#have not had inspo for her canon in years so will this help. one of my all time fave daughters her own fandom doesn't deserve her

[itchose]

bringing hayden r/omero here from my general multi to make yj her main verse, so here are some random notes:

she was raised by her older sister, val, and she's the most important thing in her life. she's never been away from her for as long as nationals was going to be, so although she was excited, it was still hard saying goodbye to her. throughout her time in the wilderness, getting back to her sister is what drives her to keep surviving and to hold onto hope. she's terrified of knowing what's going through her sister's mind once news of the plane's disappearance hits.

she had a kidney transplant when she was 15. her biggest concern once the plane crashed, outside of what her sister was going through, was that she was eventually going to run out of her anti-rejection medication. may cause problems later in the timeline but all of that is tbd.

because her medication was so expensive, she insisted on helping val out with the cost. she got a job at the sinema club as a waitress, despite the fact that she was a minor; she was paid under the table and was horribly exploited there but dealt with it because it was good money and she needed to help her sister. when she told her boss that she needed the week off for nationals, he fired her. this was her biggest stress getting on the plane.

she always took pride in how good she was at soccer. she helped coach junior soccer leagues and wanted to play soccer in college. after rescue, her soccer dreams kind of die, i think.

she survives the wilderness and eventually goes on to be a social worker (at least this is what i wrote for her original canon, i don't know, i may change this for yj canon).

she doesn't hesitate to join tai on her expedition. she'd rather play an active role in their survival + rescue than wait.

i don't think she really gives into lottie's blessings until javi is found, because she can't make sense of his survival without starting to give into it. more on this later.

more tbd <3

[zepskies]

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.  

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.    

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.  

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @syrma-sensei

[colourstreakgryffin]

HIIIIII I'M BACK, my phone was broken for a few days and even when it was fixed I had no inspo for ideas on asks... BUBUBUBUBUT I'M BACK AND I GOT AN IDEAAAA

I've been losing interest in kny recently so I think I'll go along with Hazbin Hotel!!

Hear me out so much, Husk, Cherri, or Vox with reader who does ballet... I do ballet myself and that shit is soohohohoho fucking awesome and painful at the same time, like doing a split while doing a backbend too, not even like a half assed split no no no no no. A perfectly aligned split. I've had so much moments where I thought my legs would just... *pop* like a doll's. BUT ENOUGH OF MY RANTING.

remember to take breaks and drink enough water, you don't have to rush anything. take good care of yourself, make sure you have healthy habits and treat yourself to something today, like going out to a great restaurant! idk but just make sure you treat yourself to something nice today, Chiharu :3

here's terribly deformed Charlie bringing you chocolate milk :3

Haha! I have that EXACT SAME picture! I love terribly deformed Charlie bringing me chocolate milk every Wednesday. Thanks, Lottie! You know Husk’s response to our flexibility is a resounding ‘what the fuck’ and this is my first time ever trying out Cherri! And hey, I won’t write Cherri or Vox, I’ll write both!

Husk

Husk is a sweetheart when it comes to being your boyfriend, trust me. He’s caring, he may be a bit rough with his advice but he only does so in order to protect you. He’s skilled with people and he is happy to help comfort you. His patience is high… but even Husk himself is anxious at getting to see your beloved hobby

Ballet. Well, Husk isn’t against it. He always thought it was such an old hobby. That ballet dancers don’t really exist anymore but then again, he won’t express his thoughts outloud and he gives you thumbs up when watching your practices. It’s very impressive and he isn’t against being at every single practice to performance

You know Husk is freaked out by how flexible you are. Back bends whilst doing full on splits. Satan’s fuck, he is cringing at how a human body can do that but at the same time, he’s so impressed that he just can’t bring himself to hate what he is looking at

Husk is in complete and utter awe when he can review your practice performances. Ballet may be a bit disturbing to him, due to how much it stretches the body’s limits, but it’s also so beautiful, graceful and majestic

Husk can’t pull his eyes off you and he falls into a deep state of enamour. You’re so beautiful, even more than you already are, as you dance. He couldn’t even believe it was possible 

Husk is quite protective over you, like I said before, so when you land on your ankle badly, he is rushing onto the stage to check it and carry you out to make sure you’ll heal well. He won’t let you practice or stretch or practice your flexibility until you are doing better

“Honeypot. You will win this dance, I know you will. You’ve done training for years and you look incredible as you dance. Yes, I will be there in the crowd”

Cherri Bomb

Cherri Bomb is an energetic, supportive and joyful girlfriend. One that doesn’t mind getting a bit destructive and carefree with her partner and encouraging them to have more fun with her but has a soft spot. Of course, however, you know she will take your hobby seriously and help you or watch you for you, it’s actually fun to her as well

Cherri actually finds your ballet passion ‘precious and cute’. Something she is all for since it’s such a simple, innocent, harmless favourite activity. She likes making bombs to make things explode, you love to explode the competition and grace the dancefloor stage with your beauty and poise

Cherri may seem like she isn’t much of a dancer, maybe more of a rapper but seriously, she actually is and it’s canon that she is a very skilled dancer so there is no doubt that she is either passing down her own skills in dancing, training you more or dancing with you. She will dance ballet with you and practice two-dancer ballet with you

Cherri will blow up a hole in the wall at your practice ballrooms or your performance ballrooms to make it and she refuses to let anybody else try take care of you if you’re hurt so suspect her to get into a fight, in a crime of protective passion. She wants you happy and safe, she’ll fight for that

Cherri is actually quite fine with how flexible you are and how your warm-up stretching can really stretch out your limbs. The way you lift your leg up until it’s completely vertical and both your pelvis and the underneath of your thigh is visible. She is impressed and asks if you can teach her how to be so flexible. She isn’t as disturbed as the other two, she likes it

Cherri, just like Husk and Vox, falls into a complete and utter admiration at being able to watch you perform and dance. The soothing gentle music has her head dancing as well and her single eye basically widening, she’s more in love now then ever

“Hey-ya, bubblegum. Did’ya have fun on ‘dat stage? I had fun recordin’ it! You looked amazin’, you’ll win this tournament. No problem! Of course, babe, I’ll be in the front row!”

Vox

Vox is a busy man and can be a bit arrogant at times, but he is actually quite a good boyfriend. He gives off good advice and support, he is protective with his power and he is the type to spoil his lover. When he is around, he’d doting, he’s a bit overbearing but because he cares and he makes sure you’ll always feel loved and comfortable with him

Vox is actually quite supportive but he is the voice of reason. He won’t tolerate you overdoing yourself in your precious little hobby, he will encourage to dance ballet but if you go too far, he will step in and correct your behaviours. However, that doesn’t often happen so you can dance all you want at the big practice ballroom he hired out for you and/or dancing with you

Vox isn’t sure how to feel about seeing how flexible you are… it’s pretty hot but at the same time, it’s disturbing. You’re on the floor and you’re stretching your pushed-back leg over your back so much that you’re almost in a wheel-shape with your body. He’s amazed, he is already cheering you on, he’s recording it to brag about he can’t help but feel aroused

Vox, everytime he attends your passionate hobby’s practice and performance events, records it on his phone or on his own face so he can both watch it back to admire you and to show the other Vees that he is the boyfriend of the best ballet dancer in Hell. He sometimes forgets to record it since you look so… incredible

Vox is protective, extremely protective. You’re smaller, you’re weaker. You’re less wealthy and less well off. You require constant guarding to ensure you’ll be able to make it to the next day. If you even slightly land on your ankle awkwardly, he is stomping up to the stage and taking you away so he can check up on you

You know Vox almost drops the camera he is using to record you every professional dance on the stage and he can’t stop thinking about how unbelievably beautiful you look, how you’re as silly and velvety like a swan with your every spin and flex. He takes a few seconds to snap out of his awe over you

“Come now, sweetheart. You’ve done more than enough, that dance can again-kill everybody in this room and you made all those amateurs look pathetic. I want to reward you for this. Don’t you worry, I’ll be at the final performance“

[infernalodie]

𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐏𝐭.𝟏) || 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐲

“𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘮, 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘎𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘛𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯“

Inspo: Sleep Token - Ascensionism

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: They would understand soon enough and when they did they would wish to have followed you...

Warnings: Angst

Part Two

Words: 1461

A canon event.

It’s something Miguel had lectured to you about a year ago. The inevitability of having to lose someone that makes you and every Spider-person them. It defined you as a hero and a human being and made you realize that the positives of this job came with their negatives. Dire and unchanging ones. And sometimes you thought that you would be prepared for that day. But it was a simple lie you continued to tell yourself in the hope that it would numb the pain.

But who was Miguel to tell you how your story was supposed to go?

He worked off a theory. Off the numbers and data that an A.I. gave him. He was a man of science. Not belief. So, there has been no in-person count of what it led to if a Spider-Person stopped their canon event. Saving their loved ones and themselves from the pain that could come from it if they didn’t do what their instincts told them.

And you had planned to be the first. Wishing to prove the man wrong in every statement he’d made to your first meeting.

The plans had been set, promises were made for people to be there when that day came. You did everything you could to be prepared. You trained harder. You fought harder. All of it with the goal to protect those you could.

But you weren’t enough. Your efforts were fucking meaningless.

Looking down on New York, your swollen eyes watched the fires burn brightly. Rain soaking your braids with loose strands sticking to your forehead and cheeks. And your suit was charred and torn in multiple placements. Mask balled up in your tight fists. A wound spanning across your stomach bled continuously despite your attempt of webbing it shut for the time being.

All you wanted was for it to all stop.

You could hear it. A rapturing through reality with its natural orange glow reflecting off the puddles surrounding your spot on the edge of the clock tower. Two shadows cast on either side of your quivering figure, relaying the arrival of two people you’d trusted.

Arriving too late for it to matter.

“Y/n?” Gwen muttered, peeling her mask off and approaching your stiff figure. “Are you okay?”

You sat there for a few moments, sifting through the many emotions flowing through you at once. Pondering how to answer such a question from someone you thought to care.

“I never got to see the sunset, Gwen,” you said, words measured. “I hoped that I could feel its warmth again. But it’s been blocked out.”

A lingering absence, in reality, was the best way to describe how you spoke. And the way your eyes watched out on the city with a bittersweet smile. Something was poetic about this outcome. How after one event, everything else seemed to dissolve into chaos.

Beside her, Hobie pursed his lips at the sight of the city on fire. “That ain’t good,” he commented, staring at the chaos ensuing in your universe.

Riots, killings, and theft. All being committed under your watch. If someone asked you if you’d let it get this bad, you would say no. But whatever was left in your heart from the day before was gone. A thick, black void leaked from the wound. Its presence is only left to show you its place once held love.

Looking over your shoulder, your gaze connected to Gwen’s. It was full of anxiety and pain. “Where were you?” Tears clouded your vision. In a way, Gwen couldn’t help but find you beautiful at this moment. Rain pelting down around the two of you. Water droplets disguising the tears that slipped down your cheeks fearlessly.

But she could also see the pain in them. “You told me you would be here when I needed you! But you were elsewhere. Running around with him!” You waved your hand dismissively toward Hobie, who was confused about how he was brought into the argument. “I trusted you and you lied to me!”

“I had no way of knowing, Y/n. I wasn’t able to come here,” Gwen tried to reason, taking cautious steps toward you. “You have to understand I have no control over this. Miguel-“

A laugh erupted through your chest. It was eerie. Full of anger and frustration. And Gwen felt tiny underneath your hollowed gaze. With each provoking step, you grew larger in threat and intimidation. “Really? You’re going to blame this on Miguel?” You questioned, finally reaching her and grabbing her by the throat.

The action caused Hobie to step in. “Y/n, stop!” As Hobie reached to grab you, your claws drew. Nails swiftly carved themselves into his flesh, paralyzing him–his body becoming numb and crashing to the ground. A grunt fell from his lips as his eyes watched fearfully of your intentions.

Turning your gaze to Gwen, you tightened your grip around her thin throat. Feeling her hands slap at your arm, fingers squeezing around the limb in hopes she could break free. Yet, the struggle only enabled you to lift her off the ground. A blood-boiling rage mounting levels that combatted any level of understanding you held for the girl.

This wasn’t about you losing your sister. This wasn’t related to Miguel or any of the other Spider-People. This was about Gwen. Her promise. Her reassurance that everything would be fine–and you fucking believed it.

She twisted your expectations. Betting on a piece of fiction that was riddled with lies of its consistency to your story. Her words, her whispered lies of misconstrued success–They were all hopeless conceptions to place in your mind. A methodical game of chess that she’s been winning from the first move.

But even with this outlook on her, you couldn’t understand why. Why would she do this? Why would she leave you on your own? Why wouldn’t she just say she couldn’t be there? Why, why, why? Too many questions for a simple answer to justify. And it posed the final question rattling in your head; do you even want to know why?

“If you cared about me, you would’ve been here to help me. If Miles were trusted, he would’ve been here. He would’ve tried to save my sister. He would’ve followed through on a promise.” Clenching your jaw, you squeezed a little tighter, teeth clamping together. The faint wobbling of your lips was evident as your nose twitched in frustration. “What does that say about you?”

Gwen bit her lip, hoping the pain would suppress the stinging behind her eyes. Managing to find leverage with her feet pressing on your chest, pushing away just enough to let out a choked, “I’m sorry.”

Two words. An apology that was not only long overdue but meaningless. Not when you had buried Amelie yourself. When you had to listen to her whimpers, hands holding onto your arms demanding you reveal yourself to her.

Gwen should’ve been here.

“If you’d asked me to be there for you, I would’ve been there in an instant. The same goes for Miles,” you confessed shamelessly. The idea of restrictions on emotions is unveiled by the brutal and honest truth of your pain. Displaying the bitter ink that seeped through your eyes, masking themselves in tears. “And that’s because I love you two too much to see you both be in pain. I would do anything to take that pain and place it on my shoulders. But you lied!”

Through the open skylight of the clock tower, the clouds shifted from obscuring the large rock floating in space. And the moonlight spilled through the glass and revealed Gwen’s tear-stained cheeks. There was a second of hesitance. A flicker of question in yourself. But you pushed it aside, clenching your jaw. “And I won’t let you or any more of us do that.” Grabbing her wrist, you peeled the interdimensional travel watch from her wrist and tossed her aside.

Gwen hit the ground with a thud, rolling across the wet rooftop until she was laid beside Hobie. But when she found you, the portal using the watch was activated. The destination was unknown to her.

“Y/n, stop, please!” The blonde cried. “You don’t have to do this. We can talk about this!”

But you kept your back to her, hoping the ink leaking from your eyes wouldn’t be noticed. “I continued because I wanted to be ready for the day you came when I needed you,” you muttered. “You made me this way, Gwen.”

Gwen leaned Hobie against a wall, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he closed his eyes. She fell to his side, placing her hands over her face. The sunrise. The start of something new.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 1

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues, first few chapters are flashbacks to high school, they WILL NOT be explicit just fluff.

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

Fic Summary: Andrea has loved Javier since she was a girl in pigtails, yet he has always been off limits. Andrea's older brother Frankie makes sure Javier never crosses any lines, which was an easy task considering Javi's relationship status with long term girlfriend Lorraine. Somewhere, the lines blur.

A/N: Hi tumblr, I decided to also upload on here so heh Hi! It was mentioned in the tags but Ms. Jessica Alba is my face claim for Andrea my beloved. I do have little pinterest boards but I feel like I could also post my inspo pics on here too hehe. Anyway my pinterest is maribari11. My Running Like Water Boards are titled;

Before 1985

Genie and Frankie

1985+

Lor.

Diaz House

First ten chapters are being slowly uploaded on here but can be accessed on ao3. Enjoy :)

word count: 3.3k

Andrea was fifteen, thirteen, twelve and twenty one in his basement. In 1977 Andrea was only thirteen. Her brother, Frankie was fifteen and most definitely couldn’t be bothered hanging out with the girl. She was a bit awkward and interested in things he wasn’t. Deep in his rebellious phase, skipping church and frequenting smoking pot at Genevieve's house. That bitch. Andrea would mutter when she would roll her car into the dirt driveway.

She used to pick fun of Andrea and Andrea wasn’t one to just “forget” about something like that. Having Frankie around definitely pushed that potty mouth that they wouldn’t dare use around their mama. Having been the one of the only Puerto Ricans within a 3 mile radius, mom would take them to church trying to follow along with the differences in words between the way they spoke on the island and how their preacher from Mexico preached.

Melissa Diaz, single mother with too much money for her own good. The largest home in their neighborhood, courtesy of her grandfather who wrote Melissa’s name in his will. He struck big with oil in the 30s and his only alive relative was his little one Melissa, who wasn’t so little. She was already pregnant with Andrea at the time and obviously dropped her life in Miami as a struggling single mom for sudden Texas luxury.

They were also one of the few people in the neighborhood who didn’t like the ranching lifestyle.

Melissa wasn’t into that, she opened up her boutique in town and let the money pile that way. But it was lonely, for Andrea at least. She had friends in her sixth grade classes of course but it was never close enough to be invited out when they would leave school on Fridays and walk to Genevieve's (bitch) dads ice cream parlor. Despite Frankie’s new habits, maybe once a month he’d take Andrea out. And he had taken her out that summer.

The fishing rod sound was comforting, down the hill and a sharp left into town. “Frankie! My legs are too short to keep up.” Green short overalls and a baseball ring t-shirt. His back was facing you and you grip the handles, lean forward but it still doesn’t make you as fast as him. You mutter curses under your breath like your mama could hear.

The town came into view, the shops, moms shop and the police station smack in the middle. The police of Laredo, who mama very much disliked after she was pulled over for having Frankie in the front seat when he was six.

Genevieve's beetle parked in front of the ice cream shop, the speed increases and you can’t help but groan with annoyance. You follow him any way knowing you will be ditched for the next 2 hours, I can just ride back home now.

You don’t though. You follow him before the two of you park our bikes by a post, you two hadn’t had your locks because one of the two of you usually would stay out with the bikes, (it was always Frankie) while the other (you) bought ice cream. With Ice Cream you and your brother would walk your bikes to a bench. Sit for a bit and eat ice cream, it was the time where you two actually enjoyed each others company. Frankie is eyeing the car, “Stay here, I’m going to see if I can catch Genie.”

You give him pleading eyes, “No Frankie, this isn’t fair.” You look around anxiously at the thought of being alone in the street next to two pricey bikes. He laughs and shoves your shoulder before walking into the shop. God, you hate this phase he’s in. He’s totally in love with her and she was older- seemed like she just wanted to be around him to smoke. You look out at the town surrounding you. Summer classic, just so busy this time of year. You watch as 3 girls leave mom's shop, bags in hand. Teenage boys laughing over something near the bar that was closed.

“Andrea?” A deep voice comes from behind you, deep voice? You turn, your pigtails practically slapping against your face. You blink rapidly as the boy approached you. He looked your close to brothers age, but with one of those awkward puberty staches. “Sorry, your Frankie’s sister right?”

You nod, looking down at the bikes, still confused as to why he was talking to you. Or how he knew your name, or why he was getting so close. “You should know that your brother owes 30 cash for a few ounces, has been avoidin’ me” His steps even closer and you can’t hold both bikes at once, Frankie’s bike drops to the floor. Shaking your head, you already had a fear of boys, let alone teenage boys. Now one is close to you asking for money you for sure did not have.

“That’s not my issue dude.” You squeak, and grimace, you really couldn’t have looked weaker than at this moment. Twelve years old in overalls and pig tails. The tween quickly retrieve a blade from his pocket.

With quickness and without any time for thoughts you step away from the bike.

Fuck this.

The boy crouches down and stabs the wheel and the scream you let out is nothing short of embarrassing.

Is no one seeing this?

In a split second the kids face is on the ground, pushed as he stabbed the wheel.

“What the fuck is your issue?” A voice growls, not deep like the prick on the floor but definitely a voice of someone awaiting puberty. Your eyes flash up from the sight-seeing the voice, reaching down and grabbing the collar of blade boy, turning him on his back. “Get the fuck out of here.” He shoves the kid further into the concrete and now people were paying attention.

Yet still, no sign of Frankie, who was probably already smoking with Genie in the back of the store.

The guy with a smudge of sidewalk dirt on his cheek runs away from the 14-year-old vigilante, abandoning his weapon.

The boy had a familiar look, like you’ve seen him in school. A grown look to him already to which his voice contrasted. Your face flushed red when he reached down to grab the bike, “Are you okay?” He stood straight, tall. You nod embarrassingly quick, wishing for a moment that you hadn’t looked so young.

“Yes I-”

“Javier? What the fuck happened to my bike?” Frankie steps out of the shop, Genie behind him, her hair in its perfect voluminous state. The small crowd that formed from Javier’s quick action had already desolated.

Javier, Javier.

Javier scoffs, “You left your little sister with your bike and some kid nearly mugged her.” Frankie’s eyes widen, looking at you, your fear and embarrassment broadcasted on your face. He closes his eyes for moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. Cursing under his breath. He takes a few steps forward, disarming the bike from Javier’s grip.

“Dillan…” He grits. Frankie puts his hand on your shoulder, Javier stood to your left shaking his head. “Shit, Andrea I’m sorry,”. Frankie turned to look at Genie. “Would you mind driving us to Javi’s”

She agreed instantly and by the grace of God we somehow fit the bikes in her small car. To your benefit, you and Javier peeled next to each other. You just couldn’t help but crush immediately. Frankie explained that Javier’s dad “Chucho” used to fix bikes, he probably had a replacement wheel there. He also apologized over and over, Genevieve laughing at how apologetic he was. And Chucho fixed his bike out in the driveway. So you stayed in Javier’s basement for hours. But like always, you felt like an outsider.

A bit too young to be in that crowd. They spoke of things you couldn’t relate to yet. But you were occupied, a gaze on Javier seemed to be the only interesting aspect of the night. And your assumptions were right-well almost right...

Javier was fourteen, turning fifteen in August and he was at your school but just in the 8th grade. Its something you two shared in common, you were both a year older than everyone else in your grades. It was the summer going into 7th grade which meant Javier was joining Frankie at Laredo High School in a matter of months.

And again, to your advantage, it became a constant routine.

Biking to Javier’s basement, you, Genie and Frankie. You didn’t complain despite still feeling out of place, you finally had people to hang out with. And for mama, she was ecstatic that her two kids were actually hanging out together. They would joke about things you hadn’t experienced yet. “Cover your ears Andrea,” Genie jokes as Javier described hooking up with one of Genevieve's friends. She was definitely too old for Javi. God do all 8th graders “hook up”.

You were also quick to realize Genevieve wasn’t all too bad, it sure seemed she grew a bit since her playground bully days. Yet you still managed to be the butt of every joke in Javier’s basement.

“Do you even have friends in school?” Frankie leans into his knees, passing his blunt to Javier. The pass was always skipped over you because you were too little. Surprisingly, you actually agreed. Your eyes narrow at Frankie as he tried to dig at you.

“Leave her alone, I mean you’re here hanging out with your twelve-year-old sister, so you really are no better.”

You couldn’t help it. You were doomed when he beat up that kid Dillan. You couldn’t help but blush at anything he said. It was classic. Little girl crushing on one of her only friends just because he was nice to her. The whole thing just grew deeper with time as you all got closer. As Javier proved himself to be the only one on your side.

Slinging an arm over your shoulders as you all walked home the following summer. It was all friendly to him but you knew Genevieve could read your face.

That face when you're trying to be serious to avoid smiling ear to ear from being so close to your one-time-knight in shining armor.

Though, you never really saw Javier during the school year. It wasn’t surprising, you weren’t even in the same school building during his freshman and sophomore year. You also had to accept that it was just a summer thing, enough time would pass where Javier would be shocked every time he saw you. During his sophomore year you had not seen him those whole nine school months. Not even with all the quinceañeras and town events. You just never saw him, even when you would deliberately bike past his house. You would always see Chucho though. He’d wave, you’d return it and then look straight ahead, oh my god I’m such a creep.

It just became devastating when you were going into high school. You had gotten taller, maybe prettier. But you think it was just the fact that you were 15 now. He hadn’t truly seen you since you were 14. Back when you still had to patch your knees from typical middle school rough housing.

That year he was gone, 1979, he came back briefly just to leave again at the very start of the summer. Attending a summer police camp, for boys. In turn, Frankie spent the summer working and Genie (who was finally your brother’s girlfriend) was taking summer courses at a beauty school.

No, absolutely not, is what you tell Genie when she asked to dye it blonde. You did give in with a haircut and your once long mane now only reached just below your shoulders. “Layers, it makes you look more grown up. Getting you high school ready.” She gleams as she chops your hair in her classroom.

Luckily, despite all of your older asshole brothers jokes, you weren’t completely socially inept.

In that Javi-less year you had met with some girl’s you played lacrosse with. Liandra and Monica. And they really kept you busy that summer. The three of you went swimming and Monica would drive you all around town. They were surely some characters, Monica a bit of a spaz, older than you of course. Javier’s age. Liandra was tougher and much more athletic than the rest of the girls on your team.

It was late in summer, end of July. That familiar feeling was settling in every time you would pass a store with a sign that said Back to school sale.

In your final beach trip with your girls you had come back in Monica’s car like you always did, in shorts and your bikini tops.

7-11 was your haven, steal a few candy bars and pay for Slurpee’s. “God, your tan line.” Liandra grabs your shoulder with her cold hand as it was just gripping her drink. You wince at the feeling.

Gritting your teeth, “Yeah, I just catch sun a bit more.” The cold air of the store nipping at you, goosebumps rising. Monica curses as the slushie overflows, Liandra shoves her in annoyance.

“Mujer, tienes que poner la tapa primero. Tapa ¡primero!” Liandra says very seriously, earning a groan from Monica. You laugh, sipping your cherry flavored slush. The flavor so sweet and concentrated, how you liked. Your eyes fall to the ground as your friends argued in Spanish. You could understand them of course but speaking it, oh that was a whole different story. They thought it was so funny to leave you in a room with their family members to hear you struggle.

An elbow digs into your bare rib. Your eyes snap up at Monica, annoyance prevalent in your face. “Hot guy, older… staring at you right now.” She speaks out the side of her mouth in the most cartoonish way ever. Your eyebrows screw together as you try to slyly look to your right, red straw between your cherry-stained lips.

A familiar pit in your stomach forms, one you would get just a summer ago or when you would bike passed his house and see his truck in the driveway. Your eyebrows shoot up as Javier stands near the refrigerated drinks, a confused look on his face.

 He looks so much older; he was taller and his hair. God, he would be 17 by now. Or 16? It isn’t august, he’s still 16.

“I thought it was you.” He laughs walking towards you, not helping the throbbing in your chest. You could hear the girls stir from behind you. His smile doing the thing. When the corners of his eyes crinkle and you could barely make out the color of them. Has he been working out?

Fuck of course he has, he’s been training. Where was he all year?

“Shit, I feel like I haven’t seen you since last summer.” Without letting you think he pulls you in for a hug, too distracted by his scent and hold to realize you were just in a bikini top. His large hand flat on your upper back, stinging the mixture of burn and tan you had received from being by the seaside.

He lets you go but still has a hand on your tanned arm. You try not to focus on the touch and instead speak. “Uh- yeah where have you been all year.” You blurt, fuck did you sound desperate? Obsessed? You were. You had kind of been worried sick. Worried that something was wrong although you knew deep down that Chucho just wouldn’t just go on with his day if there really had been an issue.

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, I know. Chucho sent me to that High School for law and justice last year. Lived with my uncle out there” Your eyes widen, that was in Houston. Chucho really let him leave all year-and then for summer?

He laughs again at your reaction, “I know, I’m back now, going to finish junior and senior year at Laredo, it was pricey keeping me over there. I’m here again” He smiles, he hasn’t stopped since he realized it was you. He always looked at you with that sort of gaze, you wanted to believe it was adoration. And his voice, oh my god when did it get this deep. His eyes fall to the girls behind you.

 It snaps you from your Javier Peña daze.

“Oh- that’s great. Sorry-” You awkwardly look at both girls by your side. “These are my friends, Monica and Liandra we play on the varsity lacrosse.” They both are ogling him and you mentally roll your eyes. It’s just the way they are.

Javi crosses his arms and nods, a smirk playing on his lips. He puts a hand out and ruffles your hair. Your cheeks immediately warming at the act, “Freshman on varsity, maybe I’ll stop by some of your games, right ladies?” He crosses his arms again. They both nod, Monica laughs snorting along with it.

Oh my god…

Still a smile playing on his lips, staring down at you. Tall, fuck when did he get so-“Listen, I have to go home to dad but I’ll see you around school, yeah?” He says it like he means it, like he wants to see you around. Like he’s hopeful.

Or maybe you were just making it all up in your mind.

He waves a goodbye to your friends and leaves empty handed, the brass ship bell rings as he goes.

Monica wraps her arms around you and makes a fake moan into your ear. You cringe again pushing her off, “You have to be joking who in the world-”

“Javier, he’s my brothers friend” You brush them away and walk to the register. Taking your change out, 60 cents for a large like always. Monica groans and Liandra puts down her own change, covering for Monica. It was “pay-back” for all the rides she provided you guys.

“He’s so sexy oh my goodness Andrea.” Liandra gushes. You look at her from the side of your eye for a moment, knowing he surely wasn’t her type. She liked those big buff knuckle heads. You smile and thank the cashier before you all exit the store before loading the car.

You do see him in school. He never really sees you, maybe he’s tries not to. Within the first month of freshman year you had seen him in the hall with a new girl at least 4 times. You had heard he was a bit of womanizer, a sweet talker. And he was charming with you so you could only dream of how sweet he was when he was really flirting.

“You wish that was you, don’t you?” Monica laughs from your left, your eyes widen. She caught you staring at him walking with another girl. Truly, shamefully, you weren’t paying attention to the girl he had his arm around but instead the way his ass looked in the jeans he wore. Your cheeks flushing red.

 “I’m good.”

You lied. You would walk home nearly everyday with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. You had a lot of alone time that fall, You had a lot of time to just pine over him now that you had to see him everyday. You wondered most importantly, if he’d ever want you, maybe not now but soon. Before he graduates, You also wondered if he was hooking up with those girls. God, he had gotten so popular when he came back. And you just watched.

You did a lot of watching. You watched Genie and Frankie nearly break up over dinner at your house. You watched Monica get a boyfriend only 3 months into high school, and you watched Liandra have her first kiss at a party.

You watched everyone else have experiences, you could only just watch.

[ravenyenn19]

OKAY HERE IT IS:

So!!! Results from my poll indicated that some of you don’t want to see “face inspo/casts” for my OG “Dealing With Our Demons” characters (totally respect that!! I sometimes prefer my image not tainted while reading, too!🖤)

SOoo… here’s what we’re going to do. I will be posting the images BELOW the cut, so that way if you would rather not see, you don’t have to!🖤 no offense whatsoever taken.

Before you continue, a note: NONE of these pictures are exactly how I picture my characters. These are simply the closest I could get/who I took inspo from when describing them. 🖤 Please do not feel like you need to agree w me. That is the beauty of reading, is it not? Love you. ALSo. This is long, but I wanted to include my notes for clarification if you wanted them. This was fun, getting to have a lil in depth convo w you guys.🥹

PS- IF YOU HAVE NOT READ MY FANFIC “Dealing With Our Demons” on ao3 (by ravenyenn19) & are planning to do so (thx in advance ily) THIS POST WILL HAVE SPOILERSISH. I say this bc while no plot will be ruined, you will see faces you are not meant to yet. 🖤

First up we have: Khalid Runa (Inej’s childhood best friend) & Rahul Runa (Inej’s older cousin) *these two are married, hence the shared surname*

Notes: Khalid is pretty close, actually. In DWOD, he has aquamarine/green eyes due to his partially Kaelish heritage & I do picture his skin tone to be a tad lighter due to this. ALSO: Khalid does have burn scars across most of his hands, though I was unable to find such an image to include that piece of “DWOD lore”. (The burns are from his years mastering ‘flame eating/fire dancing’ in the caravans.

Rahul: This image is mostly chosen for his facial structure, however I do picture Rahul to have close cropped hair (a sort of subversion upon the suli culture that makes his training as a medic easier. I do picture him also remaining clean-shaven with a skin tone that is very similar to his cousin, Inej Ghafa.)

Next: Nani (Mitra) Ghafa (Inej’s maternal grandmother)

Notes: This actress is actually Iranian, for note. SO: I do want to make it very clear that I picture Nani’s skin tone to be darker like Inej (though also I do think this photo was filtered bc the actress does seem to have slightly darker skin in other pics, I chose this one bc of her face & HOW SHE HOLDS HERSELF SO MUCH LIKE NANI.) All this being said, this one is pretttttty dang similar to how I pictured Nani while writing her. Facial features specifically. What a queen. What more is there to say? She could divine my tea leaves any time.

Sharya & Kahir Ghafa, Inej’s parents (technically not OG characters, but never named in canon)

Notes: Sharya is pretty dang close to how I imagined her, which is super cool considering I never used an inspo pic for either of the Ghafas when writing them (I found them for this purpose!). It probably sounds a bit weird, but like… I just knew how Sharya & Kahir looked. They were just…BAM. Full formed people in my head. This is ultimately SUCH A FLEX ON LEIGH BARDUGO’s PART. Like, we only really experienced glimpses of Inej’s parents through the few memories in her POVs but they absolutely stuck with me & formed wonderful characters as my fic progressed. (Of course this is my opinion, but I do hope ya’ll agree.🥹)

Kahir: So…. This pic is the closest I could get, & similar to Nani, I chose it based more on facial structure/in this case facial hair. HOWEVER, Kahir is very special to me. I wrote some of his scenes in moments after I had lost my godfather, (whom was the truest father I had. He meant everything to me, being my actual dad’s best friend, he helped raise me after my dad passed when I was 4.), hence, I feel the need to clarify- as I feel a bit of my own dad is in Kahir, if only in the love.)This pic is missing a smile that I imagine near permanent on Kahir Ghafa’s face, and eyes that I cannot explain in any other word but kind. Similar to Inej’s. Sparkly. Idk. ALSO: I do picture true black hair & less gray. Maybe a sprinkle of pepper in his beard, but not much. I just imagine Inej’s parents aging like fine wine. Idk.

Next….*drum roll*…. Dr. Lily Arbor (I waited so long to bring this girl to life.)

NOTES: Ok. So. Two pics here for our Darling Death Defier Mortician. 🫶🏻 So, the one on the left is more youthful to me, a bit closer (although not the right age) to how I imagine the Lily of Kaz’s childhood. The right being far closer to how I imagine 24 year old Lily. Yet, neither of these are exactly right. But they are close. The changes that are distinct within my mind are as follows: the eyes. I distinctly see them like 2 shades darker. Navy. It’s a rare eye color, but not that different. Next, the hair. In the left image, the curls are just right, but I imagine she keeps her hair slightly longer than that- both in girlhood & adulthood. Not nearly the length of Inej’s, but you feel me. Also I do imagine her hair a bit darker, like that sort of red with hints of almost brown in it? Maroon? Gosh I can’t explain but I am certain you guys probably get it. Less like Wylan’s orangish red. Lastly: this girl has more freckles. I don’t make the rules. (Actually I do since she’s a daughter of my mind, but no I don’t.)

Bonus heartbreak:

Jordie.🥹💔 (obviously aged up to if he were alive.) notes: NO ONE. I REPEAT. NO ONE looks exactly how I imagine the elder Rietveld son. The actor here is in fact Jess from Gilmore Girls. Milo is the closest I’ve come to finding an older Jordie face cast, based more on book Kaz in relation. His hair would obviously not be styled like the early 00’s. Obviously dark eyes like his brother. In a way, like Kahir, I imagine Jordie’s eyes would have a permanent sparkle of amusement that one would sometimes see mirrored in Kaz. I can’t explain it. I love Jordie & I’m about to have a fit all over again. 🫡

Next…. Bram Rietveld (technically not OG character, but he is not named nor described whatsoever in the canon material. Kaz only says that he and his brother missed their Da.🥹)

Notes: DO NOT COME FOR ME. I AM DEFENDING MYSELF. Not to sound cringe, but from the moment I put Kaz’s Da into DWOD, back in memories at the very very early stages of the story, I pictured Pedro. This was before the internet craze (I mean obvs he was famous but iykyk), & I know that sounds cringe but it’s true. Pedro Pascal IS Bram Rietveld. Like, I would change next to nothing. Obviously his voice would have a “southern” ring. Maybe he’d have slightly lighter skin naturally being of Kerch descent, but actually I imagine him quite tan at most points of the year from running the Rietveld farm & harvesting the wheat fields. Obviously, you can picture him differently, but this is damn near exact for me. Also, Last of Us only solidified that belief for me. Gosh dangit, look at this treasure! Bram loved his kids so much.

Are you ready? (I’d say I saved the best for last, but… Actually, no. I certainly did.) I present…

Emilia Winstrad, The Butcher of Belendt🪡

Notes: I love her. I love Emilia as much as I love the protagonists from my actual novel. She means so much to me. 🥹 I don’t think I can quite explain how excited I was (& how long I waited) to introduce you guys to Emilia. I hope you love her as much as I do in DWOD. As far as technical notes: Rachel McAdams (this actress) has quite honestly the exact facial features I pictured on Emilia. Like Bram, I feel like this is Em. However, there are a few minor changes: dark eyes like Kaz rather than hazel (it’s hard to tell here), & also the same dark hair as Kaz. True black. Tbh, I was shocked when I stumbled upon images of McAdams randomly (after already describing Emilia in the story)- it felt like seeing a picture of an online friend you’ve never actually met but they somehow appear exactly as you thought they would? Make sense?

Bonus pics that show the darker hair I imagine on another actress. Also the pipe picture just for funsies (iykyk)🫶🏻🪓

She is my pride & joy. Not only that, but I think she and Kaz were meant to be family. I am not Leigh & have no canon voice, but I swear somewhere in the multiverse she is canon & I say that with fear because it’s not meant to sound precocious. She just feels so real to me, but I’m sure that’s silly bc I wrote her. Idk. Take my ramblings 🖤

Oops my hand slipped, have more pain: Elena Rietveld (I consider Elena an OG character of mine as Kaz’s mother is never mentioned in canon despite that he obviously had one. Technically, it is never said whether she lived or died.)

Sorry I killed her.

Notes: OBVIOUSLY these are pics of the same actress because Em & Elle are identical twins. However, I did choose an image of McAdams from earlier in her acting career as she did pass away younger than when Emilia appears in the story. The same notes apply here as to Em, dark hair & dark eyes would be the changes. Though, I do love this pic representing Elena as there is something a bit softer about her over her sister. Where Emilia applies blood red lipstick, Elle is a petal pink. I think that metaphor fits best, but undoubtedly I wanted Elena to have her own strength in the memories where we get to glimpse her. A woman who chose her baby son, Kaz’s life over her own. The type of mother who would have run into a burning building for her kids. A fierce little sun ray who deserved a yellow kitchen. 🥹

I actually have images & notes completed for Pim & Anika as well, plus a bonus lil one that I doubt ya’ll were expecting, but alas, there is a limit of 10 images on a post 🫠 So… let me know if you want them.

This was so long. I’m long winded, but ya’ll knew that. I love you all so much. Thank you for being here. 🖤🐦‍⬛

[revive-the-fandom]

Hey! Saw your essay about the inconsistencies. Ah ye. When contrasting the Httyd movies with the shows, I like to not take it all that seriously. "But the shows are canon!!!!!" the shows are a beautiful and meaningful AU of the movies and vice versa; I've fared wonderfully treating them like that. Keeping the good parts for inspo and tossing the rest tbh.

E.g. I'm keeping Dagur and Viggo and the Fireworms for canon. Maybe there was an outpost called Dragon's Edge once, but I like to think to myself that Hiccup merely used it as a weekend base camp / storehouse for further explorations rather than actually living there for extended periods of time. He had to make all his Httyd2 improvements on Berk somehow within those five years lol. He would have had to abandon Dragon's Edge wayyy earlier to be able to have a constant presence on his home island that would earn him the village's support and Stoick's eye regarding Chieftainship. I'm definitely keeping the volcano eruption though. Also the Buffalord, the amazing Season 4 Hiccstrid kiss, the Night Terrors and Chicken. And of course the gang becoming better friends.

...On the other hand I'm definitely treating Heather, Mala, the Wingmaidens and all the dragons I don't personally like as vivid fever dreams lol. I'm also ignoring the comics. Had Hiccup truly encountered Viggo and gone through all of that Rtte character development canonically, he wouldn't have acted as naive as he did in Httyd2... Viggo already taught him better than that.

Those are just my two cents, they are also helping me embrace such things as Homecoming etc.

If you could build your canon however you liked, what would you keep? :)

I don't know if you meant it like this but I do want to clarify that I adore the first 2 movies, GotNF, LotB, RoB, DoB, and RttE. And I like elements of Httyd 3 and Homecoming, but not them in general.

(I have no intention of reading the comics - they don't interest me).

Criticising stuff I like, and pulling it apart to see how it ticks is literally my biggest hobby, so, no problems enjoying it there.

I would honestly keep most of it, so here's a list of some of what I'd remove instead:

The inconsistencies between httyd 1 ending and RoB opening - mostly to do with the dragons' integration into Berk and the new infrastructure for the dragons.

Stoick's inconsistent and easily swayed opinion on the dragons - he would never allow them to be banished from Berk unless he was physically forced to. They saved Hiccup's life, they pretty much are Hiccup's life, and he would never dishonour Valka's memory by going against her ideals (esp since her son basically redeemed her weirdness by proving her right 15 years later).

Gothi's role - she shouldn't be the only healer on Berk, she shouldn't even be a healer. They made new characters for Mulch, Bucket, Mildew, Johann, Silent Sven, Alvin, Savage, Dagur and Heather (and most of those are males) so just kick one of those out and build a new healer for Berk (bonus points if its a relation of one of the Riders e.g. a Thorston).

Johann's villain arc - I've talked about this a lot already so I won't repeat myself but this was an atrocious direction to take.

Viggo's redemption happening off screen

Dagur's redemption happening off screen

the Hunters having exactly the same ships as Drago (who comes from outside the archipelago & is designed with a different aesthetic than the vikings)

inconsistencies with the Hunter's Lore

Ryker being forgotten - the brother of ur main villain???? hello?

Krogan being so inconsistent...

Where are the women warriors???

Defenders of the Wing Lore Inconsistencies

Mala's whole personality - during the trial episode and marriage episodes especially

nearly every woman has a love interest

Dagur x Mala (not necessarily the ship - fandom adds depth to it tbh - but just how the show itself handles it)

Throk x Ruffnut (it's fine its just boring and doesn't add anything)

Gruffnut. the man annoys me - his design is lazy, his voice is annoying, he has an intruiging opportunity to add depth to the thorstons but is never utilised

Agnut. same as above

Astrid being in love with Hiccup but only in a conventional "im a woman and I will get jealous at any opportunity" kind of way

Gustav's lack of character development

the A team should not include those characters. Bucket and Mulch are farmers WHAT are they doing here. Gothi is old as fuck and she's got important shit to be doing (like apparently being the ONLY healer on Berk - srsly what r u gonna do when she dies?). Spitelout is on the Berk Council and is one of the main leaders of their military, why would he want to be bossed around by a 19 yro. the only one who makes sense is Gustav.

why does Astrid have to build the A team at all?? shouldn't Stoick or the entire military force of Berk teach themselves to use dragons to fight off invaders????

Astrid being so inconsistent with her suspicions and cautions.

Astrid randomly deciding to be Mother to dragons like Garf and throwing away all her military training and paranoia to bring said dragons on actual military operations??? like just say you needed a conflict and picked The Woman to throw under the bus.

Heather's (and Oswald's) mild backstory inconsistency.

Heather being a femme fatale.

Posing for the camera

The Wingmaidens - they're an obvious scramble to add female characters but they fall short on believability and worldbuilding.

The Bewilderbeast beneath Beserker Island. I don't like how... fucky.. this makes the plot. We didn't need this, we could have just ended on Johann & Krogan heading towards Valka's mountain, which could explain why Hiccup was still exploring the archipelago in httyd 2. then we could have done a post-credits-esque scene with Valka decimating Johann and Krogan. boom, vibes preserved, plotholes kind of prevented.

ok theres probably a lot more but this was all i could think of. Ik it looks like a lot but most of it is just tweaking canon. the majority of RoB, DoB, and RttE are wonderful. otherwise I wouldn't give half of a shit about them.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 12

Word Count: 4.5K

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

A/N:  sorry this update took so long. It's sometimes hard to try an work around all the inconsistencies of the canon plot and it kills my inspo. But enjoy! 💖💖

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Outside the warehouse, (Y/N) could feel the loud music bustling its way through the walls. It made her pulse beat at time with the tempo. She could feel the bass of the music pumping inside her, building the nervous excitement that she already felt. She was ready to make herself nonexpendable to both Derek and her family. All she wanted was to prove just how great of an asset she could be.

Her parents had been training her for as long as she could remember. Using the “it's a tough world out there” excuse for it, they had submitted her to hours and hours of self-defense and weapon training. (Y/N) knew she was good enough to be put on the front lines of this war, even if no one believed in her.

It all made her miss her parents. For the longest time, they were the only constants in her life. The only people she could get close to without fearing that she would lose them. They had been her biggest supporters and she needed their vote of confidence now more than ever. She needed to feel like at least one person was in her corner.

(Y/N) saw Isaac and a disgruntled Erica, joining their side before they entered.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Shouldn’t you already know?” Erica scoffs. “Although, I wonder which version you’re asking for. Our plan or your family’s?”

“Lay off, Erica,” Isaac grumbled. “All I know is that we need to find Jackson and stop him from getting his next victim.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” (Y/N) asked. “Last time I checked he has a paralyzing venom and superhuman strength.”

“Element of surprise?” the blond chuckled. “Look, we still need to meet up with Scott. It’s his plan after all.”

“Fine. Then let’s go.”

The three of them walked into the building. The stench of sweat and alcohol filled her nose, every one of her senses telling her to turn back around. But not even her fight-or-flight response would keep her from helping that night. She would be respected –one way or another.

(Y/N) followed Isaac and Erica into the rave, even as her limbs begged her to turn back. And maybe she should have listened. The flashing lights and the thumping bass strangled her but her mind had been made up. They would get Jackson that night, no matter what.

Their eyes followed the crowd, their heads in full alert. Everything they did could only end one of two ways –trapping Jackson or another death in their hands. And deep down. (Y/N) wanted to be the one to do it. It would be her only chance to show everyone what she was made of.

“(Y/N), why didn’t you tell me that Allison was going to be here?” Scott questioned as he joined the trio, worry evident in his eyes. “More than that, that your family is here?”

“I told Derek,” she defended herself. “I thought he would have told you too. I promise this wasn’t meant to be an ambush, Scott. Next time I’ll tell you myself.”

“No, it’s okay,” he sighed. “It’s just that seeing Allison here took me aback. I didn’t think I would have to worry about her tonight.”

“I am sorry, Scott. I thought after this morning you might have already known how big our family’s involvement had gotten.”

“Seriously, (Y/N), it’s okay,” he smiled reassuringly. “But I want to make sure things go on without a hitch. So, Isaac, I’m gonna need you to tranquilize Jackson.”

Scott pulled out a silver tranquilizer gun, presenting it to a surprised blond. “Why me?” he questioned, doubt clouding his eyes.

“Because I gotta make sure the Argents don’t completely ruin the plan. Okay, you better do it intravenously which means in the vein. When you find him, you pull back on this plunger right here. In the neck is probably going to be the easiest. So you find a vein, you jam it in there, and pull back on the trigger.”

“Don’t you think I’m the better choice here?” (Y/N) interjected, her hushed voice hiding her anger. “I’m the only one here that we know is immune to Jackson’s venom.”

“You also don’t heal like we do,” Scott responded. “It’s not that I don’t trust you with this, (Y/N). But the less people that get hurt, the better.”

The girl was sure her face was growing red, anger bubbling deep inside her. One more person to add to the people that did not believe in her. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m staying close by and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“That’s alright,” he smiled weakly. “Just be careful.”

“Oh, I doubt this will even slightly hurt him,” Isaac laughed, inspecting the small gun.

“No, I mean you,” Scott explained, his eyes trained on the blond. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Any of you.”

As the shaggy-haired boy left, Isaac followed him with his gaze. There was surprise in his blue eyes and a slight hint of confusion. “You okay?” (Y/N) asked her friend.

“Yeah, I just… he cares.”

“Of course he does,” she smiled. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I guess, I’m still not used to people caring,” he said sheepishly before slipping on his confident façade as Erica joined them. “Okay, so, me and Erica will distract him. I’ll tranquilize him and you make sure no one sees us carrying him out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Erica responded. “Too bad you’re missing out on the action, (Y/N).”

And where the Argent girl would have normally bitten back, she remained quiet because the blonde was right. She was missing out. Because her family didn’t trust her and neither did her friends. Even under the guise that they were just trying to protect her, she knew it was because they didn’t think she could do it. That she couldn’t pull her weight.

But instead of sulking, (Y/N) followed them to where Jackson was already prowling. The dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies, pushing against each other, leaving very little room to work around. They justled around, fists pumping and elated smiles on their faces. Too enthralled and oblivious to know what was happening right under their noses. These people were at a party with no knowledge that two killers walked amongst them.

Erica was the first to reach Jackson, snaking her hand around his neck to attract his attention in a sultry manner. Then, Isaac joined them, pretending to be just as interested in Erica as Jackson seemed to be. They were at a party, (Y/N) thought. That was what people did at parties.

They grind against one another, pretending there’s some sort of instant connection that could get them lucky that night. Call it pheromones or call it hornyness, most of the people in her vicinity were falling victim in that game. And it made her wonder, that maybe with the right person, she could also be one of those victims. She could imagine that she was just a normal teenager, enjoying a loud and flashy rave, waiting for the moment the guy she was with would kiss her.

But (Y/N) wasn’t there with anyone and she wasn’t normal. She hadn’t even been born into normal. No, she was there making sure Jackson didn’t turn into a bloodthirsty reptilian and off his master’s next victim before Isaac could knock him out. As Isaac and Erica closed the distance between their bodies and Jackson’s, the blond boy pulled out the tranq gun, ready to make his attack.

And Jackson noticed. He sported his Kanima nails and sunk them into the pair’s stomachs, muttering something she couldn’t quite decipher. Isaac and Erica twisted in pain, the gun falling from the boy’s hand as he groaned in discomfort and dropped to the floor.

(Y/N)’s eyes were focused on the silver gadget on the floor, close to being trampled by the moving bodies. That was her moment and she would take it. Rather than helping her friends, she dove for it, gliding through the crowd to get to it.

She heard Isaac telling her to stay back, but the adrenaline was already pumping through her veins. She was capable, she repeated to herself. (Y/N) needed to get the tranquilizer and stop Jackson from getting to his victim. Once in her hands, her palms trembled at how cold it was; heavier than she had thought too. But it was there, and she had the power to stop him.

(Y/N) stalked quietly toward him. His eyes were trained directly in front, too distracted to think that she could be right behind him. And she knew she had to be quick. One wrong move and everything would have been for nothing. Without another grueling thought, she pressed against him and sank the needle in his neck, pulling the trigger as she felt it disappear into his skin.

What she didn’t account for was his weight falling completely onto her. She tried her hardest to keep him up, but it wouldn’t take long before his body would bring them both to the ground.

“That was a very dumb thing you did, (Y/N),” Isaac said as he took Jackson in his arms.

“But I got it done,” she smirked. “Now, let’s get him out of here.”

Between him and Erica, they carried Jackson’s unconscious body out of the dance floor and into a small room where they were supposed to wait for Stiles and Scott. The tension inside was thick, choking to the point that it was almost unbearable. The Reyes girl was angry that she had failed to do her task and that (Y/N) had jumped in to save the day. Meanwhile, Isaac was angry that she had gotten herself into a dangerous situation.

“You can’t seriously be angry at me, Lahey,” she whispered to her friend. “I did what I had to do to get him here.”

“And what would you have done if you hadn’t?”

“Something we won’t know because I did, Isaac,” she retorted sternly. “Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of a lot more than any of you give me credit for. Even for a human.”

“The problem is you are a human, (Y/N). You can get hurt and there will be a time that we won’t be able to help you.”

“And that’s a risk I am willing to take. Just like all of you are.”

Before Isaac could answer, the door swung open, putting the two werewolves on high alert.

“Just me,” he said as he threw his hands up in front of him. “Don’t freak. Is he okay?”

“Well,” Isaac said, his eyes trained on (Y/N). “Let’s find out.”

His claws sprouted from his hand, ready to sink into Jackson as he had done to him minutes before. But he did not get the chance to enact his revenge. Even in his unconscious state, the Whittmore boy was still sentient. His arm flew up, stopping Isaac’s and bending it until he finally released it.

“Okay, no one does anything like that again,” (Y/N) called as Isaac fell back. “So much for not getting hurt?”

“Shut up,” he muttered toward her, inspecting the damage in his hand. “I thought the ketamine was supposed to knock him out.”

“I think this is as good as we’re gonna get,” Stiles said. “So let’s hope that whoever’s controlling him decided to show up tonight.”

“I’m here,” Jackson said, startling everyone in the room. His voice was chilling and devoid of any humanity. “I’m right here with you.”

“Jackson, is that you?” Stiles asked, crouching in front of Jackson’s seemingly tranced body.

“Us,” he responded. “We’re all here.”

“This is getting too ‘We are Legion,’” (Y/N) muttered. “Too biblical for my taste.”

Stiles shushed her before turning back to the knocked-out boy. “Are you the one killing people?”

“We are the ones killing murderers.”

Stiles continued his sleuthing into Jackson’s subconscious, and possibly into who was controlling him. He reiterated everything they already knew. They were killing killers. That much was certain. But they didn’t understand why. Who had they killed that had prompted so much bloodshed?

“They murdered me,” Jackson answered again. His head was trembling as his eyes turned red and yellow, his transformation into the Kanima slowly slipping in. “They murdered me!”

“Okay, more ketamine,” Stiles mumbled. “The man needs more ketamine.”

“It’s all gone,” Isaac answered.

“You used the whole bottle?” (Y/N) exclaimed. “And that didn’t even last.”

Then, Jackson stood snarling at the teens, his head convulsing rapidly as reptilian skin ate at his human one. They stammered out of the room, slamming the metal door behind them. But it wasn’t enough. It never would have been enough. They were dealing with a creature with unparalleled power and speed, and he had one thing to do. Jackson broke through the metal walls, disappearing into the club, and getting lost in the crowd. Everything they had done had been for nothing.

They moved toward the exit, getting trapped between the people that had already grown tired of the party and were leaving. It separated them into pairs. Stiles and (Y/N) were outside first, looking around for any sign that the murder had taken place and that someone else knew. But people milled out of the warehouse as though nothing had happened. As though no one had seen a thing.

“What is that?” (Y/N) questioned, pointing at the black dust that seemed to circle the building. “Planning on building a ring of fire if Jackson escapes?”

“It’s mountain ash,” Stiles whispered as they moved toward his Jeep, a safe distance away from the door. “Supposedly, it keeps supernaturals where they are.”

“How do you know they won’t cross it?”

“We’ll have to see.”

“Hopefully not too late,” she said. But her words died as Derek jogged toward them, a look of worry on his face. His eyes were on her quickly, trying to speak without any words. “Um, we sort of lost Jackson inside.”

“(Y/N)!” Stiles exclaimed at her blurting. “We did. But, uh…”

At that moment, Isaac and Erica walked out, their gaze falling on the black ash. It was as though they were staring at a ten-foot wall in front of them, with no way through. Whatever that powder was, it had worked. Too well.

“I did something!” Stiles celebrated.

“Look at us humans doing something,” (Y/N) smiled. “And still they underestimate us.”

“What did you do?” Derek questioned, turning his attention toward her. “I thought I told you to hang back.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Derek,” she bit back. “And I did what I had to. Because last time I checked…” Before they could continue arguing, a loud growl broke through the air. (Y/N)’s head snapped toward the sound, somehow knowing who it belonged to. “Scott?” she whispered. “Is that Scott?”

“What?” Stiles questioned her as everyone’s gaze fell on her.

“Break it,” Derek directed. But Stiles refused.

 “Scott’s dying!”

“Wait, what?” Stiles asked her. “How do you know that?”

 “Oh, my god, Stiles,” Derek groaned. “Just do it!”

With a wave of his hands, Stiles broke the barrier and Derek ran right through. And before anyone could argue, (Y/N) followed. She didn’t understand why she had been able to hear Scott. All she knew was that she did and she could feel the pain and weakness in his call. He was begging for help and she had been able to listen.

“You should have stayed back,” the man beside her grumbled as they ran to where the growl had come from. “You could get seriously hurt.”

“I want to help, Derek. And I will,” she spoke through gritted teeth as they snaked through bodies in the room. “We have no idea what we’re walking into.”

“Fine,” he responded defeatedly as they reached a door at the back. “Just stay back.”

As he opened it, Scott’s weakened body was strewn on the floor. His face was toward the floor and, without the twitches he made, she would have sworn he was dead. Derek burst in first, swaying as soon as he did. 

Suddenly, a flash of red jumped from the darkness beside the door and lunged a knife directly into Derek’s back. Victoria struggled with him, waving the blade as they fought for dominance. Whatever was in the air had weakened him and was making her a worthy adversary.

“Get… Scott,” Derek managed to croak out as he fought the Argent woman, crashing into the wall behind them.

(Y/N) dropped beside the boy, thinking of a way she could carry him out of the room without his help. She started snaking her arms under him, pulling his torso toward her to drag him out. But the little headway she made was destroyed as Derek stumbled onto her, making her fall alongside Scott.

“What the hell?”

“She’s gone,” Derek whispered, his eyes falling to where he had just been fighting with the woman. “Sorry, there’s wolfsbane in the air. It’s making me weaker.”

“It’s fine,” (Y/N) mumbled. “Let’s just get him out of here.”

They draped one arm of his around their shoulders and dragged the boy back to (Y/N)’s car under her instruction. There was no other way they could transport two hurt werewolves any other way. Carefully, they rested his body on the passenger seat before (Y/N) buckled him in.

“Where’s your bike?” Derek mumbled, holding his left arm, and trying to conceal the blood that was rushing out.

 “I told Isaac to retrieve it from my uncle’s this afternoon,” she shrugged as she closed the car door behind her. “Something told me the SUV might have been the best bet tonight.”

“Well, I can…” he tried to speak quickly but a wince of pain killed his words. “I can drive. You should get your bike.”

“Isaac’s got it,” she said. “And I need to get the car back to the house somehow.”

“And you trust him with it?”

“As much as you would trust me with your own car,” she retorted. “Now, you’re hurt and clearly still a bit buzzed from the inhaled wolfsbane. So stop arguing.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just don’t kill us before we get there.”

“Can’t make any promises,” she smirked. “Now get into the backseat, sour wolf.”

They drove in silence to the veterinary office, their eyes meeting in passing through the rear-view mirror. There were so many words unsaid between them but too many things had happened that overwhelmed them. One more talk at that very moment and they would probably say something one of them would regret. As much as (Y/N) wanted to talk to him, Derek looked too weak to withstand a screaming match with her.

All the anger she felt toward him dissipated as she saw his head fall back in pain, his wounds not healing as quickly as they should have. At that moment, (Y/N) wanted to comfort him. If it hadn’t been for Scott’s unconscious body on the seat next to her, she would have driven him to her home and taken care of the wounds herself.

Instead, she parked in front of the small veterinary office, where Deaton was waiting for them. He hurried to the passenger side, helping Derek carry Scott into the operating room in the back. They laid the boy on the metal examining table and allowed the doctor to do his work.

“Derek, I’ll get to you as soon as I am done with him,” Alan said. “I just have to make sure his healing starts before any real damage is done to his lungs.”

“I can help him,” (Y/N) offered. “I know enough about first aid to close a couple of cuts.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” the doctor questioned. “I know he’s in pain, but it’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

“Let her,” Derek groaned. “Anything is better than keeping this wolfsbane inside.”

“Alright then,” the man conceded before handing (Y/N) a medicine cup filled with a black powder. “Make sure you place this directly on the wounds before you close them.”

Deaton handed (Y/N) a tray of supplies and a pair of gloves and showed them to his smaller check-up room as he tended to Scott. The two kept quiet during every step. As Derek removed his shirt and (Y/N) washed her hands, as she wiped away the blood that stuck to his skin and pressed the powder into the stab wounds, as she sutured the cuts and bandaged them. All quiet.

“Thank you,” Derek croaked as he broke the silence. “For everything you’ve done tonight.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well leave you guys to die because of my family,” she shrugged. “I’m doing what anyone would have done.”

 “I don’t think anyone else from the Argent clan would have saved us.”

“Well, they don’t count as anyone,” she chuckled. As he tried to join her in laughter a wince fell out of his mouth as he moved his arm too fast. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Better now,” he sighed, sinking into the chair he was in. “I want to apologize, (Y/N). When you called, I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t capable.”

“You don’t ha…”

“I do, (Y/N). You have to know that what I said was because I can’t see you get hurt. I spoke rashly and I need you to understand that I didn’t mean it. You’re more than able to do everything we can do, I just can’t bear if something happened to you because of it.”

“Sooner or later, everyone will just have to accept the fact that I am a part of this world and that I can help in ways others can’t,” she responded as she sat beside him. “I just want to feel like I am valuable to the pack and not just another human you need to protect. I know there are things I can bring to the table that no one else can.”

“Like how you were able to not only hear Scott’s howl but to know that he was hurt,” he said. “Or how you never crossed the mountain ash threshold.”

“What’re you talking about, Derek? I heard Scott’s howl because it was loud and I didn’t cross the line because I had no need to,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Nothing else is happening there.”

“I don’t think that’s true, (Y/N). You’re different somehow, and I’m sure there are other unexplainable things that have happened to you. I mean, you’re even immune to the Kanima’s venom for some reason.”

(Y/N) kept quiet because it was true. Just like she had felt that Deaton was more than he led on or how she simply knew that Scott was dying. It was something that had happened to her over the years. Sometimes, she just felt things. But she didn’t know how to explain it to Derek. She was probably different, but she didn’t know why or how.

“Don’t know what you want me to say, Derek,” she sighed. “If I am anything other than human, my parents have not told me and I haven’t found out. But I would rather talk about anything else. Please, no more unexplainable things.”

“Alright,” he smiled softly, the only thing he could muster with the pain. But his smile didn’t last long, his face falling into a worried frown. “Something happened tonight when I was struggling with your aunt.”

Her eyes fell on his, questioning the dread that befell on his face. “What happened, Derek?”

“I bit her as we fought,” he confessed, his gaze falling to his bandaged arm. “I-I… I thought it was the only way she would let me go and I simply did it.”

“Derek, you did what you had to do,” she replied, placing a hand on his arm. “Whatever happens next, it’s not your fault.”

The man sighed before he continued, roaming his eyes over her hand. “Do you know what hunters do when they are bit or scratched deep enough?” When she shook her head no, he continued. “They kill themselves. Rather than accepting the change, they choose death over becoming one of us.”

“And did you? Bite her deep enough?”

“I did,” he admitted. “I did and now…”

“It’s still not your fault,” she reassured. “My family is so scared of becoming a werewolf that they’ve become monsters themselves. To choose death over a life like this, I think it’s cowardice. And that’s on them.”

“Why do you think so differently? I don’t think I’ve ever met a hunter, let alone an Argent, that thinks like you.”

“My father. Something tells me my father cares more about werewolves than he lets on,” she smiled. “But he’s on your side just as much as I am. And if it’s ever necessary, he’d help you as much as I would.”

“Two Argent hunters choosing the supernatural side over their family. Never thought I would see the day,” he laughed, the tension leaving his shoulders with every chuckle. “How did it take this long for our paths to cross?”

(Y/N) smiled at him; grateful the conversation was finally shifting. “Well, I’ve been all over the country and there’s a couple of years of difference between us,” she stated teasingly. “I’m sure that’s why it took so long.”

“But you’re here now,” he said, his eyes falling to her lips for a second.

“I am,” she grinned, slowly leaning toward him. “I am right here, right now.”

“Good,” he smiled, inching closer and closer.  

But a knock rang through the room and their eyes snapped to the open door. Deaton stood by the doorway, a knowing smile on his face. “I wanted to let you know that Scott’s awake,” he said. “And I know you’re recovering, but I do have to wake up early in the morning.”

“Of course,” Derek responded. “Thank you.”

As soon as the doctor left, the pair broke into quiet laughter. The universe had stopped them once again and she didn’t know if fate was trying to keep them apart or make them work for it. It had also become cruel how many times they had been so close to kissing before they were interrupted.

“We could just get it out of the way,” she offered. Her head fell onto his shoulder. Looking at his face was temptation enough. “Maybe the next time no one will walk in; finally break this curse.”

“No, (Y/N),” he sighed with a smile. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this right. Not rushed or just to get over it.”

“Fine,” she whined. “I guess you’re not going to jail tonight.”

“That’s good to know,” he chuckled. “But it is time for all of us to go home. Unfortunately, none of this is over yet.

Next ->

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[damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog]

YOU WANT ASKS??? I GOT ASKS

For the ask game!

9, 13, 14, 23, 24

ALWAYS SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU IN MY INBOX 💚💚

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

I've never landed on a specific one, but Jane Austen's Emma is one of my character inspos for Isabel; this one really speaks to 1: how hard she fell for Ominis, 2: how instantaneous it was even if she took forever to act on it and 3: her classic impulsivity. Luckily, unlike Emma, she did not need to feel jealousy to realize her feelings.

"It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!"

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

Isabel is actually one of the few OC's I've ever had that I would actually get along with! I wouldn't really enjoy her impulsivity either if I were around her as much as her friends/family, but that's because it's a quality of mine I dislike that I project onto her lol.

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

OOH I like this one. It kinda depends I guess, but across the board she just wants to be seen as the perfect Victorian/Edwardian girlboss: mother, business owner, wifey, ad hoc auror and all-around magical badass. On one end of the spectrum, she wants to be seen as a legitimate threat to her family in-law if they ever try messing with her or her husband/kids. On the other end, she wants to be seen as conventionally docile and sweet to her muggle friends. Vanessa Gekko, from Bojack Horseman, is also one of her character inspirations for me in her adult years and sums her up pretty well. Overall, she really just wants some recognition for all the work she's put into her job(s), her marriage, the social life she upholds around muggles, and her children. How much of that recognition she actually gets depends greatly from person to person.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Man, now I gotta really think. So as an adult, her boggart takes the shape of a funeral for Ominis after a (fictional) untimely death because her fear of loneliness/isolation can be crippling. She doesn't like to be alone with her thoughts too often because she deeply fears what lurks beneath the surface: the same part of her that uses dark magic. Thinking about what she might have done without Ominis in her life legitimately scares her.

As for the hardest to express, hmmmmmmm probablyyy feelings of self doubt or just any feelings around needing help. Sorta like those straight white dudes who can't stand asking for directions lol. Isabel feels like she's built herself up at this total girlboss to the point that she really struggles with so much as asking Mara/Natty to stay with them during WWII even though bombs are literally being dropped outside their house. Ominis wants the opportunity to protect and emotionally provide for her too, but she rarely gives him the opportunity without even realizing what she's doing, and it hurts him even if he doesn't really have the words for that hurt.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

Mmmmmmm such a delicious questionnnnn >:)

So the biggest one that sticks out to me is if Ominis, his past, and the Gaunts were just too much and she broke up with him here (yes it breaks my heart to even consider it). If she had not married Ominis, she would have gone on to be a cursebreaker for Gringotts while one of her siblings took the family business she canonically inherits. She would have likely married a handsome auror or a fellow cursebreaker, had a couple kids and ultimately died doing what she loved while on a cursebreaking assignment at some point in her 70s/80s. He wouldn't be a perfect husband, but she's not exactly perfect wife material either, even in her canon timeline. Their marriage would be fine, just not stellar. Intimacy would definitely be a low point and they'd end up emotionally drifting apart over the years.

Isabel would have a little jewelry box of letters and memories from her school days, including all the little trinkets Ominis gifted her and a skipping stone from their favorite spot on the black lake. Later in life, when she and her husband were drifting apart, she would get this box out with increasing frequency and just sift through all the little notes he gave her. It would be very difficult for her to even remember what he looked like at this point, but she would always remember the letters and gifts. Her favorite would always be a short note inviting her to one of their many dates to Hogsmeade for an afternoon at Honeyduke's and the Three Broomsticks. It was written very formally and in slightly shaky handwriting, indicating some nervousness.

Of course, by this point she's in her 50s, which means he's dead; he would have married a cousin and have been killed in some quarrel, either with his wife or another family member. Because it would have been pretty awkward to keep hanging around Sebastian, Mara, Anne, etc. after breaking up with Ominis, she didn't keep in much contact with the group aside from a letter to Natty once in a while. She would never know exactly how or when he died and would have gone years after his death pondering all the reasons why she never got a response to the owl she finally decided to send him.

Ominis would have never forgotten Isabel. His heart would have ached for her from the day they broke up to his wedding day, to the day he learned he was a father, to the day he died. Breaking up with Isabel would have easily been his biggest regret in life.

I could be especially malicious and say she finally worked up the nerve to send him an owl asking how he was doing and if they'd like to meet again for old times' sake mere weeks after he died. :)

[ansbobcar]

Infodumping/venting about the lack of Mashle fanfics on most fanfic platforms

WARNING: This isn't a vent. This is a mashle fanfic idea dumpster fire with MANGA SPOILERS.

I'm so heartbroken discovering that there is barely any mashle x oc content out there even x readers or character x character. I have so many tiny plot point ideas for a Rayne/Rain x fem oc/reader. Which resulted in me beginning to write my own oc, Darren Randel. Her name's stolen from my random ass mha oc Darren Halston. Darren Randel is lowkey different (she's less edgy/and emotionally unstable) even though they both have brown hair.

PLS TELL ME IF YOU'RE GONNA STEAL OR GET INSPO FROM THIS PLS BECUZ I WOULD LIKE TO HELP.

SO-

What was the original plot idea you may ask?

Infamous girl from rival school transfers to Easton Magic Academy because she fell in love with Rayne Ames lol.

Lowkey unoriginal right?

So then I added an extra spin to it borrowing a key romance drama plot point from See You in My 19th Life: Darren only gets 3 chances to confess and have her feelings be reciprocated by Rayne, and if he rejects her feelings. She'll give up (on that romance).

The ending of the fanfic is bittersweet: She doesn't get Rayne. But they stay close friends.

OH BUT HERE'S WHAT I'M TRYNA FIGURE OUT TO ADD MORE OF THAT BITTERSWEET FEEL TO IT:

1. Darren confused her initial crush on Rayne to be love at first sight/romantic feelings when she actually felt like she had a friend/that sense of trust in him compared to others.

1a. As a result of that she kind of decides to nullify all her chances of getting him.

1b. Regardless of this plot point she still ends up developing actual romantic attraction for Rayne and still doesn't get her feelings reciprocated.

2. It turns out that Rayne ALSO developed feelings for Darren over the course of the fic but he still rejects her advances due to either:

a. Her newfound realisation that she confused her feelings of attraction for something like companionship or trust. (1a)

b. His new position and role as Divine Visionary and the fear that she would be in more danger than she already was. (For context: her former school Walkis has so much beef with her existence for the 4 ish years she was there that they want her erased from existence and the Bureau of Magic is extremely alert about her whereabouts due to that and her skills which will be explained in the OC Profile section below).

c. Typical fears of a dude who for most of his life before Easton was seen as a nuisance alongside his younger brother Finn. (Big headcanon.) Doubt he cares/he probably would shove in the aristocrats face if he was dating her honestly (fake dating plot point???)

_ _ _ _ _ _

OC PROFILE:

Fyi - I haven't completed her complete information so I may have removed some parts.

General Info:

Name: Darren Randel

Other names: “Renren”, “Walkis Traitor”, “Wandless Psycho”

Sex: Female

Age: 18 (from the start of Mashle canon timeline)

Birthday: February 18th

Blood Type: A

Height: 168cm

Occupation: 3rd Year Student at Easton Magic Academy

House: Adler

Affiliation: Easton Magic Academy (current), Walkis Magic Academy (former)

Dominant Hand: Left

Good Subjects: Magic Geography (it better exist), Magic Zoology

Bad Subjects: Magic Mathematics, Magic Biology

Hobbies: Cooking, Running at 4am, Pestering Rayne whenever possible

Favourite Food: Mussel/Seafood Pasta

Favourite Word: “Antidisestablishmentarianism”

Favourite type of the opposite sex: “People think about those?”

Dislikes: Her sense of justice being challenged, Bunbun, People who hate Rayne Ames

Frequently visited school spots: School Garden, Training rooms, Dormitory kitchen 

Appearance: 

Her hair is orange brown with cornflower tips. The way she styles her hair hides one of her lines. The main line that is shown juts out just under her cheek from her forehead while the other one only juts out slightly from the side of her eye. She’s more of a sports person than a bookworm. When she manifests her third line, it appears across and under her eyes. She switches between 3 types of bottoms. Pants, Long skirt, shorter skirt of which she wears jogging leggings underneath but they’re all dark blue you know.

Lines: 2 + 1

Skills/Abilities: 

General Magic: Offensive Magic - Due to the competitive environment of Walkis, she has a general grasp on nearly all learnable offensive magic spells. Being able to cast them with ease compared to more typical and unlethal spells. Her speed at casting these spells were unmatched during her time in middle school.

Personal Magic: Impart - Darren’s magic essentially allows her to balance out either magical power, strength, and weaknesses between her targets (living and non living) or with herself. It’s essentially cheating at life. The magic is highly confusing due to the fact that she doesn’t have to chant the words to the magic and its essentially treated as a debuffing magic (which is wrong because she aims to fight everyone on fair terms).

Impart Zero - It dispels a spell.

Impart Seconth: Impartial Vice - Instead of deducting and balancing their power, like a water dam. Water is added to balance both sides.

Summon: Themis (Goddess of Justice) - When summoned, the user’s wand transforms into a dull sword whilst Themis appears with blindfold with a scale in hand

Themis Inclination - Themis appears and buffs her attacks’ range but she rarely utilises this due to how lackluster it was against Rayne (ineffective) and other people

Impart Thirds: Divine Mercy - It’s essentially renders its' target a painless death. It's an instant kill move.

Impart Thirds: Divine Tears - Unlike Divine Mercy, this one's pure torture. (To be developed later) (Tears of Themis reference?)

Wandless Casting: Her aptitude to cast magic without a wand has earned her infamy and wanted death since she enrolled into Walkis in middle school. It has also made her wanted by a few subdivisions of the Bureau of Magic, namely Magic Talent and Magic Research Administration.

Immense Speed: Exactly what running at 4am, and doing marathons before starting class does.

Immense Endurance: Due to the fact she does running as a hobby, her stamina/endurance in terms of speed/running is more than decent. She can withstand advanced offensive spells typically used by the police.

Equipment:

Basic Wand - She prefers to not wield a wand though finding it too rudimentary for her purposes, hence many assume she cannot unleash her secondth and thirds magic (to which she has). It stays in her cloak mostly.

Infinite Storage Fabric - Lining her uniform’s robe it has the ability to store anything it can consume within its’ own subspace. She stores majority of her items in it. Even though it’s mass doesn’t change due to how many things there are, it still is a heavy fabric. It will help fish out whatever the user who is currently wearing the cloak wants to have.

Resistance bands - She carries it around to do some exercise. Especially when she’s in the kitchen

Thick Rope - She carries this around as well but its to apprehend anyone she sees.

Photo album of Rayne Ames - She carries this with her at all times alongside a self printing camera. Don't worry, she gets permission to take the pictures.

Family/History:

The Randel Family while not aristocrats or anything, take pride in their magic aptitude which is a recent cut above the rest. Born as a two-liner magic user, she was put on a pedestal with unwanted attention, which is why she has a hime cut to hide her other mark. Her parents treat her like a trophy child and place their expectations on her.

She’s an only child but has an extensive selection of uncles and aunts 5 each. But she prefers her grandma over everyone else.

She had a tendency to break her wands while practising magic as a kid. Due to this her family/parents decided to just stop supplying wands (cuz it was costly) which resulted in her adapting the way she casted magic spells without the use of a wand. During her entrance exam into Walkis, she was ridiculed for not having a wand and got into trouble while getting the highest score of her batch in terms of magic.

_ _ _ _ _ _

I was tempted to add a Modern Magic/unmagic AU of this as well based on the anime endings which I find to be completely confusing even though they're fun. (SERIOUSLY, HOW IN THE WORLD DO RAYNE AND FINN HAVE FANCY OLD CARS THOSE ARE EXPENSIVE TO MAINTAIN WHEN THEY'RE CANONICALLY ORPHANS UNLESS DIVINE VISIONARY IN MODERN AU IS A SUPER RICH POSITION-)

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

Pocket Dice

Summary: You teach Steve to play D&D. In return he takes it upon himself to set you up with a certain Dungeon Master.

F! Reader Insert, 4995 Words

Warning:  Minor ST spoilers ahead. Food mentions. (Underage) drinking. Drug use. (It’s only marijuana dad!) Hinted at sexual situations. Reader is written as wearing red lipstick and dresses very 80s punk. Reader also listens to heavy metal in this and plays D&D because you’re cool peoples’. Takes place some time after Volume 5. (I took the liberty of deciding that Eddie lives and the world gets saved, and I offer no apologies for that.)

Authors Note:  This is the third Eddie fic I started writing in recent days - thought I’d share since it hasn’t taken on a life of its own like the other two. No sequel planned/in the works, but never say never. Also, I am always looking for inspo, so I will absolutely take requests for one-shots, blurbs, and head canons. If you don’t have an idea and just wanna chat, that’s cool too! I promise I won't bite.

After defeating evil a final time, after closing the portals, after reversing the poisoning of the town, Steve should have been happy to retire from saving the world.

He should have been grateful for the monotony life had become filled with - that there wasn’t a new threat on the horizon. But grateful was not what Steve was feeling.

The truth was, Steve was unnerved.

Not only was there nothing for him to do during peacetime, but in addition to that, his brothers and sisters in arms started to slip away, keeping in touch less and less.

Nancy had put the final nail in the coffin when it came to them after she graduated, and moved away with Johnathan.

He still worked at the video store with Robin - but she had gotten a girlfriend who adored her, and while Steve was happy for her, she was less and less available for their old shenanigans.

There were the kids of course, but while Steve had a hard time pinning them down, they religiously met up with Eddie every Sunday. Now that he too had finally graduated, they played D&D outside of their high school Hellfire club. 

Which, frankly, Steve had never understood…but now that his days were mostly empty, his friends were scattered, and he hadn’t had any heroic moments in ages, it was no wonder he ended up where he did.

In a bookstore one town over, Steve spends way too much time meticulously combing through covers. 

So much so that the cute girl working behind the counter - you -  takes pity on him.

“Do you need help with anything?” You ask sweetly, in a tone Steve knows well to be a fake customer service voice.

“Sorry I - I don’t know where to start. Were you guys trying to close?” He admitted, sounding pitiful.

“Ten minutes ago.” You chuckle lightly, causing Steve to flush. 

Running a finger along the many spines before them, you tease. “I’ve locked us both in, so you might want to make a decision soon, before we starve to death.” 

“Sorry!” He says again, hands heavy with the weight of so many books. “I just, really don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“So you mentioned.” You offer him a warm smile. “Let’s see if I can help…uh, what’s your name?”

“Steve.” He answers.

“Steve. I’m Y/N, at your service. Are you looking to get a gift for someone?”  You ask helpfully.

“No I…It’s for me. I was hoping to learn how to play.” He flushed when he admitted it. 

“And you’ve never played before?” You ask, non-judgmentally. 

He shakes his head. “I have…a passable vocabulary.” Never mind that it stemmed from Dustin naming every evil thing they’d encountered over the last five years as some sort of game-inspired creature.

“Oh.” You understand, taking the several books from his hands. Clicking your tongue, tossing several to the side. “No…no…no…yes…no.” 

You present him with a much more reasonable pile. “Start with these. Everything else will just overwhelm you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks tentatively. You blink at him - then reach in your pocket to produce a handful of colorful, multi-sided dice. 

“Pretty sure.” You tell him, rattling the dice in your hands for emphasis. 

Steve’s jaw is slack at that, and he blurts out. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You readily agree as he follows you to the register where you ring him up.

“Anything else?” You ask, and Steve chuckles a little. “No, but thank you. I was really close to calling it.”

“No need to thank me. It’s a cool game, I wish more people would give it a chance.” You smile when you hand him the receipt, letting him out of the store and locking up again after him.

And that might have been the end of it - but you were so nice to him the first time that once a week passes Steve is back at the bookstore, around the same time, specifically hoping you’ll be there.

When you were - glancing up at the bell announcing his entrance - he smiled sheepishly at you. “So, I have some questions.”

You laugh, not minding the intrusion. “Hit me with em.’”

And then you spend the better part of a half hour going over intricacies of Dungeons and Dragons with him, endlessly patient, even excited for him when he grasps a concept.

“You know,” you say finally, thoughtfully. “I think that your best teacher at this point is probably going to be…playing an actual game.”

“I don’t know if my friends will be as merciful as you’ve been.” He laughs, knowing he’s not ready. There’s too much to learn.

You shrug, “No, but mine just might be.” Then you grab a discarded receipt from the counter, flipping it over and scribbling some information on it.

“Meet me at this address tomorrow, around 4…if you’re up for it. I’ll set you up.” You tell him, and then lead him out the way you had previously, locking up after him without another word.

Steve can’t believe his luck. The next day he arrives at the quaint little maroon house right on time, climbing the steps and knocking on the front door.

It opens moments later, you offering him a warm greeting before letting him inside.

“Hey Steve,” You smile with bright red lips, and Steve is surprised to see how you dress when you’re not in the hideous bookstore khakis and polo shirt. 

Yellow plaid pants, and a crop top that looks homemade. Casual, cool.  Not what he’d expected from a bookstore clerk who played D&D, but here they were.

You offer Steve a drink before leading him to a fold up table that you’d set up in your large living room. 

It’s scattered with supplies already, and over the next hour or two, you and Steve put a lot of work into what he worries isn’t enough to show for it.

Still you’re sweet as always though, explaining to him that the creation of his character is an essential part of the game. 

He’s studying the character sheet that the two of you have concocted when you eventually go to greet your friends, all of them arriving within a few minutes of 6pm. 

Steve gets the distinct impression that he’s not the first wayward soul you’ve collected. By the time they’ve all joined you two it’s clear that they are, each of them, around you guys’ age, arguably nerdy in a variety of ways, and curious about Steve.

“We’re going to show Steve the ropes.” You tell them, and give the instructions for them to make nice while you order everyone pizza.

Then you take Steve by surprise once again, by sitting at the table’s head and assuming the role of Dungeon Master.

You make the group introduce themselves and their characters for Steve’s benefit, and then captivate everyone with your storytelling.

It’s incredible - Steve is wrapped up in it, having a blast though the actual outcome of the game turns out pretty rough.

Steve doesn’t survive it - but you were right about your friends. They carry his weight, offering tips and using their hard earned resources to keep reviving him as much as possible.

By the end though, his level 1 human paladin is slain. The quest continues on as he listens in fascination.

And when the night is over - the pizza consumed, arguments had, he wasn’t the only casualty.

Several of your friends grumble in good nature when you wrap things up with a small flourishing bow.

“That…was awesome.” Steve breathes, when you finally ask him what he thinks.

Tilting your head back, you laugh. “Glad you think so. Next time I won’t take it so easy on you.”

“Easy?” Steve blurts, your friends all laughing. “Yes, Steve,” they explain -  “That was her taking it easy.”

They share tales of the ways you’ve murdered them - sadistically, frequently, and Steve can’t help but to look forward to next time. 

He tells you as much when he helps you clean up, and you promise that he’s welcome as much as he wants.

So he keeps coming, keeps playing, keeps learning from you and your friends.

Eventually, Steve is what you generously call decent -  and you give him your blessing to recuse himself from what you have affectionately dubbed your “merry band of misfits.” 

“You’re ready.” You promise him.

The guys nod in agreement, and Steve swallows. “Do you think uh, I can come back sometimes? Not necessarily every week but uh, you guys are cool. I like hanging out with you all. You’ve taught me a lot.”

“Brave paladin, we would quest with you anytime.” One of the guys salutes him. Steve chuckles.

That night when everyone has cleared out, Steve lingers in order to help put things away, the way he’s done since the first game. While he does so, he’s overwhelmed with gratitude.

You had really been kind to him since you’d met - had taken him under your wing without question, introduced him to something he never realized could be so fun and on top of that, gave him a way back into his friend’s lives.

He wasn’t sure how to repay you.

At least, not until you put a tape in your cassette player, and Steve is suddenly struck with the cords of a familiar song. 

It’s a song he’d first heard in The Upside Down, signaling to him that it was time to kill Vecna.

“Master of Puppets?” He asks you.

Without hesitation, your eyes light up. “Hell yeah. I love Metallica.” You give a shake of your head. “Surprised you know it though.” You tease him.

“Yeah I uh…I have this friend. Plays a really…really sick rendition of it. Totally metal.” He says, lost in thought.

“That’s so cool.” You admit, clearing empty pizza boxes away.

You’ve not given it much more consideration, but for Steve though, the wheels are turning. He has an idea. One that, if executed properly, he thinks will be the perfect way to repay you.

The perfect opportunity presents itself with the coming week - his parents are on some kind of retreat that they go on every year that their marriage doesn’t crash and burn.

It’s the perfect time to host - so he puts the word out to all his friends. Party at his place.

Everyone quickly agrees to make it, and when Steve extends the invitation to you, you also decide sure - why not. 

It’s not a night playing D&D but Steve promises he’s the king of parties.

When the kids are splashing around in his pool - trying to be sneaky about drinking his beer - Steve feels really confident in his plan and his abilities.

“Who are you waiting for?” Robin asks as she drops down into a lawn chair, drink in hand.

“What?” Steve feigned innocence.

“You keep checking the door.” She says, with a soft hum. “And at last headcount we’re all here. Unless…Nance…Is it - is it Nance? Did you invite Nance?” She whispers.

Steve rolls his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I doubt Nancy, and Johnathan would make an appearance from their honeymoon to come to one of my parties.”

Robin snorts. “Well, what is it then? Because you’re not subtle.”

“I did invite my new friend.” Steve explains, as nonchalantly as he’s able.

“What’s this now?” Dustin asks, sloshing around in the water with his ears perked up under his curly hair. “You made a new friend?”

“I did.” Steve shrugs.

Robin eyes his face. “Oh my gosh, it’s a girl. Steve has a girlfriend.”

Dustin ooh’s as some of the other kids float over to the commotion, making cute noises.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Alright everybody calm down, it is a girl, and she is a friend. She is not my girlfriend.” 

“Do you want her to be?” Eleven teases.

“No.” He grits out.

“I totally don’t believe you.” Lucas laughs.

“It’s a classic Steve move - invite the girl to a pool party and ply her with cheap beer.” Robin jokes.

“That’s not what this is.” He sighs.

“Really Steve, look at the facts and tell us you’re not trying to date her.” Mike says, like some kind of expert.

Steve sighs in deep exasperation, rubbing a hand over his face. He glanced around abruptly, making sure that a particular party guest isn’t around to hear what he’s about to say.

As it is, it seems like he’s gone inside - likely rolling up for the older kids for later. “I’m not trying to date her! I am trying to set her up with Eddie.”

“Eddie?” Dustin questions, astounded.

“Yes, Eddie. Dungeon master, heavy metal playing, mechanically inclined, pain-in-my-ass, Eddie.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Oh…” everyone seems blown away. None of them more than Steve himself had been.

“…Hello?” A familiar voice calls out and Steve panics, scrambling to his feet and wondering if you’d caught any of that.

Based on your expression he doesn’t think so. Still, he’s extra cautious when he takes the large bottle of tequila from you. “Hey,” Steve addresses, adding lamely. “You made it!” 

“Well someone told me that you’re the king of parties.” You tease.

Steve grins, then gestures weakly to the group in front of you two. “These are uh, these are my friends.” Steve points each one out, naming them.

You turn to the pool, younger kids clustered in and around it, and you wave. A flurry of greetings follows you. 

They all take you in - blood red lipstick, black fishnets peaking out beneath high waisted shorts, a low cut Iron Maiden shirt tied into a knot at the bottom to show just the smallest bit of your midriff - and they could see where Steve might have thought of Eddie.

Speaking of, in that moment the side door to Steve’s house opens and Eddie steps out of it, already lighting the cigarette perched between his lips before he freezes mid-step.

“Ah, I uh, did not realize we had company.” He grins cheekily.

Steve steps forward, gesturing, “Y/N, this is Eddie. Eddie - Y/N.” He introduces, unable to contain the wide grin at the way Eddie’s eyes hone in on the skeleton on your shirt that he knows all too well.

“Oh, yeah.” You laugh lightly, a tad embarrassed under his gaze. “King Steve here neglected to mention he had a pool.” Nudging Steve harshly at the accusation. “Lucky for you I do accept apologies in the form of a stiff drink.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve salutes, “Eddie, keep her company will ya? I’m going to uh, go get some ice.”

“I’ll go with you.” Robin adds helpfully, following Steve into the house. Some of the kids, wet and slippery, follow them in, all asking what the plan is.

“I’m making this up as I go.” Steve admits. “I mean, I’ve never asked a girl out for another person!”

“Well we need to do something, did you see her shirt!” Erica points out.

Steve nods, “Trust me kid that’s the tip of the iceberg. She and him are made for each other, you have no idea.”

“Where did you find her anyways?” Dustin asks.

“She works at this book store...it’s not important.” Steve changes the subject. “If no one has any bright ideas, we ought to get back out there before we’re missed.”

Uttered agreements hit Steve’s ears as the group staggered their return. “Here ya go.” Steve hands you the mixed drink, watching you sip it gratefully. “Thanks.” You tell him brightly.

You’re sitting in a lawn chair, Eddie occupying another on your other side, still smoking that cigarette despite the dopey grin on his face.

Drink in hand, you turn back to him and gesture for him to continue. “You were saying?” Eyes all for him, so Eddie launches animatedly into whatever conversation you’d been having before Steve interrupted.

Steve takes it to mean that maybe the pair of you won’t need his help after all, and he lets the party commence, the kids pouring over the edge into the pool as you two talk.

He is briefly distracted by his mission by an overwhelming sense of contentment, flooding him with every call and squeal of joy his younger friends let out.

When the hour grows late, he rounds them up - making sure that they get home safe. 

With all the four oldest of the group remaining, Eddie produces a small baggie of pre-rolled blunts.

“S’okay if it’s not your thing.” He tells you, handing off to Robin with the lighter. 

You roll your eyes lightly in response, scoffing, “Please.”

Then as if to prove it, after Robin takes the first hit you reach out and grasp her wrist gently, guiding her hand that’s got the blunt clasped between two fingers to bring it to your lips.

You inhale deeply before releasing your hold on the other woman, the smoke billowing from your lips as she lowers her hand.

“Hot.” Robin’s the one who says it, to which you blow her a kiss. Robin then passes to Eddie, who inhales shakily, eyes on you the whole time.

Steve decides to give him until the end of the night, at most.

As the four of you pass the blunt around more, your lipstick stains it, and no one seems to mind. You’re growing on the whole group, and Steve especially sees you slotting in easily past tonight.

As it is while you all smoke, you ask about the kids who’d gone - how they all knew each other, if they were related. 

Eddie just laughs and tells you that the girl with the shaved head was a science experiment, and that she has superpowers that helped them all save the world more than once.

You laugh at that, thinking he’s absolutely gone, but Robin and Steve smile knowingly. Their shared smiles grow when Robin alerts Steve subtly to the new development of the night, Steve having caught it as well. 

Eddie and you had gotten closer at some point, now sharing a chair, his knee touching yours, the smoke pouring from his mouth crowding your airspace.

Eddie also keeps whispering in your ear, things that make you giggle, leaning back into him. 

Then you yawn suddenly, sadly admitting, “Guess I’d better head home before I’m too messed up to drive.”

“One could argue that you reached that limit two drinks ago.” Robin points out, gesturing to the scene of you practically splayed across Eddie’s lap.

At that you flushed, glancing back at Eddie nervously, apologetic, and Steve nudged Robin roughly for undermining his mission. 

“Oops,” you breathed. “Sorry Eddie. I get kinda touchy when I drink.”

“I’m not complaining.” It's flirtatious, but there’s an edge of seriousness to it as well. A touch of nerves. You hide your smile behind the red solo cup.

“So, I just meant like…stay.” Robin admits. “I’m sure Steve can spare a couch.”

“I absolutely can. Couches all around, for all my friends.” He holds a drink up to toast to that, inquiring “What do you say?”

“Alright, why not?” You laugh. “Can’t promise that I’ll be that much fun anymore though, I get sleepy after smoking.” Your head lolls to the side to emphasize that point, not minding when it makes contact with Eddie’s shoulder that’s in the path of the movement.

Touchy, check. 

Sleepy, check. 

“I’m feeling better and better about our decision not to let you drive home.” Steve snickers.

Eddie juts his chin out toward the pool. “You should take a dip. Wake you right up.”

“Um, no.” You chuckle, gesturing to the character on your chest. “Eddie doesn’t swim.”

“It’s called, Eddie?” Robin’s eyes bug out as she nods and laughs. At the same time their Eddie leans in and whispers something suggestive, earning a breathless laugh and elbow to his ribs.

Then you disentangle from the man, scrambling to your feet, “Bathroom?” You ask Steve.

“Downstairs just past the kitchen.” He lets you know, and you thank him, headed inside.

Steve and Robin immediately turn their attention to Eddie once you’re out of sight.

“What? Do I have something in my hair?” He asks in a manner that’s much too innocent.

“Dude,” Steve sighs, while Robin grumbles how men are clueless.

“What?” Eddie asks again, a much more sharp sounding whine.

“You know what - she likes you, and you clearly like her. Ask her out.” Robin insists. 

“Since when do you two care about my love life?” Eddie deflects, a tad embarrassed at how obvious he had been.

“Since your soulmate was literally hand delivered by Steve earlier this evening.” Robin snarks.

“Soulmate?” Eddie laughs. “Aw man, having a girlfriend has totally made you soft, Buckley.”

“Tell you what.” Steve suggests, not letting him weasel his way out of it with that subtle change of subject. “I’ll make you a little wager. If I win, you accept that that’s your soulmate in there, and you do something about it. Ask her out…If I lose, it's the dealer's choice.”

Eddie purses his lips as he thinks about it, thinks about giving Steve a buzz cut but also about what he has to lose…the answer to which, is nothing. 

Sure he might have been cynical about soulmates, but he would be lying if he said that he hadn’t been toying around with the idea of asking you out already. Might have even done it already were it not for his present company.

“So, what is the wager exactly?” Eddie asks slowly.

“Simple. I’m going to see if I can accurately guess the contents of Y/N’s pockets.” Steve grins.

Eddie laughs. “That’s random as hell.”

“So?” Steve presses.

“You’ve got a deal.” He shrugs.

When you return a few minutes later, sitting in a new chair and making Eddie pout, Steve puts his plan into action.

“Hey, Y/N?” He asks.

“Hm?” You question around a sip of your drink.

“Can I see your dice?” He presses, hiding his smile.

“Dice?” You sound a tad confused, but mostly amused. Eddie watches with rapt fascination.

“Yeah I’m uh…at a crossroads.” Steve hints, holding his hand out to you expectantly. 

You look at him for an extended period, before reaching into your pocket and producing the small colorful handful that Steve knew you had on you at all times. 

Robin and Steve both wished that they had Johnathan’s camera in order to capture the expression on Eddie’s face - slack jaw and rounded eyes - as he takes in the unmistakable shapes in your palms.

Steve plucks the D20 from your hands, rolling it, knowing it won’t matter what it lands on. Still, it comes out high.

“I think that that’s a hit, wouldn’t you say Eddie?” He teases the older man.

Eddie still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. “You just - you just carry those around with you?”

“Sure.” You let out a small nervous laugh. “It’s incredibly lame, I know.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not lame. Cool. Very cool.” Then Eddie’s head snaps up to Steve and Robin with a glare. “Didn’t you guys just say you were going to…get the couches ready or something?”

They scramble up in understanding, nodding, leaving the two alone.

You are utterly confused, more so when Eddie moves off of his chair, kneeling in front of you now that you’re alone.

“Do you, uh, do you think I might be able to take you out sometime?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, a sweet grin splitting his face.

You blink in surprise “Ye-uh-yes.” Nodding enthusiastically. “…Totally.” You want to cringe at how awkward you are.

Eddie beams at you despite that. “Awesome.”

Steve and Robin, who are peering through the shades that cover Steve’s windows, cheer and celebrate when they see Eddie lean down and plant a kiss right on your red lips.

When you two eventually join them inside, you both take up residence on the pull out couch together, Steve and Robin sleeping upstairs.

And if in the middle of the night, Steve hears the springs of that shitty mattress squeaking, accompanied by a plethora of other muted sounds, he chooses to ignore it for his friend’s sake.

It had, after all, turned out better than he could have imagined.

In the coming days and weeks, he hears little snippets from everyone in the gang, which has in fact grown now to include you.

The updates make Steve smile, especially the little glimpses into your developing relationship with the metal head who is absolutely smitten with you.

You two are inseparable - except for when you work and the nights where you held your respective D&D campaigns.

It’s just before one of those when the kids file into the video store, Steve taking notice of them immediately.

Despite how busy it is, being Saturday, he can’t help but notice that something seems off. And that seems more important than stocking chick flicks on shelves.

“Hey kids, why the long faces?” Steve asks. 

“Mike’s parents are redoing the basement.” Will pouts, to which Steve immediately nods in understanding. 

They’d been using Wheeler’s basement to host their D&D games with Eddie, since Sundays between church and football there wasn’t much chance of his parents bothering them.

Now, it seems like they needed a place to play. And parents were the recurring issue at their every option.

Steve didn’t have that problem.

“Why not use my house?” Steve suggests, interrupting their batting around of ideas. 

The kids' faces light up. “Really?”

This is it, Steve thinks. He nods, telling them “Sure!” Before clearing his throat nervously. “Could I…could I play?” 

Several surprised expressions greet him. “You want to play D&D?”

“Yeah.” Steve grins a little. “Why not?”

They, of course, allow it. So that’s how they all end up on a Sunday night at Steve’s house.

Eddie had sauntered in early to set the whole thing up, trying to pry into Steve’s sudden interest, to no avail, only relenting once the kids showed up and they actually got started. 

They’re all surprised when Steve brandishes a fully flushed out character. More so by his bold strokes and luck with the dice. 

The game is in full swing when the sound of your car pulling up alerts everyone to your presence.

You didn’t usually come see their game - but you knew it was Steve’s first with them, and you’d promised you wouldn’t miss it.

Eddie is ecstatic to have you there, his whole face lighting up as he rushes over to open your door for you.

“Hi princess.” He purrs, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

“Eddie,” you protest the nickname with a flush. He loves to watch you squirm, leading you over to his throne. It wasn’t the same one from years ago in hellfire - this one didn’t belong to the school, but had been gifted to him as a graduation present. 

The kids had hoped it would inspire him to host the game even without the club - and it had definitely helped. Now it went wherever the game did. Most recently, Eddie had saved it from whatever decorating atrocity was taking place at the Wheeler’s.

Eddie settles into it now, pulling you happily into his lap.

“Confronting deadly peril, Steve?” You ask curiously, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“…with surprising success.” Eddie admits at Steve’s modest shrug.

You give Steve a wide grin. “Is that right?” In answer, he winks at you. Eddie’s hands instinctively tighten on your waist, though he knows there’s no malice behind the action.

You wave a hand indicating for them to proceed. They don’t need much more prodding to launch back into it, Eddie leading them on a perilous journey that has him gripping your hips firmly to stop your wriggling in his lap.

“Sweetheart if you don’t cut that out…” he warns in a low voice - a voice much more familiar than the one he uses to narrate - as the party discusses their next move.

You grin sheepishly at him, and he peppers little kisses to your neck, with fevered promises of…later.

Your giggling is interrupted as Steve leads a charge against Eddie, giving the dungeon master a run for his money. 

It’s quick - efficient - ruthless. He makes you proud. Eddie gives him everything he has in return, but Steve’s meticulous rolling leaves him with the upper hand. Eddie turns over the miniature of the villain this week, admitting defeat.

The party cheers - Dustin shaking Steve vigorously and Mike and Lucas slapping his back while Erica paraded around in victory.

Eddie doesn’t mind their beating his campaign, and he never has. But still, here now with the promise of you, all riled up before they’d concluded, he’s more than happy to be finished, eager to clear out of there.

He starts packing things up, and you help him, fondness in your eyes when you see the adoration the younger kids show for Steve.

Your actions make him think. “I don’t suppose…” Eddie draws the words out slowly. “That you would have anything to do with…that.” He nods at Steve’s character sheet he’d left on the table.

“I’m afraid so.” You give a faux sigh before explaining with a slight edge of pride. “Taught him everything he knows.”

You beam at Eddie, and he’s suddenly, if possible, more eager, to get you to himself.

An impressed whistle left his lips. “You have no idea the kind of monster you created, my love.” 

You laugh at that as the kids overheard, understanding washing over them, Erica being the one to shriek. “I knew he couldn’t be that good!” 

“Oh I have…some semblance of an idea.” You bat your lashes at him.

Eddie is fucking enamored with you. He pulls you in and kisses you deeply, he can’t help himself. 

“Not in front of the children you two!” Steve protests, throwing a pillow from his couch at you, thinking that it was him who created the monster. 

And he couldn’t have been happier about it.

[somereaderinblue]

USM Good Carnage!Harry AU

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR USM S2 & S4 WILL BE MENTIONED

I’ve been getting back into USM & recently, I’ve rewatched S4E21-23 (Spider-Slayers Trilogy), S2E8 (Carnage) and have gotten hooked on this amazing Parksborn fic by @ultimatepeter-man​.

Before I get into the actual AU idea, pls bear with me. In the Spider-Slayers Trilogy, MJ debuted as Spider-Woman.

Long story short: After the whole Carnage Queen fiasco, some of the symbiote stayed bonded to her which gave her a suit + powers similar to Agent Venom.

Now let me make this clear. I LOVE badass action girls & the first time I watched this, I was thrilled to see MJ get a chance to shine as a fellow spider.

BUT

Honestly? This doesn’t vibe with me, mainly bcz it feels waaaaay too rushed. This literally happened near the end of the show. The fact that MJ was largely absent throughout the series made it feel as though the writers wanted to shove the MJ x Parker ship into our faces after not touching a het ship at all.

(Pls note that I have NOTHING against that ship. I’m just saying that the writers didn’t do it right here.)

Which brings me to my next point: our boi Harry Osborn, who compared to MJ, played a much bigger role throughout the series. He had more involvement, more development and frankly, USM Harry had some of the best chemistry with Peter. Yes USM is what got me into Parksborn, so sue me. 

Which brings me to this AU:

Instead of MJ getting a symbiote power-up at the end of the series run, let Harry get one. Except this time, (1) he firmly uses it for good & (2) it’s the Carnage symbiote.

How it happens:

-During S2E8, slight divergence wherein Peter successfully tells Harry he’s Spidey before most things proceed like canon.

-However, during the fight, Goblin seemingly manages to destroy Venom, leaving Harry ‘powerless’.....or so everyone thinks.

-Cue Parksborn going on a date, baddies attack and BOOM! Harry reveals that the symbiote decided to stay with him.

-Sprinkling some inspo from MSM, Carnage now has an orange-grey color scheme similar to Hobgoblin.

-Old married couple bickering happens between Parksborn as they kick ass back to back.

-“Why didn’t you tell me?!” “Says the guy who was Spidey for how many years now?!” “This better not be your villain origin story!” “Two words. Daddy issues. But I’m still here, aren’t I?” “....touche.”

-MJ can still be involved of course, but maybe as their guy in the chair. Maybe she helps SHIELD by trying to contact other teenage heroes who are on the run/living on the streets. 

-But yeah, Pete gets a BF + new teammate, SHIELD academy happens and Harry briefly has a rivalry with Flash/Agent Venom bcz he’s lowkey salty abt how he treated Peter in the past before getting over it.

The end.

(Sorry if the structure of this is messy but his idea came to me after binge-reading Parksborn fics & binge-watching USM + MSM while high on caffeine.)

[boobaloof]

If the horizon characters are connected to the classical elements(as in Avatar: The Last Airbender related stuff) what would they be?

Ooh lovely question! I just watched atla for the first time a year ago, so I think I'm ready to answer this 😎

The idea that Aloy could be the Avatar is so good to me bc she could struggle with all the 'bring peace and balance' thing in the same way she does in the canon hzd universe. She's pretty good with all of the elements, even if Rost only taught her how to use earth bending. She has many tricks up her sleeve and manages to fight using all four incredibly.

Elisabet was the previous avatar too, and Beta could also be a (much less experienced) avatar, seeing as we can use the clone cheating code to have two twin avatars in one timeline.

Then for the other characters, I think Varl would be great as a water bender! He was calm and nice, and he had quite a tendency to look out for the others... so he could work as healer too.

Zo could be a strong earth bender, sad that not even her bending could help her tribe with the blight. She uses it lightly when fighting, but when she goes all in she's powerful af. (Also it would have made it easier for her to bring all those pots and plants inside.)

Erend could be... you know? I had this small atla au once that had him come down from a line of powerful fire benders, Ersa being the best of all of them ( managing to control lightning!) And all of a sudden either Erend is a non-bender (Later discovering he can actually bend fire, then trained hard to harness lightning (inspo from his lightning hammer) ) OR that he got stuck being a water bender, having developed accidentally after Ersa got in the way of their father's tantrum when they were kids and he healed her. He doesn't use his bending except on extreme emergencies bc you know, he's insecure about it. So people think he's a fire bender or an earth bender because how could he not? He's an oseram. But yes, either fire/lightning or water for the boy.

Kotallo can definitely be a water bender with an ice specialty, he's a master at it and fights with it quite gracefully. Total pro. His new prosthetic arm was made specially to control water bending, with special materials so it resists the frost and even lets the element flow through it. For a special attack he could coat his arm in water, then freeze it with ice spikes on the shoulder.

For Alva I think air bender suits her quite well, seeing as there were air nomads in atla and since she's a Quen diviner, the same dynamics could be used there! Alva was sent to the forbidden west looking for the Avatar to help the Quen with their blight problem, and when she meets Aloy she realizes its quite more difficult than it already is 👀

Sylens is a non-bender but he's damn fearless and makes up with his sheer wit and intellect. I like the idea that he can make special weapons that can mimick bending perfectly, so it always looks like he can bend the elements, making it difficult for random people he meets to actually know his origins.

As a lil bonus characters I'll have the showmen trio as earth (abadund), air (morlund) and fire (stemmur). Together they make a MASSIVE show of their bending, and it racks up the good shards.

[txemrn]

Like Ships in the Night

Prologue: We Finally Got It All Right

Welcome to my new anthology series Like Ships in the Night! I am so fortunate to have some amazing readers that enjoy this sweet pairing, and have expressed interest in seeing how fate tried bringing them back together during their 15 years apart. And you know what? I want to see that, too! So... here it is, and I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I enjoyed dreaming about it and creating it! Each story can be read as a one-shot (unless noted), and--I'm so excited about this part--you are going to see some of canon woven into this. And in true Emily-fashion, it's not going to follow a specific time-line, but you will be able to follow along.

For those of you who are new to Tatum Erikson: this is the infamous "Hopkins Girl"... and in my AU, she and Ethan find their way back to each other.

🔞This collection of stories is intended for mature audiences only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 years of age or older. TW for chapters will be included with each part. 🔞

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey)

Series Music Inspo: "Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney

Chapter Music Inspo: "I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles

Chapter Summary: On the night of their wedding, Tatum begins to reflect about her relationship with Ethan... and about all of the missed opportunities that they had with one another.

Word Count: ~3400

Warnings: NSFW/smut 🍋; language

A/N: Some of these characters/plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Huge thank you to my girl @charlotteg234 for helping me choreograph my smut, and to my girl @ao719 for looking over said smut! lol Love you both! Not truly beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Would you call me crazy if I told you I believe in cheesy romance stories? You know the type: the kind where the rich CEO’s car breaks down in a small town, where he meets the shy, yet beautiful local pastry chef with a failing bakery? He inevitably screws things up, but he proves his love by performing a grand gesture–in this case, buying out her bakery to give it back to her. Or how about the age-old story where a woman meets a stranger in a bar, spends a hot night of passion with him, only to find out in the morning that he is her new boss?  Or he’s the son of her boss? Or he’s the crown prince of some made-up country in the Mediterranean? 

Now, before you roll your eyes at me, I know what you’re thinking. Stuff like that doesn’t actually happen in real life. Men don’t go out of their way to make fools of themselves for love. Love has its limits, and the sensation of being ‘swept off your feet’ is nothing more than a trigger of chemicals in your body, supported by the greeting card companies and flower shops.  And let me tell you: I totally agree with you.

Until it happened to me.

When I was twenty-three, I fell in love with the most intelligent, fearless, most handsome man I had ever met in my life. He was strong, yet sensitive; he was quiet, but hilarious.  He was such a colossal pain in my ass. And I absolutely loved him for it. For over three years, our relationship was thrilling, breath-taking, all-consuming and wild. It was the kind of love that inspires love songs and poetry, a love that makes you believe in soulmates and wishing on stars and happily ever afters.  We had no idea what the hell we were doing, which made it so incredibly perfect. He was so incredibly perfect.

Then, I single-handedly fucked it up. Everything that was good in my life, I threw it all away in a single moment. And that incredibly perfect man… I broke him. And the worst part? I changed him. Because of me, he learned to be cold and hard; he learned to be closed off, to protect himself from getting hurt ever again. He lost that spontaneous bright light in his eyes. And love?  He stopped believing in it.   

But, I’ll let you in on a little secret: the story of Ethan Ramsey and Tatum Erikson doesn’t stop there.  It should’ve. My God, it should’ve, but fate had a different ending for us.

“Tate?”

His voice. It still rings like a melody to me, especially with my name dancing on his lips. Well, that and judging from his mumble, his keys must be in his mouth.  His hands are full with a late dinner, and no doubt, Jenner is making it nearly impossible for him to sneak through the door with his excitement.

I give the navy velvet sky one more glance as I turn to walk back inside from our balcony. Pulling the curtains shut, I watch Ethan set the table before lighting a few tapered candles between our plates. He then promptly unpacks the brown paper bags of our greasy, late-night fast food dinner.

Recinching the white satin belt of my short, lace-trimmed robe startles him into a double-take.  “There you are,” he beams brightly at me; he offers a guilty smile as he claps his hands. “Nothing was open at 1:30 in the morning except…” he sighs, “the golden arches.”

Raising a playful eyebrow, I saunter closer to him, closing the gap between us. As I wrap my arms around his thick, swole musculature, his taut, strong arms envelop my own body. He pulls me closer, pressing me lovingly into the flat planes of his chest.

“Mmmm…" I nuzzle into him, "it’s perfect. My husband did good,” I steal a fry.

He smirks before kissing my forehead. He looks at his watch. “It’s been–” he clicks his tongue, “--nine hours? I really hope I haven’t messed this marriage-thing up too badly just yet. Although, I’m not so sure that feeding my wife McDonald’s on her wedding night is being a good husband.”

"I think you're doing a damn good job on keeping her satiated, Mr. Ramsey," I giggle under my breath. 

The man truly is a god. His glorious tongue and nimble fingers permeated secret parts of me during our quaint wedding reception earlier, making us swiftly take our exit during the main course.  Even now after spending four breathless hours making love, I look up into those possessive crystal eyes, and my arousal instantly awakens. God, I need him.

Ethan tilts his head lower towards me, his breath warm on the shell of my ear. “Every touch from you, Mrs. Ramsey, leaves my begging… for … more," he nips at my earlobe, punctuating his words.  The sudden sting ignites a fury of goosebumps across my skin.

And suddenly, I can't let go of him. Feeling the heat of his body against my own intoxicates me like a fine vintage wine. This man, this honorable and selfless man: he is my beloved, my husband, my forever. My soul literally craves just to be in his presence; my being thirsts to be held steadfast in the oasis of his heart. I want to dive deep and succumb to his currents; the height of his love I will never, ever be able to fathom. 

And to think: he chose me. Again.

The silky fabric of my robe slips off my shoulder. Ethan's large hand brushes across my exposed freckled skin, admiring my decollete as if he was experiencing it for the first time. His breath shutters against my chest, his desire hardening against my belly. His mouth presses to my exposed skin as he marks me as his own. The pull from his pout is heavenly; he burrows his face into my neck, his arms hugging me tightly.

I tenderly rake my fingers through his espresso waves, massaging the back of his neck.

"My wife…" he silently breathes against me like a fervent prayer. His hands find the loose knot of my belt, pulling the tie undone with his thumb. The material flounces open, his fingers roaming across my bare curves.

His lips find mine, a slow fire kindling between them. His tongue flirts inside my mouth, swirling languidly around the tip of mine. 

My knees buckle with the abrupt throbbing between my legs, but his arms brace me. We both warmly snicker before I peer up at the gorgeous, chiseled lines of his face. His dark stare is so attentive, so captivated with me; I can feel my heart pirouette in my chest. 

I want him–God, I fucking need him in the most feral of ways. Now. I am his lamb, his sacrifice. I need him to strip me, ravage me, break me, consume me. 

"I thought you were hungry," he growls, tracing my jaw with the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes flutter against my skin; even my toes curl to the command of their gentle tickle. 

My breath quickens, the rise and fall of my chest pressing into his firm body. "I thought you were," my voice softly rattles, painfully aware of his tightly constricted appetite in his sweatpants.

He rolls his tongue across his bottom lip as he tucks a finger under the material resting on my other shoulder. With a careful flick,  the satin glides down my arm, drifting into a delicate cascade until it ripples on the floor around my ankles.

"I am," he cups my cheek, painting his thumb across my own pout. He then drags his knuckles down my exposed body: down my chin and neck, between my breasts and around my navel. He takes a knee, his mouth replacing his hand. He trails sweet kisses down my abdomen before tenderly caressing my sex. I hum as he gazes back up at me, his eyes dark with want. "I am very–" I gasp as he pushes his fingers into my core, "--very hungry." Pulling back out, he lifts his hand to his mouth. He moans in pleasure, his tongue eagerly lapping up my sweet desire.

As he sensually sucks on the tips of his fingers, I greedily steal his hand, bringing it back to my own lips. With a mischievous grin on my face, I kiss his palm before dragging it down to my pert breast. I guide his hand into massaging me slowly, his secure grip finding and teasing my nipples. Losing myself in the vast wilderness of his longing stare, he renders me speechless; the anticipation leaves me breathless. God, just put your mouth on me already...

I drag my teeth across my lips, watching my new husband shiver, unraveling on his knees. Combing my nails behind his ear, he shifts his gaze back to me, and I whisper. 

“Take me.”

Hastily finding the bottom curve of my ass, he takes hold of me, pulling me closer to himself. His hands wander smoothly up my thighs, discovering my wet slit. He tenderly traces my folds, and a sudden ache for more courses through my legs 

His finger grazes over my plumping clit, once… then twice before he circles around again… and then back the other direction. My foot coyly turns inward as my knee curls to shield my throbbing apex from his welcoming intrusion.

“Uh-uh,” he scolds me. He slips my leg out from under me, instantly finding its way over his broad shoulder. I brace myself on the back of a chair as he strums my swollen button. 

My knees quiver with reckless electricity; my body trembles with raw nerves.  My lower belly warms with excitement, euphoria building deep within me. I begin to rub against his hand.

“Ethan,” I gasp, “please baby–”

He stops. As he flicks his eyes to me with that irresistible smirk, he must’ve seen the look of betrayal written all over my face.

“Ethan?”

But before I can get my words out, he scoops me up bridal-style, hurrying me into our bedroom.  He throws me like a ragdoll onto the plush bed before ripping off his undershirt.  I sit up on my knees, my fingers reaching for his waistband. As I lunge closer to take what I want, he grabs my wrists. He crawls on top of me pinning me down, my hands helplessly over my head. 

He kisses into my whimpers, his teeth nipping at my swollen lips. “Such an eager girl,” he snickers, biting my lip again until he gently licks into my mouth. 

Ethan traces his tongue down my body, circling around my nipple before pulling it into his mouth.  Fuck, it hurts so good. One of my hands has traveled to the back of his head, encouraging his rapacious mouth into my sensitive skin. But, he possessively steals my hand from his neck, restraining it useless above my head.

“Stay,” the corner of his mouth turns up as he pants, “you stay right here until you finish for me." He playfully tugs on my other nipple with his teeth before stealing another glimpse of me. "And you will finish on me.” 

His demanding claim on me as well as his overpowering strength sends a chilling ache through my body. My need for him grows fervent, restless, completely starved.  I am his hostage, and only he holds the key to my release, to my pleasure. He is my undoing.

He slips down my body, spreading my legs apart for him. I quake as he spreads apart my lips, and all at once, his tongue drinks me deeply. My back arches against the mattress, as he swirls around my most sensitive area.

My breath becomes ragged as my hips thrust off of the bed. Hoarse mewls escape my mouth as my head thrashes back and forth across the pillow.

Without warning, he glides two thick fingers into my channel, stealing the very breath from my lungs.  Finding the perfect spot inside, he strokes deeply, smoothly, my toes curling with the change of sensation.  

I am overwhelmed; each stroke builds on the last, the intensity obliterating my mind. Is this pleasure? Is this pain? I can’t–I can’t take anymore.

That is until Ethan takes his other hand, firmly pressing it down on my lower belly. The electricity of my desire erupts into a million stars, dancing in my own galaxy. 

And then he slides in another finger.

My mouth drops open into earth-shattering silence as I pump my hips uncontrollably into his hand. My body trembles, hurdling me towards an orgasm. It’s terrifying, and thrilling, and absolutely emotional. I can barely breathe anymore, my inhales catching in my chest as my body cries out. 

But suddenly, as my climax overcomes me, throwing me off the edge to complete ruin, Ethan stops. He grips my ass and swiftly, flips us both over. Finding myself on my knees, my husband’s head is between my thighs, his lips a breath away from my wet pussy.

"Ride me, baby."

He pulls my hips down, the sudden jerk causing me to grab the wooden headboard. His stubble tickles my sensitive skin as my nerves reignite with pleasure. My body melts into him, his mouth instantly finding my deep ache. He blows gently across my throbbing clit before wrapping his mouth around it, giving it a nip with his teeth.

"Ethan!"

A stun of electricity courses through my veins.  A deep burn contracts in my belly as groans of ecstasy escape my throat; my eyes prick with tears of euphoric joy as he strokes me through another orgasm.  My whimpers fill our room as I uncontrollably pulse and constrict around his tongue and fingers. My thighs quiver as I grind my quaking pussy across his hungry mouth.

My knuckles blanch to white as I grip the headboard; glistening with sweat, my body grows limp, begging for rest, begging for oxygen, begging to collapse from my husband’s predatory gleaning of my body… now his body.  

But, he holds me fast and close, his hands gripping firmly to the swells of my ass as he continues to feast on my ravaged center. He tenderly nuzzles me open, his tongue consuming every last drop of my pleasure.

He crawls out from under me, quickly climbing onto his knees to kneel behind my body. His arms snake around my abdomen as he pulls me back into his lap. And I collapse against his chest, my hands finding the tops of his before tangling our fingers together.

Relishing his touch, Ethan presses his lips into my jaw, along my neck, coming to rest on my shoulder. He tightens his hold on me as his mouth finds the shell of my ear, my body lax against his. 

And then I giggle. His soft whispers of the most lovely, the most hidden of secrets saved just for us drip like honey from his lips, his sweet words seducing me in the most intimate of ways.

Turning my head to meet his gaze, our lips brush against one another as we finally relax into each other's arms, laying down against the swirl of sheets and stacks of pillows. Finding a comfortable silence, I can feel his pulse bounding in time with mine as we share the air around us. He mindlessly traces shapes with the tips of his fingers across my hips. His ankles intertwine with mine, and somehow, something so mundane feels so possessive, so intimate. I could drown in this moment, knowing my last breath was him claiming me as his own.

"How?" I sigh, not realizing the actual word escaped from my mind.

"Hrmm?" He rasps, readjusting his hold on my body against his.

I titter in embarrassment. "This. I just can't believe… we're here…"

He nuzzles his nose against my neck. "Just you and me." He takes my hands, gently interlocking our fingers together as he brings it up to his mouth for a kiss.

A thought crosses my mind. And I sit up, leaning myself against the plethora of pillows against the headboard.  Grabbing a sheet to cover myself, I look down at my husband, a pensive grin quirking on my mouth. "Do you–" I sigh, shaking my head. "Nevermind."

Ethan sits himself up next to me, playfully knocking his shoulder into me. "Do I what?" 

"It's silly."

He smirks. "Like that's ever stopped you?"

I swat his arm before wrapping my hand around his bicep, laying my head against his shoulder. "Do you believe... in fate?"

He rolls his head towards me, giving me that look, like I just asked him the most idiotic question on the planet.

"What?" I teasingly pout. 

He raises his eyebrows. "Do you really want to know my answer?" 

No. I chuckle to myself; I know better. I have always appreciated Ethan's ability to remain level-headed. He's a realist, a believer in physical matter. Everything can or will be explained by science. For the most part, I agree with him. Afterall, I am a scientist, too. 

And maybe he's right; the rekindling of our relationship was a complete coincidence. But still… after all of the missed meetings and stolen glances from afar… after all of these years, why now?

He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Tell me. What do you think?"

"Whether or not you believe in fate?"

"No," he rolls his eyes, grinning wide. His deep chuckle reverberates through his body, warming mine. He pulls me gently into his chest. "Tell me, baby," he softly croons. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what's got you thinking about–" he waves his hand in the air as if he's presenting a magical word on a rainbow. "--destiny."

"Not when you say it like that," I pinch his belly.

"Okay, okay!" He flinches, snickering before cradling me closer. "I'm sorry. I'll be serious." I give Ethan a questioning glare until he holds up three fingers. "Doctor's honor."

I giggle as I mindlessly begin to play with his fingers in silence.  I finally sigh because I officially sound like a lunatic, and surely, this beautiful man is about to go get our marriage annulled. "I don't know," I breathe him in deeply, my fingertips grazing through the hair on his chest. "I feel like… now looking back on us, we had so many missed opportunities… divine interventions… I don't know," I snicker at myself because I don't just sound insane; I am insane.

That is until Ethan takes my hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I'm listening."

"What if we were always meant to find each other? Like… God, I don't know." I turn around to face him leaned against the wall of pillows. "Imagine we're heading to work on the T, but we keep missing the stop… and yet, we still end up where we're supposed to go, even if we have to catch another line or hail a cab."

Ethan gives me a skeptical look. "Okay, so… you believe you and I had missed opportunities to be together–"

"I don't know if I believe it… but somehow calling those missed connections, those times that we almost crossed paths again…" I bite my bottom lip, shaking my head. "Rams, how could they just be coincidences?"

Ethan couldn't take his eyes off me; I could tell he was perplexed with what I was insinuating by the way he chewed the inside of his mouth. We fell into a quietness, my question left unanswered. 

I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Maybe I was being hyper-emotional with it being our wedding day and all the talk of love everlasting.

After spending a few moments studying my face, Ethan tenderly takes my foot, pushing back the sheet to expose it completely. He lays it on the firm planes of his abdomen as he begins to gently knead his thumbs and knuckles into my arches.

"Coincidences, hrm?" He exhales heavily. "Or fate?" He shakes his head with uncertainty as he strokes each one of my toes. "Tell me a coincidence. One of our coincidences."

Feeling myself melt into his touch, I look down at my wedding band, twirling it around my finger. Taking a deep breath, I lick my lips and begin.

"Do you remember the time…?"

~🖤~

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Thank you so much for your support! Every like , comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

[bonefall]

God ive been reading through your rewrites and im totally obsessed. I've had so many similar ideas about cooking and i get so excited looking at your ideas. I have my own cat system and story idea set outside of the warriors Universe I've been working on for years now and reading your ideas gives me tons of inspo. Theyre an incredibly useful respurce for worldbuilding

Also this is totally unrelated to literally anything, but what are your thoughts on Jaggedtooth / Snag? He was Rowanclan's mentor and a major Tigerstar supporter

Also, does Antpelt have any kin in this rewrite? In the original series I beleive he is an "orphaned" kit. I'm a sucker for Ant x Breeze but i've also recently come up with a headcannon / au where he is brought in and is apart of Smokey's litter with Onestar. The reason he brought Any in and not Dark was because Ant was deathly ill and Onestar pretended Ant was a random orphaned kit that hid mate decided to surrogate. I have absolutely no idea how the litters line up with canon though so 🤷

Thanks for the compliment! I'm glad it's helped get the creative juices flowing!

On Antpelt

He is an Orphan Warrior in the main series by my definition, yep! He has no official siblings or parents. I haven't figured out who his parents are going to be yet, though, only because I haven't completely redone WindClan's family tree yet.

In fact I only have a few things truly confirmed for WindClan's family tree right now.

The first is that Onestar has no siblings. He's the son of Larksplash and Cloudrunner, and his mother died in childbirth, which is how he got the name Onekit.

The second is that Mudclaw's children are the first born at the lake; and they are half-Clan, from him and Whitewater. Whitewater was going to invoke the Queen's Rights, but after the failed rebellion she felt wrong about her two oldest kits and gave them to Torear to raise. Those kits were Kestrelflight and Harespring; she kept the last one, Owlclaw.

Soooooo basically Antpelt's nowhere right now. I'll hook him up when I work on the tree next; but Onestar's only child is going to be Heathertail, and maybe Galekit, but they're going to stay dead.

Jaggedtooth

I really like Jaggedtooth and Nightwhisper. They both always struck me as people Tigerstar actually HATES, but keeps them around because they're useful.

I'm fond of how far Jag was willing to go for him, cutting off one of his own fingers to get Tigerstar into a better position, only to be snubbed. I'd join BloodClan too after that fuck you Tigerstar get divided loser

I know Jaggedtooth's generally used as a villain, but it's more fitting to my narrative for him to be a bit more sympathetic. For the story I'm trying to tell, Clan Culture is supposed to be a constant antagonist, especially for this time period where Fire Alone is not established. Runningnose is being buffed up into an actual villain, meaning there's no need for Snag to do the false sign with his severed claw.

So for my rewrite, Jaggedtooth,

Is an ok mentor to Rowanpaw. Rowan is now the daughter of Brokenstar, but Jaggedtooth doesn't care and she finds that refreshing.

What really hurts her is when Jaggedtooth leaves, as he was the closest thing to a father she ever had.

Rowan's first mentor is killed in the epidemic. Not sure who it is yet though.

Anyway Jaggedtooth rejoins BloodClan, and either goes back to the name Snag or shortened it to Jagged/Jag.

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Wait? Will you do some of the song things for Willow??? Honestly whatever ship you want! Song 13?

Send me a ship (or fandom) and a number between 1 & 101, and I’ll use my Spotify Wrapped as fic inspo

13: She Knows It by Maggie Lindermann -- I went with Kit and Jade because this was absolutely my excuse to write a pre-canon fic about Jade learning of Kit's engagement.

AO3 link

Jade had been Kit’s mirror for as long as she could remember now in life and in their fights. She knew a time before Kit, of course. She had the blurriest of ideas—because they weren’t quite memories—of what her life had been before Tir Asleen. She knew there had been a time before Kit had been her closest companion. But she’d been drawn to the princess even before the two were truly close, and when the queen had asked her to stay close, how could Jade refuse? It was her duty to the realm.

It was easier to justify her feelings when she could put them in those terms. She was loyal to Queen Sorsha, and Kit and Airk were an extension of that. Jade was just doing her duty.

Duty became a sour word after Kit found out about her mother’s plans.

Jade hadn’t been there to find out firsthand.

Her presence was one Kit found helpful, but Sorsha didn’t necessarily include her in the important things unless Kit insisted on dragging her along. Jade occasionally felt like a doll in those moments—nothing more than the thing Kit dragged around the castle with her.

Then again, Jade had heard the stories of a three-year-old Kit’s legendary tantrum when her then-favorite toy had disappeared. The entire castle had been turned upside down in an attempt to find it and soothe the young princess. While Jade didn’t enjoy likening herself to something that had eventually been found under Airk’s bed, she did wonder if Kit would similarly upend the castle for her.

Wishful thinking. Jade was a friend. A good friend, but nothing more than a friend.

That was only reinforced as Kit came to her with tears streaming down her face.

“I’ve been betrothed,” Kit cried as she threw herself into Jade’s arms.

The proximity was good. Jade didn’t have to fix her face if Kit couldn’t see it. “You knew this was a possibility,” Jade said, trying to stay neutral.

Kit snorted, and hell, she must care for the princess if the wet noise Kit made around her tears was one Jade found endearing.

“My mother’s talked about political marriages, yeah, and I knew she’d been in conversation with Galladoorn. But this is bullshit! Why me? Where’s Airk’s engagement? He’s the one good at wooing. He’s the one who put time into developing the skills to be useful on his back.”

“Kit!” Jade couldn’t help her own admonishment.

Instead of being offended, Kit started crying anew. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being cruel. I just… All this work. All this training. I’ve tried so damn hard to be my own person, yet I’m still just a bargaining chip.”

Jade swallowed hard. “Are you to go there or is he to come here?”

“It’s an alliance,” she said bitterly. “Someday we’re supposed to rule both together. He and his father probably see it as some kind of peaceful takeover. If they think I’ll quietly give up my kingdom to some man’s control, they’re insane.”

“Your mother wouldn’t expect you to.”

It was true, but it was the wrong thing to say.

Kit pulled away from their embrace to glare at Jade. “How dare you! Don’t take her side in this! I trusted you. Don’t you turn on me too.”

“I haven’t,” Jade promised, trying to look Kit in the eye without focusing on the tears streaming from them. Despite her own self-preservation, she reached up to cup her princess’ face, wiping away the tears with her thumb. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to look on the bright side at how this values your strength and conviction, but you’re right. It sucks. I hate that this is what doing your duty means.”

Kit sniffled, then flung herself back into Jade’s arms. Jade held her tight. She always would.

Against Jade’s neck, she mumbled, “I wish things could stay the way they are forever—you and me just like we are.”

Jade’s heart swelled, and she tried to tamp down the emotions whelming up in her throat. Kit didn’t mean that, not the way Jade wanted her to. They were friends. Kit wanted her as a best friend, as a sparring partner, and as someone to rely on. She didn’t want what Jade wanted.

Still, Jade let herself lean against the wall, still holding up Kit in her arms. They stayed that way in silence until Kit’s tears had subsided. Even then, they stayed together.

Eventually Commander Ballantine found them. Jade refused to shrink under the scrutinizing look he sent her.

He cleared his throat, and Kit pulled away. Jade had known she would.

“Your mother sent me to find you,” he said and at least managed to sound apologetic. “She wanted to give you some space before continuing your conversation, but she’s hoping you’re ready to return to her chambers and discuss the details of your engagement.”

Kit’s face tightened. She reached for Jade’s hand seemingly without realizing she’d done it. As she squeezed it tight, Jade definitely noticed and so did Ballantine. Once again, he said nothing about it.

Eventually Kit sighed. “I can’t promise it won’t turn into another fight, but fine, I’ll let her talk if she lets me talk too.” She squeezed Jade’s hand again before dropping it. Kit sauntered forward, turning to take a few backward steps as she looked at Jade. “I’ll be back later. Hopefully not crying this time, but we’ll see. Maybe I’ll make Sorsha cry this time.” She offered a quick salute before whirling back around and heading out of the room.

Ballantine and Jade watched her go.

“Not a word,” Jade warned.

He chuckled. “Was there something for me to comment on?”

She swallowed hard, ducking her head. When his hand landed on her shoulder, it was surprisingly gentle.

“Jade, you’re a good kid. You’re a good fighter. You’re a damn loyal person, even to your own detriment.”

Jade flushed, but she said nothing yet. Ballantine was clearly going somewhere.

“Your talents are wasted playing unofficial bodyguard to the princess. She can take care of herself enough to defend herself within these walls, and she’ll never be without an entourage far outside them. How long will your loyalty allow you to last when you start to hurt yourself with it? To the wedding? How far beyond it? When she has children and proof of her marriage?”

“Don’t.” Jade jerked away. She had never taken such a harsh tone with the commander. She refused to apologize.

“I’m not criticizing you,” Ballantine promised. “I’m commending you. You have a great talent, Jade. I’d like to help foster it further. I've done all I can. I want to help you reach the next step.”

She looked up sharply, eyes wide. “What are you proposing?”

“I’d like to recommend you to the Shining Legion.”

“But I’m not…” Jade took a deep breath. “They wouldn’t take me.”

“They would with my word,” Ballantine said. “I can almost promise that if I recommend you, they would take you.”

Jade looked off down the hall, still seeing Kit in her mind, even though she’d long since left. “How fast would it happen?”

Ballantine shrugged. “Hard to say. You’ll at least have time to say goodbye. Probably longer.”

“I… Thank you.” They weren’t the touchy kind, so Jade nodded to him instead of trying for a hug or anything more familiar. “You’ve already done more than enough for me.”

“You’ve deserved that and more.” Ballantine’s voice was firm, leaving no room for Jade to disagree. “It’s my honor to do this for you. I mean all the respect to Princess Kit, but you belong somewhere you’ll shine, not pining in the background for someone destined to be with someone else.”

Jade blinked fast. She tried not to let her hurt reach her face, but she wasn’t sure how successful that goal was. “She won’t love him.”

“She doesn’t have to,” he said, not unkindly. “But she will marry him. She’ll marry the prince chosen for her because she is a royal. It’s what they do. They make sacrifices for their kingdoms. And often, those sacrifices are either the ones they love or the ones who love them.”

“Doesn’t she deserve to be happy?” Jade asked, already knowing that was beside the point.

Ballantine didn’t answer directly. He squeezed her shoulder and asked, “Don’t you?”