. That's misinformation, that anxiety is simply fear. I wasn't afraid I would fail (literally anyone, barring anxiety, can be a verification “specialist”). In fact, I was totally confident I could succeed...theoretically. He said it: If I could run a kitchen, I could do this. The things that worried me were the scheduling, sleeping, caffeinating, eating, speaking, putting on my fake personality with my fake smile, and juggling and maintaining it all every day without falter, without letting on that there was any internal difficulty. I worried not about my actual job performance, but how I might struggle to simultaneously perform and hide my character flaws, i.e. the stuff that I left hanging out in the open when I was a chef. Does that make any sense?

Anxiety, not fear.

So the job was simple, but not easy, and there was a lot to make an anxious person anxious: the people, of course; the never-ending flood of calls; the quick navigating of the system when someone backpedaled or said something inaccurate or swung their mood in an instant; the software glitches; the hold music. Every second of the workday, even your coffee-caused poop break, was timed and factored in to your production average. You were judged and graded by making a ton of calls and/or closing as many cases as you could, which sounds fine, but is actually decided by chance more than some mathematical guarantee. That angered me the most, watching my closes and “touches” tabulated throughout the day, working against each other, my percentage of success being stretched thinner and thinner as I piled up calls that became mere touches rather than closes. It was the opposite of what we really wanted, and the secret little opposite of what we were trained to believe. The pessimist in me knew that the given goals were just out of reach, of course, so we would unknowingly meet the real goals and feel worthless at the end of the day, like we hadn't done enough. The realist in me hated the pretending that we had any control over it. The fatalist in me knew that it didn't matter, but could not force the crippled, anxious existentialist in me to just shut the fuck up.

...Oh, there is no optimist in here, if you were waiting for it.

I knew the fatalist was right after a sweet, timid childcare worker put me on hold to find something useful for me, which would only be a different number or a different person or, if life were easy, the name of a recognized third party verification website. This was 10:40 in the morning, in my first hour of the workday that was already a little too unfruitful. I watched the timer tick away, and when she returned, she had found...an unrecognized third party verification website. That meant I had to type a message into our Teams chat to request a supervisor's review and approval to put the name of the website in the little box and move to the next call.

Eight minutes had now passed as I waited for an answer. I had let the worker, Taylor, hang up already so she could get her eyes back on what wild heathens she may have had under her watch. It was a personal rule of mine to never hold restaurant workers or childcare workers hostage on the phone, because their work was more important than mine. I thought about the time my mom came to pick me up from one of these daycare facilities, walking in at the same time as another little boy's father, together to catch the perfect and precise moment that I socked that boy right across his jaw with full force, superhero super-spinning into that punch in defiance of his superior strength and grip of my head as he had tried to slam my skull into a wooden shelf for a second time. We were bloody, snotty, and sweaty in the throes of killer instinct, but I still caught the looks of horror on our parents' faces. Why the fistfight happened, I don't remember, but how? Well, because someone who was supposed to be paying attention, wasn't. Kids will go feral and push the boulder on Piggy as soon as your back is turned. I let Taylor off the phone for that reason. I waited for a supervisor's response in the chat, watching the seconds count on and that first hour, and thus the rest of my day and any hope of average achievement, drift away from me. They told me the site was no good and I needed to call poor Taylor back and try again. I sighed, copied the number and clicked the button, explained to her what was happening, and with real politeness she placed me, again, on hold. She came back with a phone number but the same uncertainty.

But in the chat, a supervisor had offered another phone number, different from what I was now taking down on the call. I was urged to try that one instead, so I let Taylor go back to the children a final time, and made my third phone call of the case. An automated message finally pointed me to a recognized third party verification website, and gave the particular employer code needed to access it. The anxiety snake and the rage snake were waking and knotted. I clicked the Other Automated Method button...and the system skipped on to complete the case, without letting me input the website or the code. “No, hell no.” I backed up and tried again. Same result, the skip. I went back to the chat and explained, and typed “Can someone please help me before my head explodes” with no punctuation.

A supervisor called me, and I shared my screen with her. “Let's see what happ—Oh, the client put it on hold, so just exit. It doesn't matter.”

It doesn't matter.

11:01. One close, 13 touches. I was white hot.

The anxiety, the rage, the pessimism, realism, fatalism, the whole nest of snakes was awake and wiggling, tossing, tangling themselves up like a... Well, you know. Like a rubber-band ball. I violently ripped the headset off of me, pushing breath through my teeth like the snarling little Jarred who punched that stupid kid in the mouth in the daycare brawl. I thought about that famed image of the snake eating its tail, whatever it's called. I thought about quitting. I thought about how two days before, my therapist and I had tried to come up with a suitable and available grounding technique I could try to prevent this exact, inevitable moment, this kind of anxiety attack. I thought about telling her how I thought that I was failing at everything. You're a disappoi— Shut the fuck up, Jarred—

It doesn't matter? I thought about that, that every moment of the day was part of the calculation of my performance grade for something ultimately shrugged off. That I spent 20 fucking minutes wasting my fucking time to get something that doesn't fucking matter but earns for me a judgment as if it does fucking matter.

But I thought about how I needed that little bit of extra money, and the other reasons for seeking and taking the job. Breathe, Jarred.

And that was not an isolated incident. Every day I fought for the energy and will to tether myself with the headset, log in, and hear the first ring. It came immediately, every single morning. I'd close my eyes and siiiigh through that first ring, just before being snatched along and pummeled by the frenzy.

I tried earnestly the smile-and-dial one time. I felt like Nicolas Cage in one of those especially wacky scenes of Face/Off. A total psycho, unhinged.

The calls were recorded and scrutinized, for quality and legality, and a handful a month were sent back to me to review whatever I had done wrong, or what I could do better.

Ah, yes. So there was another itchy, irritating thread of anxiety even on the less violent days.

Do you ever hear your own recorded voice and you hate yourself and wish you had never been born? Yeah, me too. So I only ever listened to one call and that was enough of that. I didn't want to hear myself. That voice wasn't mine, it was some cartoon-like, nasally Billy Bob Thornton's voice, reverberating somewhere way up high in the sinuses.

A hundred calls a day is a lot of talking. I began obsessing over how I pronounce—among many other things—the number four. There were fours everywhere, embedded, like chocolate chips in cookie dough, throughout almost every case number, and in our callback number I had to recite on dozens of voicemails per day. I wondered if I could trust my own ears in hearing the way I would say it, or if in reality I sounded like I was four. Fohwuh. Every day I ran this mental gamut of self-critique and insult, concentrating insanely on the most minute and deliberate flicks and curls of my tongue and lips. Any word becomes weirdly unnatural when you pay such specific attention to it. But I put so much (too much) effort into working on a competent phone voice not only so I wouldn't sound like a jackass, but so I could be efficient in my work and thus keep up with the production quota. I needed 20 touches an hour, not 13, so I needed people to understand me so I could get in, get out, and get on the next call. My strategy was to try and emulate the radio voice of Christopher Kimball—polite, proper, pronounced, professional. In my dirty pajamas, sitting on a lumpy pillow on a hand-me-down office chair as it was clawed to pieces by my screaming cats, I wanted to sound like I was wearing a bow tie. Like I was in a real office without cats, with a real college degree framed proudly on the wall. Polished and prepared.

It's hard work, if you can imagine. I'm not a talker. I don't like strangers. They're unpredictable. Any unexpected wrench in the routine could prove how fragile the facade is, that I'm actually a wobbly stack of quivering, anxious gremlins pretending to be a presentable person in, I guess, an imaginary bow tie.

It's hard work, if you'll let me say that again. But I thought I was doing pretty well. I hadn't cussed anyone out and I hadn't hurled the computer through the window, at least.

Then one day I called an office in Shelby, North Carolina. A woman answered, lazily, and I stated my reason for calling. She just said, “Hold on,” dismissively, with no practiced professionalism whatsoever. There's a lot of that out there. A rare treat then it was when I spoke with anyone trying to exude the same level of maturity as I, during business hours. My Kimball voice was for your benefit, lady. You didn't care. I know this because instead of really putting me on hold, instead of pressing a button to leave me in that telephonic waiting area listening to one of those overused cheap songs, like the one with the incessant MIDI claps that makes my toes tense and my teeth clench and jarringly reminds me that the anxiety is always bang-bang-banging at the door of the closet I locked it in, instead of just conducting two seconds of mundane business like a normal goddamn person, this woman just set the phone down on her desk and, evidently sickened beyond composure, blurted to her coworker, “God, I hate when someone clears their throat while I'm on the phone with them.” I did?

There I was, exposed, a bunch of phlegmy gremlins, collapsing and scrambling. Instantly I remembered the time my dad and stepmom asked me if I was on some kind of drug, because I cleared my throat “a lot.” Yeah, I don't know what they were talking about either, but apparently this involuntary habit is remarkably frequent. And a hundred calls a day I was doing this. How many of these people find me disgusting, inhuman, or think I'm on drugs? How about people in everyday life? Do my friends mock me? Who taught you how to function, Jarred? My mind spiraled, the snakes squirmed and seethed.

The rest of the phone call was stiff and clumsy, tears welling like a porn star's while I silently packed down the coughs and chokes congesting behind whatever ball of bile bottlenecking at the back of my throat, because I should die right on the living room carpet, sacrificial and blue, lest I irk this absolute cuntbag's social sensitivities, gurgling grotesque and oozing disease.

But am I crazy or...ahem...is that just trivially fucking inoffensive? If I had frog squatted on my desk and—“Verify this, bitch!”—farted into a metal basin full of Cracker Barrel gravy, then sure, be mad. Slam the phone down. Say to the guy by the copier, “Why me?!” and vow to get me fired. But if a natural, nonchalant throat-clearing infuriates you enough to comment on it, you're honestly just an asshole. It's not a frog squat gravy fart, it's not a rude personal affront. It's somewhere way below open mouth chewing, there around unfortunate but necessary nose blowing. I'm gross, you're gross, we're all gross. Get over it, and then, Fuck off, I have a job to do.

I did briefly wonder if maybe she's an anxious person too, a gremlin, maybe her facade is as fragile as mine, but I don't think so, because her attitude when she answered my call had already indicated to me that she never dressed up in a fake bow tie. She thinks she's a normal person: reckless, careless, unprofessional. No phone tone, no Kimball timbre. And because of that, she gave me another thing to worry about, to nag at me, something uncontrollable that I'd be trying to temper, something unconsciously mechanical now made noticeable and manual and clumsy. Thanks.

I was just worried about my goofy voice.

If you're thinking that it's all just a little silly and ridiculously minuscule, then congratulations, you're one of those “normal” people, like Ms. Shelby North Carolina. You make our lives worse.

[danwhobrowses]

WWE Royal Rumble 2021 - Initial Thoughts

I know I’m late, but employment is still a thing, and I had to prioritize that over an all-nighter, but it’s time for the Royal Rumble, one of the more exciting shows of WWE’s schedule, so let’s get on with it!

Spoilers for Royal Rumble, you have been Warned

I might not invest too much in kickoff matches but the Women’s Tag Match was not a good time

It was fine before the end, but who the hell decided that Charlotte should control 90% of the champions’ offense and have the hot tag!? Asuka is the RAW WOMEN’S CHAMPION, not Charlotte. After the tag Asuka literally had one spot and she was dead, completely taken out of the match for *checks notes* being thrown over the Announcer’s Table...you know that thing several wrestlers come back from easily.

The finish was just too much too, Ric distraction didn’t work, Lacey distraction didn’t work, Kirufuda Clutch didn’t work but then the brass knuckles did. Too much.

And why TF are we putting titles back on Nia!? We should’ve just given the titles to the Riotts, or the winner of the Women’s Dusty Classic. It also cuts me deep that Asuka and Shayna are treated this way, even as champion Asuka is a side character to Charlotte T_T

Main show though and I don’t like the package and interviews between entrances

Drew vs Goldberg was just...meaningless.

It was cringy enough that Cole had to spout drivel to make 60 year old Goldberg seem strong but to have Drew be ‘injured’ by a barricade spear - something much more tired wrestlers have and will get back up from in less time and continue a longer match - was daft. Also saying that Goldberg’s spear or jackhammer is the best move of all WWE is stupid, it was a WCW thing

Thank God Drew Won, but the post-match does remind you of the meaningless circumstances this feud came about. Suddenly Goldberg is okay with Drew’s same manners of respect

I mean, Carmella’s entrance and gear is cool, but do you think it eats at Corey a little that Carmella’s ‘behind the curtain’ bit is a tad...red light district?

Sasha’s promo didn’t hit for me unfortunately

Reginald didn’t deserve to be ejected for that! He caught Sasha and get beaten up for it

Jesus Carmella! Sasha got barely any of that dive

Screeching and faffing aside, Carmella got a good showing...I do hate quick tap outs in title matches though

Sami cuts a good promo, but his content wasn’t exactly the best. New Day are hardly the management’s faves, it’s taken this long for E to get a singles run, Fans literally had to Yes Movement their way into giving Kofi the world title.

New Day’s Brodie gear was good though

Bad Bunny as the ‘Biggest Latin Artist’? Is Cole for real? I didn’t even know who he was before today

If the song is about Booker T then why is he dancing around GI Bro?

Come on Book, you hang on the Sucka! That’d be like if the Rock just went ‘If ya smell what the Rock is cooking’ without the drags or pauses

Ric’s ‘with a tear in my eye’ promo was after the Rumble though...

It’s actually a sad stat that just over half of the Rumble winners win titles

No Morrison segment for the escape spot!? He did it as much as Kofi dammit!

Sorry Greatest Royal Rumble is not canon for me

This Stat Attack has taken far too long

I’m okay with Mike Rome but couldn’t a woman have announced the Women’s Rumble? Where’s Lillian at!?

NAOOOOOOOMIIIIIIIIIIIIII GIRL WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?

That hair is amazing as well

I know you can’t say it, but we all remember that Benoit won the rumble in the first two as well

Was...Bianca wearing earrings on her entrance, she looked like she was taking them off

Billie actually had the right idea, can’t be in the match until you enter the ring, it’s clever stuff

That tank did not look like it was meant to turn that direction XD

It actually surprises me every time how tall Shotzi is, I always imagine her short

Billie no...not with Shayna

The piped boos are highly unrealistic to boo even a heel Toni Storm

Shotzi eliminated and then horrible singer Jillian comes in? Urrrrgh, Bad Singer Jillian was terrible

Wrestling wise she hasn’t missed a beat though

Billie’s surprisingly being a highlight here with actual narra-OHMYSHITITSVICTORIA

Gear was a bit meh but Victoria definitely can still go

Oh Peyton the purple looks good on you, and her Widow’s Peak was not bad at all

Ah, good for Santana, for a moment I thought it said Santina and got a very bad chill

Damn Liv, Speed Machine!

Ooof, the betrayal is real Billie

THIS IS MY BRUTALITY!

Somehow I’m genuinely upset by every elimination so far, good job!

Aaaaaand then they got rid of Victoria and brought on Charlotte to immediately take out Rhea -_-

That was a clever move from Bayley but damn Ruby landed hard

Are we seeing a Bayley/Peyton team? Or is she just eliminating the Riotts for revenge for Billie, but also Liv Nooooo!

Torrie now, eh okay

Ouch for Dana

Lacey...no, this ain’t working

Poor Peyton, her elimination was a side chapter

And we missed Bayley’s elimination!? For Shame

Mickie! Good to see ya! Aaaaand being beaten by Charlotte...

Nikki Cross is back too! Hopefully they find a good story for her

Alicia Fox? I guess she sobered back into the good gra...R-Truth? No

Oh yeah, Humberto is a thing

Jerry shut the fuck up!

The 24/7 stuff was super unnecessary, we did not need to take focus off this match

Lacey eliminating Mickie, rude.

Dakota should’ve gotten more time, she barely lasted a minute

Reginald again deserves better

See Tamina vs Rhea would be exciting...if Tamina was booked better

Naomi’s chemistry with Bianca is really insane right now

Lana *reminded of her feud with Shayna and Nia* Also Lana *goes for Rhea*

That was a hard tackle on Alexa by Rhea...aaaaand she’s eliminated mid ‘transformation’ a bit worthless for me

Road Warrior Ember Moon! And right into the Eclipse that’s the good shit

Baszler probably shouldn’t have eliminated Lacey story-wise

The Betrayal is real for Tamina as well

What’s with the crazy camera cuts!?

Nia eliminating Baszler? Nah...

Hold on Cole, baiting Nia over the ropes isn’t a ‘tremendous elimination’

The betrayal is real for Lana too, Nattie sure shrugged off that double assault

I get that the narrative is that Charlotte has beaten both Bianca and Rhea before, but to hang against both of them after already being in a match and hanging on from two apron attacks was daft. Stop making her super strong, she’s mega talented yes but giving her the Brock Lesnar energy does her no favours

That close call though with Rhea and Bianca was great, need more spots of two wrestlers about to be eliminated at the same time

The final bit of chain wrestling too was great, that’s what you need at the final part of a rumble, the mini-match

I had Rhea as my win prediction but am more than happy for Bianca, who was my second choice. Winning at No. 3 is great and her emotional promo just gets her more over. Bianca vs Sasha’s gonna be wild too

Overall the Women’s Rumble was good, most of the women got shine and there were a few mini stories too, do wish that more time was given to some women and that Sonya was in the rumble but the returns were good and most of the eliminations got me good

Miz talking about guaranteeing a championship run like he didn’t lose the last cash-in and didn’t have a chance to cash in previously this night when Drew was ‘reeling’ from the barricade spear.

I reiterate that I wish Sonya was in the rumble, but do like her endorsement of Bianca

Again, this 24/7 stuff is wrong place and time right now

Last Man StANDing Match for the UniVERSal Championship

Cole, there is Champion’s Advantage. Triple H vs Michaels Last Man Standing, neither men made the 10 so Trips kept the title, 17 years ago. Royal Rumble 2004.

See, this is where a Finisher Spotfest works, because it’s not about pinfalls it’s about keeping people down

The camera switches are not doing good on this portion of the side of the thunderdome

Yes, attacking the knees, this is the Cerebral ‘rope breaks with his pinkie finger’ Owens I like to see

Ooof the Golf Cart, a la Kane and Stadium Stampede

Why is this training area just like a second arena

Lil’ running ref in the background

Right into that conveniently placed mini-ladder

Not the forklift! Think of Judy Bagwell!

Oh that curtain is the thing Becky took a photo of! I mean she was always gonna be backstage

Corey before the match ‘there must be a winner’, Corey after Owens went through the stage LED ‘The ref should consider stopping the match’

Did the Ciampa move there to stand up

I don’t think you’re allowed to use a Ref Bump that way

Then the Second Ref restarts the count and stops at 5!? If this doesn’t come back next SD it’ll be a misstep

It was a physical match, not the best I think the finish brought it down. The problem is that KO has lost 3 times now and the last time is a botch finish, and we can’t have him lose again - the poor guy needs a win

ON THIS DAY, I SEE CLEARLY!

I will say this immediately, revealing Edge and Orton as 1 and 2 beforehand was a terrible idea, just because you don’t have a live crowd doesn’t mean the people watching from home can’t be surprised

‘Number 3 is the worst number to draw on average’ - Belair just won at No. 3

Ali at 4? Then went after Edge and not Orton?

Sami, just don’t get in Orton’s face

Refs what are you doing? No rules in Rumble, where were you with Nia and Shayna with that logic

‘What does Shin need to do to be more successful?’ - for one not face AJ Styles, he is still a tag, US and IC champ as well as a RR winner, that’s quite successful

Carlito finally shows after the Legends Night tease and yes those are some abs

So...Randy’s just sleeping with this knee injury

Big E enters with some snappy camera angles again

I was hoping for more Ali - especially since Ricochet came immediately after - buy angry E was nice to see

Wait is that Elias’ entrance? Where’s the guitar strum?

Priesty, wonder if this is his main roster call

What DJ leaves his equipment on stage anyway?

‘The biggest star in the world in the music business’ - for real?

‘I’ve heard of flying squirrels but flying bunnies!?’ - Corey you need to watch Tokyo Joshi Pro, they got a flying sugar rabbit

To quote Ross Tweddell, MMMmmm Riddle...does not do it for me

Stop with the camera cuts I beg of you!

Mayor of Knox County!?

Ricochet eliminated by Kane, le sigh

The betrayal is real for DBry

Big Elim for Priesty though

‘Now it’s a Royal Rumble’ - reminder that Edge is a KOTR winner too, and that Nakamura is the King of Strong Sty-oh and Corbin eliminated him :/ what was the gauntlet about if you’re gonna Corbin him?

Otis’ new gear is slick

aaaaand Corbin’d again

Big Dom Fuck im Uhhhhhh Spinebuster’d

Damn he got him though

Dang that bounce sound from DBry

Bobby no why you gotta do Dom like that!?

Hurricane back from his Gangrel crossing and disposing Sammy Guevara’s broken body in Elite Deletion to do another rumble

One of these days, he’ll hit that Chokeslam and shit will go wild

Christian! This time getting the more emphatic reaction

Oh that smile, that hits you in the chest cavity...then Riddle ruins it

Rey comes in and WWE made him an advertisement ¬_¬

Edward James Omos what are you doing? well...I know what he’s doing, IC feud between AJ and E

Edward James Omos fuck you for eliminating Rey

The betrayal is real for Shamu

Cole how did you know it was Seth before his entrance hit?

I don’t think we were supposed to pick up Shamu welcoming Christian back but that was sweet

Then finally BWOAR

And Bwoar eliminates Cesaro, what was the point of his push? (it’s because his contract’s nearly up isn’t it?)

Again with the camera switching

Seth No! And where’s the boos pipe music!? DBry was a heavy favourite, that would’ve caused heat

Can’t believe Mmm Riddle lasted ahead of DBry

I didn’t forget about Orton, but the finish was good, that Orton tease got us good

It was a decent rumble, in hindsight you could tell Edge was winning given how they put express focus on Michaels winning at number on in the stat attack, Edge being face in peril for the first 10 entrants and Cole reminding us how long Edge has been in there

I don’t at all hate the end result, though I do question whether it was the best choice in the long run. Edge had his rumble win returning from injury already and throwing more legends at Drew does imply a heavy lack of depth in the current roster. Edge didn’t really need the win, but I’m not disappointed in him winning

The Men’s Rumble itself wasn’t as good as the women’s I don’t think, a lot of favourites of mine were unceremoniously dumped out quickly, any layered storytelling didn’t get enough time and it did feel a little by the numbers, almost a microcosm of modern WWE booking

Overall it was still a decent PPV, happy with the winners of the rumbles and that’s mostly all we need from a Royal Rumble. The Road to Wrestlemania starts here

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts - 11 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

You sat with your eyes closed against the steel of the airship. You didn’t like it. Flying that is…there was no connection to anything, and it made you feel off balance.

You focused on feeling the cold steel imagining it was earth…perhaps a mountain…you had traveled enough of them in the last few months to remember how the cool stone felt at night. It helped a little…but turbulence was a cruel bitch…

“Dammit…” You muttered wiping a hand over your face before opening your eyes.

“You know…mediation works better when you’re calm.” Your eyes snapped up at the white-haired man sitting across from you. He stared back unapologetically.

“Fuck. You.” You growled at him.

“Language…you call yourself a lady…” Ravus smirked as he pulled out an apple, something that had been making your stomach churn daily, and took a big juicy bite out of it.

You stood to your feet clenching your fists at your sides as you opened your mouth to speak, however, you didn’t get the chance to as Aranea stepped, “Alright…calm down. One lightening storm was enough in this rig. Ravus, take yourself and the fruit to the cockpit.”

“Happily…” He stood up taking another obnoxious bite.

You growled again stepping toward him, but Aranea stepped in your path, “Let it go…”

“He does it on purpose!” You snapped at her, “He knows exactly how I feel about the smell!”

“I know, and I will talk to him, but I can’t have you blowing a gasket when we’re 20,000 feet in the air again.” She told you sympathetically, “And it’s not good for you or you baby to get so worked up.”

You clenched your jaw a hand went reflexively to your belly. Six months pregnant…almost…you had been on the run for four months and you were losing count between getting sick and moving around so much. Never staying in one place for too long for fear of being noticed.

Four months of small check ins from the man you loved. No conversations, just account transfers to take care of you, while he helped Noct get the rest of the royal armory and blessings of gods. You felt so alone among soldiers who only wanted to protect you for the profit it gave them…mostly.

You took a deep breath trying to relax, “…please tell me we can call him, even just a word…”

Aranea frowned shaking her head, “No…they’re supposed to be reaching the capitol in the next week or so. They had to take a few pit stops along the way…I wouldn’t want to risk alerting the empire to their location, when they are this close.”

“I’m sick of waiting around…” You shut your eyes making a face a wave of pain erupted in your back, “There has to be something to do.”

“What is it?” The Commodore stepped closer to you concern evident in her posture.

“He’s kicking a lot today…I don’t think he likes being this high up.” You leaned against the wall making a face.

“You should sit…I’ll get Wedge to come take a look at you and we’ll figure out where we can land…” Aranea told you as she stepped away, “I’ll get you some tea too…”

“No! No tea! Your tea is…gross…” You called after her as you stepped toward the chairs.

You made a face taking a deep breath as you stopped halfway shutting your eyes tightly putting a hand on your side, “Dammit…buddy come on…you gotta give me a break.”

“Give me your hand…”  You opened your eyes seeing Ravus holding a hand out to you.

“Why would I give my hand to you?” You took a deep breath in through your nose as another wave of kicking ensued.

He stared at you for a moment before stepping toward you. You stepped out of his way only to see him follow you. You glared and then tensed as his hand found your back as he scolded, “Quit…dancing around and let me help you.”

“Ravus…you have never once offered to help me…” You stared up into his eyes standing firmly in your spot as Ulric began kick boxing with your kidney, “And despite you volunteering to be an escort because you feel you owe me in someway for helping your sister…we aren’t friends…”

“No, we’re not, but…” He sighed helping you over to the chairs, “I remember when my mother was pregnant with Luna. She would have the most painful expressions sometimes, when Luna started to kick. I promised if I ever had a child, I would make sure the mother would not be alone during such times…”

“This is not your child…” You eased yourself down before you looked at him taking a seat next to you.

“No…” He shook his head a little before he hesitantly began rubbing your back with his one hand. Warmth spread through tense and sore areas, you had forgotten how good touch felt, “but I don’t see myself ever having the chance…so I will amend my promise to the situation at hand to alleviate you of your pain.”

You shut your eyes hanging your head a little as his one hand moved up to your shoulders, “I…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Don’t be…” Ravus shook his head smiling a little, “All my life people have made assumptions about me. Shouldn’t expect anything different from you.”

You laughed a little letting your eyes meet his, “I know what that’s like.”

“I find that hard to believe. You have an air about you that yells ‘straightforward.’” He sniped back at you.

“Quite the opposite…Where I’m from everyone expected me to be a deranged mage hell-bent on world domination, raging and bringing forth demons to destroy everything.” You looked at him frowning as a heavy weight fell on your shoulders. You had always felt like you left Thedas vulnerable by leaving it, “But…the reality of it…I just wanted to be free…I just wanted to there to be peace, and I sacrificed everything to make sure the world was safe.”

Ravus stared at you a long time before he spoke again, “The burden of leadership.”

“Yes…it was…in the end, I don’t even know if I made a difference…there was still so much dissent against people like me.” You stared off as if trying to remember it all at once, “But I know that I left my home in good hands. I know they won’t let it fall back into the way things were.”

He stopped rubbing your shoulders letting out a sigh, “Sounds like you’ve done more then any of us here.”

You let out a sad laugh, “Oh you know just a small rebellion turned into saving the world...just an average day back home…”

“Maybe one day you can tell me more about it? Hell, maybe you can help me lead a rebellion of my own. I wouldn’t mind not being railroaded by the empire anymore.” He stood up as Wedge came over with Aranea, “If you’ll excuse me.”

You watched him walk away slowly as Wedge began asking you questions. The cogs began turning in your head. It was so simple, and it could actually work. Wedge cleared you and began putting his devices back into his medical bag away.

“…Aranea…” You stood up looking at her, “How easy is it for you to find someone?”

“Depends on the person, but I usually can find anyone with a few calls.” She eyed you carefully, “I already know where your boy toy is…and I already told-”

“I don’t want to find Ignis.” Your face hardened as you crossed your arms, “I want to find Cor Leonis.”

Her eyes narrowed on you, “Why do you want to find the Immortal?”

“I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines…” You told her before you smiled, “I need to help Ignis and Noct somehow, and I think I just figured out how.”

You sat on at a table a few days later looking out toward the meteor, no longer ignited, but still a sight to behold. This place was something else. You could not think of any other like it. No matter what was going on, Lestallum felt alive.

And hot…You hated that you had to wear this giant thick cape to hide yourself, rather…hide your baby…

“Lady Trevelyan?” You looked back seeing Cor walking up to you. He smiled when you stood up taking your extended hand, “I thought you would be with the boys. When I got your message, I half expected them to be here.”

“Yeah, no, um…” You swallowed staring at him. The way he held himself told you that he wasn’t informed on the recent events. A soldier of his caliber wouldn’t be so relaxed, “I take it you haven’t heard about the bounty on my head…”

“Bounty? On you?” He waved his arm to have you sit down again as his demeanor changed. There was the commander you knew, “But you’re unreasonably nice to people.”

“Where have you been recently? For that matter the last half a year?” You watched him sit down, “At least tell me you know everything went sideways in Altissia?”

“It’s a long story…” He sighed scratching the back of his head, “And I had heard that Noctis and Luna did get married…I was sorry I couldn’t attend.”

“Well, if you tell me your story…I’ll tell you mine.”  You grunted as you threw the front of the cape over your shoulders to give you some relief. His eyes immediately focused in on your stomach, “I’ll get to him in a minute, tell me what you’ve been up to?”

You sat and listened and everything he said was exactly what you needed to hear. After he left Caem he returned to the hunters where he met up with some former Glaive. After hearing their stories he felt it was imperative that they find as many Glaive and Crownsguard as he could to be ready for their king’s return.

“So I have been managing them. Training new recruits and protecting people along the away.” Cor watched as you pulled the spoon from your mouth returning it to the large bowl of ice cream, “We’re ready to return and take back our home when Noctis orders it.”

“That is wonderful to hear.” You smiled at him before shoving the spoon in your mouth again.

He smiled shaking his head a little, “So…you’re turn. Why is there a bounty on your head?”

“Oh, I shoved the chancellor of Neifilheim into a rift hopefully to never return again. He was a deamon and creepy…” You rattled off scraping the bottom of the bowl, “Then…there’s some stuff about time travel, it gets really complicated, but the main thing is I killed Ardyn Izunia.”

He stared at you a long time before clearing his throat, “That’s…Uh…”

“Hard to believe, I know, but it’s the truth. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors at least of my sudden appearance back then...” You told him quietly, “All of which I’m happy to explain to you, but I’m hoping we can do it at a different time.”

“Alright. You called me for a reason.” He nodded leaning forward, “What is it you want from me?”

You set the bowl down looking into his blue determined eyes, “I want to take back Insomnia.”

“We all do.” He chuckled sitting back.

“I want to take it back now.” You watched as his face went blank, “If we do it, we divide their attention. Maybe enough to give the boys time to get the crystal and get out of the empire…”

“…forgive me your ladyship, but…there are at least a thousand strong in the city of Insomnia that are soldiers…that doesn’t include the MTs or their machinery.” Cor leaned forward again looking around, “I’m not saying it can’t be done, but…it will be awfully hard.”

“That’s why I’ve come to you.” You told him quietly, “I’ve experience with this type of thing as well…maybe together we can figure this out. The Immortal and the Inquisitor.”

He stared at you again before shaking his head, “You sure have a brass pair.”

“I’m protective of my family…and I’m tired of being apart from them.” You swallowed looking away as fleeting thoughts of Ignis floated through your mind.

“Okay…I’m in…” He nodded slowly, “I’m sure everyone will be onboard.”

You cleared your throat, “Good…reach out to Aranea and we’ll get things rolling.”

“Now hold on…” He watched you stand up, “You told me why you have a bounty on your head and why you called me…but you never explained…your condition.”

You smiled at him putting a hand on your belly, “Does it really matter?”

“Call it curiosity.” He smirked up to you. It was no wonder why everyone in the citadel swooned over him with that charm.

“Well…it’s not all the exciting. It happened the normal way when a man and woman…” You watched him roll his eyes and you laughed a little. It was nice to do so. You’d been around so many stiff people the last few months it was nice to tease again.

“Who’s the father, is the question I’m begging you to answer…” He stared up at you as you adjusted the cape again to cover yourself.

“…Ignis.” You watched as his posture changed and his face became very serious, “Cor…what’s wrong?”

“You’re sure Ignis is the father?” He stood up speaking in a hushed tone.

“What do you take me for?” You glared at him a little, “Of course I’m sure it’s Ignis…”

“You’re coming with me.” He began looking around as if he was on a detail.

“Cor, what is going on?” You pulled your arm back when he tried to take it.

He looked into your eyes as he spoke quietly, “Your child is currently second in line for the throne of Lucis.”

“No…how?” You took a step away from him as a sinking feeling seeped into your shoulders.

“Ignis…” Cor stepped with you suddenly becoming extremely overprotective of his charge in front of him, “is Noct’s older, half-brother.”

Your eyes widened as you suddenly became very light head, “…wha…”

He caught you as began to fall helping you back to the table you had been sitting at, “Take a second…”

“Does he know? Do they all know?” You stared into his eyes as mild panic began to set in.

“No.” He shook his head taking your hands in his, “No one knows. Regis only told Clarus and myself. The information would have passed to Gladio and I’m certain Noct and Ignis when the time deemed it…necessary.”

“Necessary…why? How?” You suddenly began to feel sick, “This…why?”

“Regis and Aulea were having trouble conceiving a child. They worried enough that…” He sighed hanging his head, “That they invoked an old tradition where they ask their closest retainers…to bear a child of Lucian line.”

“Regis…and Ignis’ mother….” You frowned a little, “Oh my god…”

“It sounds bad…but it was considered an honor and with the medical advances we have now it’s much less intimate and more a duty…” Cor looked at you sympathetically, “It was close to Ignis’ first birthday when Aulea reported that she was pregnant. Regis knew what it meant. He had two heirs. Regis waited until Aulea was sure the pregnancy took then reached out the Scientias… At which point Roderick Scientia, Ignis’ father, vowed to raise Ignis as his own and everyone was sworn to never speak of it unless it was necessary.”

“And what makes it necessary now? Noct is fine…he’s going to be king…He and Luna…” You rambled quickly as you began hyperventilating.

“It’s only fine if they have a child…one day Noct will have to fulfill his duty as the chosen. He knows what that means.” Cor spoke realistically, “If there is no direct heir from him…the responsibility will fall to Ignis…to your child.”

He put his hands on your arms giving you a squeeze to try and help calm you down. “Y/N, I’m going to protect you and your child, but I’m not sure we can risk…”

“No.” You shook your head as a tear fell down your face. Finding out your child was heir to the throne was overwhelming, but it didn’t change what needed to be done, “No…we have to go to Insomnia. We have to help them…so they can come home.”

Cor let out a long heavy sigh before he stood up holding his hand out to you, “Then I suppose you’ll have to meet your soldiers. Think your crew can give me ride?”

[ferallymine]

Worldbreaker Part 2

A/n: Hi i exist sometimes.

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

“You burned?” Shoto caressed Mardea’s back gently. He wasn’t one for great amounts of physical affection unless she instigated it.

Her left arm stretched out, “You can’t see it now, but there were black burned scars all up and down my arms. It was so painful to move. Healing it was even worse- which was why my body ached and skin was so tender.”

“And the easy bruise,” Shoto’s fingers ghosted her collarbone, the black and blue visible from her tank top pajamas- still fresh from hours before. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there…”

“We couldn’t have known,” Mardea slouched forward, face resting in the crook of his neck. “Honey I’m so scared and tired…” Tears escaped and landed on his cotton t-shirt.

He froze, not knowing where to put his hands. Does he hug her? Rub her back? Sometimes she likes head pets… Shoto settled on a hug, careful to his placement of his arms to not startle her.

“Don’t let go.” A whisper of longing. He knows that she knows his limits with physical affection. He can stop and she’ll understand. But what would that make him- just like his father? He shouldn’t abandon his love when she gets scared, which wasn’t often, if ever.

“I won’t.” Resolve to be here, in this moment, just doing his best to comfort her.

A cool draft whisked through his room. Shoto pulled one blanket from the end of the bed up to cover their legs and feet. Another one was behind Mardea’s head. Slowly reaching over, he was able to drape it over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” She pulled him closer, entirely eliminating the space between them. The thought that she held him this way for fear of either of them disappearing tugged his heartstrings.

-----

Hello, pumpkin.

A knee-jerk reaction, Mardea teleported from Shoto’s sleeping embrace to near the closet door. She landed with a thud on the floor. That’ll definitely bruise.

Aw, how cute.

Mardea’s ears couldn’t hear anything in the room besides her own thundering heartbeat. Where was the source of this voice? Was she here? If anything happened to Shoto then nothing in this world would protect that stranger from Mardea’s red fury.

I’m outside. Come walk with me.

“Fucking hell,” Mardea whispered, standing up as quietly as she could. Was it risky doing what this woman said and not telling anyone? Yes. Was it equally as risky to not obey? Yes, and it put the others in danger.

Mardea threw on a sweatshirt and pants then slipped out the window, landing on the fresh earth. It was cold against her bare feet. The night air was still, as if afraid of what lurked within itself.

Leaves crunched around the back corner of the dorm. A bolt was in her hands, illuminating the area as Mardea jumped out ready to attack. But nothing was there.

“Pumpkin, don’t be so reckless.” The change to lilac was instantaneous as the woman appeared behind her. “Still a bit afraid, aren’t you?”

Mardea stayed silent; the bolt desummoned from her hand as the woman walked around to face her.

Her hair obstructed most of her face, “You’ve got much to learn if you want to control energy instead of it controlling you. Like your lilac right now.”

“You need to leave me and my loved ones alone.” Crimson strands.

“Ah, little one, you’re so closed minded.” The woman let out a little laugh, “You think this is a villainous endeavor?” She placed a gloved hand on the coarse brick. “This is purely about you bettering yourself. And unlike the fools in there who are trying desperately to train you with no idea how, I know exactly what you need and how to strengthen you.”

“…how do you know?”

An unsettling grin, “I am so glad you asked.”

Her gloved hand quickly swiped over the brick. Where her hand had been was replaced with brown energy. With a snap of her fingers, the energy turned into a view of the dorm rooftop.

Mardea just stared, “…wha-” A shove and she went through.

“That, little one,” Mardea turned to see the woman walk through and snap again, closing the brown energy circle, “…is one of many things I can teach you. My name is Vera, and I was the first person with an energy manipulation quirk.”

Her brows furrowed in a vain attempt to understand the situation, “If you were the first, I’d have heard about you in classes, right?”

Laughter. The woman, Vera, slightly bent at the waist, wiping a tear from her eyes hiding behind her hair. “You have too much faith in your education, little one. People like us don’t fit the narrative, so they write and write and educate and brainwash until we simply no longer exist. Your teachers didn’t even know energy quirks existed until you showed up, didn’t they? Have you gotten any education, training, or even advice about how to control your quirk?”

“I… uh…”

“No, they push you to the side and tell you to figure it out.” Vera straightened and walked to the front edge of the building. “You have no one too look up to for help. When you get positive results, you’re praised, but when you struggle, they put you in a ‘meditation room’ so they don’t have to tell you how to get better.”

“Izzy has All Might…..guess Bakugo has him too… Shoto has Endeavour, technically speaking…”

Vera turned suddenly, holding her arms out wide, “And you, Miss Lin, could have me as your mentor, if you wish.”

Was this Mardea’s future if she didn’t accept? Her work and efforts all made on her own- no real guidance to set her straight. Full potential never achieved due to her own ignorance, or willful neglect of an offer right here on this cold dreary rooftop.

Sure, Aizawa tried his best and knew how to calm her down- but he wasn’t always there. She couldn’t count on him in a battle if things got rough with her energy. Midnight didn’t exactly offer great teachings either, instead focusing on Mardea’s….er… natural charisma to aid in battle. Fucking All Might himself can barely assist because he’s so focused on his own charade and helping Izzy take his place.

What did she have to lose?

“…Okay.”

“You accept my offer?”

Mardea stepped forward until she was within arm’s reach of Vera, “Yes, I accept.”

A smirk, “First lesson, show me what you got-“

And then Mardea was shoved off the roof.

-----

It felt that time slowed down as Mardea descended towards the ground. Was this a cruel joke? Had she just made a disastrous mistake?

She glanced at the dorm as she fell. There was a bird’s nest by the window of Kirishima’s room. A robin was asleep in it.

Bird.

Wings.

Hawks.

Summoning the memories of that night with the number two hero, Mardea’s hair turned white.

-----

Vera leaned over the edge, hoping she needn’t save her new student. A blur of white pushed past, nearly knocking her over. It flew through the clouds.

“Farther along than I thought,” Vera snapped her fingers, creating a platform to meet her in the sky.

-----

It’s quiet up here.

A cloud trail followed her into this space above the clouds- nothing but the stars and the moon keeping her company in the purple twilight. Mardea never fully thought and meditated on the ivory glow now outlining her fingertips and eyes.

Angelic.

“You’ve done well.” Vera’s voice broke the serenity Mardea found in the silence.

“You pushed me!”

“I would’ve saved you if you didn’t react.”

“Teachers don’t jeopardize their students’ lives.”

“Please, you jeopardize your lives every day in that school. You do so even more when you search for your brother.”

Crimson.

“Don’t get angry with me, little one. I came with good intentions and speaking only truth.”

Mardea’s wings collapsed, the energy reforming to match Vera’s platform. “I didn’t trust you much before that stunt, and that level certainly didn’t go up after.”

“Aw, pumpkin. Find solace in the fact that you’re farther along than I originally thought.” She crossed her arms, “I didn’t think you’d have figured out how to make wings work.”

A shrug, “Guess you should start giving me more credit.”

The platform shifted with each step Vera took away from Mardea. She had to walk with her to keep from falling again.

“I’ve seen the footage of your UA tournament battles. You have an…average range of colors.”

“Average?”

“There was bystander footage of your development of white, too. I’m glad to see that your body does react to the different pulls of energy in the world.” A sudden stop. “What’s curious is why more haven’t manifested at this point.” She turned to face Mardea, moon perfectly centered behind her, “Do you suppress your emotions or do you intentionally try and connect them to things outside your mind?”

A pause, “…I allow myself to feel things but it never occurred to me to try that.”

A cheeky grin, “That is your first lesson, pumpkin. Now go get some sleep!” Vera’s gloved hands clapped twice.

Green glowing energy outlines Mardea’s figure. Suddenly, she was back in Shoto’s dorm, laying on top of the blankets he’d gently pulled above her just hours before.

But he wasn’t there.

“Shoto?” Mardea tried to whisper to not wake the neighboring students. Or Aizawa. He’d kick their asses for breaking the bedroom rule. Feet touching the wood floor, she tiptoed to the door and opened slightly, peering into the hallway.

At the end of the hall, the elevator door opened. Shoto stepped out, looking concerned.

“Shoto!” A harsh loud whisper to get his attention. He seemed to perk up after seeing her in the doorway, and quickened his pace.

“Where did you go? I thought you went to your room.” Shoto closed the door behind him, taking Mardea’s hand with his free one. He felt colder than usual.

“She called out to me.”

“The woman from yesterday?” Brief panic “I didn’t hear anything…”

“No it was… like a mental connection. Telepathy, I guess? She talked to me for a bit. Anyway it was a lot and I’m really tired. I’ll tell you and Aizawa everything in the morning, okay?”

“…okay.”

“Shoto, is something wrong?” Mardea pulled him forward, letting them both sit on his bed.

Just talk to her dammit

“No.” Eyes drifted to the floor

“Don’t lie to me, Shoto.” Her hand squeezed his briefly, “You don’t have to tell me now, but don’t lie to me.”

Just TALK TO HER GODDAMMIT

“…I woke up… and… you were gone…”

“Did that-“

“You scared me.” Eyes still finding the floor fascinating. “You usually…” a breath, “Fuck, I know what I want to say but it won’t come out!” Shoto stood up in frustration, leaving Mardea on the bed. Both hands rolled through his hair.

“Shoto it’s oka-“

“No it’s not!” He realized how loud his voice was getting. He knelt to the floor, “Dea…” A shakier breath. Mardea knelt down to the floor beside him, giving him time to speak. “I want to… I want to help you and protect you but how am I supposed to do that when this woman can just… talk to you and bother you whenever she wants?”

There was genuine pain in his eyes. It made Mardea’s heart hurt.

“What am I supposed to do if she hurts you?” A single tear ran down his face.

She placed a hand on his face, thumb wiping away his tear, “I don’t know, Shoto.”

Ice seized his right side, leaving an intricate layer of frost. His breathing became uneven, ragged. Pupils constricted; eyes wide. Panic attack on the floor of his dorm at 3 in the morning. Panic. Panic. Panic panic panicpanicpanicpanic-

“It’ll be okay, love.” Mardea pulled him close, letting him lay on her as she leaned against the bed. The weight of his body on hers helped ease her racing heartbeat. “We’ll find a way to make it safe.” She kissed his hair, using her free hand to rub his unfrosted back. “You’re not going to lose me, Shoto.”

All the words she hoped he needed to hear. Hoped he could hear amidst the intrusive thoughts racing his mind.

As the minutes went by, they both calmed down. Too tired to move, Mardea used her quirk to teleport them to bed for the last remaining hours of nighttime.

[elsawiththegoodhair]

A First Kiss -

When: Post Daken’s Attack on Kurt Where: District X - Bobby’s Staff Office With: Kurt @daddybamf

Desc: Bobby and Kurt talk about their feelings, decide to take things slowly and Kurt tells Bobby about Daken’s jealousy.  

Bobby: Bobby was incredibly relieved to have his powers back, even if they scared him at times they were such a massive part of who he was he couldn't imagine his life without them. That and God he hated feeling the cold. It was awful! He didn't know how people actually managed with it. Still, it seemed like the District was back to normal already. Classes were back on, kids were running around and training was in full swing. Bobby was trying his best to forget about the whole thing and move on so they could all be prepared. Trouble was, the night in the safe house with Kurt wouldn't leave his mind. They hadn't done anything except sleep next to each other (him hogging all the blankets) but seeing the other standing undressed in the mirror seemed to have clobbered his mind with the fact that Kurt was damn attractive, not just when he looked like a regular guy, but when he was himself, more so when he was himself. And he was one of the kindest guys he'd ever met... God dammit, he needed to stop this. He sighed over his marking and looked up as a knock sounded on the door, "C'min!" he called, wondering who it was.

Kurt: Kurt hadn't felt this nervous or awkward since he was a teenager first arriving at Charles' school. The teleporter fidgeted outside Bobby's door - debating whether or not he wanted to knock on it. Things had felt... different, ever since that night in the safe house. Whenever he looked at Bobby now, there was an undeniable interest he could feel; but he didn't know what to do about it. Kurt had always been the devout Catholic - and attraction to the same sex was just something that wasn't supposed to be 'right'. But did any of that matter anymore? He had insider information about the cosmos; did playing the fanatic faithful really do him any justice anymore? Finally, the three-fingered hand reached out and rasped on the door. Hearing Bobby's response, it took Kurt a few seconds before he opened the door and peaked his head inside. "Hey." The word felt like it came out quieter than it really did. Looking at the blonde now, Kurt had to question if he had always felt this way about the male and just chose to ignore them on principle. Bobby had always been good-looking, but he really came into his looks over the years - and Kurt had a front-row seat through their awkward late-teenage years and even through the Schism up until coming to Star City. Kurt shoved his conflicting thoughts aside and put on a smile as he stepped into the room. "Are you doing okay? Eferyvon seems to be normal; powers returning properly." He spoke.

Bobby: Bobby looked up and instantly felt a little coil in his belly when he recognised Kurt on the other side of the door. Ever since they’d ended up sharing a bed when their powers were out of commission it was like he’d started to see the other in a different light and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. When he’d had any feelings about Warren back in the day they were buried so deep in his own denial he didn’t even register them as something at all. Now though, everything was out in the open and he could have those feelings about Kurt. He just wasn’t sure it was a very good idea, especially if it made him uncomfortable. “Hey yourself.” He said with a small grin after a moment’s pause. “O-oh yeah, everything’s ship shape and shiny. I can finally wear t-shirts again.“ He gestured at the thin, light-blue t-shirt he was wearing that was just the right side of too tight, “Wearing all those layers was so uncomfortable. I hated it.” He chuckled a little and tapped his pen against the desk, “What about you? Happy being fuzzy again?“ Even if things had been ‘normal’ for them all for a little while now, he and Kurt hadn’t seen much of each other aside from sharing looked in the hallway or their usual meetings. “It’s nice seeing you as yourself again.”

Kurt: Hearing that the other had recovered from the incident as well put Kurt at ease. It seemed the inhibitors hadn't come with any sort of permanent side effect - and that was good news to him. He shifted his feet slightly and gave a small laughter at Bobby's joking about his clothes - though he felt his eyes linger just a few seconds too long at the tight-fitting shirt the male currently wore. When he peeled his eyes away, he quickly nodded to the blonde's question. "I am. Kind of sad to be back to 'normal' too if I'm being completely honest, ya? I was kind of getting used to looking normal to ze vorld visout needing my inducer." He admitted.

Bobby: Bobby nodded at the other's words, "Yea, it's much easier to get by in this world when you look like just another average white guy." Hell, he knew that better than most; so long as he wasn't recognised Bobby could blend into a crowd easily, he'd been told a few times he has a pretty 'generic' face. "But I think you look better like this," he said after a moment's pause, "Y'know, you would be you if you weren't a blue fuzzy elf. That's my friend." And now they were back in the District there was no more need to hide it. It was just sad the rest of the world couldn't be like that. "So... You came to uhh, check up on me?" he asked with a little smile. It was nice to know Kurt had been thinking of him.

Kurt: Kurt looked down at the ground shyly, knowing he would have blushed if his furred skin would allow it. "You...do? You don't prefer me ze ozer vay...?" He questioned, unable to put his curiosity to rest. The teleporter moved further into the room; walking over and hopping up on the nearest surface to crouch on. "Of course I came to check on you." He offered a smile at the other's words. "We really haven't seen much of von anoser since... vell, you know."

Bobby: "Wha? Why would I?" Bobby asked, for once any connotations about his words going over his head, "Ever since I've met you, you've been blue, fuzzy and with a cool tail, I'll always take you like that." he said with a grin, "Human You is cool but it's like Logan suddenly being super nice or Scott being laid back, it just isn't you." He chuckled when Kurt needed to perch on something, "Well, thanks. But I'm good. I didn't wanna be around you loads in case I uhh... made you uncomfortable that night..." he mumbled a little, now it was his turn to look down.

Kurt: The notion that Bobby preferred and thought of his mutations as Kurt's 'normal' brought a smile to the other's face. When Bobby voiced his concerns about that evening, Kurt softly shook his head. "You didn't make me uncomfortable Bobby. I vas... flattered, by your compliments." He explained softly. "I... I just... I don't...." He couldn't figure out what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it and closed his mouth into a pinched frown for several silent seconds. "You didn't do anysing wrong." He finally sighed out.

Bobby: Bobby sighed, he could tell he'd done something wrong, or at least changed their dynamic from what it'd been before. Hell, they'd been great friends but now there was this tension and he didn't like it. "But I did, didn't I?" he asked quietly, "And I get it, you've never been shy about your faith and it means more to me than I can say that we're still friends even after I came out, but that doesn't mean it's fair to put... attentions on you that you didn't expect." he cleared his throat, nervously tapping his pen on the desk, "We can uhh... just try and forget it if that makes things easier?" he asked, eyes flicking from Kurt's lips back to his eyes.

Kurt: Kurt let out a quiet sigh and remain silent for a moment; letting Bobby finish talking before he started. The crouch suddenly dropped into an actual sitting position and Kurt kept his gaze focused on the floor. "My faith vas eferysing to me. It vas a pillar of who I vas, ya?" He spoke. "After I died zough... and ze sings I haf learned since coming back - about Heaven and Hell... about vat exactly ze cost vas... I don't know vat to belief in anymore." Kurt explained gently. Finally, his gaze lifted to the blonde. "I don't vant to forget... but I don't know how to act on... zese feelings." The words were soft. "Looking at you, eferysing... feels different. I sink I've alvays felt zis vay? I sink I just ignored zem...because it is vat my faith taught me for so long." He tried to explain his thoughts properly.

Bobby: Bobby tilted his head slightly, doing his best to listen and take in what the other said since they were talking about such a huge part of Kurt's life, "You uhh... you don't talk much about that." he said after a pause, which he understood, Warren, Jean, they'd both died and come back, it still wasn't a topic they would open up about. "W-wait wait wait-" he dropped the pen and gestured slightly, "You have uhh... feelings?" he squeaked a little, shocked to learn this wasn't all one-sided. "I mean uhh, whatever you feel is valid y'know. It umm, it took me a long time to try and come to terms with who I was. Hell a me from the past had to confront me about it," he laughed a little nervously, "But... You can't rush anything I mean, you have to come to terms with who you are now and that's hard." Bobby knew that. "And uhh... Even if some people say it's against God... I'm pretty sure the pope was okay with it?" Maybe he'd seen a tweet about that ages ago? Given his own childhood Bobby didn't engage with religion unless he had to.

Kurt: "It's.. hard to talk about coping with a sudden restless immortality, ya?" He remarked off-handedly, but took each word Bobby said and listened to them deeply. "I... ve haf known each ozer since ve vere teenagers, Bobby. How could zere not be some sort of feeling? You... really grew into your looks, ya?" Kurt questioned softly. He thought for a moment and finally spoke once more. "I don't sink... I'm as concerned about who I am. Zis is just me... but, it is more concerning vat am I supposed to do vis ze vay I feel." He tried to clarify. His gaze was locked onto Bobby for the longest time. "I... yeah, I sink so..." Kurt rolled his shoulders slightly. Was this one of those moments he needed to cut ties with his old sense of 'morality'? If he was to spend his life waking up at the Bamf's discretion, was it truly worth it to live such a pious existence without the promise of the rewards at the end of the journey?

Bobby: "I can imagine..." he didn't like to think about stuff like that much. He knew he aged outside of his ice form but he didn't think he could age when he was iced up. And now he could stay in that form so easily it he could (in theory) keep it up forever. "I-I uhr... I did?" he made a face at the idea; Bobby had never considered himself good looking (he'd grown up with Scott and Warren for God's sake, he knew what handsome men looked like) and aside from being in good shape thanks to constant training that was all he reckoned he had going for him. He swallowed, feeling a red flush begin to cover his cheeks and immediately wanting to talk about turtles cause that was his damn go-to in the face of nervousness with hot guys... He tried to keep Kurt's gaze and ended up looking away as the blush spread, "W-well. I can't tell ya what you should do Kurt, that wouldn't be right and I''d be a little biased... But umm, think of it this way: love's a good thing, right? And you wouldn't be hurting anyone. So if being with a guy- any guy made you happy, what would be the bad part of it?"

Kurt: Kurt fidgeted - fumbling his hands together as he listened to Bobby. "I... yes, I suppose you are right. It vouldn't be harming anyvon and maybe it vould make me happy? I vouldn't know unless I gave it a try, ya?" The teleporter let out a small breath once more. He chewed on his lip, tail idly waving from one side and slowly back to the other as he sat there. Then there was silence once more. Kurt wasn't sure how to fill it and finally made a motion to stand up. "I... um... maybe I should...." The words trailed off as the gazed at the blonde. Kurt didn't want to just find some guy and see if it made him happy. He wanted to be happy - with Bobby. He couldn't deny that that was the feeling that kept his stomach doing flips.

Bobby: "Ahh, yea... That's a thing you should probably do, hehe." The nervous chuckle did a bad job at covering how much he wanted to bash his head on the desk in punishment for his own ineptitude. Kurt liked him (bugger if he knew why). He liked Kurt. And it seemed like Kurt was doing his best to try and take something further and he wasn't helping at all. "Okay umm uhr..." he cleared his throat and rose from his desk, fingers clenching and opening at his side, "How bout something like this." Bobby took a deep breath, his heart going like a jackhammer and (with plenty of time for Kurt to back away if he wanted to) closed the distance between them and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, feeling the other's warm skin against his own colder mouth. It was, slow, short and gentle and as he pulled back he blinked a few times and felt as though his face as on fire with his own blush, "So umm... yea... that's a thing."

Kurt: Bobby's movement to rise to his own feet caught Kurt off-guard and he eyed the way his fingers clenched and opened at his sides. When he moved in to close the distance between them, however, Kurt couldn't move. Zis, is happening. His mind alerted him as Bobby moved closer. He felt the chill resonating from the other male's body - like a personal air conditioner, and the lips on his made his eyes widen. A shiver went down his spine from both the chill and the sensation. He blinked as Bobby broke away and swallowed hard. "I nefer realized how chilly you vere." Kurt said softly - that was what his mind chose to react to first.  "I... vant more of zat... ya?" The mutant finally stated. "But, uh, I don't sink I can move my body right now." His legs wouldn't budge no matter how badly he commanded them to.

Bobby: Bobby let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and it ended up being a laugh at that. "Yea, I'm a uhh, a chill dude." he couldn't help but make the awful pun since humour was a safety net for him. "Glad it umm, doesn't bother you." Judah hadn't liked it and they hadn't even slept together, just cuddled. He licked his lips and a shy smile curled up when Kurt admitted he'd like more, "Well that's uhr, that's great- that you want more! Not that uhh, you can't more much." Another nervous laugh followed. "I mean, we should, y'know, take this slow yea?" he asked, "It wouldn't be fair to push you and I don't wanna move too quickly." Despite him being a bit of a playboy back when he'd had girlfriends he didn't want to act like that anymore. He swallowed and took a step back, "Are you... are you gonna be okay?" It was kind of a big revelation after all.

Kurt: Kurt laughed - harder than he thought he would - when Bobby chose now of all times to work in an 'ice' pun. "It...uh, it definitely does not boser me." He stated sheepishly before giving him a small nod. "Yes. I vant to do... whatefer zis is between us; ze right vay." The blue mutant smiled and finally his body stepped closer to Bobby's. When Bobby asked if he was going to be okay, he answered by - hesitantly, of course - closing the gap between them to lock lips once more for a more lingering peck. "I..sink I vill be just fine. Maybe." He said softly as he broke away - but suddenly he frowned. "Vat... about Daken sough?" He asked suddenly. "He made it pretty clear when he invaded my Danger Room simulation, that I vas threatening him somehow by just looking at you..." He couldn't help but ask. If Daken had eyes on Bobby - and Bobby felt the same way - Kurt didn't feel right about starting this up. No matter how much his body was screaming 'Yes'; Kurt would respect if Bobby was interested into someone else.

Bobby: Bobby couldn't help it, he made jokes all the time and was bad at handling nerves. Still, Kurt seemed to take it well and that helped him relax. "Oh well uhh, that's really neat." he said with too many nods 'neat' ... he needed to stop saying that word. "I'm glad, that makes two of us course y'know," Bobby cleared his throat and an arm came up to rub the back of his neck, "I've dated a few guys-" like three "But I haven't umm... y'know." he really didn't wanna say it, it made him feel like he didn't know what he was doing. He'd had sex before, with ladies, and he's seen porn, how hard could it be? Heh, hard. He chuckled a little as his own internal joke before Kurt mentioning Daken caused the smile to drop from his face. "I'm sorry what?" he asked, blinking several times, "Daken in the danger room? He was in the school?! Kurt what did he do?" he didn't understand, sure he'd seen Daken hanging around the District once but he'd made very clear he wasn't interested. "And there's nothing between Daken and me, there never has been. For god's sake he stabbed my last boyfriend when he invaded the school."

Kurt: Kurt choked on his breathing slightly as Bobby spoke and quickly shook his head. "I... haf not.. you know, eiser... not vis a man." Kurt quickly assured the other, looking anywhere around the room in total embarrassment. He was almost thankful the conversation shifted over to Daken for the time being - but he found himself growing quiet at Bobby's questions. "He hijacked a training session I vas hafing... zere vas a lot of fighting." Kurt explained. He still had the marks where the cuts on his arms were healing up. The teleporter stepped away from Bobby - taking several steps before he stopped and finally shook his head. "Bobby, zat man is literally insane... he says zat he doesn't efen vant you, but he threatened to kill me if I got near you..." Kurt explained.

Bobby: Well, he’d managed to embarrass them both thoroughly with that one, great wonderful maybe he should kick Kurt in the shin while he was at it to make this as horrible as he could. “Well I uhh… no office but I figured, y’know you and your faith and… stuff.” He shrugged, hoping that didn’t come off as rude. Though his awkwardness soon melted away to worry as Kurt told him what Daken had had the gall to do. By the time Kurt was done though Bobby wasn’t worried, he wasn’t even mad, he was furious. The temperature in the room had dropped significantly. “Let me get this straight, Kurt. Daken, broke into the school, assaulted a tech, messed with the danger room, assault you with the intent to kill and tried to claim me as his own like I’m some sort of pet?” The question was posed calmly, too calmly and while the room was chilly there was no ice on the walls. It was so uncharacteristic of the usual jovial man that it signified all too well lines had been crossed that couldn’t be undone. “Is that correct?”

Kurt: Kurt cleared his throat. Bobby had a point - it was pretty obvious that the mutant was inexperienced with same-sex relations. The fur along Kurt's body stood on edge as chills coursed through his body. Was the room getting colder? When he had finished explaining what Daken had done, Kurt was certain the room was a lot colder than it had been minutes earlier. "Bobby..." Kurt said slowly and with a heavy frown as the man posed his question. "Daken and I have never gotten along... the kid is notsing like Logan..." Kurt tried to play the situation off on a less serious tone. Bobby's excessively calm demeanor was unsettling, even for Kurt.

Bobby: Bobby seemed almost eerily calm as he listened to Kurt speak, in his mind he’d already come to a decision. Daken had crossed a line Bobby hadn’t even expected a person would have to draw, he’d put a member of their staff into hospital and endangered Kurt. Something needed to be done. “Kurt, you’re right, Daken is nothing like his father. I frankly don’t care what he’s like but I do care that he has hurt one of our own and tried to kill you.” He took a breath, “I will deal with this. It can’t go any further and I will not let that man think he can attack us without recompense.” He put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, the touch almost icy, “Please, let the others know what’s happened so we can increase security protocols. I will deal with Daken myself.“ And with that, Bobby moved to the door and left, the chill lingering even after he was gone.

[storiansmane]

Grantaire’s Modernized Rant

This is a rewrite of one of Grantaire’s drunken speeches from Les Misérables, in Chapter IV of Book Four–Les Amis de L’ABC, which has been modernized not only into current speech but also do to with current issues. I put quite a bit of effort into it, so enjoy!

~~<><><>~~

Grantaire, extremely drunk, had started ranting at the top of his lungs from the corner of the pub which he had taken over with his volume, shouting: "I'm bored!! I need alcohol, life fucking SUCKS!! It's all so POINTLESS and cheap and short and definitely hates me!! People always talk about wanting happiness, but I mean, how selfish and vain is that!? Hell, it was once said that "all is vanity", and I agree, even if that might not even be a real quote! If you have nothing else, at least you can think about how great you are! People use it to make everything seem so much more important than it is. A kitchen is a 'laboratory', a boxer is a 'pugilist', a doctor is an 'apothecary', even bugs have super extra Latin names!! It can be some good and some bad, I guess. The good is stupid, the verbal and mental equivalent of a participation award. 'You're alive, congratulations!!' The bad becomes too much and people can't stand to be around you. I'm annoyed with one and exhausted with the other. People don't take anything seriously anymore, entitlement leads to making a mockery and a joke of everything! Rich people complain about paying high taxes, happy people write songs about depression and loss and heartache; anything can be 'memed', no matter how serious! Go, then, and enjoy your quote-unquote 'edgy' humor! No one has any respect or integrity anymore. People in relationships cheat on each other, fights over stupid politics ruin friendships, it is our own fault that people die by their own hand! It's too bad I'm stupid, or I'd quote all kinds of ancient wisdom and facts and evidence to prove my point, but I don't know anything. I've always been too much of a smart-ass; when I was put in the most prestigious schools and classes, all I did was fuck around. What's the point of putting so much importance into those things, anyway? Being part of them doesn't make one person any better than another. So even if I'm stupid but privileged, I am fundamentally the same as an intelligent but unfortunate person. It's so fucked, everyone wants to be perfect and have all the best qualities. Every one of those good qualities can be made into bad ones by perspective! Frugality is underneath just greediness, generosity is just attention-seeking in disguise; bravery is an excuse to brag and the pious are also the bigoted. So which are we SUPPOSED to say and understand? Do we applaud the victor or the loser, the Allies or the Nazi's? You'd prefer the victor, right? Great, then I suppose we'll all applaud the corrupt officer who was VICTORIOUS over the unarmed teenager, as well! There's your positivity, but also insanity. That officer did what he did because of human prejudice, just as the Protestant burned the Pagan at the stake because of his prejudice against that which was different. History repeats itself, especially the grimmest generalities. The battle at Palmito Ranch mirrors the battle at Yorktown, the internment of Japanese-Americans inspires the imprisonment of immigrants. I don't see the cause for celebration of victory. You're arrogant for winning and weak for losing. Can nothing be one thing without also exhibiting traits of the other? I'm so done with the human race in general. You expect me to 'help people in need'; what people, then? Should I feed the hungry? What about the homeless, then? Which is more deserving of my help? It's a debate which could go on forever, senseless from the beginning! Our politicians are the reincarnations of the tyrannical emperors of the past, taken straight from our history textbooks. What does one have to do, anyway, to be considered important enough to make it into one of those books? I brush my teeth every day, but I can guarantee you that I'll never learn about the inventor of the toothbrush in my history class. No, instead I'll learn about some of the most horrible men who've ever lived and have done nothing to affect my life. And why? To avoid the repetition of history? Regardless of man's actions, such an outcome seems inevitable in every sense. Not to buy into stereotypes, but the liberal young hopefuls who put so much stock into these dated ideas will find themselves just as stuck. I mention stereotypes with the utmost authority, of course! They make up everything we think about our society on a daily basis! Your clothing, your speech, your actions, and your whereabouts decide for you what kind of person you must be to a thousand strangers a day, easily. Even those who claim to be non-judgemental, their opinions are affected by such stereotypes even if they deny it. Such assumptions are what our society functions on. And it can be beneficial in some situations, of course! A first-impression can warn one of a dangerous person, one to be cautious of, absolutely! It can give one a whole host of necessary information for dealing with a person in a social situation, yes, but can also cause one to miss out on a potentially vital opportunity which now will never be known. And the only thing which MOST PEOPLE will care about is, oh no, FOMO!! Yet this behavior and thinking will never change, no matter a person's intent to block it. It is human nature. You who claim not to judge books by their covers, might you be the uninformed while you claim your superiority to the cautious? And now that you consider that, SURPRISE, what I have just suggested is yet ANOTHER assumption! Even one made about yourself is one which makes you question what you know about your opinions, further proving my point. So what really is different between you and he who judges others by first visual or interactive impression all the same? Dammit, people, I'm telling you!! NOTHING IS DIFFERENT!! The whole human race has an eternal, genetic superiority complex and proves it every day! The other races of the earth are considered lesser races simply because we have taken over what is theirs and made it our own. I do not claim to be immune to such judgment and arrogance! I can acknowledge my faults, that I rely heavily on appearances when I need to! So why not crucify me now!? Where is my judge, jury, executioner!? Oh, so it is you, Louison. Hey, didn't see you there." So Grantaire, far drunker now (if that's possible), caught the girl as she passed just trying to bus the tables, and turned his ridiculous and never-ending rant on her. Bossuet leaned over and tried to clamp a hand over Grantaire's mouth to shut him up, but this started Grantaire off on an even worse rant: "Ugh, GET OFF ME! You're not gonna shut me up or calm me down, not while I'm speaking the truth to the masses, to anyone who will be smart enough to listen! I'm fine, you don't need to do that. I'm just sad. What do you want me to say? Humans are horrible, they just completely suck. Butterflies are great, but humans are failures. God fucked up with this one. You want to see something really screwed up, there's nothing more so than your average joe on the street. Like me. I'm depressed and a hypochondriac and I'm pissed for no reason and I'm sleepy and I'm bored and I'm exhausted and I'm STUPID! FUCK IT ALL!" "Then shut up, please!!" Bossuet tried again to silence him, as he'd been in the middle of trying to have a conversation about work with his friend, in the background as Grantaire threw his tantrum.

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 2

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 1920

A/N: The usual warnings for language. Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Did I try to fit too much in? Feedback would be greatly appreciated! 

Chapter 1 HERE | Chapter 2: Hope You Guess My Name | Chapter 3 HERE | Chapter 4 HERE | Chapter 5 HERE | Chapter 6 HERE | Chapter 7 HERE | Chapter 8 HERE | Chapter 9 HERE | Chapter 10 HERE | Chapter 11 HERE | Chapter 12 HERE |

You’re not sure how long you’ve been falling for; it feels both like seconds and hours, and it’s hard to tell with your eyes screwed shut. You only open your eyes when the wind stops whistling in your ears and you can feel ground under your feet. Michael’s smiling down at you, obviously enjoying your fear. It takes you a minute to process, but you shove Michael away from you when you collect your bearings.

“Where the hell are we?” You scan the room you’re standing in, a large hall with classical architecture. Michael’s lips twitch, filling you with anger at his amusement towards this situation.

“Exactly.” You throw your hands up in the air with a huff.

“That doesn’t make any sense! Michael, you need to take me home.” He looks confused at this.

“But...we are home now?” You can’t stop your hand from reeling back and punching Michael in the face. His head snaps to the side. His hand comes up to touch his reddening cheek before he slowly looks at you. “You’re much more feisty than I was told you would be.” Grabbing him by the collar of his stupid cloak, you yank him down to your level.

“You listen here. You’re going to take us to whatever hole you dragged me through, get me back to my house, and then I’m going to call the police and you’ll go to jail for kidna-” You don’t notice Michael bringing his hand to the back of your head. During your rant, he mutters a few words in an ancient language, knocking you out and sending you to the floor in a heap.

Michael grabs your limp body before it hits the floor, scooping you into his arms. “Achlys!” He calls. The minor goddess appears before his eyes, honey-colored hair swishing from the teleportation.

“Yes?”

“Take her to the chambers in the East wing, please. And alert me the second she wakes up.” Though Achlys looks small, she easily carries your body in her arms.

“Of course, Master.” She disappears through the large doors at the end of the hall. Michael groans and runs a hand over his face. Stalking over to the drink cart, he grabs a glass of absinthe already prepared for him.

“This was supposed to be easy.” He mutters. When a door slams, he flinches but doesn’t turn.

“Hey, dumbass!” A sharp voice yells, echoing against the walls. Michael rolls his eyes before turning around.

“Madison, listen-” A slap strikes him for the second time today. Michael rubs his jaw before glaring at the fuming woman. “I suggest you remember who you serve before you try that little trick again, Hecate.” The use of her old name sends the goddess of witchcraft cowering.

“I-I’m sorry, Lord Hades. Please forgive me.” Michael rubs the bridge of his nose, taking a moment before grabbing her hand.

“I’m sorry too. It’s just been a rough day.” Madison chuckles lightly, following Michael as he walks to his throne. The blonde man takes a seat on his obsidian throne, slinging his legs over the arm.

“Obviously. Did you really have to kidnap her? What happened to explaining it to her while you were Above?”

“I tried.” Michael hisses, downing the rest of his drink. A servant appears from thin air to refill Michael’s glass, grabbing one for Madison as well.

“What’s your version of trying?” She knows that his plans tend to go off the rails, and this seems to be the case.

“She likes paranormal things, so I thought that by showing her the Hellmouth, she would be more eager to go explore.” Michael explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. When Madison scoffs, he has reason to believe that this wasn’t the best idea.

“You would think being around for millenia would teach you to think before you act!” The confused look on his face is answer enough. “She’s a human, Michael. Most sane humans, no matter how much they enjoy the paranormal, tend to be a little freaked out when they come face-to-face with an actual portal to the Underworld.”

“I’m an idiot.” Madison doesn’t respond, but the look on her face is response enough. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“How about I see her when she wakes up, try and soften the blow a little bit? She might deal with the shock better if her kidnapper doesn’t show up.”

“I didn’t kidnap her! It’s all a part of the prophecy!” Michael explains.

“Again; your little mortal is human. Humans in today’s world don’t have any belief in prophecies.” The two immortals’ heads turn when the doors open and Achlys comes through.

“Lord Hades, she’s awoken.” Michael sits up in his throne before remembering his advisor’s suggestion.

“Thank you, Zoe. I’ll be there shortly.” Madison dismisses her friend (and sometimes lover).

“Make sure to be careful, she might punch you.” Michael jokingly warns.

“I’d be honored to be knocked out by the mortal who punched the Prince of Hell and got away with it.” Before disappearing, she winks. “Looks like you’ve finally met your match.”

You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past twenty minutes, the shapes around you morphing into people at some points. When you fully wake up, your first thought is how warm your bed is. Your next thought is that this isn’t your bed at all. You sit up suddenly, ignoring the head rush, and glance around in an attempt to find out where you are.

“Mistress?” You jump once you notice the woman standing by the wardrobe.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You ask. She smiles, stepping forward and curtseying.

“I am Achlys, goddess of death mist. Most people today call me Zoe, though.” You stare at her with wide eyes before bursting into laughter. The woman-Zoe-looks concerned, and you really can’t blame her. “Mistress, are you alright?” You nod, wiping the tears that have formed out of the corners of your eyes.

“Oh my God, there was so much wrong with that sentence. I mean, I have to give Michael props for coming up with such an...immersive kidnapping experience, but seriously? A goddess? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Zoe.” You both look to the bedroom door, where a tall blonde in stilettos stands. “I’ve got it from here. Thank you.” Zoe nods, curtseying at you again before brushing hands with the woman. When the door shuts, you stand up.

“Who are you?” She smirks.

“I’m Madison. We’ve heard so much about you, (Y/N).”

“So you’re in on this-this whole kidnapping scheme?” Madison chuckles, and you have to hold yourself back from punching her like you punched Michael. It’s a split-second decision, but you shove her to the side and run up to the door. You yank on it harshly, but it won’t budge.

“Why don’t you sit down? We have a lot to talk about.” You don’t want to sit down, in fact that’s the exact opposite of what you want to do, but your legs have a mind of their own as they lead you to the bed.

“H-how did you do that?” Madison sits next to you, reaching for your hands.

“Dammit, of course he can’t do things the easy way.” She mutters. “So, my real name isn’t Madison. My given name, the one I am typically known as, is Hecate.”

You haven’t studied Greek mythology since elementary school, when everyone was obsessed with learning about the different gods and goddesses of a time long-gone. Even though it’s been years since you thought about the subject, you still remember a lot of the names, including this one.

“Like...the Greek goddess?” You ask slowly. Madison nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re fucking with me. That’s not real, there’s no way.”

“You’ve seen what I can do. You’ve seen what Michael can do too, is that right?” You shake your head.

“No? Michael’s not-” The memory of you attacking him pops into your head. “Did he make me lose consciousness?”

“Yes. Do you know who he really is?”

“He’s not Michael?” You ask quietly.

“He’s still the Michael that you know, (Y/N). But he, like me, has a different name. Michael is the one that mortals call Hades.” You look at Madison/Hecate with a blank look on your face. You want to call her bullshit, say that this is some elaborate ruse and bust out of the labyrinth that you’re trapped in, but you can’t. You saw the cave you were dragged into, felt the magic coming from multiple beings in this place. You’d be more crazy to not believe the woman at this point.

“Holy shit.” You groan. “Are we in Hell right now?” Madison laughs.

“We prefer ‘Underworld’ but technically, yes.” You fall back against the mattress, trying to digest all of this new information.

“So did I get here through a portal? Why did that Zoe girl keep curtseying at me? Why did Michael drag me here? Can I go back home?” The questions start to flow out of your mouth rapidly before you can stop them.

“Sorry, these are questions for Michael, speaking of which,” She stands, pulling you into a sitting position. “get dressed. Michael’s expecting you for dinner.” Madison opens the wardrobe in your room, already going through the clothes hung up there, but you remain on the bed. Who is this man (this god, technically) to kidnap you, answer questions through a third party, and demand that you join him for dinner? He may have got you down to the Underworld, but there was no way you’d make this easy for him.

“No.” Madison turns towards you, two outfits in her hands.

“What?”

“No. I’m not going to dinner with him. I don’t care who, or what, he is. I’d much rather stay in here.” Madison looks stunned, and you’re assuming that nobody’s ever said ‘no’ to the God of the Dead. Without another word, she turns on her heel and leaves the room, clothes scattered on the floor. You scramble off the bed, locking the door quickly behind her.

It’s a matter of minutes before there’s knocking on the door. You know now that Michael could easily unlock the door with his powers, but at least he’s some semblance of a gentleman.

“(Y/N)? What’s this I hear about not wanting to join me for dinner?” You lean your head up against the door, and you can hear the chattering of multiple others outside.

“No. I won’t join you for dinner.” You try as hard as possible to sound strong, but your voice still comes out as a squeak.

“You don’t have a choice in this matter, my dear. Either you eat with me, or you don’t eat at all.” His voice is dangerously low, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Th-then I guess I won’t eat at all.” You press your back against the door when Michael bangs on it.

“Then starve! See if I care!”

“Oh, fuck you!” You’re proud of yourself for how steady your voice stays. After a few more angry bangs, he finally leaves. Sitting back on the bed, you allow yourself to cry for the first time since this ordeal began. From now on, you decide, you won’t let this captivity take hold over you. Even though you’re a prisoner in literal Hell, you’re going to do anything to gain what little control you possibly can.

[volturi-or-die]

Twisted: Chapter 16- Fear

Chapter Directory

Previous Chapter: Chapter 15- Curiosity

Next Chapter: Chapter 17- Incentive

Point of View: Alec

Word Count: 1797

Warnings: Strong language

In a moment I heard Mina’s heart stop beating. She stood frozen, as still as the air around her. 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” she questioned Jacob, her voice trembling. 

Jacob appeared in more pain than Mina. Guilt, fear, anger all visible in his brown eyes. He cared for Renesmee, something everyone that met her seemed to do. 

Jacob’s voice was strained as he began to explain, “I don’t know where she is. I went to the bathroom, I wasn’t gone for more than 2 minutes.  I came back out and she was gone. I kept trying to call her name, but nothing. I even called her multiple times and still nothing. I couldn’t even get a scent. I don’t know how that’s even possible.”

“Did you go-“

“I couldn’t. Too many people.” Jacob ran his hands through his hair, the frustration getting to him. How was it even possible for a vampire to go missing, without even a scent? Jacob looked up at me desperately, “Can you help?”

I was startled by his request, but I could see this was not something he took lightly. “Yes,” I answered and turned towards Mina. Before I said anything, she was off to the alleyway, knowing full well what I intended for her to do.

She was considerably faster than an average human, but suspicion was the least of her concerns and mine. I knew I could not stop her, not now. For Renesmee’s sake, she would need to be fast.

“How fast are you?” I asked looking back to Jacob.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. He was frightened. The fear he exuded was almost palpitable.

“Very well. Where was she last?” 

“By the bookshop to the east of the tower.” I began to run towards the location he described. The sky was getting darker, the evening making the remaining residents of Volterra take shelter in their homes. 

Jacob caught up to me as I attempted to catch Renesmee’s scent. His presence however interfered, the repugnant smell of werewolf masking most scents. 

That was one aspect of the Cullen’s life that I never quite understood. I could not comprehend how they remained so close to a werewolf, particularly after all these years. Although perhaps the better question was, what did Renesmee mean to Jacob?

“Get anything?” I shook my head in response. This was not right. A human or vampire or any creature for that matter does not simply disappear. Her scent was here, but it did not travel in any direction. This was not possible. Her human blood should give off a strong scent, but there was nothing. 

The only being I had ever met without a scent was Mina, but Mina was something else. Renesmee was a hybrid. How could they both not have a scent? Perhaps it was appropriate to ask not how, but who?

“Fuck. God. Fuck,” Jacob began cursing. I could feel the rage, pain, all of it radiating from his body.

“Calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. She’s gone and I don’t know where she is or what happened. How the fuck did this happen. I never should have let her out of my sight. I never should have let her come-” He stopped suddenly and looked towards me. 

In a moment his rage was redirected. “You.”

Realization struck me. “No. Jacob no. This was not our doing.” 

“How would you know? They could have kept you in the dark,” his voice getting increasingly louder. 

“No Jacob. It was not us. We do not have any interest in her nor would we do anything to jeopardize our relationship with the Cullens,” I tried to explain. My words seemed to register as Jacob began to stand down, but he remained tense. 

I could not rightfully expect him to trust me, but for the time being he appeared to believe me. Renesmee was important, but no one in the guard could do this, not without directly disobeying Aro’s instructions. Unless these were Aro’s instructions. 

This was blasphemy. Aro would not have ordered this. He would not endanger the entire coven and risk alienating the Olympic coven over a half breed, not again. But the Cullens were not here, only Emmett accompanied Mina to the castle these past few days.  

“Jacob, where is the rest of Carlisle’s coven?” I questioned. 

“Emmett’s out hunting with Esme and Carlisle but they’re on their way back. Edward went with the girls and Jasper to Milan. I already told them,” he answered me. 

“Shit.” I knew my reaction surprised Jacob. The only way to attack a coven of this size is divided and divided they were.  Jacob seemed to process the same thought as he began to connect the pieces. This was coordinated. 

Jacob’s phone rang and he quickly answered it as I listened in on their conversation.

“Emmett.”

Come back to the hotel.

“Is she there?”

No but Mina’s back. I’ll explain when you get here.

“On our way.” Jacob ended the call and gestured me to run ahead of him. 

Within minutes I was at the small hotel and made my way quickly up the walls and to the balcony. Carlisle opened the door and allowed me into the living room. 

Emmett had a hand on Esme’s shoulder trying to make some attempts at comforting her while Mina paced in front of the fireplace.

“Thank you for coming Alec,” Carlisle said as he sat down. Mina looked up at me as if only now acknowledging my presence. The fear in her eyes was easy to spot, but behind it was fierce determination. 

She stopped pacing and held out a paper that was wrapped tightly in her hands. I grabbed it and scanned through the words.

“Minalia,

Renesmee is alive. We will exchange her life for yours. 9 PM. The abandoned vineyard to the northeast. 

Come alone.”

I handed her back the paper. This was a game. She was a pawn. 

“I’m going,” Mina declared.

“No you are not,” Esme cried out fiercely. It was the cry of a mother, the kind that refused to let her child get hurt. But not every mother can save her child. 

Mina spoke again and gestured to the clock on the wall, “We don’t have time to argue this. The rest of them won’t get back in time. Esme I don’t know what will happen to her, and dammit if I can change it I will.”

“We cannot ask you to endanger your life,” Carlisle spoke up.

“Well good thing you’re not asking.” 

The ferocity in her voice was unmistakable. She was going to go regardless of anyone’s decisions. It was her own moral compass that would be her downfall. 

“What do you think, Alec?” Emmett asked me, quieter than the rest. Why he would consider my opinion puzzled me greatly. But still he continued, “You’re an objective party. What do you make of the situation?”

I glanced at Mina before I answered. Her eyes pleaded with me, a silent request to take her side. But I could not. “It’s a trap,” I answered Emmett. “Someone has planned this accordingly, but I do not know who. To go would be foolish.” 

“Would it be foolish if it was Jane?” Mina challenged me. Was it even possible for her to consider Renesmee her sister? She had only been with them for eight years, while Jane and I have been together since birth. We were each others only family, but did she really regard the Cullens as hers?

“Yes. However you are in no position to stand up to what I assume are are vampires. You will fail,” I answered her. I knew my response would not please her and as such she glared at me. 

“Alec,” Carlisle mumbled, “Would the guard be willing to help?” There was no way to know for certain but his plea was clear. 

“We can. May I borrow your phone?”

Mina protested, “NO! Stop. You are not going. The guard is not getting involved. I have to go. I have to do this myself. I refuse to let her or anyone else in your family get hurt.” 

“Dammit Mina!” Emmett yelled out now. “You are our family too!” 

Mina stayed still, her eyes wide. There was a level of pain that I saw that I wish I did not understand. She had everything she wanted right there in her grasp. She said nothing as the tears fell. Esme rushed to her side and held her close as she cried in her arms. 

Carlisle handed me the phone and joined them. I excused myself as I gave them the privacy they needed. 

The rain started again, coming down fiercer than Mina’s own tears. I dialed the number to the main desk. It rang and rang with no answer. How had no one heard the phone? I tried again with no response once more. This was wrong. 

“Alec!” Jacob’s voice called out. I pointed upstairs as I tried once again to call the desk. This was not possible. What was going on?

Thunder cracked through the sky as I rushed to the castle. I willed myself to go faster than I had before, but still, I was on the other side of the town. It would be minutes until I would reach the entrance. 

The doors burst open as I found my way to the main doors. There Clarissa sat, visibly startled by my entrance. “Alec is everything okay?” 

She was alive. The phone on her desk lit up. “Do you answer the phone?!” My tone frightened her into silence. “Answer me!” 

She spoke timidly, “Yes sir but I have not received any calls this hour.” I scanned her desk and saw it. A small cord was pulled out that connected the landline. Someone interfered, used Clarissa as a pawn. 

“Alec?” Demetri called out after me. 

“Where’s Jane?” 

“She’s in the throne room. I was just there,” he answered although puzzled by my question. 

“Is she safe?” 

“Yes, but-” I did not hear his voice as I rushed out the door. If Jane was safe then there was someone else who would not be. This was a distraction. 

The rain had soaked my hood by the time I reached the hotel. I scoured the room of the vampires and wolf. One, two, three, four. Where was the fifth? 

“If you’re looking for Mina, she’s downstairs getting a drink from the vending machine,” Jacob explained. No she was not. That was a lie.

My fear was confirmed as I made my way to the bottom floor. A note taped to the vending machine. 

“Alec. You’re the only one that understands. Thanks for listening. Maybe we could be friends if I make it out of this alive.” 

Tagged: @felixdeservedbetter @volturisecretary