#he accepted certain death when it was just an idea and when he was promised great rewards in exchange

[loveushijima]

ushijima bf hcs!!! like how would he be as a bf?

thank youuu!! <33

ushijima wakatoshi as your boyfriend!

fluffffffffffff, clueless ushiwaka | female reader

a/n: hi pookie bear im so sorry but i have no idea how to write headcanons so i hope this is acceptable n i did ur request justice <3 😭 also not proofread!

Let’s start from the beginning:

Ushijima would not understand that his feelings for you are more than just platonic.

In the beginning, Ushijima would see you as a great friend to have.

But overtime, he would start to feel weird. The slightest touch you give him would send electricity all over his body, he’d memorise your daily schedule and subconsciously alter his path so he’d be able to bump into you more, and he’d take notice of the way you smiled or the way you put your hand up to cover your lips whenever you laughed.

He thought your smile and laugh were beautiful and contagious, why would you ever feel the need to do that?

Ushijima wouldn’t think much about it, he’d brush it off as him treating you nicer because you’re one of his only girl friends.

Tendou, however, isn’t that dense.

Tendou took notice of the way whenever something reminded Ushijima of you, he’d immediately ask out loud, “I wonder if she’d like this…” or, “If she was here right now, she would probably enjoy this very much.”

He sighs, his friend is not very adapt to his own feelings.

Tendou has a loooooong conversation with Ushijima before Ushijima finally realises that his feelings for you aren’t purely platonic.

“Wakatoshi-kun, do you get butterflies in your stomach whenever I lay a hand on you?”

“No.”

“Do you ever think my smile is beautiful and contagious?”

“…not really.”

“Ouch. But there you go, Waka-kun!”

“Ah.”

Ushijima isn’t the type to beat around the bush and get shy and blushy once he comes to terms with his feelings. Actually, he would be the type to not confess to you at all in case the confession completely ruins the friendship. But with Tendou’s relentless peer pressure, Ushijima eventually gives in and asks if you’d be available to meet around the dormitory buildings one evening after all classes at Shiratorizawa Academy has ended.

There, he confesses.

“I have feelings for you.” He confesses… rather bluntly.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I would rather we just pretend this did not happen and go back to being how we normally were before this confession.”

“What???? But you didn’t even let me answer!”

“Oh. My apologies, go on.”

“If you would’ve let me talk, I would’ve accepted your confession! Idiot.”

Ushijima blinks in surprise and lets a small smile spread across his features.

“Thank you for accepting my confession.”

Now, Ushijima Wakatoshi as a boyfriend:

You would 100% be his first girlfriend, so please be patient! Whatever he says or does that gets on your nerves, he promises he means no harm — he’s just super oblivious.

Canonically, Wakatoshi is very well-mannered and polite. The epitome of a gentleman.

However, sometimes social cues fail him and his low emotional intelligence can be the death of him. Sometimes he can appear too blunt or aloof.

“Gosh, how did I fail this test?”

“I think you did not study hard enough. Try harder next time.”

“😡.”

He genuinely thinks he’s giving you constructive criticism and helping you out but in actuality, all you wanted was a listening ear.

There are certain things you have to be upfront with Wakatoshi about, such as certain wants. Wakatoshi is an upfront person himself, so as your boyfriend he’d be more than grateful if you just communicated your feelings to him straight up with no filter.

Setting all that aside, he tries so hard for you.

“So when I say, ‘Oh noooo, I failed a test!’ What are you supposed to say, Toshi?”

“I can’t believe you failed. That damned professor did you so wrong. The school system sucks.”

“Yes!!!!!!!!!” And you kiss him all over his face after his new and improved response. He smiles and leans in even more.

Wakatoshi’s love languages would also definitely be Acts of Service and Gift Giving.

He isn’t a man of many words, so he tries to make up for the lack of poetry by showing you his love, through his gestures. It could range from the bare minimum such as holding the door open for you, pushing your head gently onto his shoulder if you were nodding off to sleep, or whenever you’re both walking on a path beside an open road with traffic, he makes sure you stand safely inside and he stands on the side nearer to the road.

Or, it could be things more evident to show you he loves you. Such as making you bento boxes from scratch (all the ingredients fresh from his farm, of course), letting you wear his jacket if you get cold and blushing because of how cute you looked in it, or sometimes just being present with you. During the weekends, if he doesn’t have volleyball training and you have some errands to run, he offers to follow you and help run some of the errands on your list to make your life easier — it warms your heart but you always decline and tell him, “You don’t have to! I can do all this myself, Toshi. How about you just keep me company for the day while I run these errands? I would love to hear more about that match you played last Friday against that one school!”

He loves you so much.

As I mentioned before, Wakatoshi is not a man of many words. So, he would definitely enjoy the idea of gift giving very much. It doesn’t matter what you’re talking about, it could be the manga you and Tendou were currently reading together or how many different types of rice you could name, Wakatoshi listens to every single thing you talk about.

And he remembers.

Wakatoshi walks up to you one Monday morning, a bag in his hand and his normal aloof expression on his face. He hands you the bag and you look up at him confused. You open up the bag and gasp loudly, beaming ear to ear as you pick up the box from inside the bag. It was a figurine of the main character in that manga you and Tendou were reading. You jump into Wakatoshi’s arms as his aloof expression turns into one of fondness. He could stay in that position forever if God wills.

Remember the bento boxes Wakatoshi would make for you? He’d 100% remember your favourite type of rice and use that specific grain type for your bento boxes.

Wakatoshi remembered all the small, funny and mundane things about you, but sometimes that’s all you need. Everyone always remembers the exciting and thrilling things, like that one time you shop-lifted or that one time you got into a disciplinary case. Wakatoshi felt like a breath of fresh air from all the chaos. It felt nice to have someone remember your favourite flowers, or your favourite type of rice.

It’s a type of love that’s so innocent and pure, and sometimes that’s the best kind of love.

Wakatoshi would also definitely share more about himself with you than he has with anyone ever. He would tell you about his father leaving, his left-handedness being his mother’s biggest shame in life, and if he ever feels overworked or burnt out at times with volleyball. Wakatoshi was never one to moan and groan about his problems, but he just felt so safe with you, as if he could tell you anything and you’d still be there with him every step of the way. He felt so, so safe with you.

He’d want you to tell him about your problems too if you are ever facing any troubles. He wouldn’t force it out of you but of course he hopes that one day you’d be comfortable enough to share more about yourself with him. Wakatoshi really wants to know more about you as the relationship progresses more.

Wakatoshi is definitely the type of boyfriend who’d walk you to class in the morning and back to the dormitories in the evening. He’s a busy student — being the captain and ace of the volleyball team and juggling his academics was no easy task, but he always makes sure to accompany you whenever he has free time. Wakatoshi could spend just 5 minutes with you and he’d already be in a better mood after chatting with you.

The Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team Year 1s™ thank you for your service, as ever since their captain has gotten together with you, he’s become better vocally during trainings and so much more approachable. Of course he’s not hooting and hollering across the gymnasium, but he actually mumbles out a small “Nice kill.” now if impressed by one of his members.

One time Wakatoshi told Goshiki that his serves that training session were good and the junior swore he heard angels singing and he almost ascended to heaven on the spot.

You definitely brought out the best in Wakatoshi, and he loved you for that.

[brucewaynehater101]

About Tim's kill count: I think Tim tries really hard to be okay with murder. He's accepted that's something other vigilantes do, that sometimes it's the most practical answer. He knows that self defense is a thing, when it's you or them... Well, no one can be blamed for choosing themselves over a villain. He is the smart, logical Robin. He can be rational about murder. Stars know someone has to, and B is too much of an emotional mess when it comes to that particular subject.

So when Tim has to blow up Ra's bases, he tries really hard to be okay with it. He gave them a three minute warning (it's not much, but he knows how fast they are), so technically it's not like it's his fault if they decided to stay. He had to do it, it wasn't even just self defense, he had a civilian hostage to take into account. It was the only logical solution that allowed him to save Batman too. So yeah, he knows his reasoning was completely sound despite the circumstances. Honestly, he deserves Kudos for not losing it considering the amount of stress he was under and the fact he nearly died and lost an organ.

So yeah, he is pretty sure he's okay with it. He knows that if Batman ever truly catches up un his RR reports of that time he's not gonna be happy. He figures he can deal with that (he can't, he can barely deal with his own guilt. Deep down he knows he'll collapse like a wet napkin).

But instead of Batman the one to confront him is Jason having heard from Talia or finding the evidence on an outlaws' mission. And Tim is relieved because this should be easy. Not only is he a master manipulator: Jason is okay with murder, extremely emotional and still feels guilty about Titan's Tower. He's not even on talking terms with B. Tim has the upper hand in this encounter.

Cue to Jason's pov and it's just so painfully obviously that Tim is trying to rationalize the guilt away. Jason doesn't know whether to acknowledge it (the kid looks like he needs to actually talk about it, sue him) or to let him be delusional for a bit longer. He isn't the biggest expert on healthy but that doesn't look like it.

Tim succeeds in getting him to promise he won't tattle to Bruce, and is really proud of himself for handling the situation. Jason is now panicking thinking about what would Bruce do if he finds out (Tim doesn't know the extent of Batman's reaction to Jason killing at first).

(I got a little carried away with the idea of Tim being convinces he's okay with murder and Jason, who is pro murder for certain people, seeing right through him like "Oh honey")

Oh!!! I've seen some fics that cover what would happen if the Bats found out about Tim's kill count or the bases, but I haven't really seen ones with dark/abusive Bruce.

Tw: abuse, murder

Here's what I'm thinking:

Jason is fantastic for being the first to find out. He'd be supportive, understanding, and non-judgemental. He'll have no moral issues with murder. Perhaps he could have some mental breakdowns on the fact his younger brother had to resort to that or the high number of deaths or that someone younger than him had to stain their hands (which could also lead into him finally processing Damian's kills as well), but he wouldn't have any issues with Tim commiting murder.

Then we contrast that with Dick. He doesn't blame Tim. He's fiercely protective of his brother and will beat up anyone who gives Tim shit for it. On the other hand, he does have moral issues with murder. He'd probably have an internal debate with himself. He wants to support Tim, but the kid killed so many people (in this AU). Tim killed in self-defense. Dick has a particular understanding due to his time as a cop, but his vigilante rules have always contrasted with his cop ones (not just killing. Breaking laws, how civilians are treated, who your "allies" are, and whether you can trust your coworkers to do what's right). He's devastated that Tim was in that position and blames himself (maybe even takes those deaths upon his own moral conscience).

Both of them love, care, and support Tim in this. They also have very different ideas about murder.

Tim is also trying very hard to deny to himself how much death is actually on his hands. He's struggling to pretend he's fine and trying to logically convince himself that the deaths are acceptable.

In this AU, Bruce obviously flips the fuck out and acts like a piece of shit. Feel free to hc how far he takes that shit.

However, this has important ramifications against Damian. Whatever his feelings are about Tim at this point, watching his father abuse a kid he adopted (and considers his own) for the sin of killing? For self-defense? What if Damian ever kills again? Would Bruce react the same? What if there was no other choice? Also, does this mean that his father will never truly love him? Will his past always be held over Damian's head? Will Bruce ever forgive him? Is his father's love conditional? To add on, Damian has complicated feelings about LoA as well. He'd need to process the extreme destruction Tim enacted against the LoA. Just Damian having mental breakdowns.

Cass's confliction with murder and her love for Tim could also be added into this. I don't know much about the arc where she becomes a villain, but that would add to her turmoil.

Now, Alfred is a confusing one. How dedicated is he to Bruce? Is this the characterization where he sasses the man, not so subtly hides his guns around the Manor, and will stand up to the man? Or is this the one who will follow Bruce's lead even if it means psychologically torturing his grandkid? Is he somehow both at the same time? Can the kids trust Alfred to protect them or choose them over Bruce?

Babs would be protecting Tim (and the others in their support of Tim) to the best of her ability. In my mind, she's chill about murder due to her dad being a cop and her working with murderers (like Harley). She'd run interference to protect Tim until Bruce finds out, and then she'd be trying to get him away from Bruce.

Anyways, I'd love to see all of the characters, their feelings/experiences, and the conflict expanded on.

[sh1-n0bu]

hey hey!! new anon here,,

not sure how to write this but I'll try

could we get a scara x amab reader, with praise, overstimulation, and if you're comfortable body worship? (for scara ofc) i wanna make him cry 🛐

also !! can i be 🍷 anon?? <3

♡︎ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x dom!AMAB!reader

warnings: praise, overstimulation, body worship, dacryphillia, overall very soft and fluffy

notes: of course you can be 🍷anon! slowly but surely clearing out my inbox and thinking on holding a 3k followers event. if you guys have any ideas, lemme know!

wanderer — formerly known as scaramouche, balladeer and the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers — has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything. so when you, his assistant since day one, had suddenly proposed your affections for the angry gremlin he rejected at first.

but that never deterred you. you would try over and over again. asking him out on dates, offering him some help, cuddles if he was being restless and stressed, holding his hand while he undergoes the painful weekly tortures of il dottore — you did it all for him.

and one day, scaramouche did indeed cave in and decided to accept your nth suggestion for a date. it wasn’t like he had liked you or anything, he just wanted to make you shut up quickly. he’s lying, he loved you way longer than you did him.

since then, going out on “dates” had become a usual thing between you two. you two would meet up in certain places, hang out for some time, talk for a bit, hold hands if scaramouche is feeling gutsy enough and say your goodbyes.

it had continued on for so long until it suddenly came to a stop when scaramouche had to go to sumeru with il dottore to take buer’s gnosis. of course the plan worked and the second harbinger came back with the gnosis but no scaramouche.

for some time after that, you seriously thought you were tripping absolute bonkers. everyone kept saying the sixth seat of the harbingers had been vacant and the name scaramouche or balladeer doesn’t ring a bell. you even held an audience with her majesty, the tsaritsa as well and yet she said she doesn’t remember!

that was until you decided to desert the fatui and go to sumeru yourself to find out just what the fuck was going on. it took incredibly long time — sumeru’s rainforest and desert aren’t the most hospitable places for someone so used to the cold like you — but after a whole half a year of searching, you managed to see him again.

him. the one who stole your heart. the one who caused you to desert the fatui despite knowing the punishment would be death. the one that cradled your heart gently in his hand since you’ve been assigned to be his assistant.

and by the archons was it worth the whole thing. to be chased down by the people who were once your comrades. to suffer heatstrokes in the hot desert of sumeru. to continuously get pelted by the rain and thunder in the rainforests of sumeru. by the archons was it all worth it when the moment you two locked eyes. it was as if your first meeting all over again.

by the archons was it worth it when he recognized you, dropping the scrolls in his arms as he runs up to you. it was worth it when he came to a stop in front of you — hesitating. waiting. wondering. before finally muttering “fuck it” and getting on his tip toes to plant a kiss on your lips. it was worth it all — even as you gently broke him down and rebuilt him again a whole new in your arms in the comfort of your now shared home.

scaramouche has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything.

but wanderer was a bit different. he preferred to be alone, alone with you. a bitter tea and your voice going “yuck!” whenever he made you take a sip, lying and promising he put sugar in it this time. a shy stolen glance at each other and a peck or two followed by the silence of each other’s presence. “lonely together” you once called your relationship. he couldn’t agree more.

even as his first time is taken by you — the doll couldn’t be happier.

even as he whimpers and whines whenever you praise him, planting kisses on his skin as he blushed a beet red. weakly thrusting his hips back to meet yours under the dim lights of the lit candles. desperately reaching back, tangling your hair in his hand to tug you down for a sloppy kiss to try and hide his moans when you called him your “good boy”, “pretty doll” and your “one and only”.

a weak sob and sniffles resounding in your shared home as wanderer comes on your cock for the nth time. how many times had he cum by now? he’s too hazy and lust ridden to even keep up count.

tears kept falling down his face as he unconsciously grind back into your cock, wanting more. a cacophony of keens and moans and shrill sound resembling a squeal coming out of him as he feels your tip hit his prostate again. archons, he wanted to feel that again and again. feel himself get broken down by your hands, by your lips, by the soft praises coming out of your mouth, by your dick just fucking into him so good to the point his mind becomes a mush.

when you gently put him back together again — wiping away the sweat and cum staining his skin, when you cradle him gently as you two share a quick bath together, when you wrap your arms around him and hug him close to yourself — the pupet couldn’t help but smile.

a genuine, unadulterated smile of happiness spreading on his face as he hears your words of affirmation. in soft moments like this, the puppet couldn’t help but whisper out weakly in a hoarse voice.

“you, [name], my heart…” before slipping off into a dreamless state.

[sansaorgana]

— FADING LIGHT

PAIRING — Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — When your daughter's mysterious sickness progresses, you are desperate to find a cure. You choose to travel all the way to Mirkwood but you are captured by the Orcs on the road and soon you find out that their leader is your husband who you thought of as dead.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I fell for Adar while watching Season One already but in the last episode when he mentioned that Sauron promised him children... I just knew I had to write some fic about him having a family once that he lost. 🤧 Also, I am like 100 percent sure that Adar was not his name when he was an Elf but I didn't want to make it up on my own so I kept it the same. 😅 The daughter's name – Moreth – apparently means gloom. The ending is bittersweet and angsty... but with an open ending! 🥺 PS – I've read The Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit books but it was long time ago and I have never even tried to read The Silmarillion but I tried to do some research on the wiki and I hope the fic is pretty accurate.

WORD COUNT — 6,420

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FADING LIGHT

You watched Moreth through the window. She was sitting on a bench under the tree and reading a heavy book in a dark brown leather cover. Her black hair danced in the wind but she looked far from ethereal like other elven girls spending time around. There was some sort of darkness around your daughter which worried you deeply. The sadness and the quietness you had grown to – despite all the years that had passed, she had never smiled as brightly and happily as before her father’s mysterious disappearance and most likely death. She had never been cheerful, which was painful enough to you since you were her mother and you wanted nothing but happiness for her. But lately, something very worrying had been happening to her. As if the light that Elves were supposed to carry and shine bright with all through Middle-earth was fading away from her.

“Her skin…” You bit on your lower lip as you looked at Gil-galad who was standing by you. “She’s growing paler but in an unnatural way. Her skin doesn’t simply get lighter but… whiter,” you pointed out. “I don’t know what to do, I am desperate,” you admitted sadly.

“Her light is fading, (Y/N),” Gil-galad whispered and put his hand on your arm as if it brought you any comfort. A single tear escaped your eye and streamed down your cheek when you took one more look at your daughter even though he only said what you had known already.

“Is she dying?” You asked, not fully understanding the situation but it felt awfully wrong that all these things were happening to you. First, you lost a husband and now you were about to lose a daughter? What was the point of this suffering? “Is she somehow turning into a human?”

“No, not a human,” Gil-galad shook his head and walked away. “Worse,” he commented and you furrowed your brows but you had no idea what he meant. You did not want to know. “I suggest sending her to Valinor before it becomes too late,” he added.

“No!” You sniffled your tears back as you protested. “Please, no! I would not handle another loss… Ever since Adar’s death, I am her only family. I am her only protector. And I know it is not the time yet for her or me to leave Middle-earth,” you explained. “I cannot explain it but I know that our destiny here has not been fulfilled yet. I must do everything it takes to save Moreth,” you clenched your jaw with determination.

“I do not know how to help her and all my wise and experienced friends I have asked for help do not know either. The longer you wait, the more she fades away and after a certain point of this mysterious change, she will not be accepted in Valinor,” Gil-galad explained. “It is an honour to be sent there.”

“And a pain for me. I shall miss her. I already miss her father,” you walked away from him to look out of a different window and take a deep breath at the sight of the sea. “I shall go to Oropher in Mirkwood then,” you decided. “Perhaps they know how to help her there. It is my last resort,” you looked at Gil-galad.

“It is dangerous to travel so far away these days. The army of Orcs…” He started but you interrupted him.

“I do not care,” you snapped. “I am her mother. I shall do everything to help her. I am desperate,” you looked deep into his eyes with so much pain and hopelessness that he eventually gave up with a sigh.

“I really hope then that you will find all the answers that you seek there. And that both of you will come back safe and unharmed,” he approached you to squeeze your arm. 

“Thank you, High King,” you bowed your head at him.

Adar was an Elf much older than you but you spotted him watching you many times while you were with your friends in Mithlond. He was calm and quiet, smiling at you kindly but never bothering you. Respectfully, he waited for you to initiate the conversation first, which you did because he fascinated you. You admired his knowledge and how different he was from your friends – how mature. He was giving you flowers he had picked himself whenever you walked together and he always complimented you in a way that would make you blush.

When Elves loved each other and married, forever was always a promise. And for some it truly was like that but you were not one of the lucky ones. It was not long after the birth of your daughter when you lost your husband. Moreth was only a few years old when he disappeared and you began your desperate attempts to find him but you soon were informed by multiple sources that most likely your husband had been killed by Morgoth or one of his minions. There was nothing you could do – not even give him a funeral he deserved since there was no body. You grieved for long years and tried to raise your daughter as well as you could but apparently the burden of this grief and sadness had been affecting her more than you would like to admit it.

You still dreamt of him often – your husband. Of his kisses, of his promises of the life you would live one day. Far away from others; that had been his dream. And he had been often talking about achieving something more whatever that more had meant. An ambitious dreamer – that was how you remembered him. And despite the years that had gone already, not a day passed without you thinking of him dearly.

The thing he loved the most in life was being a father, though. Moreth was his whole world. He would sit her on his lap, tell her stories while braiding or simply brushing her hair. He would pick flowers for her or watch her play in the fields for hours, helping her to catch butterflies. You had never seen a man so mesmerised by his daughter and now this very daughter was sick and you had to do everything to help her. You owed him that.

You were nearby Khazad-dûm on the back of your horse with Moreth sitting behind you with her arms wrapped around your waist when you felt the horse getting nervous and anxious. You knew it was not a good sign but you did not want to turn around and seek refuge with the dwarves or in Eregion. 

“Keep going,” you whispered to the horse as you patted its neck but you were cautiously looking around, sensing the danger as well. “It reeks of something filthy,” you admitted.

“I do not feel anything,” Moreth shrugged her arms, which calmed you down a little but it also caused you to lower your guard down, which was a mistake. On the other hand, you would not be able to do anything anyway even if you had spotted them earlier – a small unit of Orcs jumping out on the road in front of you as they laughed.

The horse startled and shook you and Moreth out of its back before running away as fast as possible. You quickly grabbed your dagger even though you knew it was hopeless to fight a unit on your own with nothing but a small knife. They laughed contemptuously, showing off their awful teeth.

Squeezing the dagger in your hand, you hovered over your daughter, trying to shield her from the Orcs. She was shivering slightly and clutched to the fabric of your cloak.

“L-leave us alone, we mean no harm, just passing through,” you tried to reason with them even though you knew they were not creatures of high intelligence. If they were creatures of any intelligence at all.

“Have you heard her?” One of the Orcs mocked you. “The Elven ladies are just passing through…” He pointed his own dagger at you as you trembled at the sight of the blade, which was dirty from dried up blood.

“P-please… My daughter is sick,” you pleaded but he only tilted his head and brushed your reckless hair strand with the tip of his blade.

“Leave it,” one of his friends barked at him. “They’re Elves. Lord Father won’t be happy if we hurt them. He wants all captured Elves to be taken to him immediately.”

“Oh… Yes… Lord Father will have lots of fun with them,” the Orc standing in front of you grinned at you, which caused a shiver go down your spine. His words sounded ominous – you were terrified of an idea of some sort of leader of the Orcs who was respected and called Lord Father by them. You didn’t even want to think about what he looked like and what he would do to you or your daughter… And now you were a hostage, taken to him.

Perhaps Gil-galad had been right but now it was too late to admit such things. Full of fear and anxiety, you dropped the dagger you were holding, counting on a merciful treatment after giving your weapon up willingly.

You were inside a wooden cage with your daughter by your side. Your hands were in shackles behind your backs but Moreth was sitting as close to you as possible, weeping silently and clinging to you. You knew that she was blaming herself because if it wasn’t for her sickness, you would never be travelling on that road. You didn’t blame her, though. She had never asked for any of this. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, praying for the infamous Lord Father of the Orcs to be a creature of a higher intelligence than his children. That you could reason with him and maybe offer him something in return to let you and your daughter go to Mirkwood freely although you had no idea what to offer. Perhaps a conversation with him would reveal more of his nature, which would help you to come up with a good idea. You were desperate to heal your daughter or at least to try to do so. You would never send her to Valinor too early without knowing that you had done absolutely everything to prevent it.

“It stinks,” you winced after your cage entered the Orcs’ camp.

“I do not feel it, mother,” Moreth admitted and you looked down at her face with nothing but shock. How could she not smell that odour of the Orcs and all their filth?  

You were not given enough time to think about it, though. You heard the awful noises of the Orcs’ tongue and laughter. Through the wooden bars of your cage you spotted them staring at you and pointing their fingers with hatred and disgust as if it was them who had reasons to find you and your daughter hideous.

“We are being taken to their leader,” you whispered to Moreth. “Let me handle it, darling. Do not talk, do not do anything, please.”

“I promise, mother,” she nodded and sniffled back her tears. She was terrified and so were you but you were trying not to show it too much because there was no point of scaring her more and to appear weak in front of the Orcs’ leader.

“Lord Father,” you heard a raspy voice of one of the Orcs once the cage stopped in the middle of something that used to be a market square of one of the human villages before the Orcs’ invasion. “We have captured two Elven women near Khazad-dûm. “They thought we would let them go freely. Claimed to be just passing through and that one of them was sick.”

You waited for the answer but there was none. You could see the mysterious figure only through the bars of the cage and you were not able to spot any details about him. He had to nod his head at the Orcs, though, because the cage was opened shortly after. You and Moreth were dragged out and pushed, making you both hit the ground with your hands still in shackles behind your backs. Clumsily, trying to keep your dignity, you held your head straight while moving your body up to rest on your knees at least, feeling the mud and dirt sticking to your scratched cheek. Your hair was a mess and your eyes filled with hatred as the Orcs surrounding you laughed with contempt.

You laid your eyes on your daughter and how she moved up on her knees as well. Her long black hair – just like her father’s – was full of mud and her skin looked even more unhealthy under the dark and stormy skies. In fact, your heart clenched in your chest because in this light you could truly see how sick she truly was and how little time she had before her light fades away completely and she becomes… Becomes something you did not even want to think of. The reason behind this sickness was beyond your comprehension, though.

You squinted your eyes at the man walking up towards you. To your surprise, his figure was nothing like the Orcs around you. He was either human or… an Elf? You swore, you could see pointed ears and it confused you greatly. With one more step he walked out of the shadow and you finally could see him perfectly well, which caused a gasp to leave your mouth and your heart skipped a beat. Moreth yelped at the sight but you were too stunned to comfort her in any way.

The man walking towards you was your husband.

It was not the same Adar you remembered – he looked damaged and tortured. His skin was sickly white…, which dangerously reminded you of your daughter’s worrying condition. His skin was full of scars and there was a sinister darkness about him that turned your blood cold inside your veins.

He froze at the sight of you as well as the Orcs went silent, realising that something was not right about this encounter. Adar furrowed his brows and opened his mouth slightly as if he had just seen a ghost.

“Impossible…” He breathed out but you heard him very well. His voice made shivers go down your spine. It was changed, too but it was still his. The sound of it brought back all the memories of your marriage and the courting. Of all the walks you had been taking together, all the stories he had been telling you and all the flowers he had been putting inside your hair. All the giggles he had shared with your daughter and all the kisses he had stolen from you under the moonlight.

Adar crouched down in front of you and Moreth to be on the same level but he kept his safe distance. He tilted his head and continued to look confused.

“You died,” he said and it was a statement, not a question. “I saw it,” he added. “Sauron,” he explained, “he showed me your death. A bunch of humans attacking your carriage and leaving your dead bodies by the road to bleed out,” he whispered as his voice and eyes filled with pain. “The vision has been coming back to me in nightmares ever since.”

You had many questions.

Question number one – how did your husband know Sauron personally?

But that was not time to ask that. It was time to explain something that had to be an awful misunderstanding.

“It is true, we were attacked some time after your dea– …disappearance,” you fixed yourself, trying to look for the best words. You still could not believe that your husband was alive after all but you were not sure if alive was the right word to use because the creature in front of you did not look like the Elf you had married. “We were robbed by poor human villagers. They took my jewellery and let us go. I did not even remember about it until now, it holds no significance to me,” you admitted.

Long silence occurred. No Orc was brave enough to say anything, seeing that their leader was engaged in a conversation of this sort and he seemed to be as confused as they were.

“Free them,” Adar ordered and stood up, waiting for the Orc standing nearby to get rid of your shackles. Once your wrists were free, he moved to free Moreth and Adar approached you to offer you his hand to help you stand up.

You did not take his hand, though, as you stood up on your own with your jaw clenched and your eyes filled with anger and hatred when you looked him up and down.

“My children mentioned that one of you was sick,” Adar pointed out and took a better look at his daughter. He had not seen her grown up yet. “That must be you,” he walked up to Moreth and raised his hand to caress her cheek.

“Do not touch her!” You snapped but he did not listen and your daughter did not seem to mind either.

“Father…” Her eyes filled with tears and she sobbed. Adar gathered her tears with his fingertips and pressed his forehead to hers.

A sudden thought made you realise that perhaps the answers you were seeking were not in Mirkwood but here – with him.

“Do you know what sickness is tormenting her?” You approached them, interrupting the bittersweet reunion moment. “Moreth’s light is fading. I am desperate to save her.”

Adar turned around to look at you and your daughter kept staring at you as well. And when they stood like that – side by side – you realised that it was no mysterious sickness at all. She had just been turning into a creature like her father. You gasped and took a step back, nearly falling down after stumbling.

“It is you…” You shook your head as tears filled your eyes when you laid them on your husband. “You are the sickness. You are the poison in her veins.”

But after hearing your words, Moreth looked outraged and saddened as she hid behind Adar. Her reaction shocked you. You knew that she had been missing him for long years but it had been you who actually raised her. Your bond was so strong and now she was siding with him? You couldn’t understand anything about her behaviour.

“Let us talk inside,” Adar pointed at one of the houses in the village that he was living in now.

Moreth walked there and waved at you to hurry you up as the Orcs kept staring at her and you with curiosity mixed with a little bit of respect. They had to realise by now that you were related to their Lord Father.

“Do not rush your mother, my darling,” Adar approached your daughter and put his arm around her. “She shall join us when she is ready to,” he nodded at you and you watched them both disappear inside the house.

You were left alone in the middle of the market square with dozens of Orcs staring at you and tilting their heads. You were unarmed and deeply uncomfortable in their presence even though they were not attacking or bothering you. They were just staring. Still, you would rather follow your daughter and Adar inside the house. There were many questions to ask.

Walking slowly without revealing your nervousness, you approached the door of the house and pushed them open. You spotted Adar and Moreth sitting together on a bench with a bowl full of water on the table in front of them. He was washing the mud and dirt off of your daughter’s hair gently just like he had been brushing and braiding it back in the day. The sight made your eyes fill with fresh tears again.

“It did not take you long, mother,” Moreth smiled at you weakly.

You looked around the dark house and felt awkward, not knowing what to do with yourself. You watched Moreth and Adar for a while as he silently cleaned her hair and face. You remembered that yours were dirty, too, so you approached the bowl and grabbed the spare cloth lying nearby as if it had been put there for you.

Slowly, you dipped the cloth in the water and wiped your face first, hissing when it touched the scratch on your cheek. Then you began working on your hair, brushing it with your fingers and getting rid of the dried up mud.

“How do you know Sauron and why did he lie to you about our death?” You asked finally. Moreth froze at your uncomfortable questions but Adar did not even flinch as he continued to brush her hair.

“I was lured by the promise of power given to me by Morgoth,” Adar explained calmly, avoiding your gaze. “I desired to learn everything I could about this world. Both light and dark,” he admitted, his voice stoic and melancholic. “After Morgoth’s defeat, I wished to come back for you and Moreth but Sauron wanted me to be his lieutenant. I refused at first. You and Moreth were all I was thinking about so he revealed to me that you were dead and that he had been sparing me the pain of this truth before. After seeing his vision, which felt incredibly real, I had nothing to lose. He had to deceive me to make me more willing to follow him,” Adar finally looked up to meet your gaze and you saw how his eyes filled with so much pain that it made your heart clench inside your chest. “If only I knew…”

“You do not speak of him fondly,” you did not let him finish as you pointed out. “I thought that the Orcs followed Sauron.”

“Uruks,” he fixed you. “After losing my family… they became like children to me,” Adar revealed. “Sauron does not care about them. He sacrifices them and treats them with no respect. I killed him once and now I am going to kill him again,” he told you.

You snorted at that as you started realising the absurdity of the whole situation. You couldn’t believe that your husband – whom you had been admiring for intelligence and knowledge – had acted so stupidly and proudly. So… haughty. That one day he had decided to abandon you to learn some forbidden magic tricks. What had he been expecting exactly?

And that your husband – whom you had been missing every day for many long years and whom you grieved – had been alive all that time, causing evil and misery all over Middle-earth.

“So… When you were telling me that you craved for something more… That’s the more that you meant?” You looked around with contempt.

“Mother, do not be so harsh. Father has been in so much pain, can’t you see?” Moreth stood up for him. “Are you not glad he is alive after all? We were told that you had been killed by Morgoth,” she looked at her father and cupped his face as if she still could not believe that he was alive. And as if she did not mind his cruel change at all.

“In many ways… I was, my child,” Adar smiled sadly at her.

“Let us go,” you insisted as you threw the cloth down onto the table, not needing it anymore. Adar and Moreth looked up at you both and once again you felt sick in your stomach as your insides twisted at the sight of how similar they were becoming. “She is sick, can’t you see? Her light is fading. Soon she will not be welcomed in Valinor.”

“I am not sick, mother!” Moreth interrupted you before her father could answer. “I could not understand this change either. For years, I have been tormented and scared, trying to fight it. But now I see that I have never been sick. Oh, can’t you see? This is exactly where I was supposed to end up. Nothing happens without a reason and the fact we were captured today was a part of the plan, too. Weren’t you always saying there had been a reason for us to be here, in Middle-earth? That is my purpose. I am not sick. I am becoming myself. Like father,” she nodded and squeezed Adar’s hands. He was staring at her lovingly and you could imagine that, indeed, those words had to feel like honey being poured onto his rotten heart – or whatever was left of it.

But for you her words were hideous and terrifying. You were staring at her in pure shock and you felt both sad and betrayed.

“No, that is not your purpose. Your blood is poisoned because of your father but… But there is still hope for you, Moreth. You are my daughter, too,” you pleaded. “Let us go,” you looked at Adar again and this time the tone of your voice was harsher. “We are going to Mirkwood to search for the answers.”

“There are no answers in Mirkwood,” your husband chuckled at that and caressed your daughter’s wrists with his thumbs as she kept squeezing his hands. “We might continue calling it a sickness if you wish, my love,” he nodded at you and you winced at the way he called you but at the same time it felt so… oddly good. However, you shook the feeling off. Your daughter and her health were more important than your heart’s conflicting desires. “The only person who can stop the sickness is Moreth herself. She would have to want to stop it and to truly fight it. She would have to seek the light instead of darkness. And those past years she has been chasing the corruption, haven’t you, my darling?” He asked Moreth and she looked down as your eyes widened.

“Moreth?” You asked her.

“It was stronger than me, mother. I have been studying things I should not have. I have blamed it on the sickness you were talking about. You were blaming my grief and sadness but it was not true. I took it for the symptom but it was the reason itself. I remembered that my father loved to learn and I tried to justify my hunger for the forbidden knowledge with the fact that I was his daughter. And I am his daughter indeed. Twisted, is it not, mother?” She looked up at you again, scared of your reaction. With each of her confessions, you felt your heart breaking into more and more pieces. Your whole world was crumbling down. Not only your husband but also your daughter were corrupted with great evil. “I still love you. I forever shall love you, mother. But do you still love me?”

“I forever shall love you,” you mirrored her words and felt tears stream down your cheeks. “It is too late for you,” you looked at Adar. “But not for her. Let her go. Help me,” you begged.

“You are right, (Y/N). It is too late for me and I do wish for my daughter to remain by my side if that is her wish,” Adar smirked, making you realise that you were not on the same page with this.

“Moreth?!” You took a step ahead but your husband stood up and shielded your daughter from you. That gesture hurt you deeply because you were the last person in the whole world who would ever want to put her in any form of danger. You furrowed your brows at him. “Is that what you want?” You kept asking your daughter although your eyes were fixed on her father as you were staring at him with hatred mixed with pain. It was a pure torture to see your beloved husband turning into a monster. All that grief and sadness after his death – they had been a useless waste of feelings after all. “Is that what you want?” You repeated your question. “To be an Orc Princess?” You asked with contempt through the gritted teeth.

“Uruk,” Adar fixed you again. You spotted anger in his eyes but he was very calm towards you and you realised he still had to have very strong feelings for you because even now, seeing what he had become, you felt no fear around him. As if you were sure that he would never hurt you. “You are free to go,” he added with a nod. “Tomorrow morning. You should rest now. I shall give you a horse and you can leave if you do not wish to stay,” he explained and walked away, finally allowing you to look at your daughter.

Your heart broke and your eyes filled with even more tears at the sight of your daughter. Now, seeing her face clearly, you could see that her decision had been truly made already. Her eyes – your eyes – were filled with tears that meant only one thing. She was preparing to say goodbye.

“Why can’t you stay, mother? We could be a family again,” Moreth pleaded.

“How can you expect me to stay? How can you even ask me?” You shook your head. “And how can you want to stay? Don’t you understand that you are robbing yourself of seeing all of your friends ever again? You are robbing yourself of the light of Valinor. You are robbing yourself of the beauty of Eregion, of the greatness of Mithlond… In the name of what?”

“Freedom,” Moreth answered in all seriousness. “Being a carrier of the light is an honourable task but the light is often a burden, too. I want to be free of the shackles – no matter how virtuous they are.”

“Then I have lost you,” you turned around and covered your lips with your hand to muffle your sob.

“Moreth, there is a room upstairs on the right,” Adar told her. “It is inhabited and it is yours for the night. Go there and rest. You have had a long day,” he nodded at her.

“Father,” she stood up and bowed her head at him. Then she looked at you and hesitated. “Mother…” She bowed her head, too. Waiting for you to say something but not receiving any reaction from you, she turned around and walked away to go upstairs.

You were left alone with Adar now and despite the fact he was your husband whom you still loved no matter what – it was hard to stop loving somebody so quickly, after all – you felt nothing but anger towards him now. He had stolen your daughter from you. His darkness had poisoned her and now you lost her.

“She is everything to me,” you swallowed a lump in your throat. You kept staring at the wall in front of you and you didn’t even flinch when he put his hand on your arm. It felt so odd to feel his touch again that it sent a shiver down your body.

“She is everything to me, too. So are you,” he whispered, standing right behind you. You could feel his breath on your neck. “Stay with us, (Y/N),” he pleaded in a broken whisper.

You stood like that in silence for a long while as your lower lip kept trembling and you were overthinking his proposition. Everything you cared for was here but you could not picture yourself taking part in this cruelty and destruction. On your way here, through the wooden bars of your cage, you could see what the Orcs and Adar had done to this land. You did not want to be a Queen of the ruins, ruling over the ashes in the name of the ungraspable idea of power.

You turned around very slowly, facing your husband. To see his face so damaged and full of scars made your heart weep. Carefully, you raised your hand to touch his cheek and to caress it as he watched your every movement with a hint of curiosity and affection.

“Why have you chosen me all those years ago? You told me you had spotted me but I have never understood why,” you whispered sadly, remembering the day when you first realised he had been watching you lovingly from afar.

“I have waited a long time to meet a woman like you. And I knew ever since I was very young that I would only marry if I met her,” Adar explained.

“And what do you mean by that? What was so special about me?” You swallowed thickly, scared of the answer.

“You know very well that Moreth’s darkness does not come only from me,” he smirked and held your wrist gently, intertwining your fingers together. You looked away nervously. “You are curious about what your life here would be like. I know your heart enough to know that you are thinking of it way too much than you should be,” he smiled but there was no contempt about it, just pure affection. You dared to meet his gaze and you nearly gasped when you saw how much he still loved you.

You even allowed him to kiss you. When Adar joined your lips together, you did not move away and you did not flinch. In fact, it felt so natural that you closed your eyes and did not even attempt to resist him in any way. You gave in, putting your hands flat on his chest.

And for that moment of the kiss, you could see it – you could see it all. You could see yourself walking next to him through the war camps like this one with Moreth following you. Both of you were wearing black dresses, your skins were sickly paler, your eyes were hollow and terrifying. You could hear yourself speaking in the tongue of the Orcs and you could see them bowing down at your sight. You could see the comfort in the darkness and your home being wherever your husband and daughter were.

But your visions were being fought with the faces of your friends and the beautiful cities of your kin. The images of Valinor were like sun rays penetrating your dark fantasies and making them fade away. And when the last little part of the ominous daydream disappeared, you broke the kiss. Both you and Adar looked at each other and he smiled sadly as his eyes filled with pain because he already knew what your decision was.

“I cannot stay,” you whispered.

He nodded without a word as he took a step back and walked away, leaving you all alone in the room.

You spent the night on the bench in the room downstairs and in the morning Adar kept his promise as he presented you with a horse after breakfast. During the meal you all were silent and you spotted that after that night your daughter looked even more sickly than usual as if her sickness had progressed very quickly all of a sudden. You tried not to comment and she tried not to beg with her words for you to stay but she kept asking for it with her eyes. For that reason, you tried to avoid her gaze.

The horse Adar had presented you with was black and it had a mark burnt on its side that you quickly learnt all the humans serving your husband had burnt on them as well. Moreth was standing behind her father when they walked you to the stables and watched you caress the horse’s neck.

You could not help the feeling that your life had no meaning outside this camp because you had no one to live for anymore if your daughter was supposed to stay here. Yet, remaining by your husband’s side felt too wrong.

And so did trying to force Moreth to change her mind. She was your daughter but she was her own person and old enough to make decisions for herself – no matter how much they hurt you.

Two Orcs walked inside the stables to join you and they awaited Adar’s orders. He pointed at you and smiled at them.

“Walk my wife out of the camp and make sure she is not bothered. Allow her to ride away in any direction she wishes to and remember her face because she is under our protection wherever you might see her again,” he ordered and you were quite surprised to hear those words. You knew he still loved you but you did not expect him to grant you such protection despite your decision to leave him.

“Yes, Lord Father,” the Orcs nodded and walked out of the stables.

One last time, you looked sadly at your daughter but you did not even hug her and she did not approach you either. After that, with a heavy heart, you followed the Orcs outside and allowed them to lead you out of the camp. They kept looking back all the time to make sure you were still walking behind them and they were nervously staring you up and down, which was quite annoying.

You finally reached the gate of the camp and they nodded at the other Orcs to open it for you. You were about to hop on your horse when you saw that the Orcs bowed in front of you.

“Farewell, Lady Mother,” one of them said.

“Do not call me that!” You snapped angrily and – filled with disgust – you mounted your horse and rode away as fast as possible although you had no idea what direction you should take.

Technically, you should hurry to Mithlond and inform Gil-galad about everything that had happened but you did not want to cause your daughter any problems. Conflicted, you hit the road ahead of you, not entirely sure where it was leading and allowing it to decide your fate.

Far behind you, Moreth was staring at your silhouette disappearing over the horizon while she stood by her father’s side. He was looking in the same direction as her but when she finally laid her eyes on him, she realised he was way calmer than her and there was even a shadow of a smile on his lips even though her own eyes were filled with tears.

“Are you not sad that she has left us?” Moreth asked.

“Do not weep, my child,” Adar wrapped his arm around his daughter and squeezed her arm comfortingly. “Your mother will come back to us sooner than you expect.”

MASTERLIST

[lulystalgianature]

How the finale singlehandedly managed to make The Collector the most tragic character in The Owl House:

It says a lot when a crew demonstrates their talent by creating such a complex character with so little time left. The Collector (Naturally, spoilers ahead) Many suspected the redemption. But it’s not just the fact that it happened. It’s the way it was handled. So, let’s do a recap on how everything went, shall we?

Betrayed and used by the Archivists. His siblings. Family. The ones who are suppose to love, teach and protect you. Thrown away into an unknown planet, full of the only creatures that could overcome their magic.

Said family destroyed what were likely the Collector’s first, genuine friends.

Locked away by one of the very same species he had befriended for what his siblings did, for who knows how many years, being alone and forgotten for something they didn’t do.

Finally found by a human, whom the kid really thought was his friend, even trying to amuse his homicidal delusions.

Helped fulfill the man’s objective, but instead of being released as promised, is discarded like garbage along a mountain of corpses.

Get his freedom back after almost giving up, considering King a friend despite initially suspecting even him. A time to rejoice and play, unaware of the damage and trauma being done and becoming dangerously protective of his new friend.

Luz, someone King has talked about a lot and is even jealous of, comes back, apparently to destroy him and take King away, and yet, the Collector never means any genuine harm and is so desperate for companionship that wants to befriend even her. Looks so happy at the possibility of the trio befriending him that is completely unaware he’s being manipulated again.

Gets hurt in all the games being summoned, completely unaware that his new playmates are simply surviving. 

Having lived with a madman that destroyed the Grimwalkers he created for hundreds of years only to recreate them again? No wonder he thought even mortal life was as easy to fix as any broken toy, which he demonstrates so casually.

Instead of retaliating, the kid chooses to sulk in a corner, so tired of being used and hurt that it didn’t take long for Luz, the second human he ever met, to get them to open up and explain everything. So disheartened he is about being used and betrayed that tries to force himself to accept the pretending part of everything, even friendship.

Is taught a lesson in friendship, which is taken by heart, to the point the Collector tries it on Belos of all people, someone he helped for +400 years only to cruelly betray him. 

He truly wanted everyone to be friends and learn to forgive, even turning back to Luz to show her how much they learned, even looking like he wants her to be proud of him.

Sees his new friend get killed in front of him and not even his magic can do anything about anything. 

Not only is his new friend gone, but there’s much damage he indirectly caused, like trying to befriend Belos and accidentally gave him the idea to possess the Titan. Not to mention the trauma he caused to all the residents of the isles. 

Suddenly, we see the Collector’s true nature. A scared, overpowered little kid who didn’t know any better because everybody he met used him and never taught him the value of life. He just wanted friends. And now, he can only watch helplessly as his remaining friends go mad with grief and fury, and not even his powers can save them.

Tears for the first time. Despite everything the kid’s been through, it’s Luz’s death that affects him the most. Luz, the human who got them to open up, who was so patient and kind, who didn’t hesitate for a second to save him from Belos’ blast and even assured him they did good, was now gone. All that was left for him is to apologize for everything and beg Eda and King to run away.

Luz is back to save them from certain death, but it wasn’t his magic that brought her back and he must’ve known that. She looked like a Titan and was even using their magic, which he recognized earlier. Plus he also acknowledged Titans were more powerful than anyone, even Collectors. But there was no time to rejoice or process everything immediately. What mattered most is that she was back, even clinging to her subconsciously so he wouldn’t lose her again. 

But Belos was still a threat. Not even the Collector’s powers were enough to stop him anymore. He did the only thing he could do to help; keep the Archives afloat. Despite being weakened and struggling, he actually takes the time to smile at the Hexsquad to demonstrate the friendliness and will to help.

Belos is gone. The Collector is exhausted, but probably still more than capable enough of taking on the Hexsquad with a snap of his fingers. Instead, he chooses to cower, bracing themselves for any potential scold or punishment, preferring that over the risk of hurting anybody else ever again.

Tears for the second time, this time in absolute relief and happiness. The people he innocently tormented so much were offering peace and friendship. 

Despite the hardship and trials, the Collector chooses to return to the stars alone for some growth, a sharp contrast from the kid who didn’t want to be alone. But... this shows how much they learned and matured. Not only can they watch the Boiling Isles better from the sky, but it also gives everyone a chance to get used to him and take the time forgive him for everything. 

And yet... he can visit whenever he wants. He’s free at last. Free to make choices. King considers him a real friend now, and he’s likely in the process of making more... all thanks to Luz, whom he shows gratitude to by not only gifting her a portal door to come and go whenever she pleases, but also giving her a spectacular display of light for her birthday. 

In the end, after everything the Collector has been through... that’s one heck of a character development. Even though Luz was used by the same person, at least she had many friends and parental figures in her life. The Collector didn’t have any of that. His only genuine friends were eliminated and spent possibly eons imprisoned in a dark realm, being used and manipulated for hundreds of years, with nobody there to play with or befriend.

Bonus: Being himself... saved many lives. By turning everybody into puppets not only spared them of the horror that would come later, but by gathering everybody in one single place also saved every citizen on the isles. Just imagine the number of casualties we would've gotten when Titan Belos started blasting everything on sight and raising the corpse's arm while everybody was still scattered.

[kheprriverse]

Ko’jin being a pest in dragon-form is one of my favorite things to think about. And I’m going to share with y’all part of this au-branch and why he’s a total nuisance below.

Everything about this au is completely the same as my main one (the best abbreviation i can give rn for the main one is “COTS”) except at some point near or after the end, Ko’jin offers to ascend Ballad. Theres a lot of events and decision making that spurs this kinda offer, and I promise it makes sense for him. Thats where it splits into the wargod au.

Ballad ends up with a lot of free time over the years adjusting to the new life. It takes a very long time (I’m not exaggerating when i say at least a couple hundred years) where he’s able to fully accept his new role in the world and finally be able to solidify himself as one of the very few deities currently alive. (I can imagine it was very hard for him to make the decision in the first place, knowing how important his family and original life is to him. And that in of itself is a whole other deep dive.)

It becomes kind of routine for him to meet Ko’jin in certain “touchdown points” where the moon serpent is taking time to rest. Ko’jin has had to spend years catching up on so much that he missed since his original falling, the battle against Majora that left him on the edge of death. These touchdown spots serves as a moment of peace for him to rest and regain what energy he had used up and are usually places of interest relating to the moon serpent specifically (shrines and springs primarily).

Eventually though, Ballad caves into an idea Ko’jin offhandedly suggested in the past; “if you want to be so busy you should just start a new ranch in Termina”. Because yk what? He does need to be busy! He misses his animals and he misses working. So why tf not?

I also imagine ko’jin returns home at the most inopportune times; always when Ballad is busy working or napping. Which also makes him out to be somewhat annoying, but what’re you gonna do when a gargantuan dragon god decides its cuddle time? Cuddle with em, obviously.

Basically slow ranch life simulator with two deities who bask in the sun with their farm animals and sometimes get into fights with other giant world-destroying forces. Very normal.

[quinloki]

So we’ve got wbp with marine reader

But what about sabo?

Dragon letting sabo keep his marine prisoner alive so long as they provide information they need

Turning them into a prisoner in his house instead of the revolutionary’s cells. As soon as they give in they can go upstairs! They’ll be the perfect house husband ^^

He can come home to a warm meal he didn’t need to make, the house feels lived in, it’s cozy even, if you forget about the cuff around your leg and the gloved hand around your throat.

-💧

You always come to me with ideas that I have to chew on for a while, because DAMN.

Cw: yandere vibes but oddly sweet?

You’re not any special position in the marines, a deckhand more than anything else. But you were a deckhand on a ship that was carrying precious cargo of some sort - monetary or information it was hard for you to know.

You had ears, sure, but sense enough to feign being deaf, and smarts enough to keep your scuttlebutt to as close to zero as possible.

With no complaints against you, you should get transferred after this, to some nice quiet captain’s ship on the East Blue where nothing really happens.

But as flame erupt all around you, and the shattering planks and the roar of canon fire assails your senses you realize you’re probably not going to see the next sunrise, forget the peaceful waters of the East Blue. All the really strong fighters on the ship were overwhelmed, and sure you can defend yourself, but - again - you’re just a deckhand. It’s maybe your fifth time on a route.

“East Blue, huh?” The voice is amused and there’s a brightness to it that’s out of place in the smoke. It says something else, but you’re too exhausted from trying to survive everything and lose consciousness.

When you come around again you’re tied to a hard metal chair in a cold concrete room with poor lighting and some questionable stains. A young man with wavy blonde hair sits across from you in tailored clothes, a top hat and a smile.

The two of you talk for long enough that you can feel yourself relaxing. He’s not hurting you, and he’s accepting your answers with the calm surety of someone who could read your mind. After a while you decide to not even bother hiding anything from him, and offer up what little information you have.

Maybe that smile will offer you a painless death, because you’re certain at least, that you’re going to die.

Finally he asks a question you didn’t expect at all.

“Are you from the East Blue?”

You blink a moment and then shake your head. “No sir.” You don’t know when you started addressing him so formally but he hasn’t stopped you.

“Tell me why you mentioned it before you passed out.”

“… I was hoping to be transferred there, sir.” You admit plainly. “I’m…” you hesitate but it doesn’t matter at this point. “I’m only in this for a bed and the promise of food, honestly.”

“Oh? If we offered you food and a bed you’d work for us then?” There’s such amusement in his voice, but it seems a little unsettled.

“I think I’d rather retire at this point.” You admit with a sigh. “Besides, I not really skilled at anything.”

“Ah, none of that now.” He says, standing up and pouring a cup of, you think tea, before coming over to you. “Drink up.”

You don’t hesitate, draining the cup quickly. If it was poison you just hoped it was relatively painless, and if it wasn’t then at —

The dizziness hit you hard and he grabs your head, steadying you and keeping your gaze tilted up toward him.

“No more self-deprecation after this, sweet dove.” He says and before you can ask what he means, before you can sort out the tenderness of his endearing term, you succumb to the tea.

When you come around for the second time, you’re more disoriented than before. Your head’s still swimming from the tea, but nothing hurts and you don’t feel sick. The dizzy feeling keeps you laying down, but your eyes focus on the world around you.

It’s comfortable, well lit and whatever you’re laying in is soft and warm. You’re not wearing socks or boots, but there’s simple linen pants and a shirt.

They’re clean, and so are you.

There’s a soft warm scent in the room and as the dizzying feeling passes you’re able to sit up.

It looks like a bedroom. Carpeted floor, vanity, dresser, and books and a bookshelf. If not for the concrete walls you’d think you were at an inn or something.

Moving your legs to sit up you feel resistance on one and realize there’s a padded cuff around your ankle attached to heavy chain, which is itself attached to a heavy steel plate on the floor that’s pretty much the mid-point of the room.

There’s enough length you could comfortably reach everything in this room, and beyond. The door to the room opens and the young man with the wavy hair smiles in greeting.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good morning, dove.” He greets you, stepping in further with a tray of food in one hand. “Let’s get you fed, and once you’re properly awake we can talk about the terms of your surrender.”

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Hi, 👋 Welcome to another old fic made new again! I promise this is my last re-write, but in similar fashion to Times Like These I found myself fixated recently on giving this fic the more practiced hand it deserves. I hadn't planned on posting much about it until the full re-write was done, but with the Steddie big bang deadline rapidly approaching, it's going to take a little longer than I thought. (And being a slut for encouragement, I figured why not start sharing the first 5 redone chapters now while I work on the rest, in hopes someone will enjoy it.)

Summary:

Against all odds, Steve Harrington saved Eddie Munson from certain death. And Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive him for it.

Chapter One

WC: 1980 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation/depression | Ch 1/10 | AO3

~Eddie~

On some level, Eddie had always sort-of wanted to die. 

He never planned it out, and he wouldn’t actually do anything about it—probably—but he fantasized about it a lot. 

Which was maybe something he should unpack with a therapist at some point, but that type of thing wasn’t really in the budget for a kid who lived in a trailer park and sold a little weed on the side for extra cash.

Sometimes, on the really bad nights just before falling asleep, he found himself wishing, praying even, not that he really believed in such things, to just not wake up again. And deep down he knew that if he were ever faced with the opportunity to bow out, so to speak, especially in a way that wouldn’t burden anyone—bonus points for a blaze of glory—he’d take it.

The idea came to him as he was helping Dustin to climb up the sheet rope and into the safety of the right-side-up, the thumping sound of the bats throwing themselves into the sides of the trailer, trying so desperately to get in, grating on his already frayed nerves.

It had truly been the week from hell. 

He was cold, dirty, and scared. Overwhelmed with the new reality he’d been forced to accept with exactly zero time to process, and having to come to terms with the fact that there’d been a whole other world existing right under his feet for fucking years, all while on the run from the cops, as well as a community calling for his head on a pike. 

It left him with that all too familiar feeling—weary down to his bones in a way that no nap or good night’s sleep could ever cure.

It wasn’t even a debate in his mind.

Eddie pulled his switchblade out from one of the many pockets on the snazzy green vest Harrington had picked up for him from The Warzone, and slashed the rope, ensuring that Dustin couldn’t follow him—ensuring the kid’s safety before rushing out into the dark to lead the bats away.

Life sure was funny, he thought wryly as he mounted one of the bikes they’d left behind during their last jaunt into the Upside Down, it can take you to places you never even dreamed of, and yet you’ll still wind up exactly where you’re meant to be. 

He peddled as fast as he could, trying to get the bats as far away from the gate as possible.

This was it, the chance he’d always longed for, and at least this way he could leave knowing his life meant something. His sacrifice would keep Dustin safe, keep the demobats out of their world, and buy more time for Harrington and the girls to kill Vecna.

It was a win-win.

And really, what sort of life would he be going back to anyway?

Devil worshiper, cult leader, freak, murderer. It was too many labels, too many things to overcome, just too much, the way he’d always been too much. Too loud, too different, too broken for anyone to want to get too close. 

Worse—when he wasn’t busy being too much, he wasn't enough. Not smart enough, clearly. Who takes this many tries to graduate high school? Not a good enough son, if his parents dumping him on Wayne’s doorstep and never looking back was any indication.

Wayne.

Thinking of the older man caused a brief stab of guilt. Uncle Wayne would be sad when he was gone, no question. The old man wasn’t shy about his love for his only nephew, but honestly this was for the best for him too. One less thing to worry about, and one less mouth to feed. It couldn’t have been easy on his uncle all these years. Raising a kid was never easy, surely, let alone raising someone else’s, but Eddie had no doubt that he’d posed an especially unique challenge.

It wasn’t long before Eddie’s legs failed him, exhaustion making them feel like lead, slowing his pace to the point that the bats were right on his tail, the bulk of the swarm a swirling black cloud above him. One of the little fuckers peeled away from the group, swooping down to knock him from the bike. He flew over the handlebars, hitting the dirt hard, rolling several times before coming to a stop and scrambling back to his feet. 

Eddie screamed his pain at the advancing hoard, banging his shield and raising it against the onslaught of gnashing teeth and beating wings. 

He stood his ground. 

He didn’t give up.

He fought to the very end, until he was overtaken and brought to the ground, laid out like a feast for his unsightly foe.

Later—minutes or hours he had no sense of time anymore, as he lay there dying, soaking the ground beneath him as he bled out, Eddie wondered at his own actions. It must have been a reflex, some long dormant base instinct to survive popping up at the last second, because why else would he fight so hard when it would have made more sense to not? When the writing was on the wall, when this was what he wanted?

Eddie had wanted this.

Hadn’t he?

~Steve~

Steve was soaring. 

He was fucking ecstatic. 

They did it, they’d killed Vecna. 

They fucking won for once, their years-long nightmare finally over for good. 

He, Nancy, and Robin smiled at each other, laughing in hysterical relief as they bounded down the crumbling old steps of the Creel house, the criss-crossing vines that decorated nearly every surface laying dead and dormant. 

The walk back to Forest Hills was spent recounting every detail of their battle. Each one of Nancy’s expert shots, and every molotov cocktail that Steve and Robin had thrown. So sure he was that their little group had had the most dangerous job, save for maybe Max, it didn’t even cross Steve’s mind to worry about the others just yet. He couldn't wait to see Dustin's face, to celebrate this victory with him and the rest of the twerps. 

It wasn’t until they were nearly back to the trailer that he realized something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

He heard Dustin’s cries long before he saw him, and Steve didn’t hesitate to take off running as fast as his legs would carry him in the direction of the sound, trusting that the girls would follow. 

Steve’s heart dropped when the scene finally came into view—Dustin with his head bowed, sobbing as he knelt over the lifeless body of Eddie Munson.

“What happened?” Steve asked, skidding to a stop at their side, dropping to his knees next to the younger boy.

“H-he said he was gonna buy more time. The bats started getting into the trailer and he made me go through the gate first—he made me—and then he cut the rope and then he—” Dustin's voice shook, his eyes shining and red rimmed as he raised his head to meet Steve’s gaze. “He’s gone.”

Those two words broke something inside Steve. 

He couldn't allow this, wouldn’t accept it. They fucking won goddamn it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. If any one of them wasn’t going to make it out of this place alive, it should have been him, not Eddie.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Steve bent over the prone figure, listening closely for any signs of breathing while pressing his fingers to Eddie’s neck to check for a pulse. He found neither at first but didn’t let that deter him. Eddie’s skin was still warm and Steve's hands were shaking, his own heartbeat pounding so loudly in his head that it could feasibly be drowning out signs of life.

He gently nudged a still silently weeping Dustin aside and began CPR. 

“What can I do?” Robin asked from his left. She and Nancy must have finally caught up, he hadn’t even heard their approach. 

Steve kept an even rhythm, concentrating all his effort on his compressions as he replied. “Find something to wrap his side, I think that’s where most of the blood is coming from. Then take Dustin back through the gate and call an ambulance. I want them waiting on the other side before I try to move him.”

Robin quickly jumped into action, slipping her jacket off to remove her button down, and with Dustin’s help began working it around Eddie’s middle.

“Steve," Nancy whispered his name, carefully, gently. She was kneeling down on Eddie’s other side, her ear practically pressed to his mouth. "He’s not breathing and he’s lost a lot of blood. I’m sorry, but did he even have a pulse when you got here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said immediately.

“Steve–”

“Just go! Please, Nance.”

Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Robin finally came back, and if Dustin had put up a fuss at being made to leave, he hadn’t heard any of it. His entire focus narrowed down to his hands on Eddie’s chest, pumping, his eyes locked on Eddie’s face as he counted to thirty, the taste of blood on his lips as he administered rescue breaths. 

Lather, rinse, repeat… 

“The ambulance is five minutes out, how do you want to do this?”

He could have kissed her in that moment—in the most sisterly way of course. 

She didn’t waste any time questioning if they should be doing this, or if Eddie’s condition had improved. Accepting that Steve had made up his mind and she was going to do everything in her power to help him make it happen. 

The thing was, Steve had felt a faint tap against his fingers the last time he’d checked, and he was 99% sure Eddie did have a pulse now, even if he hadn’t before, and it could have been his imagination but he could have sworn he heard the other boy take a few shallow breaths on his own too.

Together, he and Robin hauled over a piece of discarded corrugated metal, moving Eddie onto it as gently as possible, using it like a stretcher to carry him back to the trailer. 

Getting him through the gate was a bit trickier. Even more-so with the rope being cut, but Robin and Nancy had shoved a bunch of furniture under the hole in the ceiling, and Steve somehow managed to climb up the precarious tower one-handed while balancing their unconscious friend on his back.

When they made it to the other side, Steve carried Eddie in his arms all the way to the ambulance doors, insisting on riding along with them to the hospital. He must have been a sight, sweaty and out of breath, covered head to toe in muck and the other boy’s blood. The EMTs didn't even argue, except to insist Dustin come along too once they noticed his limp. 

Robin and Nancy followed behind in the RV, promising to pick up the others on their way so everyone could regroup at the hospital.

Things changed drastically once they arrived at Hawkins General, and the staff realized just who their patient was. Thankfully the paramedic in the ambulance had managed to stabilize Eddie before he was recognized. Steve shuddered to think about what might have happened otherwise.

Though unconscious and in critical condition, Eddie was treated like the dangerous criminal the whole town thought he was—handcuffed to his hospital bed, and an officer posted up at his door. 

No visitors allowed. 

Once Dustin was released, ankle wrapped and with orders to take it easy for a few weeks, their group was asked in no uncertain terms to leave. Told that no updates would be given on the suspect's condition.

Suspect. 

Steve wanted to throw up, but at least Eddie was alive. 

Chapter 2

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

P.S. Taglist friends, I know this one might not be for everyone, if you'd prefer I not tag you in this fic pls let me know, I totally understand 💜

[saneandrocking]

I need more about dead stan au

To be clear, I'm not sure if this idea has been already exposed and is the theme of someone's fanfic out there. I just like Dead people AU and suffering. With that said, I kinda raw dog this righ here and I hope you like the flavor!

Bits of context: This is the AU where Stan dies while he's sleeping in his car, is basically a casuality of him getting robbed, reacting and getting killed, nothing much in the side of the extraordinary. I don't remeber exactly all of the series details, but I'm rewatching it, I promise! Yes, it's a music fic, cause I'm corny. The lyrics at the right are Standford's and they belong to Come Home by One Republic and the lyrics at the left are Stanley's and they belong to Take me home by Jess Glynne, because this is how I pictured they both feel at this moment in their respective lives. Remember: Stanley's is barely a legal adult whe he's is evicted from his house and he has canonically hold a grudge because of it, and I don't think I need to justify Stanford's anger. They both have made decision that are unmistakenly selfish, and that does not define their whole characters. Kissessss!

Major trigger: Grief. Major Character Death. Curse language.

After the fallout between the Pines twins, Stanford was accepted into another university, less prestigious but with generous resources for his research. Alongside Fiddleford, he was determined to prove to the rest of the scientific community that this world was far from being fully explained by the already known elements of nature. He was more motivated than ever to delve into the obscure side of anomalies. He was going to make sure his name was not forgotten in history. He's ambitious, he has something to prove, and he feels—or has always felt—like he's already running out of time to do it, so he's fighting against the clock.

Well, hello, world

Hope you're listening

Forgive me if I'm young

For speaking out of turn

He's in his dormitory room at the college he attends, and Fiddleford is taking a well-deserved nap after helping him with some more references, while he's still researching one of the maps of anomalies recorded in the last decade. There's a certain frequency in certain areas, not old-fashioned publicity tricks to attract attention, no, it's something more… He feels like he's going in circles, even though he can see there's a pattern there. He squeezes his tired eyes; the low lighting isn't doing him any favors when the telephone (something Fiddleford found in the trash and brought home to fix) rings. It's three after midnight, and he knows nothing good can come of this.

He doesn't have time to say anything after picking up the damn thing ringing like crazy and putting it to his ear.

—Stanford, for God's sake, why aren't you answering this damn thing?! I've used all my coins trying to call the university, but they only gave me your roommate's number— a feminine voice berates him. He waits a few seconds, trying to place that strident voice, but the answer comes quickly, of course. The only woman who would call him in the middle of the night is his mom.

—Mom. I've already told you, I don't have time! I have to study even harder since Stan— He stops himself, angry. Sometimes, remembering his brother is still a mix of anger and resentment that he can't fully name to this day. He sighs.

There is someone I've been missing

—It's not the time for that! It's about your brother.— Her tone is not authoritative, but there's an agony there, a desperation that only a mother can express. A guilt trip is what she does best, he thinks bitterly somehow.

Wrapped up, so consumed by All this hurt If you ask me, don't Know where to start

—Mom, what the actual—why would I care what he does?! He ruined everything for me! I'm going to hang up now, I'm busy, call me later.— Deep down, he already feels bad enough for talking to her like that. His poor mother has tried her best all her life, just as he is doing now. And, vaguely, probably Stan is living like that too, even if his best is in another category of stupidity.

—No, no, please!— Loud sobs interrupt her speech, and he sobers up right there. His mom is not one to cry over just anything. —Ford, he is…

—Mom? What happened? I'm sorry, I lashed out.— He runs his hand through his hair, breathing in and out. —What did he do now?— A long and strained sigh, again. Why does everything have to be a problem with Stan? —Are we talking about Stan or the baby? If it's the first, let me guess.— There's a certain humor in the guessing game; he bets Stan did some nonsense expecting him to clean up after him. Again.

Anger, love, confusion Roads that go nowhere I know that somewhere better

—He's dead, Stanford. Stanley's dead,— she says finally.

—What,— he says, as if in a chokehold, struggling to get the words out.

—I'm going to pass you to your dad, he'll…— His mother chokes on her words and murmurs loudly, —My baby boy Stanley…

—Mom?! What—I can't—!— He's lost. That's all he can say and think. Stanley's lost, not dead, just lost. The idea of death is too much.

I think that they could be

The better half of me

They're in the wrong place

Tryin' to make it right

But I'm tired of justifying

—Hello, son.— The serious and deep tone of his dad doesn't do much to calm the desperate young man; it only intensifies his horror. Stanley's lost. Lost is the word they are searching for.

—Can someone just tell me what I just heard? Stanley is—it can't be, Dad…please, talk to me! He's lost?— Why does he ask something as stupid as this? He knows what he heard.

So I say to you

Come home, come home

'Cause I've been waiting for you

—It's what your mother told you. I have nothing more to say. The funeral— The rest of his words get lost in the moment. All Stanford could hear was the sound of the pen he was holding before it fell onto the table, and the room he shared with his friend became a world of its own. An empty and devastated world, full of silence and sorrow.

Would you take the wheel If I lose control? If I'm lying here Will you take me home?

Stanford can't remember how this conversation ended, how his too-hard-to-impress father explained with a shaky and strained voice when the event was going to be. He didn't even have the money to buy something formal to wear to his brother's burial. Would he be buried in his father's suit? He can only describe the slow and painful realization that came with the equally painful heartache: his twin was dead. If there was such a thing as another half of someone, his was dead and about to be buried six feet under within the next hours.

Could you take care Of a broken soul? Will you hold me now? Oh, will you take me home?

The one and only Stanley Pines died far from home, probably alone, while Ford was studying the anomalies of the world, trying to once in a lifetime feel like he belonged, only to discover that nothing could have been more important than his blood—but suddenly, that was a too-late realization.

Fiddleford stared at him as he fell to his knees, too stunned to utter a word, too broken to make sense. He later woke from this numbness holding a cup of coffee in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. Stan was dead, and he was alive, and now this is what he'll remember for the rest of his conscious life. This, and the broken look on his mother's face when she saw him at her door on the same day her other son died—his father did not have the strength to look directly at him.

And right now there's a war between the vanities

But all I see is you and me

And the fight for you is all I've ever known

So come home

At the funeral, the only ones present were him and his mother. Despite all the emotions (too overwhelming for Ford to watch, by the way), his father outright refused to see Stanley in the coffin. —I can't take it. I'm not man enough to watch it. Take care of your mother.

He prayed that day, to a God he wasn't sure could even hear him. The guilt was louder than him, but he tried anyway. With all the conflicting feelings in his chest, between his anger and profound grief, he did what he could with all of that, standing side by side with the cold body of his deceased brother. The mirror image of himself lying down, more neat than ever.

The world ain't half as bad

As they paint it to be

If all the sons, all the daughters

Stopped to take it in

Well, hopefully, the hate subsides

And the love can begin

It might start now, yeah

Well, maybe I'm just dreaming out loud

—I will fix this, Stan. I swear. Or I'll see you after giving up. Either way: wait for me one more time.

Everything I can't be

Is everything you should be

And that's why I need you here

[princesachicana]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐭.𝟑 (conrad fisher x reader)

description: a doctors visit, mood swings and a realization.

a/n: you are adopted in this fic! anyone could read!

𝐩𝐭.𝟏 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

The smell of the sanitized doctor’s office makes you want to puke. Or maybe that’s just your nerves? This appointment was so last minute it was hard getting a time in. Thankfully they just hired a new doctor that specializes in obgyn practices. “I’m so nervous.” You admit after a long moment of silence. Conrad squeezes your hand into his palm. “So am i.” He mumbles turning his head towards you, looking concerned. You lean towards him leaving a chaste kiss onto his cheek to calm his nerves. The smile he gives you after makes your heart smile.

Looking around the waiting room you notice the vary of different patients. Some regular patients getting check-ups, Some here to see the pediatrician with their children. And the couples who are visibly here also for the OBGYN. They are obviously far more into their pregnancy than you are that’s for certain. They all have this look of happiness and joy, excited for the new addition to their families. And you can’t help but think will you and Conrad ever be like that?

This pregnancy hasn’t brought much excitement. The only feelings it’s brought so far are anxiety, fear and disappointment. Seeing the disappointment on your families faces cut deep. You know for sure it hurt Conrad as well. Steven still refuses to talk to the both of you after the whole reveal a week ago. You cried into Conrad’s arms just last night, you couldn’t help but think Steven hated you again. Just like he did when you both were younger. He was once again making you feel like the unwanted adoptive sister.

“Y/n Conklin?” The back door opened revealing a nurse with beach blonde hair, she held a clipboard in her hand reading off your name. Conrad was the first to stand up. He immediately noticed your apprehension and held out his hand towards you. “I got you” he whispers voice full of tenderness. You accept his hand with a hesitant smile standing up a little to quickly you feel dizzy. Just this morning you were extremely sick. This morning sickness would really be the death of you. But at the same time having Conrad there rubbing your back somewhat made it worth it.

Once you and Conrad both made it to the back of the doctors office the nurse instructed you to follow her. “Okay so I have you down for the OB right?” She smiles looking back at you and Conrad as she rounds a corner. “Uhh…yeah..yes” You answered almost unsure. Damn your mom. Laurel thought that it was a good idea sending both you and Conrad inside alone. You were always used to having your mom at doctors appointments no matter what. Susannah also agreed that it would be a good first step at being independent.

“Okay I’m just gonna have you step onto the scale, first it’s just easy stuff like getting your vitals.” The nurse assured you with a comforting smile. You nodded your head mumbling an “okay” you passed your purse to Conrad to hold as you stepped onto the scale. “Do we know how far along you are into your pregnancy?” The nurse started typing down notes in her i pad. “I’d probably say like a month? six weeks?” You answered, fingers nervously playing with the chipped nail polish. She nodded telling you to sit beside her in the chair, where she would check your blood pressure.

“I know this whole thing is nerve wracking but…I promise everything is going to work out.” It was silent for a moment as the machine squeezed your arm. This was always your least favorite part about going to the doctors. You’ve never been good at staying still and you felt if you moved you would ruin the results. You took a deep breath glancing at Conrad. “She’s right everything’s gonna be okay.” Conrad leaned down placing a kiss onto your forehead. Oh gosh now you were smiling like a little school girl. You and Conrad weren’t “officially” together or dating yet.

Although it was known to pretty much everyone by now that you were only interested in each other. The lines of your relationship were running very thin, especially now. Here you were pregnant with his baby, you slept in each other’s arms almost every night. Your hands lingered on each other’s body longer than usual. And most importantly you were both head over heels for the other, yet you still haven’t had the whole boyfriend-girlfriend conversation. Your thoughts are interrupted by Conrad taking your hand into his. Once again following the nurse who walked down the narrow hallway.

~

This doctor was so mean. That’s what you gathered so far. This was definitely the last time you were gonna be seeing her. You didn’t care if you would have to put up a fight with your mom! You would be getting a new doctor as soon as possible. The judgmental looks and snide remarks she was making hurt. Conrad was just as frustrated and angry about the whole situation. This doctor even went as far as saying she’d “move to South America if you were my daughter.” You know that saying “You never really know how it feels until your in their shoes” that was becoming your reality.

Back home you’ve gone to school with a few girls who fell pregnant also. You would take notice of how badly the school treated them. The disapproval evident on all the teachers faces as the girls passed by in the hall way, their bumps being somewhat hidden under sweatshirts and jackets. The name calling from fellow students, the babies fathers acting as if they didn’t care about their girlfriends or even the baby she was carrying.

You of course were never one of the ones who’ve judged young teen moms, in fact you had become somewhat friends with some of them. Alicia had been one of those girls. It was in gym where you first met her, it was dodgeball day and you didn’t want to participate because you were on your period. Your coach was a guy so he waved you off when you first told him that you wanted to sit out due to “lady problems.” She had been peppy, speaking to you first one of the most friendliest person you’ve ever came in contact with. You both secretly shared a bag of sour patch kids (her craving) while the others played dodgeball.

She opened up to you about how everyone treated her differently now that she was pregnant. How her boyfriend didn’t want anything to do with her or his unborn child. How her parents were forcing her out the house immediately after the baby was born. Or how the school kicked her off the debate team because “a pregnant girl” didn’t fit their standards.

And as you sit there in the doctors office blinking back tears. Just from some ugly looks and nasty remarks from a doctor you know this is just the beginning.

~

“You really put this little blob thing inside me!” You held the ultrasound in disbelief. “No, we put that little blob thing inside you.” Conrad leaned in from his side of the couch. “In fact, if I remember it clearly you were more than willing to help.” Your breath hitched when he gripped your hips lifting you up so you were seated on his lap. “Well you were pretty persuasive!” You giggled shifting a little on his lap. This causes Conrad to groan mumbling a little “fuck.” You were aware of his current predicament at the moment, he had a boner. “You’re such a guy.” You leaned in pecking him on the cheek. “And you’re a tease what are we in fifth grade? give me a real kiss.”

Conrad kisses you, and the moment his lips are against yours you melt. Intoxicating, that’s one word to describe how kissing Conrad felt. It’s almost as if he was pouring all of his love and care for you into it every time. You moved your hips in rhythm with y’all’s heavy breathing, if there was one thing that’s changed with this pregnancy it was your sex drive. You wanted it every damn day no matter where or what time it was. “If you keep moving like that…you’re going to get yourself fucked on my mom’s couch.” He mumbled against your lips. “I think I’d actually like-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because the front door was swinging open.

You frantically moved off ofConrad’s lap adjusting your clothes that Conrad rumpled due to him exploring your body with his hands. “I’ve been trying to call you!” Your mom walked into the beach house with a worried expression on her face. “I’m sorry my phones dead and we just got back.” You quickly answered with a hesitant smile. “Oh, well I just wanted to ask you how was the appointment.” You dramatically stood up “It was horrible mom I need a new doctor, she was disrespectful right Conrad?” You turned to him. He nodded his head almost comically, you noticed a pillow over his crotch and immediately knew why he couldn’t answer with words.

“She was extremely judgmental! made me feel so uncomfortable.” You turned your attention back towards your mother. “What she say?” You continue on a full on rant about how this doctor trip was a disaster. You tell her about the looks you got, the little comments made about you and Conrad being young. “The nurse was nice though.” Conrad spoke for the first time in a couple of minutes. The painful boner you’d given him now thankfully gone. “Thank you Conrad, for seeing the positive side of something.” Your mom smiled fondly at him.

You could feel the annoyance brewing right at the pit of your belly. These past few weeks any little thing made you annoyed and irritated. So with a huff you walked right out the room muttering a “whatever.” You hated when people went against you, well Conrad didn’t exactly “go against you.” but you were sorta hoping he’d back you up with this. Both Conrad and your mom flinched when they heard your bedroom door slam. “You ready for nine months of that?” Laurel let out a little laugh.

Conrad nodded his head “She cried today because I forgot her tater tots.” Conrad had made an effort not to laugh in front of you earlier. It was as if it was the end of the world when you realized your tater tots weren’t in the fast food bag. “Pregnant women don’t play about their food conrad!” Laurel defend her daughter as she silently laughed. “I made it up to her i promise” Conrad whispered. “Was the doctor really that bad?” Laurel asked after a moment. “Oh definitely” Laurel sighed loudly “I’ll find her another one. her reviews were good online!” Conrad forced a little smile “I don’t think those were teen parents though.” Conrad stood up “I think i should go talk to her.” Laurel nodded “Maybe take her some Oreos?”

“Good idea!”

~

The sound of the door opening makes you snuggle even deeper into the covers. “I come in peace with Oreos!” Conrad’s chuckle makes you smile. If there’s one thing you can count on through this pregnancy it’s Conrad. He’s helped with the morning sickness, the back pain, he didn’t take your mood swings personal. Conrad Fisher was the partner every pregnant girl needed.

“Are they double stuffed?” You immediately sat up in bed. “Of course love.” Conrad takes a seat next to you placing a gentle kiss onto your lips. “Don’t look so sad, your moms getting you a new doctor.” Your eyes start to water and you let out a groan. “Thank goodness, and I hate that I’m crying!” You take a deep breath as Conrad wraps his arms around you. “It feels like I can’t even control my emotions It scares me!”

“And now my brother hates me!” It hurts even saying those words but you know it’s true. “He doesn’t, he hates me.” Conrad whispers thinking back onto his fight with your brother. “He won’t even look at me, I just miss my brother!” You sniffle, burying your face into Conrad’s neck.

And at that moment Conrad’s determined to make shit right with Your brother. Whether Steven likes it or not.

Tags: @gillybear17 @snowsharkk @tessastle @conradsupporterr @alyssa-cabrera @eranthisphiny @xoxoloverb @lostaurorax @lanisdreams @alexzluvz @lalaland-notfound @liltimmyst @unsaidjaelineose @buckys2thicc @lilygreennn @t8lzw @medusaslilsister @1-800-stilinski @yazmi710 @j-brielmalfoy @ashcannotwrite @colbysbrocks @exonct07 @multilover19 @mimisparkle12

@littlefreaksatellite @vintagebitc @lexi-2004 @melllinaa @xcallmetaniax @brizzlessizzler @haroldpotterson @livinginaglasspalace @delicatekidpeanut @queenanababy @drinkawinchester @sarahbutnot @salvatoremikaelson54 @furiouscopsherduniversity @marrigold-2002 @angeliquelunasstuff @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @daphnen21

[thedragonqueen1998]

I just got this AU idea, like legit, it just hit me so hard. XD But yeah, what if: neing an Assassin wasn't the only secret Giovanni hid? He also kept it secret that the Auditore line is cursed.

Basically, werewolves. I know, cliché, but werewolves are fun! :D

But yeah, Giovanni thought his family was free of the curse as both his father, brother and himself didn't suffer it like their grandfather. That is, until Federico suffered his first transformation. Hearing his eldest sons screams of pain and seeing flesh tear and bones break broke his heart.

'God, why did you curse Federico? Why did you lull me into the false hope of living free of this curse?' He couldn't help but think, watching his son finish the gruesome transformation. He knew he should have struck the beast down while it was incapacitated, but it was Federico, his son. He couldn't do it, even if it would save the rest of his family. He should have had the cages that he and his brother used to sleep in before they knew for certain that they wouldn't transform. Now it's too late. His eldest son would murder them all and if he survived the guards until the morning, he would wake up without his family, covered in their blood.

Any minute now, the beast that was covering in the corner- wait. Werewolves never show fear. And the beassts eyes.. they shine with intelligence. With fear. Could it be? That there is no dumb beast, just his son?

"Federico?"

The beast flinches with the sound of his voice and whimpers. It is truly his son! Federico is not a mindless beast, so unlike his grandfather. So unlike any other beast before him. Maybe the curse has weakened after being absent for 2 generations? No matter how it happened, he will take this blessing.

"Federico, everything will be alright. May i come near you?"

He wants nothing more than to run and hug his son, but even without the madness, Federico will be much stronger than before and his claws are long and sharp. He could easily scratch his father to death in a hug. But his son nods to his request and he cautiously holds his sons featsome face in his hands. The fur is soft, warm and has the same colour as his hair, a dark brown, almost black shade. His dark brown eyes shine with tears, showing how distressed he is. A beast rarely cries and only does so when in great despair. He has heard tales of beasts slaughtering their families while crying, showing that despite not being in control, they are aware. He has not heard of crueler curse and probably never will.

"Federico, i promise you, this transformation is temporary. In the morning you will be back to your human self and i will explain everything. For now, rest. I will stay snd watch over you."

Giovanni watches his son curl up to him, seeking comfort. Usually, Federico would be too old for such things, but being a family of Assassins, they rarely give much thought to what society deems acceptable and in this circumstance, comfort is needed. Everything will be fine by morning. Their lives are irrevocably changed, but it's still a good life.

.

Man, the words just came flowing out of me. XD So, i imagine this takes place when Federico is around 18. So he knows about the Assassins and has been training for a while(i headcannon he started sround 16-17, unless it's stated somewhere when he started?). Both Giovanni and him decide to keep training him as an Assassin, but they both know that Federico likely won't be trusted or sent away on missions, due to the curse. Renato was a great Assassin, but he very rarely travelled far from Monteriggioni due to not risking being away from the Dungeon. The Dungeon is basically a bunch of deep holes with heavy metal grates ontop. This design ensures that the werewolf can't get out and won't hurt snyone as long as the keep away from the grate.

In this AU, this is why Giovanni waits to tell Ezio about the Assassins. If Ezio turns out to be cursed too, they need to know if he will be like Federico or if he will be a mindless beast. Ezio's room is right next to Federico's, so if Ezio transforms and goes berserk, Federico can try to hold him while everyone gets to the secret tunnel. If Ezio retains his sanity, he can be informed of all the family secrets and start his training. Though it is risky, having a werewolf as an Assassin has some very obvious perks. The increased strenght, agillity and senses bleed into their human form, so they always make great Assassins as long as they ensure there is a cell strong enough to keep them contained.

But yeah. Big brainstorm info dump. XD Was gonna say idk what else to do with this, but then: What if? The day Giovanni and his sons get captured is a fullmoon and Federico transforms? Giovanni tries to explain to Petruccio why his big brother suddenly turned into a monster when they hear the howl of another werewolf. Federico and Giovanni share a sad look and both know that this has to be Ezio. The curse rarely affect women and Claudia is still too young to transform. Ezio is scared and confused and he originaly planned to talk to his father, but now he can't talk and would his father even recognise the monster he's become? Should he even try to see his father? No, he should wait this out, maybe this is a temporary thing and tomorrow everything will be alright.

.

Duh duh duuuu! XD But yeah, now i'm done. 🤣

Hope it's okay to tag you @teecupangel? This seems like an idea you would like. 💜 I at least had fun writing and coming up with this idea. ^^

[astarionslittlejuicebox]

The Promise of Eternity (Part 7)

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: The reader helped Astarion ascend and became his spawn. After saving the world from the Elder brain and it’s destruction, the reader and Astarion set out to take on the world together. While he promised to never forget the gifts the reader has given him, Astarion has seemed to have changed his attitude towards the reader in the last century…. After someone breaks one of  Astarion’s rules, how will this affect the reader’s fate?

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: potential for minor spoilers, suggestive themes, language, mentions of death, mentions of blood, abusive relationship, mention of slavery

Word Count: 1390 

Imagine Series

Side Notes: 

This imagine series takes place 200 years after the events of Baldur’s Gate 3.  Everything you read in here is a story from my mind outside of the original BG3 character Astarion.

In this imagine series, Astarion is a bit more unemotionally unavailable, and this series will follow the decisions and consequences of that change. This is not canonically accepted and it is just an idea I’ve had in my head! (I do believe Astarion might truly care for the reader after Ascension, but that is open to individual interpretation.)

In this series, TAV is mildly based on my first character I played in BG3; she is a drow and I will make references to her in her background and knowledge as well. I do apologize that it is not 100% your own imagine, but the name for TAV is up to you as well as anything else that I can think of leaving to you, the reader, to decide.

I appreciate everyone who reads the imagines and this series, and I hope you enjoy the story!

TAV POV

The cream sand felt warm under my bare feet as I walked along the coast of the emerald sea. Sand shifted and swallowed my small feet as I stepped lightly across the long stretch of the empty beach. Small impressions of my footsteps were the only clue to my presence interrupting the otherwise serene landscape. At the end of the beach, where sand fully met the water, there was a cluster of bushes that stood unkept and free of the gardener’s touch. Beyond those bushes was a small rock cave, hidden and safe from prying eyes. Once I was hidden away from the sun’s rays and the world, I dropped concentration on the invisibilty spell I had cast whilst I was walking in the castle. I followed the short tunnel to an open area in the cave, where I finally felt safe from anyone and everyone. I let out a sigh of pure relief as the items I had left in the cave still appeared untouched. The small clearing in the cave had small candles of various colors standing about the room; some of the candles were more used than others, but they were all currently unlit. Soft velvet pillows were still laid about on the floor, and a small table with a little shrine to Mystra stood shyly in front of the western wall. I lit some of the candles before I set my satchel down next to a velvet pillow in the center of the cave. Taking a seat on the pillow, I crossed my legs and closed my eyes.

One of things I had learned once I left the Underdark was that wizards needed to be of clear mind and body when using or performing certain spells. While I thought I was in the best mental state I could be in, something in the back of my mind was nagging at me that I needed to figure something really important out before I could properly perform the spell. I clasped my hands together as I took a deep breath. I stilled my mind and found myself staring at my reflection in a large mirror that occupied the length of the large open room. I stared at the ruby-red eyes that I had not seen truly reflected back at me for over two centuries, and I studied them. They seemed to have dulled either from a lack of sleep or a lack of compassion from those dearest to her. My (TAV’s hair color) hadn’t grown since I became a vampire spawn and my face hardly looked a day over two hundred years old. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve sought me.” My reflection spoke with a somber tone. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten how to reach me.” I felt my lips pull downwards into a frown.

“I do apologize. I had not needed to clear my mind in a while.” The sad tone to my voice made my reflection frown.

“You may not have felt the need to clear your mind, but you have needed my console on a most pressing matter.” I felt my eyebrow lift on its own accord. “You have been ignoring this matter for far too long.” Her words brought confusion into my mind. “Do not tell me that you have given up any and all hope for Astarion?” 

“It is hard to hold onto hope for someone to change their pattern of behavior that they’ve decided to use for a hundred years.” My eyes rolled in their socket at my mirror-self. “I am losing hope that something will change with him, yes.” The drow’s head in the mirror shook itself in disappointment at me. 

“Think about something for a moment, will you, (TAV’s name)? When did Astarion’s behavior change?” I pondered the question I was asked as I thought about the night where everything changed between Astation and myself.

It had been during a spring rain storm when our butler, Ilvisar, knocked on our bedchamber door in the late hours of the evening. He informed Astarion of a drenched visitor standing on our doorstep, but Astarion had waved a dismissive hand towards the elf butler. Ilvisar had informed us that the visitor was adamant about speaking with the lord of the house. Reluctantly, Astarion and I followed the butler to the front door, where a blonde tiefling stood with her back facing us and water dripping onto the hardwood floors. I remember Astarion opening his mouth to say something, but when she made eye contact with him, all he said was, “What is a gorgeous creature like you doing out in the rain?” From that moment forward, wherever Astarion went she followed. My eyebrows furrowed again as I recalled the events from that fateful night. 

“How long has it been since the tiefling has come into your life?” A perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose on the drow in the mirror’s face.

“She’s been in our life for…” My next words came out of my mouth slowly. “...at least a century.” Something about that statement felt off. Tieflings live, age, and mature at the same rate as humans, and have a life expectancy of at least a century, while some can live up to a hundred fifty years of age. However, the tiefling has shown no signs of aging since the day she arrived.

“It’s quite a curiosity that she hasn’t seemed to age at all in the last century.” The drow in the mirror studied my face as I let her statement simmer in my mind. “She still has a beating heart and breathes oxygen in her lungs.”

“Curious indeed. She is certainly not a spawn nor a vampire.” I admitted aloud, but I thought about something else. “Astarion has come to see me twice in the past couple of days.”

“Indeed he has. Tell me, during those visits, have you seen a glimmer of your lover in his eyes?” The reflection cocked her head to the side in a questioning way. “Have you not seen how he looks at you whenever the tiefling is not present?” Her last question brought my attention back to her as brief moments where Astarion smiled at me or seemed to notice my presence occurred whenever the tiefling wasn’t around, but those moments were few and far between for the tiefling hardly left the vampire’s side. The drow in the mirror was right, something was off about the tiefling. A knowing smile came upon the drow’s face in the reflection.

“She’s not a tiefling.” I spoke aloud, and the reflection slowly clapped her hands.

“Finally, you used your brain cells.” The reflection said with relief evident in her voice. “Now, you need to figure out what she actually is, and how she is managing to control our little star. If you figure that out, we may be able to get him back.” I gave the reflection a nod before I closed my eyes again. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the rock cave staring at the small stone statue of Mystra. Looking around the small cave, I had an idea.

I found a small rock and etched the circle and symbols from the book into the ground. Next, I found four pillar candles to place in each of the four corners. I grabbed the only red candle in the room and sat it in the middle of the circle. Following the steps written in the midnight blue book, I took a seat in the center of the circle and lit the final candle. Closing my eyes, I visualized outside of the house the night of the tiefling’s arrival and recited the chant. I felt a gush of heavy wind swirl around me before I felt myself hovering in the air.

I was floating above the ground in the pouring rain during the late evening hours. Looking to my right, I found the entrance of our castle standing proudly in the darkness. My favorite flowers were standing strongly in the flowerbeds by the steps to the front door--a sight I hadn’t seen in the century since the tiefling’s arrival. My eyes widened with excitement as I realized that the spell had finally worked, and I was about to get some answers about the mysterious tiefling living as an imposter in my house.

[mxlfoydraco]

Hello, do you have Drarry Fic Recs centered around Christmas or the Holiday Season? :) Love your blog, best regards

Apparently, I know more Christmas fics than I thought I would? Considering that I'm not a Christmas person at all lmao. Another caveat that I took a 2 year hiatus, several friends have written advent/holidays fics but I'm not very up to date!

Humbug (A Christmas Tale) by Snegurochka (80k)

Draco has been taking his casual relationship with Harry for granted. Visits from four key ghosts the night before Christmas just might shake up his priorities in life.

All Roads Lead Home by dracogotgame (14k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

The Safe House by emmagrant01 (10k)

Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are forced to spend Christmas together in a safe house. Bet you can guess what happens. ;-)

A Lick and a Promise by @tackytigerfic (55k)

Something sinister stirs in Hogwarts! When magical creatures and students at the school are hit with a debilitating blood curse, Minerva McGonagall approaches the Ministry for help. Star Auror Harry Potter seems to be the obvious choice to go undercover—as DADA Professor, naturally. He’s going to need the help of the Ministry’s foremost expert in blood magic to get to the bottom of the mystery, though, and he’s not entirely convinced that going back to Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy is a good idea. Things are complicated between them—what’s new?—but they know they have to learn to work together (and keep their hands off each other in the corridors) in order to solve this case. Luckily for them, Hogwarts itself wants to lend a hand. A tale of love, lessons, and learning to really live.

Un Noël très parisien by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (14k)

When Draco crossed paths with Auror Potter at a political function in Paris, he was not expecting their former animosity to change into something rather more intriguing. But he could be certain their casual flirtation would not last more than the night, couldn't he?

The Light More Beautiful by @firethesound (81k)

Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him.

And a Malfoy in a Pear Tree by lauren3210 (7k)

Draco works in a coffee shop. Harry drops by every day to get his fix. Of coffee, Ron.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart - orphaned (10k)

"So maybe it really actually starts like this: Draco is gifted a truly horribly ugly Christmas jumper by his mother, and is guilt-tripped into wearing it at work. Apparently Harry takes the hideousness of the jumper to mean that Draco is okay with receiving terribly ugly things for presents, because the next time he’s abroad – in bloody Chicago – he brings back an eagle with the American flag on its back that is capable of singing the first three lines of the American anthem if you press it on the stomach back for Draco." __ Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels. When Harry then shows up injured in Draco's flat, Draco considers the possibility that he's going insane.

Anatomy of a Wolf Heart by @clytemenestras (40k)

MALFOY HEIR FOUND ALIVE IN WEREWOLF FIGHTING RING Three years ago at the tragic Battle that freed our great Wizarding World from the grip of a megalomaniac Dark Wizard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, our world lost many Witches and Wizards. Among the dead and missing was Draco Malfoy, the only son of notorious Death Eaters Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, both of whom volunteered their home for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to use as a headquarters. Sources have confirmed that the young Malfoy took a vow to follow in his parents footsteps by taking the Dark Mark. Inside sources have uncovered that the Malfoy heir has been found alive. Aurors recently went undercover to expose a fighting ring involving illegal potions and unregistered werewolves. Among those rescued was Draco Malfoy.

It’s No Great Mystery by @agentmoppet (57k)

Who on earth decided that bringing back the Yule Ball for their eighth year would be a good idea? It feels like the worst day of Harry’s life, watching everyone get glammed up like the war never happened, like the last Triwizard Tournament wasn’t such a colossal failure. And then it happens again. And again. And again.

come with me into the light by @tryslora (21k)

Everything has changed by the time Harry returns to Hogwarts for his second attempt at his final year. He no longer wears glasses, he mourns dead friends from the war, and Draco Malfoy walks the halls as if he is a ghost as well. When Pansy asks Harry to help snap Malfoy out of his silence, what else is he supposed to say? Malfoy needs to be saved, and that's just what Harry does.

The One Where Everybody Finds Out by @slytherco (8k)

Prompt: "That’s mistletoe we’re standing under.”

---

Remember those few legendary F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episodes where Chandler and Monica thought they were SUPER sneaky with their relationship but all their friends found out one after another? Well, here's just that - in Drarry flavour.

Come Back to Me by Sophie_French (28k)

Lily Malfoy-Potter could ask Father Christmas many things: a beautiful doll with glittering pink and purple robes, a stuffed kneazle just like her cousin Rose’s or even a colour-changing diadem like the princesses in the bedtime stories her Papa tells her. But she won’t. No, this year, she will only ask for one thing: for her Papa and Daddy to get back together and be happy again. She just can’t wait.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit. Featuring a grumpy antiques lover who most certainly did not sign up for this, encounters with a vengeful apparition, and a healthy application of Christmas spirit.

A Melody of You & Me by @academicdisasterfic (64k)

Draco Malfoy has a Christmas choir competition to win, and Harry Potter has an orphanage that needs funding. When Luna Lovegood intervenes, they agree to help each other out: Harry will join the choir if Draco chooses to sponsor his charity. But agreeing to work together also means getting to know each other again - in new and unexpected ways. Ft. a chaotic festive choir, scheming friends, a healthy dose of mental health issues, one very irritating ex, and boys learning how to love and be loved.

All I Want For Christmas (Is For You To Stop Talking) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (162k)

The Niffler's Garden is the most prestigious wizarding nursery school in England and has been for the last century or more. Harry Potter's boys are both enrolled as pupils at the Garden. When he volunteers to assist with the Yule pageant, he has no idea that he'll be working closely with another parent, Draco Malfoy. Although they haven't seen each other much since their own school days, Harry faults Malfoy for not being a hands-on dad to little Scorpius. Will the intense weeks of preparation fan the fires of enmity or something else entirely? Warnings: Background discussion of divorce, coming out, parenting, very brief mention of difficult pregnancy.

All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl (61k)  

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

The Light That is Blinding Me by @acciotomriddle (22k)

After Flourish and Blotts stop stocking the books of Harry’s favourite author, he is directed to a queer bookshop and discovers it’s owned by none other than Draco Malfoy, who has more in common with Harry than either of them realise.

[urdepressedslut]

Stray ❝part twelve❞

♡ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Your true self is slowly being revealed, what is this place you been sent to? What happens when you return home, will Bucky still be there— or will he run?

♡ Warnings: dark themes, angst, drowning, super fluffy, mentions of dead bodies, death

Series Masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

You wondered if this was what death felt like. Empty, muted— an inescapable void.

It was calming and terrifying, the quiet welcome. But the environment was blank, colorless. You found yourself itching for something, someone to appear. But it was just you.

Glancing around, you knew you should begin to accept this fate— but you wanted to fight. Bucky was still out there, alone. If this was death, then you’d live in eternity wishing only the best for him, hoping that he could forgive you for leaving him— when you had promised him you wouldn’t.

You immediately shot your hand up, feeling your smooth skin. You remember something cracking down on your skull— but now there was nothing. Like it had never happened. You shuddered at the sickening feeling that was permanently burned into your brain. The feeling of your skull shattering and the pieces moving— grinding against each other. The vibrations of your own skull shifting. Your stomach flipped anxiously— wishing you could forget the memory altogether.

“Who’s there?” A familiar voice sounded through the dull reality, echoing off of non existent walls.

You looked around, eyes wide in fear. Your gut ached with dread, hoping that you didn’t run into the claimed people. Donna— your aunt. The mere thought of all the events that you wished you could forget— came flooding through your mind again. Your stomach was empty, nothing left but to dry heave.

“You’re scared.” The voice spoke again, this time closer.

You didn’t dare looked up from your hunched over position, dreading what you would see when you looked up.

Risking a glance anyway, you lifted your head— only to meet eyes with yourself. You would’ve thought it was a mirror, but the version of you that stiff across the way— was eerily different.

She stood still as ever, the cloth like material wrapping around you like a cocoon. A jagged fence like crown sat a top your head, blending with the cloth. A withered flower looked to be carved into her forehead— of what was showing. The cloth dropping down form the crown covered her eyes in a haunting shadow. Only could you see her fully in certain lighting. Lastly, what had you so mesmerized and scared was the way her hair and cloth would lightly float behind her, like she was merely a ghost passing by.

“You look like me.” You whispered, voice hoarse from your dry heaving.

She tilted her head, almost like she was examining you.

“I am you.”

You stayed still, staring at her without blinking— in fear she’d creep closer the second you closed your eyes.

“How? Where… where am I? I don’t belong here!” You rushed out, beginning to panic.

You felt uneasy as she stared at you, her head tilting back and fourth again— like she was examining you head to toe. You don’t know why it was more unsettling when it was yourself staring at you.

Like the fear of staring at your reflection in the mirror. The fear that your reflection may move without you doing so— except it was real now. At that, you found it one hundred times more horrifying.

“Where are we?” You asked again, feeling comforted by the idea that you weren’t alone here. We. Even if it was yourself, you still felt less alone.

“In the Lacuna.” She answered casually, face unchanging. Her features stayed cold and emotionless.

You looked around, risking taking your eyes off her. Everything was blank, empty. How could you be somewhere?

“I don’t understand…” You whispered out to no one in particular.

“You’re only here, because you want to be here.” She started, body as still as stone when she talked. “You met your end in the real world, and now you seek help in the Lacuna. The sliver of nothing in between the real world and after.”

You felt like throwing up again, the mere mention that you had died. But you couldn’t understand why you weren’t really dead, instead being held hostage in this gap.

“Nothing makes sense.” You admitted, staring mindlessly at thee dark form.

“No, it wouldn’t. It’s rare you’ll ever come back to the Lacuna again. You’re here because you called for me, as I called for you. I’ve been waiting for you to let me in for so long.” She spoke out, her words dripping solemn.

You didn’t know why you felt bad, thinking of her being trapped here for years and years. All the signs, all the weird occurrences. Was it her? No— because she’s you.

“This is all in my head?” You tried, remembering the mantras you’d repeat to yourself. All those times you’d fight the illusions— but now you wondered if it was all in your head… or if it was her. You.

“Yes. Time has stopped in the real world. You could stay here forever if you wanted, and no time would pass in the real world.” She explained, and you for a second thought that sounded peaceful.

A pause in the chaos, letting yourself breathe and think— knowing nothing could happen until you wanted it to.

Bucky filled your mind suddenly, the guilt of staying away from him too long, eating away at you. Though time was paused for him, you couldn’t help but feel terrible.

“What about Bucky?” You thought out loud.

The other you tilted her head in curiosity, hanging onto every word you said like it was fascinating.

“What about him?” She responded.

You shivered at her lack of emotion when talking about him.

“I wanna be with him. I don’t wanna be here anymore,” You told her, “I don’t wanna talk to you anymore.”

She just stared at you, staying silent for a moment longer than you were comfortable with. She slowly took a step closer, so quickly it seemed like a glitch in time. The haunting way her capes would float behind her, like a following shadow.

“There’s so much you don’t know yet— you sure you wanna go back? Things aren’t ever going to be the same.” Other you said mysteriously and it sounded more like a warning than a question.

You thought for a moment— what did she mean by that?

Before you could finish another thought, everything faded into darkness. It was quiet— and suddenly it wasn’t.

You were suddenly choking up water, leaning up to your side to spit up water that lodged its way into your throat. Through the dry heaves and gagging— you could feel the faint coolness of a metal hand resting on your back.

“(Y/n), it’s okay— I’ve got you.” The male voice sounded from next to you.

You didn’t want to risk looking over yet, needing a second to gain control of yourself— your lungs.

You felt disoriented, the switch in environments— realities. It left you dizzy and clinging onto the males arm. Blinking away the blurriness, you finally risked a glance to the male.

Waves of comfort consumed your body, warming every numb limb caused from the anxiety of everything— at the sight of Bucky.

“Buck— I— you’re here I—” You stumbled over every word, the sight of him back in front of you overwhelming.

He shushed you, pulling you into his embrace. Caging you into his warm, protective hold— he felt your body shake. His arms only tightened at every whimper that escaped your lips. The way you were fisting the chest of his shirt like he was your lifeline.

“It’s okay, I’m here— I’m here doll. I’m never leaving you, okay?” He cooed petting down your hair before placing a kiss.

He gently lifted your face so he could see you completely, his thumbs rubbing the moisture away.

“Okay? I’ve got you now.” He kept repeating, peppering kisses on your hair and all over your face.

Your closed your eyes, the comforting feeling of his lips touching every inch of your face. Your skin sparked at each touch of his lips. Almost immediately, your mind was distracted— you felt at peace here with him.

“Okay, I…” You wanted to say it.

The fear of being taken back to The Lacuna was still buried deep in your veins. Here you are, memorizing every inch of his face in case you were to vanish again. Taken back to the void that was apparently your mind. You wanted to say it— and you were starting to feel like you had to, or else you’d never get the chance.

“Buck…” You started, grabbing his attention with the way you held onto his face so delicately.

Both of you treating each other like glass— so fragile.

“What’s wrong (Y/n)?” He whispered, leaning into your palms instinctively— your touch healing.

You swallowed through your tight throat, your eyes dancing all around his face. You couldn’t help yourself from smiling at every freckle— every line. He was beautiful.

“Bucky— I love you.” You rushed out, your chest sinking with the weight that no longer sat a top.

His face morphed into happiness, his eyes tearing up as his bottom lip quivered. It was almost uncontrollable with the way he pulled your face flush to his. His lips molding into yours, like puzzle pieces that were never meant to stray apart. He had known for awhile that he loved you. As painful as it was to wait, he could finally breathe now.

There was so many things that he still needed answers to, but for now he had finally found home.

Pulling back for air, the both of you were gasping— panting warm air into each others faces.

“I’ve loved you for awhile now— I love you so much. I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this— you don’t deserve any of it. I know I broke my promise before. Fuck— I’m sorry.” He cried, his voice cracking with emotion, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I won’t. I’ll die before anyone lays a hand on you.”

You were panting, feeling breathless as he spoke— he had loved you for awhile. The butterflies had bursted through your stomach, your body erupting in goosebumps. The warmth from his words running through your veins.

“I don’t even know if I’m still capable of love— if I’m not too broken to love. But I want to— I want to love you. I will do everything and anything to love you as you should be. I don’t wanna be without you, I can’t. I just— I—” He wheezed out, holding onto your face as if you were going to vanish. “I don’t know how I’ve managed to live without you— all this time. I need you.”

Your lips were numb, unmoving with shock. His confession was strong— burning furiously with passion that you were never aware of. It was foreign to have someone burn so powerfully for you— to want you. Maybe you had never known true love, never even thought that you’d be able to experience it. But Bucky had come into your life and showed you that love was real— that you could be loved.

You knew your face must’ve shown the shock you were feeling, when you saw the corners of his mouth curve up— his handsome smile beaming at me.

Things were far from over with, but you felt the worst had passed. You tried your hardest not to stare amongst the scattered corpses, the ones that had already started to smell. You weren’t sure what the cause was… if the other you had something to do with it.

“I didn’t know why for the longest time… and I’m still confused sometimes but— I’ve always needed you. Whether it was a reminder that it was all in my head or simply just being the company that I needed.” You whispered, rubbing a hand repeatedly over his cheek.

He took a deep breath in at your words. Your admissions only made his love run deeper for you. The way he was needed— wanted by someone. He couldn’t fathom the idea that someone would want someone as monstrous as him. But here you were, changing each and every negative thought he ever had about himself.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you… After all the damage I’ve caused… there’s no way I deserve you.” He admitted, and you kept smoothing his skin with your hand— to which to he leaned into your palm. “I guess I’m a little selfish… because no matter what my mind tries to convince me— I’m still gonna choose to be with you.”

“You deserve more than you think— I just wish you’d see it.” You told him, saddened that he thought of himself so poorly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever see it that way.” He breathed out, knowing he had too much blood in his hands. He didn’t deserve a chance to even clear his name.

You breathed out, cradling his face in both your hands now. He enjoyed the feeling of your touch of his skin, the way you almost held him protectively. He needed more of that in his life— and you were able to provide him with that.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, his earlier words ringing through your head.

“I think you’re capable of love.” You whispered, watching his eyes squint in slight confusion.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t know if you were capable of love. I think— no I know you’re capable.” You told him confidently, watching his eyes fill with tears. “I have never known what love felt like my whole life. I knew I was missing something, but I also just didn’t understand it… and I still don’t really understand. But you made me feel something… something other than the pain that I was used to.”

Your voice broke, your own eyes filling with tears— but you willed them to stay. You swallowed through your tight throat and wiped a gentle thumb under his eyes, smearing the tear that had escaped from him.

“You’re the reason I’m believing in love, and I wouldn’t be able to do that if you weren’t capable.” You finished, the tears running down your cheeks by now.

It was his turn to be speechless. You were truly an angel— one that had saved him from loneliness. The pain, the memories, the torture from HYDRA. It faded away when he was with you— some days he could forget almost completely about it all. You were the only thing he needed to survive. He’d live in a cardboard box and hide away from the entire world— as long as he had you by his side.

He leaned in without thought and stopped before his lips could touch yours.

“Can I… can I kiss you?” He whispered, his breath fanning your face.

You smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, smiling at him with joyful tears painting your skin.

“You don’t have to ask to do that.”

He gave a small smile before he pressed his lips to yours. You would never get over the feel of his mouth on you, the way his plump lips molded perfectly to yours. The way his teeth would gently graze your bottom lip, causing you to slightly open your mouth. The way he’d just barely trace your bottom lip with his tongue before he captured your lips again in a possessive kiss. It was all addictive, his touch an escape from the horrors of reality.

You broke apart from the kiss, needing to breathe— unfortunately. You both leaned foreheads against each other, relishing in each others hold.

There was a lot of explaining that needed to be done, and you wanted him to know as much as you did. About Donna, The Lacuna— about it all. You wanted him to know so you didn’t have to hold onto all the information heavily. You needed him to understand, for him to help you’d figure out what was happening.

To understand what you were.

Like always— there were too many questions without any answers.

To be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @zonkie-bee @tortilla-maria1 @lizslibrary @sebastians-love @xiaosluvr @navs-bhat @ragingrainbowshipl @delicatecapnerd @buckybarnesandmarvel @viperchick47 @hunitweet @vixi-3303 @buckyb-stan @happinessinthebeing @mirtaqueen @blog-the-lilly @sebstanwhore @chayceschultz @hereticdance @billy-reads @nastashassandwich @potatothots @goldylions @silverfire13 @ghostofwinter @hanihoney88 @marvelogic @ilovetaquitosmmmm @unaxv @flowers-and-fichte @globetrotter28 @marvel-fandom23

[harkonnin]

* The Willow's Purpose *

“The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose.”

As sister to Paul Atreides, and trained in secrecy to be a healer Bene Gesserit, you witnessed the rise of the Lisan Al Gaib. As you experience visions and dreams of a certain man, realising that he will be the one fighting your brother to the death changes your perspective on everything. An uncontrollable force takes over you as you revive him, questions lingering in your mind.

***

Fic on AO3

***

Chapter 8 - Vigor

As the days turn into weeks, the bond between you and Feyd deepens, becoming something almost feral in its intensity. The pull you feel towards each other is instinctive, a raw connection that defies explanation. Feyd's loyalty is unwavering, his presence a constant shadow that never strays far from your side. His devotion earns him the nickname 'fashii dimib', 'silent knife' among the Fremen, a moniker that, despite its rough edges, reflects the fierce protectiveness he shows towards you.

Feyd seems to accept this role with a mixture of pride and resignation. He stands ready at all times, awaiting your every command, his eyes always on you, as if seeking reassurance in your presence. The Fremen's initial suspicion begins to fade, replaced by a cautious respect for the Harkonnen prince who now serves Lady Atreides with such dedication.

Despite the growing acceptance, a question lingers in the back of Feyd's mind: what will he do when he eventually returns to Giedi Prime? The thought troubles him, gnawing at the edges of his loyalty and purpose. He knows that his return is inevitable, yet the idea of leaving you and the bond you share fills him with a deep sense of unease.

One evening, as you sit together in the quiet of your quarters, Feyd broaches the subject. His expression is thoughtful, a rare vulnerability showing through his usual stoic demeanor.

"My lady," he begins, his voice tentative, "I’ve been thinking about the future. About what happens when I have to return to Giedi Prime."

You look up from your work, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"What about it?"

He hesitates, as if searching for the right words.

"I don't know what I'll do without you," he admits finally.

Your heart skipping several beats at his openness. Your heart aches at his admission, understanding the depth of his fear.

"I feel the same way, Feyd. We need to prepare ourselves for that day to come."

Feyd shakes his head, frustration etching his features. You can sense the feelings he has well enough now, he doesn’t want to lose what you have. You stand up, as he walks over to your desk, and cup his face as he closes his eyes to bathe into the feeling.

"We’ll find a way," you promise. "But you have a duty to your people, just as I have a duty to mine. We have to honor that."

He opens his eyes, piercing blue eyes, filled with determination. His actions are always fast, even when you anticipate them. His face turns to kiss your hand, eyes closed again, as his other hand pulls you towards him. It’s intimate and soft, unlike the ferality you felt from him in the last weeks. You’re almost moved by this, his own feelings shining through. As you whisper his name softly, he turns to face you again, this time closer than before, your noses touching. Feeling his breath on your lips you tilt your head to kiss him, softer than before, purer and innocent.

He reciprocates immediately, his grasp on your waist becoming more desperate, a feeling of dread and loss overwhelming you. Feyd felt deeply about this decision and what the future held but never had the communication skills to express his feelings. Eventually he let’s go of you, his forehead resting against yours. A moment of bliss in between worries striking your heart.

***

In the days that follow, Feyd throws himself into his role with renewed vigor, determined to prove his loyalty and worth. He trains with the Fremen, learning their ways and earning their respect. ‘Fashii dimib’ becomes an integral part of the community, his presence no longer a source of suspicion but a symbol of the alliance you’ve forged.

Feyd often finds himself contemplating the challenges that lie ahead, wondering how he will maintain his loyalty to you while fulfilling his responsibilities on Giedi Prime. One night, as you lie together under the starry Arrakeen sky, Feyd voices his thoughts once more.

"When the time comes for me to leave, promise me one thing." "Anything," you reply, your voice soft in the stillness. "Promise me that you’ll never forget our bond," he says, his tone fierce with emotion. "Promise me that, no matter what happens, you’ll always remember what we have."

You reach up, brushing his cheek. His words sounding more like they came from your heart instead of his at this point. It almost makes you melancholic when you think about it.

"I promise, Feyd.” You say before kissing him softly.

He nods, a look of contentment washing over his features. Little did you know he had other plans entirely for the both of you.

[sjsmith56]

The Gilded Age, Part 6 - Confrontation

Summary: Amelia’s location is found and the Avengers make plans to rescue her while ending HYDRA and Boss Fisk’s activities once and for all.

Length: 6 K

Characters: Avengers, Harley, Django/Pietro, Amelia, Sergeant Barnes, John Walker.

Warnings: Threats of violence / sexual assault, sword fight, dishonourable behaviour, death of a character.

Author notes: Showdown time. Divider by vecteezy.com.

<<Part 5

Part 6. Confrontation

When Sergeant Barnes entered the 21st floor great room, the sounds of conversation were replaced by a hush. Approaching his colleagues, Barnes looked from face to face, expecting to see judgement being levelled at him. Instead, he found sympathy, which was almost more than he could bear, as he certainly blamed himself for the situation.

“You didn’t know,” said Samuel Wilson, his face bruised and one arm in a sling. “They were waiting and began following the hansom cab within a block of this locale. The driver tried to outrace them, but Walker leaped onto the moving cab and threw the man off. He barely avoided being run over. Then Walker pulled up as his associates arrived with another carriage. Mr. Winston put up resistance and was pistol whipped for his efforts, left bleeding on the road. I tried, Buck, I really did but they fired upon me and finally destroyed part of one wing, which sent me plummeting to the ground. Walker took Miss Winston into the carriage, throwing her with great force as he did. I was unable to follow.”

“I only wanted her to be safe,” he replied, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Instead, I delivered her to someone who will hurt her grievously. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for that. My first instinct when Mrs. Stark told me was to seek vengeance.”

“That is an expected response,” stated Anthony Stark. “I would also seek similar justice. For now, temper your anger, hone it and focus it so that when we have a location where they are holding Amelia we can go in with an effective plan. Peter contacted the lawyer who is in contact with the vigilante. He promised to convince the man to use all of his associates to locate her. Until we get definitive word we plan. Sergeant Dugan from your old cavalry unit is on his way as they are prepared to join the effort.”

With Stark’s words, Sergeant Barnes accepted that the others held no ill will towards him, and he sat down at the table as they discussed possible strategies. Like him, they were anxious to have something, anything, to develop the correct tactics to use against an enemy with no honour.

Feeling the need, Barnes left to refresh himself, returning changed of clothes and attitude. He brought his rifle and pistols with him, laying them on the table closest to the books, disassembling them and cleaning them, in preparation for the upcoming battle. The task kept his hands occupied, as well as his mind, distracting him from dwelling on Amelia’s dilemma. The others, including the recently arrived Sergeant Dugan from their old unit, continued to study a map of New York to discern likely places for Amelia to be held. Almost to a person, they were certain it was on property controlled by Wilson Fisk, specifically the piers at the docks. The arrival of Mrs. Stark provided some respite, as she brought Mr. Winston with her, fresh from his medical treatment at the hospital. His head was bandaged, and he still looked a little worse for wear, but he was walking by himself.

“I swear Anthony, we should open our own hospital,” she commented as she bustled in. “That place was chaotic. There is no way Mr. Winston would get better there. I know that Hogan brought the scattered luggage of Mr. Winston and Amelia here, so I offered him a place with us to heal in peace and quiet.”

“Excellent, idea, my dear,” answered Stark, coming forward. “Mr. Winston, my apologies for this calamity. We are doing all we can to locate your daughter and are just waiting for an associate to bring us a location. I hope to have her back before nightfall.”

“Thank you, your assistance is most appreciated,” replied Winston. Spying Barnes by the bookshelf he approached the man. “Sergeant, I do not blame you for what occurred. Your reasoning was sound, and I agreed with it fully. Promise me that when you and your colleagues go into battle that you give no quarter to Walker or his associates.”

“I swear he will be defeated at my hands,” stated Barnes, standing up and offering his hand to the older man.

With that settled between them, Mr. Winston retreated to a suite of rooms, where he had the opportunity to bathe and change out of his torn clothing. His return coincided with a phone call from Mr. Hogan, on duty at the main door of the building, saying a young lad had something of value that he wished to sell.

“What is it, Hogan?” asked Stark, puzzled why a child would think they wanted to buy something from him.

“A hair comb, deliberately dropped by a young lady pretending to be a boy at the docks,” replied the man. “He says the Daredevil passed the word to bring any information pertaining to a lady, who didn’t belong at the docks, to your attention.”

“Bring him up,” ordered Stark, hanging up after. “I believe we have a purveyor of information coming up the elevator with Hogan.”

Moments later the young boy, who would only admit to the name Harley, stood in front of them, with his cap in hand. He looked from face to face then at the fine finishings in the room.

“You have a nice place,” he said to Stark, in a distinct accent marking him as from Hell’s Kitchen. “Are you rich?”

“I am. Is that a problem?”

“I might have to ask for more money,” he answered. “Can you afford a dollar?”

“I can. Let me see the comb.”

“Let me see the dollar.”

Stark laughed out loud and reached into his pocket, pulling out a billfold containing many denominations which made the boy’s eyes widen. He peeled a dollar bill off and held it towards the boy. Reaching into his pocket the boy took the comb out, offering it to Stark, taking the dollar in turn. Both Barnes and Mr. Winston confirmed that it was Amelia’s.

“Describe how you came by this,” said Stark.

“Give me another dollar.” The boy grinned, knowing the man would pay. He handed the dollar bill to the boy. “One of Pierce’s men, the friendly one, was takin’ the lady to the big warehouse on Pier 84. He had a sack on his shoulder. Don’t know what was in it. The lady was dressed like a boy, but I knew she were a lady, as her figure was too delicate, and she wore lady’s boots, of a fine leather. She looked back and saw me on the path between Pier 81 and 84. Just afore they got to 84, she tripped and pulled the comb out of her pocket, tossin’ it in the weeds. Django didn’t see it, then he helped her up and made sure she was okay.”

“Django? Are you sure of the name?” asked Wanda, suddenly very interested in the boy.

He looked to Stark, who pulled another dollar bill off the others.

“Yah, he’s not one of Pierce’s usual hoods. There’s talk that Pierce holds his wife hostage in a whor… house of ill repute in Washington. The others hit us and point their guns at us if we get too close. Django just tells us to go before Rumlow or Walker come after us. Sometimes, he gives us food. He has strange hair for a man his age; kind of grey and black.”

Wanda started, then grasped Vision’s hand, looking up at him. He smiled, knowing that the name and description held significance for her.

“Where are Walker, Rumlow and Pierce right now?” asked Barnes, holding his own dollar bill out to the boy with his metal hand.

He looked at it in wonder then up at Barnes’ face before taking it. It was probably the most money the boy had ever held in his life.

“In a warehouse on Pier 81. It’s crawlin’ with his men. They’re expectin’ you, I guess, all of you. You’re the Avengers, aren’t you?”

“Smart boy,” smiled Stark. “Tell me, do you have parents?”

He shook his head. “Died of the diphtheria. Me and my sister sneak into the basement of a flophouse with some others to sleep, and the Daredevil sends his friend to bring us food when he can. We manage.”

“School?”

The boy laughed. “What do I want school for? Don’t need to read to make a livin’.” He held up the four dollar bills. “This will last me a long time.”

Stark breathed out. “Well, young Harley, if you or your sister ever find yourself in any trouble, you give the officer my card.” Mrs. Stark handed one to the boy. “You’ve been very helpful, and I would like to think that we might become friends, if you’re amenable. My name is Anthony Stark. Remember that. I’ll be there for you, if you need me.”

The boy’s lips met in a grim smile, but he nodded his head, then looked at Hogan who jerked his head towards the elevator. When they were safely headed down to the lobby Stark looked at everyone.

“Well, I guess we have our location. We’ll need a small group to go to Pier 84, take out the guards there and rescue Miss Winston.” He looked at Wanda. “I assume you want to be on that delegation.”

“Django has to be my brother,” she said. “It is his middle name, and his hair started aging before he reached the age of twenty. He would only work for Pierce if he had no other choice. If he is married and Pierce took his wife, that means his heart is between a rock and a hard place.”

“Very well. The rest of us will focus our attention on Pier 81 where we’re expected. I think it is time to bring out a new arsenal. Everyone, come to my lab.”

Those assembled, even Sergeant Barnes who had been cleaning his preferred weapons, went down the one floor to Stark’s lab. He unlocked a double door to a room at one end and opened them wide. Inside were all sorts of fantastic looking firearms as well as several other familiar looking weapons.

“I’ve been working on some non-lethal firearms that dispense rubber bullets,” he said. “The results have been uneven, but I think we should use them if we wish to take Pierce, Rumlow and Walker prisoner to face trial.”

“What if we don’t?” asked Barnes, looking intently at Stark.

The older man returned the look at the younger man. “In the heat of battle, anything can happen. I wouldn’t judge any man in your position. Just consider it. I also have some firearms that dispense a weighted net. It can entangle anyone within seconds, similar to Peter’s webs. The more they struggle, the more entangled they become.”

“I’ll use that,” said Wanda. “It’s better than feeling their pain if I hit them with a bullet. Is it hard to load?”

“No, each net is already packed into a small cartridge. Once you fire one, you eject the empty case and set another in. Vision may have to cover for you as you reload since it takes a moment where you might be vulnerable.” Stark pointed to some arrows with different tips. “Clint, those are explosive, increases the damage if you use them to flush the enemy out of hiding. They’re all finely balanced and should feel the same as your regular arrows.” He opened a cupboard on the wall, displaying a number of swords and knives. “Natasha, James, these may interest you. I’ve noticed both of you experimenting with knives and various swords. These are lighter but very strong and have penetrated through wood up to two inches thick.” He gestured at all of it. “Go ahead, get a feel for them.”

Samuel Wilson looked at the assortment of weapons, feeling isolated by his arm injury. It was the arm he usually held his beloved falcon, Red Wing on, so bringing her wouldn’t be an option on this mission. Then he saw a pistol with a larger than normal cylinder and reached out for it, twirling it in his hand. It felt like an extension of his arm, and he turned to Stark.

“Just an ordinary pistol?” he asked. “Why is it on your wall of new weapons?”

“It sets off fireworks, packaged into a bullet,” explained the older man. “Can cause confusion to the enemy and flush him out into the open. Accuracy isn’t important, just its effects. The cylinder can be pre-loaded and once it is emptied you can pop it out to insert a fully loaded one. Take it.”

There was a belt with a holster made to hold the loaded cylinders, so Sam took that as well. Everyone tested out the feel of Stark’s new weapons then returned to the 21st floor where the decision was made to attack after dark. This time they would travel by carriage, then disembark nearby and approach the rest of the way on foot, using stealth, deciding the airship was too noticeable, especially on what would be a clear night. Sam would go with Wanda and Vision to the warehouse on Pier 84, shortly after the attack on Pier 81 started, hoping that would draw some of Fisk and Pierce’s men there.

When the appointed time came and they set out under the cover of darkness for the docks, they were all reminded that the inhabitants around the docks could choose to side with HYDRA and Fisk. As the attack on Pier 81 began, many of Fisk’s and Pierce’s men at Pier 84 advanced to the other location as expected, planning to flank the Avengers. Instead, they found themselves at the mercy of the vigilante known as Daredevil, as well as several of his associates, some children, some grown, who attacked those men in the dark, confounding them enough to delay their advance and in some instances sending them into the dark waters of the Hudson. Samuel Wilson, who had seen the dark shapes advancing on the armed force, debated going to their aid with his gun that dispensed fireworks, but the boy who had spoken in front of them at the Society, Harley, appeared with his younger sister, Hannah, surprising him.

“Save it for inside the warehouse, Falcon,” he whispered. “It will be needed there. Don’t worry, we know what to do with those villains. They’ll be sorry they ever stepped foot in Hell’s Kitchen. Come, we’ll take Pier 84.” He turned to his sister. “Get the others, Hannah.”

She ran off in the dark as if it held no sway over her and Harley led Sam back towards the warehouse on Pier 84. Vision and Wanda were already there, waiting outside the door, as the tall man looked up at the windows above, seeking an entrance. When Harley and Wilson appeared, he regarded the boy with admiration.

“Do you have a secret way in?”

“Yah, there’s a stair on the other side but stay on the left side of it as the right has been rigged to squeak if anyone goes up it. We’re just waitin’ for my sister to come with help.”

When Hannah appeared with several small children, Vision was worried about putting them into danger and voiced his concern, but Harley waved them away.

“They’re used to us beggin’ for food. They wave their guns at us, but Django always talks ‘em into leavin’ us alone. That’ll give you time to get up the stairs and Falcon can shoot his fancy gun.”

“How do you know what the gun will do?” asked Wilson.

Harley smiled; his teeth visible in the dark. “You’re injured so you can’t fight with your fists or use your bird. Mr. Stark is a genius who invents many things. I’m guessin’ by the size of the cartridges that it must do somethin’ big.”

“Clever boy,” said Vision. “Let’s go.”

Harley told his sister to count to 30 while he led the others to the other side of the building and the stairs. They went up the left side, not once making a sound. Carefully, he opened the door and led them inside, onto a landing that extended across the entire length of the building. They looked down to see the main door open and Hannah, with the other children, appeared begging for food. As predicted, Django intervened to protect the children. With the men distracted Wilson and Wanda took their positions while Vision silently made his way down to the main floor and found a place for him to hide. With a signal to Wilson, the latter fired the fireworks gun to the right of the gathered men, scattering them immediately, while Django hurried the children back outside, before taking cover himself. Wanda aimed her net gun at one of the men, catching him, impressed how his efforts to disengage just entangled him further. Django looked up then and saw her, locking eyes with Wanda.

She saw him mouth the words “sister,” then he came up the stairs towards them. Aiming the gun at him, she spoke, her voice emotional.

“It is you, isn’t it Pietro? How could you align yourself with the people who took me?”

“I didn’t know,” he answered. “You must stop before you get hurt. They’ll kill you.”

“This is my life now. To stop those who perform evil acts.”

Sam fired another round of fireworks, scattering the others and she shot at another without taking her eyes off her brother, successfully ensnaring him in the grip of the net.

“But they have my wife,” he protested. “They’ll hurt her.”

“She has already been rescued. Harley told us about her, and the authorities were informed. The house was raided an hour ago.”

Several men ran into the open to fire upon them, drawing fire from Vision. That seemed to convince Pietro and he began firing on the other men. Within minutes it was over, and Pierce’s men were either dead or restrained. After embracing his sister, Pietro stepped up to one of the doors on the landing, knocking on it.

“Miss Winston? It is safe to come out.”

The lock was turned and Amelia immediately beheld Wanda, advancing on her gratefully. She saw Samuel Wilson then and spied Vision on the main floor, guarding the restrained prisoners.

“Where are the others?” she queried, hoping for word of Sergeant Barnes.

“They’re attacking the other warehouse on Pier 81,” said Wanda. “We’re to take you back to the Society building.”

“Fisk and Pierce have sent even more reinforcements there,” interrupted Pietro. “If we lock these men in the cage, they’ll be secure until the police arrive. The others will need our help.”

“Then we help,” said Amelia. “I am uninjured as your brother guarded my well being. I know how to fire a gun and we can take these extra weapons to them.”

Pietro’s face brightened. “Come with me. There is a crate here, addressed to the Avengers. Fisk saw it as it was being unloaded off the ship and ordered his men to bring it here.”

He led the two women down the stairs towards where the assortment of stolen crates was located. One of the open ones displayed an assortment of hammers, clubs, masks, and other assorted curiosities, including a shield of red and blue with a star in the middle. Vision joined them, glancing briefly at the contents while he kept his eyes on the prisoners. Pietro picked up a sheet of paper with writing that was addressed to Anthony Stark and began reading.

Anthony,

After my journey seeking out these artifacts on your behalf, I have decided to stay in Kathmandu for some meditation and study with the local shaman. When next I see you, perhaps I can be of better service to your society of heroic individuals.

Best regards,

Dr. Stephen Strange

Illis bene utuntur

“What does that last line mean?” asked Pietro. “What language is that?”

“Latin,” answered Vision. “It means use them well. We should take them with us.”

“Well, that’s the problem,” said Pietro. “As soon as the crate was opened, we could only take a few items then it seemed the others were glued to each other. They won’t move.”

Wanda glided her hand over the contents, then smiled.

“They’re enchanted,” she stated. “The top layer was removable but these, still in the crate, are meant for someone specific. Someone with great power did this to ensure that only the person who was meant to use them could remove them from the crate.”

“Then we take the crate there,” stated Wilson. “Is it too heavy to lift onto a carriage?”

Pietro gestured to a pulley system above. Quickly, he and Vision herded the prisoners into a cage area, locking it with several locks and placing the keys well out of reach. Then Pietro harnessed two horses to a wagon and brought them in the door, lining them up before the crate. Fastening straps around it, he and Vision hoisted the crate up as Samuel Wilson walked the horses forward to position the wagon under it. Lowering the wooden box on the cart, they disengaged the straps. The children, who watched as they did this, picked up several of the guns and rifles left discarded by the imprisoned men and piled them on the wagon.

“Children, those are not toys,” cautioned Vision.

“They would shoot us if they could,” replied Harley. “You’ll need them. If we’re with you the others in the shanty town won’t bother you. Many are tired of bein’ bossed around by Fisk and treated like rats.” He looked at his little sister, Hannah, as if making a decision. “Would Anthony Stark really help us if we help him?”

“He would rather you be safe,” replied Vision, kneeling down to their level. “Help us get to Pier 81, then take cover. Afterwards, I will tell him of your assistance. He will, most assuredly, help you and anyone else who needs it. If he doesn’t, then I will. I am Vision, the Illusionist, and my word is my bond.”

The word went through the children of who he was, and it was agreed that they would accompany the wagon through the streets to Pier 81. Remembering her journey through the back pathways during the late afternoon, Amelia was surprised that she wasn’t more afraid on the return journey, remembering the hopelessness on the faces of those she saw. But as they travelled towards the other pier, it seemed that word spread of the Avengers taking out Boss Fisk and his men, once and for all, along with his allies in HYDRA. They brought their own weapons, brooms, clubs, sticks, frying pans, whatever was at hand. Vision, Samuel Wilson and Pietro looked nervously at the procession behind them as they led the horse drawn wagon towards the site of the battle, the sounds of which became louder as they approached. Stopping just before they reached the street that would expose them Vision stood on top of the wagon and spoke to them.

“You may see an assortment of heroic individuals, the Avengers, in the midst of a battle. They fight with purpose and intent but will never knowingly put you into danger. You know Fisk’s men better than anyone. If any escape from the warehouse do what you must with them.”

With the armed women, and Samuel Wilson, with his fireworks gun, seated in the back of the wagon with the crate, and both Vision and Pietro at the front, they approached the large warehouse on Pier 81. They could hear the sound of firearms inside but were unable to discern where the Avengers were located. Two of the shanty town men approached the large doorway into one end of the warehouse and opened it slightly, glancing inside before reporting to Vision.

“Fisk’s men are just inside. If we open these doors quickly you can race the wagon in and make them scatter. Your people seem to be on the other end of the warehouse.”

“Sam, can you fire your fireworks gun as we enter to make them think there are more of us?”

“It would be my pleasure,” replied the grounded Falcon. “Ladies, keep your heads down. Pietro, don’t stop until we get to our side.”

The grey-haired man nodded, then looked his sister in the eye. “If I don’t make it, tell Sarah I love her.”

“You’ll make it, brother,” she answered. “I believe in you.”

He looked at Vision then and leaned close. “Thank you for rescuing her. I lost hope only when HYDRA took my wife.”

The normally quiet man looked at Pietro. “She always knew you would find each other again. You ready?”

The younger man nodded and took the reins firmly in his hands. Vision nodded at the two men. As soon as the doors were open, he and Pietro both yelled at the horses to go, and he began firing his pistols in rapid succession while Sam did the same, spreading an array of fireworks that pinned down Pierce and Fisk’s men. Amelia also fired her rifle, not once stopping. They raced to the other end of the warehouse where the Avengers seemed to be pinned down. As Pietro turned the wagon broadside, he jumped off, quickly releasing the horses, then helped the women off. They joined the others behind the extra barricade the wagon provided.

“Well, you were supposed to take the ladies back to the Society building,” stated Anthony Stark, no longer in his iron suit. “But seeing as how they were able to target my firearms apparatus and render it useless, I can’t deny your appearance is welcome. You brought more weapons, I see. What’s in the crate?” Vision brought the letter from Dr. Strange out, handing it to Stark, who read it quickly. “I wondered what happened to that.”

“There is an enchantment on the contents,” said Wanda. “I believe only those people who can benefit from the weapons inside can take them out. There was a shield, several types of hammers and clubs, a staff, bow and arrows, even a long gun, and some odd-looking objects that made no sense to me.”

Amelia looked at the assembled people, not seeing Sergeant Barnes.

“He is in the rafters, using his sniper skills to keep Pierce and Fisk from leaving,” said Loki, pointing behind him. “Thus far, he has kept them pinned down.”

“Dr. Banner? Is his other being no longer involved?” She looked for him, seeing the man sitting morosely on a crate. “Doctor, are you alright?”

“This is the second time my inner hulking beast has removed himself from the fight. Perhaps he is tired of it all.” He looked at Pietro. “Wanda’s brother?”

“Yes, he kept me safe from the others.”

They were forced to take cover as a round of gunfire from the other end pinned them down. Then a voice boomed from the other side of the building.

“Amelia, you should not have come,” said Walker, ominously. “You have just angered me even more than I thought possible. I will have you if I have to kill every single one of the Avengers.”

“She is not yours,” rang a voice from the rafters, Sergeant Barnes. “Amelia Winston is her own person, capable of deciding her own life. I, for one, am pleased to see her here. It proves her own personal bravery in the face of certain danger. It is an admirable trait.”

At the far side, they could see John Walker stride forward, his arrogance on display as he stood there with a stern look on his face.

“Then I have a proposition for you, Sergeant Barnes,” said Walker. “Fight me, one on one. Our only weapons a sword, our fists and our desire for the same woman. Whoever defeats the other takes the victory in this battle for their side.” He looked back at the others behind him. “Don’t worry. He has no chance against me. Only officers were trained in sword work.”

Barnes dropped from the rafters, landing heavily on his feet. Removing his hat and gun belt he stood amongst the others. He was wearing a sword, one of those displayed in Stark’s lab.

“It was always going to be this way,” he said to Rogers and Stark. “From the moment he accused me of that heinous crime, to his kidnapping of Amelia; it was leading to this moment.”

“Buck, he’s insane. You know he won’t play by the rules.”

A grim smile graced the Sergeant’s face. “I know it, but he doesn’t know that I have been exploring the intricacies of sword play. He has no honour and neither do the others. I fully expect them to continue fighting no matter who wins. While I fight him, open that crate and unlock the weapons that were procured for us.” He looked at Amelia, who now stood close to him. “Were you injured by him?”

She nodded, showing him the bruises on her neck. “Not seriously, but he was cruel and spoke of how he planned to treat me when we were married. You should have told me of your concerns.”

He looked down. “I know that now. Where your safety was concerned, I admit that I grasped at the most obvious solution. Promise me that we will talk later.”

She nodded, then stroked his cheek. Stepping out from behind the cover of the wagon, Sergeant Barnes stood facing the man who been his tormentor for so long. Even though they were at different ends of the building, the glare they gave each other was as intense as if they were nose to nose. Slowly, they advanced towards each other, Barnes cautiously, Walker with a disdain for his opponent. When they were within a blade’s reach of each other Walker extended his blade towards his opponent, who had his left foot ahead of him as he prepared for the inevitable attack.

“We touch blades to begin, Barnes,” he stated. “Don’t you know proper protocol?”

“It’s not protocol, Walker. You must think I am stupid.”

The U.S. Agent shrugged then suddenly swung his sword at Barnes’ side, a move that was quickly blocked with his own sword, the blades clanging as they hit together. Walker went on the offensive again, taking several swings at Barnes, each one of them easily blocked as they circled each other.

“You’ve been learning swordplay,” spoke the black-suited man. “Doesn’t matter, as I’m still better than you.”

Barnes said nothing. Instead, he watched Walker closely, trying to gauge his intentions from his eyes, head and foot movements. When Walker parried forward, beating Barnes back, he successfully defended, grasping the man’s sword hand in his metal one, and raising it overhead, then pushing him away with enough force to send him backwards almost 10 feet. A chuckle came out of Walker’s throat.

“I think when I win this battle that I will claim my prize immediately,” he said. “Right here, in front of everyone, I’ll take what’s mine. I did meet her first, after all, three years ago. Fine filly of a woman, just needed the right man to break her, teach her to obey commands, teach her to submit. Perhaps I’ll let you live long enough to witness it. What do you think, Barnes?”

This time, the Sergeant went on the attack, noticing the others were successfully removing weapons from the crate. Swinging his sword with purpose, he forced the man to retreat to a point where he had to jump on a stairwell to get away. Barnes ran after him as Walker leaped up onto another landing, scattering men aside as they attempted to stay out of the reach of the sharp blades. They swung their weapons at each other several times, and Walker connected with Barnes’ metal arm, cutting through the fabric of his uniform when he did. When the U.S. Agent leaped from one landing to another, Barnes followed him and grappled with him, next to a railing that broke, both of them falling heavily to the dirty floor. Amelia winced at the thud of their bodies hitting the surface, as both men sluggishly moved in their slightly dazed state. Then Barnes got up and thrust his sword at Walker’s neck, his fierce countenance emphasizing his intention to pierce the skin.

“Yield,” he demanded.

“Or what?” asked Walker insolently. “You’ve got me. End it.”

“I am not you,” roared Barnes. “I am not a coward, not a killer, not someone who revels in cruelty. I give you a chance as a gentleman to yield with honour. Take it.”

With a smirk, Walker spoke. “I yield.”

Still holding his blade at the man’s throat, Barnes reached for Walker’s blade and stepped on it, then snapped it in two. Withdrawing his blade from where he had it, he began to walk towards the Avengers. Despite the cries of the others alerting him to Walker taking the broken blade in hand, he was only able to turn partly back to him, in time to receive a thrust into his side. With it still sticking out, he thrust his sword into Walker’s chest, impaling him straight through the heart, before pulling the broken sword out of himself and falling to his knees, then onto his side.

As Barnes had feared, that sent Fisk and Pierce’s men into a frenzy, and they emptied their rifles, until Steve Rogers lifted the shield that he took from the crate and held it up to shield himself as he approached Barnes to drag him to safety. The shield repelled all the bullets that were fired at him. Thor, holding a large hammer crashed it into the post that held the upper level, causing it to collapse as Loki, holding a staff, wielded it at those who got up to fight with their hands. The others advanced, with Sam using the fireworks gun to keep Fisk and Pierce down, while Wanda entangled men in the web gun, joined by Peter using his own webs to immobilize others. Within minutes, they had almost everyone out of the fight. Banner and Amelia rushed to Barnes’ side, as she tore her jacket off and bundled it up to staunch the bleeding from his wound. It was at that moment that Pietro saw Rumlow stand up and aim his rifle at Wanda, seemingly recognizing her as one who escaped their clutches.

“No!” he yelled, running to pull her down.

Although he was fast enough to get there, he wasn’t fast enough to dodge the bullet meant for her and took it in the chest, close to his heart. Clint fired an explosive arrow at Rumlow, knocking him over the railing, to land heavily on the floor, his neck bent in an odd direction.

“Take Pierce and Fisk into custody!” yelled Anthony Stark.

Sergeant Dugan complied, sending his men up to the landing to place them under arrest. As several people outside looked in and saw Fisk in handcuffs, word spread and soon there was cheering outside for the Avengers and their allies. Inside, Banner left Barnes in Amelia’s care while he went to Pietro. Quickly he examined him.

“Can the airship be here in minutes?” he asked. “I need to operate as soon as possible.”

“My flying pads are still operating,” said Stark. “I will bring it myself.”

Quickly, he donned his suit with the help of the others, then stepped outside and lifted off into the night. Amelia and Rogers stayed with Barnes while the others did what they could for Pietro. Ten minutes later the sound of the airship approached and landed outside. Banner, Pietro, Wanda, Amelia, and Barnes were helped into the airship while the others prepared to return by wagon. It was going to be a long night.

Part 7>>

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