#her calling for the whole circles death is already out of left field for the situation

[amatres]

Finally finished the replay of da2! If teenage me knew it took me days to finish it instead of the few hours like it used to they'd laugh at me. Anyway, it was fun!

Since I was like, a teen without money when I first played the game, this was actually the first playthrough I did with the exiled prince installed. I rather liked Sebastian, he was a neat character. Sorry I didn't care about your abusive mother figure's death causing you to swear vengeance on Allyn and Anders king.

Also the final screenshot was just me trying to show off just how insane Carver's stats were, this is actually the most well rounded it was in the whole game, go figure lol. He is always my best warrior unit it's why the game had to nerf him by giving him the blight so I can't have him with me all the time.

here's a picture i took of my party with a warrior that wasn't him in it for comparison lol

Anyway, now to try to replaying Inquisition again, at least now I've figured out how to mod it, I think, so hopefully that makes it more fun for me time around.

[miquella-everywhere]

Miyazaki said that the SoET was supposed to complete “The Elden Ring circle” and “honour GRRM’s contributions” by “focusing entirely on Miquella” 😭

When I heard about the DLC originally I was worried they were gonna make Miquella cheaply evil, because Fromsoft is allergic to positive divinity and good endings I guess. But looking at all the Miquella lore it would make just no sense, the best-worst outcome could’ve been Miquella corrupted by Mogh. They didn’t even make it an interesting evil. I have a friend who thought Miq was brainwashing ALL his followers, which thankfully isn’t the case. This is one of those “twists” or more “complex” endings where the straight forward route is a thousand times better. Isn’t us helping Miquella fix everything so much more interesting ? Miquella is supposed to be a parallel to Marika, isn’t it natural for us, tarnished warrior, to take up Godfry’s role? And not the out of nowhere larper. “Age of Compassion” is already set up as a name! Also as everyone said, Godwyn is just wasted! Why don’t we help Miq grant him a true death? Imagine the rotten, bulbous undead Godwyn as the final boss and act of mercy. Imagine if we could help Malenia too ughh. Who cares about Fia and her taking advantage of Godwyn’s remains.

By the way, do we get any mention of Miquella’s shadow? Or Fingers?? Good on the Dragon and Marika lore we love a nuances queen

"Focusing entirely on Miquella" 😒

I've been trying to avoid as many spoilers as possible, since the leaks ruined the build up and nearly everything for me, but from the people that I have been talking to they all say that Miquellas presence in the DLC is almost like an afterthought and his only major role is to be Radahns backpack in the final battle...

So basically I've been getting the impression that Miquella's entire development feels forsaken and pushed aside and that makes the final boss even more of a "Wait, what the fuck????" moment than it already is 😭 Even my bestie @marble-writes who is primarily a dragon slayer(go queen kill them all👏😂) and not much of a lore enthusiast said that Miquella's big twist felt so out of left field and lazy...

Back when the first trailer dropped I was literally frothing at the mouth at the idea of Miquella being our companion and guide, similar to Melina's role, through the Realm of Shadow. And it makes sense! Base-game lore built up Miquella as this kind, compassionate soul, so why wouldn't he be our friend? Why wouldn't he be our guide because, just like the promo said, we were being guided by him. And even if he didn't turn out to be a companion I at least expected him to be like Ranni in that he would be a major NPC and quest giver and we could interact with him and help him with whatever he needed help with...

But nope, just toss all that wonderful potential aside and make him the big-bad backpack and a dollar-store Serosh rip off :'(

I'm just... so devastated, especially after reading that article with Miyazaki saying that he wanted everything to go "full circle" when really it all just feels like a series of dashed lines that don't connect but vaguely form a circle. There's far too much missing to even really call it a cricle :(

AND GOD MIQ AND MALS SHADOWS!!!! I have not seen or heard anything about that so I am assuming that their shadows, the one that every empyrean is supposed to have, are ignored and forgotten just like Miquella's character development 😭 (and if im wrong and they are there dont tell me, i want to find and experience them for myself)

But still its yet another thing that is completely forgotten and leaves even more plot holes within SotE's lore and further erodes Elden Rings story as a whole 😭

and I dont know anything about the fingers at this point sorry :(

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1113 - Initial Thoughts

It is time

One Piece is back again and the big announcement is almost underway. The Gorosei are circling though, much of the Straw Hats are cornered, will the revelation turn the tide?

Let's find out

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too!

A chess-themed colour spread this time; Robin playing chess with the crew as chess pieces

Contrary to the message the King should not be the attacking piece but other than that I did find it funny that Usopp is a Bishop with a bow and arrow, this cleric does harm!

Also lil Chopper pawns!

Picking up where we left off, Markus Mars has been stopped in awe of a sight in Punk Records

The remains of Vegapunk's humungous brain, as big or maybe even bigger than a giant, kept in a pod and still working even after his death

Mars does wonder if this is more Vegapunk's true self, which I guess if it has his brain it's probably the main part that's biologically living

People around the world brace themselves though

Syrup Village! Kaya, Merry and the old Usopp Pirates get a cameo

Despite her wealth being enough for Kuro to plan a murder/retirement spree, they do not have a Video Den Den Mushi

Though it seems like it's more size than price, and Kaya is already keen to hear what Vegapunk is saying, given his role in the medical field

Also lil' Merry details on the Den Den Mushi

The Marines are monitoring it too

Laboon and Crocus cameo!

And we even get to go to Baldimore, birthplace of Vegapunk

Some dialogue from the group that found Franky during the separation too

'I heard he's turned himself into a ship now' XD because of the bounty poster, and the bad timeline SBS image maybe, though I still think we could in the future get a Sunny mecha

Also got Chopper's bird and medic island listening in

The tribespeople even know about Vegapunk, they call him a 'king of modern science'

Even despite the Garp and SWORD attack, some pirates from Fullalead are listening in - some still wanna fight each other though

Mars tries to stamp out the Den Den Mushi, but it's of course a fake! It shatters to reveal just another regular Den Den Mushi

Fooled again motherfucker!

Vegapunk does introductions once more but now everyone wants him to get on with it XD

For the most part the more obscure world shots seem somewhat familiar, I couldn't tell what the rainy place was but it could be Water 7, the other one looked a bit familiar, the Longarm place looks like to have Brook's old talent agents too

But this campfire one, a child is hushed back to sleep by their likely mother, they're in tipi tents, what's interesting is the other person there, almost like Oda's pulling something sneaky

Through their collective telepathy, Mars announces his failure, it was a decoy so they have no leads

They wonder what Vegapunk intends to say, fearing that he'll carry on what Clover started before he was silenced

Back to Sanji and he hears a woman's scream

Bonney is being targeted by V. Nusjuro, Franky standing between them but Sanji demands to be the white knight

He jumps off the sword to kick him in the jaw

By comparison V. Nusjuro is pretty damn huge

His body sets on fire - fitting to his Yokai lore - but then the horse's head comes out to bite Sanji

Lots of crackling of bones, I wonder if his Healing Factor is still a thing

As Oimo and Kashii tackle V. Nusjuro (about the same size as them), Vegapunk's broadcast begins, admitting to committing two grave sins

Bonney turns into a giant with her fruit to attack V. Nusjuro, who has returned to his hybrid form

Vegapunk's broadcast admits that he is likely to be executed, and that this broadcast would start when his heart has stopped

Sabaody reacts first, realising that this means Vegapunk is dead

Duval has trouble processing this, since the news said that he was a hostage for the Straw Hats

Caesar's also mad, he and Judge went through that whole cover story alliance for nothing, so now they can promptly fuck off

And Morgans is angry because Vegapunk is giving BIG NEWS without him like it's not in his name

Interestingly, Vegapunk is quick to state that his killers should not be portrayed as 'evil' - because they're looking pretty damn evil to me

It seems maybe this is because he expects Luffy to have been pinned as to blame for his death, though it could be scanlations saying 'him'

Saturn faces off with the Labophase group, demanding they move away

Saturn and Robin however recognize one another, Robin from his voice back in Ohara and Saturn by her image

Seems Saturn blames Akainu directly for Robin's escape, I mean he did blow up the hostage ship but still, there were more marines out there

He goes to attack Robin, so all the other Straw Hats go into protection mode

Brook cuts a few limbs, but worryingly Chopper blocked some with his Guard Point - those limbs are poisonous remember? Though it's impressive that he could suppress a claw that could go straight through Kuma

Nami also remembers that she can use Zeus to block attacks

Mars is still on recon, but his senses can't pick up any 'telepathic waves' - wonder if that's a Haki feat or something relative to the Gorosei's shared thoughts?

York is also having trouble figuring out where the Stella would've put it, since her position as a Celestial Dragon is on the line

Vegapunk's about to deliver his mission statement, which is putting the Gorosei into a panic

Mars considers blowing up the entire place, but Saturn and Warcury are weighing it against the possible losses; men, equipment, and any chance of recreating the Mother Flame

Wait. What?

"Our World...is going to sink into the ocean!"

Well you can't deny it: Global Warming is Real.

It's not just Water Seven and Aqua Laguna then, it's all going to sink, there's a lot of thematic consequences to that when you think about it.

Did the World Government ostracize the Fish-Men because of this? Knowing that they would inherit the world? Does this have any connection to Devil Fruits and why the Ocean really saps their strength? Did the ancient kingdom like Old Wano sink to the bottom of the sea?

It begets a lot of questions, in true Oda fashion.

The rest of the chapter was a lot more jam-packed than the last, even without Luffy. The carried tension of the announcement is followed by Saturn and V. Nusjuro's confrontations with the crew, giants and Bonney. As expected, Sanji took on V. Nusjuro, the hit didn't seem to do much in the long term as expected, though I kinda wish Franky also got a hit in but the extent of his own injuries is worth wondering.

I'm glad the Labophase crew are stepping up against Saturn, at least until the expected arrival of Zoro and Jinbe, but it does show their furthered growth versus Enies Lobby if they can successfully repel Saturn from Robin - her injury being validated by this scene, though I still wish we saw a flashback of the Straw Hats vs Seraphim and them uncovering York as the traitor.

Still it's bad PR from the Straw Hats either way, they're likely to be accused of killing Vegapunk, who was last deemed their hostage by the fake news machine (is Morgans still going to Egghead? I mean with Vivi with him we continue to tease a reunion), and while Punk Records still has a chance to live on this is definitely going to be something each crewmate will have to re-evaluate given the bigger picture. Still, that can come after getting off the island; Edison and the Sleeping Giant are still at play after all, Stussy still needs to release the barrier, it's looking more likely that we might finish up around 1120.

Still there has to be more to the announcement, if Vegapunk was waiting for a video display it means that there are visuals to corroborate his revelation - I wonder if the Gorosei are more open to this reveal coming out than what they expected with the Ancient Kingdom reveal they destroyed Ohara for? Like did Vegapunk dupe the WG into Buster Calling Egghead over a reveal they didn't care much for? He mentioned two grave sins too so there seems to be much more to his announcement than just the opening statement.

[boyakishantriage]

One human. On human had declared war upon our species. Death. Death after they murdered our kind. Ruthlessly. After they did not submit to their traditions...

One human. A single human had so easily declared war, sitting bored whilst the council discussed her speech. Calmly answering questions after such. An impassioned speech. I had not know such, evil cases occured during the war. But surely, surely the humans were as bad themselves?

I was fucked. Oh so fucked. One human had declared war, no matter. But this human. This human had. Something. I weren't as great a reader as my friend, but this human had something. Something more that she used during the war. They'd vanished, then reappeared with different kinds of humans. What little I could gather, magic. They had magic, actual magic and capable of doing so. At a price. But loopholes. Knowledge. She knew something. I knew it.

It took a while before anyone really noticed the war, she'd not left to join crews, rather staying upon the capital and meeting with. Commoners. Simple folk. What on earth were she doing?

I smiled, laughing and comparing notes with my alien friends. As always, I found the outskirting aliens. Wise, but not without ability. So far there were none like or greater than I. Shame as it was, but no matter. I felt eyes looked into me, a sense that something was watching oh so stealthily. I glanced over, seeing the grey like alien delegates staring back as he quickly bled into the crowd.

How had she known? I wore the finest stealth tech in the galaxy! She. She saw me. Stories of humans strangeness were spun around, but. No. She were only one human. But her gaze. It felt. Strange. Like a crowd stared at me. But that couldn't be true. She had no technology nor any that could...

She dropped onto the planet's surface, dropping into a grove of trees of some sort. Not a botanist, but my friends would very much want samples.

There was a signal, something was here. Size, power, race. Nothing. The sensors came blank, just a single human. No. Eight. One. Eight.

The statistician called out the numbers, the numbers blinking before the whole room glitched. Then. It came online again. One human. Just one.

Weird white leaves, sulfur smelling planet. Low light. Mostly bioluminescent plants. Kinda cool, then I heard a sound. Drawing pistol, firing the spine, head and body parts off. Chitin armoured covered teenagers. Monsters, fucking monsters using our people to defend themselves. I reached into the Nothing, mana swirling around my hand as I grabbed my bag of toys. I did quite like fire. And Greek fire always burnt the best.

"GET BACK HERE LITTLE TE'MA. I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR- ME!" She threw the little girl to the ground. Prying her off the wall, dragging her screaming as she threw her into the fire.

"I fucking hate bigots." She muttered, throwing block after block onto the families. Shadows cackled, laughing as they fed on their misery and fear. Farmers long since abandoned the area, as the electric hum of vehicles drove forward.

"BACK OFF-" Before the man could even shout what had to be such a bold threat, the woman already had the trigger in her hand.

"MOVE THAT HUNK OF JUNK TO ME, YOUR FAMILY AND PLANET BURNS. SURRENDER AND GIVE UP YOUR FELLOW MAN." She shouted across the fields, tank frozen in place as she stared the alien down. Just out of range, a trigger in her hand and barrels of something lined keeping his family caged in. Military were incapable of fighting back, she'd done something to the ground causing black paint to coat into some kind of circle. Then something clicked.

There was no way she could win, spear in hand he marched forward. He'd dropped the military gear before this, choosing the armour of old.

She looked at him, squinting as the bastard walked forward with. Was that a pointy stick?

She threw the trigger aside, a black pedestal appearing to hold the trigger as she drew blade. Wearing black long sleeved clothes, hat and a face mask. She looked more ready to rave, but they probably didn't know what that was.

No matter, I enjoy my fun. I drew my sword, tossing the bottles into the air as I sliced them apart.

Fine. Liquid. Of some kind, fell out of bottles as she. Pulled them out of thin air. Truth was. He were giving time, time for the scientists to figure out how she could do what she did because truthfully. He'd be pulled out the moment he were even in danger, same with his family. For their sake, he didn't tell them. But it's be worth it.

The man really thought his tech would be able to work in the circle. Not only did I amplify explosions, it prevented teleportation of any technological kind. Bloody complicated doing that, mixing magic systems always tricky, but. Let's let him believe he had a chance. Revenge, one of my fatal flaws and thankfully in that tends to work out. 9/10.

"how dare you."

Stated the alien, translator chorusing his words. Regal, short and stout. Fucking posho pansy. Pay lotta dosh for his stacked bod and enhancements. Meaning he probably didn't have shit aside from being lucky born.

"dare what? Take your family and use it to threaten you? No worse than what you ordered."

"you ignorant pig! You attacked us first!"

"you fired at our men! Shot down civilians and steam rolled all who came in your way!"

He rushed forward, swinging spear as he jumped up.

"How DARE-"

"BEAT HER UP DADDY!"

The spear broke in half. Whatever it was, weakly forged. Not made for battle, a replica. Someone swindled this man.

He stood, modified body holding a cheap wooden stick as the fancy parts shattered. She held a simple knife. A pocket knife. Against the spear. It holding against the wood as she effortlessly the stick away, before punching the alien in the face.

Thinner air. One thing I noticed, thinner air. Lower gravity, 9.003m/s from the tools I had. Enough flight was a little harder for them, compared to our 9.8. Smaller number, harder to get right. Too big crumbled. Too small crashed. Same on earth, just we had a little more leeway.

He didn't move far back, but the strike punched through the energy shield, a thin layer of linked nanites made to redirect energy. She didn't use whatever it was, pushing forward with. Momentum. Intertia. Of course, humans could use intertia so easily. Even their weakest could use it, but theirs. Hah. How unfair, this-

She struck the stick against his neck, twirling it over her own as she struck his chest. Pushing the alien further away as she lifted herself up. Before slamming it down onto its pelvis.

I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. All I knew was so was pissed. This man caused so much death and destruction and acts like it's all unfair. And that it's not our fault they invaded us and we responded in "OI. FUCK OFF" shooting them back with warning shots until they started killing people, killing their civs.

Pain spread across the body, wanting signals blazing as I rose.

The alien staggered to his feet, the woman barley flinching as she swirled the staff. Tripping him over the stick as she beat him back and forth throwing him into the air before kicking the man backwards.

He was thrown back, the insolent-

She didn't let up, sword stuck in the ground as she began beating the man with her first. Punching him like a gorilla, screaming and growling. Roaring into his face as she shouted insults.

It became pelting me with strikes, unable to do anything but take it I grasped my emergency-

She broke the alien's arm off, tearing through the flesh as blue blood splurged from the wound. Howling in it's tongue, screaming like a brat as I grabbed it by the collar of its neck and lifted it up.

The army watch in shock as their leader became a fleshy punching bag, rage. Pure anger beating the greatest their military had. Skill, technique, using momentum and keeping it going as she pummeled their boss with hits. How dare she.

How did she?

She threw the beaten alien aside, muttering spells as his arm healed. Throwing him a laser gun, she roared. "SHOW ME YOU HAVE THE MIGHT TO BE EVIL."

"I SHALL END-"

She pushed the weapon into his face, the stun gun firing full blast as she rolled out the way. No strike back. The aristocrat stumbling away, falling over as she walked over.

"you've got to be kidding me." She stated, calmly standing while he fired the gun at her. She was told he was the greatest they had, considering the aliens could shoot straight and decent hand to hand. That left a lot of preparation. But no. The best they had couldn't hit a stationary target. 10 metres away. With the gun's range being. 40 metres.

I fired, howling as the weapon fired shit after shot, before she advanced. A hah! I-

She punched the alien's jaw into the ground, grumbling as she slammed the tree Swiss cheese tree beside her.

"ARE. YOU. FUCKING. KIDDING ME?" The tree fell over, not only had the aliens foot soldiers been stronger than this man, but they also knew to shoot the enemy then brag.

She threw the last alien onto the floor, tossing a block onto them.

"I SPENT. MONTHS. PLANNING TO FIGHT THE BEST THE ELVES HAD TO OFFER AND Y'KNOW WHAT I FOUND? Y'KNOW WHAT THE BOOGY MEN OF THE FUCKING MILK WAY WERE?"

She kicked the face of an Elf.

"PANSIES. FUCKING. PANSIES." The elf's head crushed as she stomped the body, breaking bones in a very graphic manner before slamming another onto the delegates podium. Beating the elf into it, as she continued.

"Y'ALL HEARD. THE COMBAT. REPORT. They killed hundred. OF. US. WITH DRONES. AND THEIR OWN FUCKING COMMAND. COULDN'T FUCKING. HIT ME. AT. TEN METRES. THEIR GUNS ARE 40 FOR FUCKS. SAKE" she sliced the head of several of the aliens, shoving a grenade into one's mouth as she continued showing the files.

"I AM THE ONLY PERSON WHO DARES FIGHT THE GREATEST THEIR ARMY HAD. I FOUGHT THEIR GREATEST AND THE FOOT SOLDIERS. THOSE MEANT TO BE CHEWED UP. ARE MORE DEADLY. THAN THE BOSS. THE GUY WE'RE. MEANT. TO BE. SCARED OF!" She huffed, spitting on the bloody bodies of the aliens.

"WHAT THE FUCK." She shouted, tripping onto her ass as she tried to kick one of the bodies.

"ow. My ass. But seriously. How the fuck are they the bogey men when I literally walked through hundreds of bullets, at point blank range. That's like missing to touch right in front of you. Failing to dodge a far away, really big and slow rock coming at you!" She glared at the crowd, aliens looking away as she spat onto the floor.

"THIS IS WHY I HATE WORKING WITH SUITS!!!" She shouted, marching out the hall.

[chaos-burst]

one way or another (i’m gonna get you)

Dorian has a problem.

That problem is currently drunk off his ass and trying to balance one of Opal’s daggers on the tip of his nose. Of course he’s failing miserably, hitting himself in the eye with the blunt end twice thus far and maybe Dorian shouldn’t chuckle about it, but Dariax just keeps trying as Opal and Fearne edge him on.

“If you’re not careful you’ll stab your own eye out”, Orym says. He’s still nursing the same beer he started drinking an hour ago, probably to stay sober enough to stop any shenanigans that go too far.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, buddy. That already happened to me, like, three times, and I just healed it back together. No big deal.”

Dorian can see that Orym is at a loss for words.

“Dorian, do you think I can do it?”, Dariax calls over to him where he’s sitting, holding his lute and enjoying the warm evening breeze.

“Sure, Dariax. I’ll write a song about you if you do”, he says with an amused smile. Dorian tries to keep his smile from widening as Dariax beams at him and tries even harder.

All his life Dorian has been taught to be proper and well behaved—maybe that is why he feels drawn towards—well. Towards the group. The group that Dariax is also a part of and that Dorian definitely doesn’t feel drawn towards more than any of the others.

He starts moving his fingers mindlessly over the strings of his lute as Dariax stumbles backwards, falls over Opal’s outstretched legs and lands in her lap with the dagger clattering to the ground in front of them.

Dorian thinks about Dariax sitting on his lap, then he almost chokes on his own spit because so far Dariax hasn’t done anything even remotely appealing or attractive. He’s had shit on his beard, piss on his hands, he’s dirty and loud and so obnoxious.

But when he told Dorian that he’s the handsome one and that he’s just good at talking to people and whether Dorian wants some tips from him—Dorian was tempted. For a split second, he was thinking about Dariax offering to teach him how to flirt.

Because Dorian might be aware that he’s handsome, but he has exactly zero idea about how to flirt with people.

“Hey, Dorian! Do I still get a song?”, Dariax shouts, still half sitting in Opal’s lap.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll write you a song.”

“Cool! It’s a promise!”, Dariax says, thumbs up, a big grin on his handsome face.

There, Dorian can admit it.

Dariax is handsome. They’re all handsome. It’s really no big deal. Not at all.

Dorian tries not to think about what his parents would say about Dariax, because it’s completely irrelevant. It’s not like his parents will meet his friends, and especially not Dariax. Maybe he should go to bed and hope that come the next morning his circling thoughts will have stopped.

“Are you working on the song?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head, only to come face to face with Dariax who managed to get up from Opal’s lap and is now sitting right next to him, leaning way into Dorian’s personal space.

Dariax smells like ten different kinds of alcohol, leather and thankfully no bodily fluids, which is definitely an improvement. Dorian wishes that the fact that he’s seen this man with shit on his beard would dissuade his heart from beating a little faster every time Dariax grins at him.

Sadly his heart doesn’t care.

Neither does his stomach, which is currently doing all kinds of complicated gymnastics since Dariax invaded Dorian’s personal space.

“No. I don’t think I can concentrate in here while all that is going on”, Dorian says and gestures towards Opal who is now teaching Fearne how to do body shots.

“Aw, man. Can you play something? Something...hm. Something cool.”

“All my songs are cool, thank you very much!”

Dariax laughs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re not wrong there. You have a really beautiful voice, buddy. No wonder that goliath lady fell in love with you after like, three minutes!”

Dorian feels something that reminds him a lot of the feeling he gets when he’s falling or misses a step on some stairs. His heart starts doing an offensive little tumble and he clears his throat a little too loud as he leans out of Dariax’ space and clutches his lute as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t think I would know what to do if someone actually fell in love with me”, Dorian says with an embarrassingly shrill laugh and a second after the words have left his mouth he regrets them already.

“Aw, buddy, I told you—I can totally teach you a few tricks, you know? Just show you how to get real popular with the ladies. Or gents. Or people in general”, Dariax says and winks at him.

Dorian wishes he could turn into thin air. His cheeks feel very hot.

“I—uh. I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I really have the time—“

Dariax snorts and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on, Dorian. We’re just hanging out, right? If you wanna get laid, we have plenty of time for that. You should just relax a little more. Okay, so. What’s your type?”

Dorian stares at Dariax for almost thirty seconds before he clears his throat again.

“Uh. I—don’t. Well. Adventurous. Maybe—uh. Maybe brunettes?”

“Adventurous brunettes? That’s pretty vague, buddy. Just saying. Wait a second!”

Dariax leans closer again and puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Then he does a terrible shout-whisper into Dorian’s ear that shouldn’t give him goosebumps but, fuck, it definitely does.

“Are you into Orym?”

Dorian blinks and turns his head to stare at Dariax who looks as if he just found out an earth-shattering secret through some careful investigation.

“N—no! No, he’s not. I mean, Orym is—fine? I don’t, uh—what I meant to say is... I don’t really know what my type is”, he ends lamely.

Of course Dariax feels the need to put an arm around Dorian now.

“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you laid in no time. You have a pretty face and voice and all that, pretty sure that’ll go easy peasy.”

“That’s really not—“

“Hey guys, what are you whispering about?”, Opal shouts.

“We’re trying to figure out what Dorian’s type is to get him laid!”, Dariax shouts back.

“No, that’s not—“

“Ohh! Interesting! You don’t have a type? Did you never have a relationship before? Wait—are you like, a virgin?”

Dorian abruptly gets up from his chair. He’s definitely not drunk enough for this.

“I’m going to bed”, he says and leaves the room in a hurry, ignoring the disappointed shouts of his new friends following him outside.

*

Dorian hopes that his friends have forgotten the whole thing about supposedly getting him laid and about how Dariax intends to teach him flirting. But unfortunately the universe decides to not do him this favor.

Suddenly, every remotely attractive person they pass invokes a whole litany of questions.

Opal, Fearne and Dariax want to know everything. Which height, body-type, eye color, temperament, and style of clothing does he like? Does he prefer any genders to others? On six different occasions, Dariax tries to wingman Dorian into asking random strangers on dates.

Dorian is so desperate that he considers just telling them that he actually has someone back home, just so they will leave him alone.

It wouldn’t be the first lie he told.

Dorian feels a pang of guilt for lying about his name to these people who keep fighting alongside him.

Orym, bless his soul, is the only person who doesn’t partake in these interrogations and at some point, after Opal had asked Dorian if he was more into “tits or asses” Orym had quietly stated that “he deserves his privacy, you guys”.

Dorian has no idea if he’s a “tits or asses” kinda guy.

But Dorian just can’t stop thinking about the way Dariax’ voice sounded when it lilted “Man, you have the prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen” the last time they were drunk.

It seems weirdly typical and ridiculous that Dorian has to have his first crush on the most chaotic man he ever met.

Dorian wishes he could forget about those damn words, just like everything that happened in their first week.

“You know”, Orym says to him two nights after that cursed conversation as they’re making their way further south towards Byroden, “if you told them to stop in earnest, I think they would respect that.”

The landscape is a carpet of green, sloping hills, rolling fields that lie bare now that winter is closing in around them. The sky is blue and cloudless and as they talk their breath puffs up in front of their faces and vanishes shortly after.

Dorian looks at Orym and then pointedly turns his gaze at Opal and Dariax, who started making a list of their findings regarding Dorian’s type.

“You sure?”, he says with one eyebrow raised.

Orym looks at least as pained as Dorian feels right now.

“I see your point. But they’re not—you know. Not bad people, I guess. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well, they’re not hurting me, they’re annoying me to death!”

Orym pats him on the back in a way that is so pitiful, Dorian can hardly take it.

“I wouldn’t usually encourage lying, but maybe you could just make up a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or—“

“What if I just tell them that you’re my type”, Dorian interrupts and Orym blinks at him.

“Uh—“

“No offense, you’re not. Not that you’re not handsome or anything, I just. Well—“

“It’s fine”, Orym says with a snort and shakes his head with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t have to fuss about it. You’re also very handsome but not my type.”

Dorian tries not to be offended after the last kick to his ego in Gilmore’s shop and clears his throat.

“Okay, so. What about it? Will you be my—I don’t know. My fake boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Orym, I’m desperate here!”

“I will not be swept up in all of that. I still think you should just try to talk to them.”

Dorian feels betrayed and huffs, but he doesn’t press the issue any further. It’s probably going to be fine, he thinks. That is, until Dariax walks up to him, grins up at him cheekily and bumps his elbow into Dorian’s side.

“So. Are you finally ready to admit it?”, Dariax asks.

There is a glint in his eyes that Dorian can’t quite read.

“Admit what?”, he asks, already dreading the answer.

“That you have the hots for Orym!”

Dorian stares down at Dariax, the man he, so, so very unfortunately has “the hots for” and sighs deeply.

“You caught me”, he says with a gravelly voice. “I have the hots for Orym.”

“I knew it!”, Dariax shouts, then catches himself and turns his voice into a whisper instead. “I fucking knew it!”

Dorian massages his temple.

Maybe becoming an adventurer was a terrible idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. He could make a name for himself somewhere else. The Menagerie coast is supposed to be lovely all year around.

“Okay, don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha. I’ll keep your secret, won’t even tell the girls at all. And you know what, because we’re such great friends I have a special offer just for you”, Dariax says and leans in even closer to Dorian, who has to lean down significantly.

“And what offer is that?”, Dorian asks with a sigh, resigning himself to his fate. At least Orym knows that Dorian isn’t actually attracted to him, so, he thinks, this can’t possibly get any worse.

“I should totally be your fake boyfriend so you can make him jealous.”

Dorian stares at Dariax.

Dariax stares back with the proudest grin on his handsome face.

The universe is trying to punish him. For whatever reason, it must have decided to make Dorian the butt of a cosmic joke. That’s the only explanation for all of this.

“I don’t think that’s—“

“It’s perfect! Don’t worry, I have experience with this sort of stuff, just lemme handle this.”

Dariax winks at Dorian and then grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Hey guys”, he calls as he pulls Dorian along who follows helplessly, his heart stumbling in his chest as his consciousness zooms in on the feeling of Dariax’ hand in his, “guess what. I should’ve clocked it all along, but of course it makes perfect sense! Check it out!”

And as Orym, Opal and Fearne turn their heads, Dariax raises their intertwined fingers and beams at the others.

“Wait…”, Orym starts slowly, his brow furrowed in confusion, “what…?”

“Too late, Orym. He’s my boyfriend now”, Dariax says and Dorian wishes that the wind would just pick him up and carry him away.

*

Dorian has to say something.

He can’t, under any circumstances, keep this up.

He is sitting—and gods, his heart is beating so terribly fast—on Dariax’ lap.

Dariax had insisted on it and now his muscular arms are wound around Dorian’s waist as if this is the most normal thing in the world. For someone who doesn’t actually have to breathe to survive, Dorian feels a little bit like he’s suffocating from the staccato inside his rib cage.

They made camp close to a rock formation that, according to Fearne, looks like a pig with wings. The night smells of snow, but Dorian feels hot despite the cold.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He knows it even less when Dariax’ hand finds one of his and just casually starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand with a thumb. Dorian can feel Orym’s eyes on them and sadly that edges Dariax on even more because he thinks his plan is working.

“You know”, Dariax says and sounds way too casual about it, “I can’t believe how lucky I got. Pretty sure you’re the most beautiful person I’ve been with so far, Dorian.”

“I—uh”, Dorian says, then somehow forgets how to speak. His cheeks feel incredibly hot even though he doesn’t sit remotely close to the fire.

Orym cocks his head and suddenly his eyes turn a little too wide for Dorian’s tastes.

Dorian doesn’t want anyone to understand anything about this disaster.

“Well, I would certainly love a boyfriend who tells me nice things like that”, Opal sighs dreamily. “Or—you know. Maybe a girlfriend. Who knows. I certainly don’t.”

She laughs a little too shrilly but Dorian doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about it anymore because a tingling sensation is running through his body and crawling along the underside of his skin as Dariax’ fingers just keep on gently, way too gently, drawing nonsensical symbols and circles on Dorian’s hand.

“Well, I just know what’s good. I make a great boyfriend”, Dariax announces with a smug undertone to his voice. The sad thing is that Dorian can’t even disagree.

So far, Dariax has been nothing but—well. There is no other word for it. Gentle and accommodating. He also started flirting with Dorian and his flirting only ever got tasteless twice during the last twenty-four hours.

He has offered to carry stuff for Dorian, held his hand, given him way too many compliments for Dorian’s poor heart to handle, helped him climb over some rocks and purposefully took a hit for Dorian in combat earlier today while shouting “Not my boyfriend, you ash-hole!”.

If someone had told him that Dariax makes good boyfriend material, Dorian would have scoffed at them.

But now.

Well.

Now he’s in even deeper shit, because this doesn’t help his feelings at all. It does the exact opposite of helping.

Gods, Dorian wishes he could kiss him.

“Well, I am certainly—uh. Happy? For you two”, Orym says with a pointed look at Dorian. Dorian tries to tell Orym that this wasn’t his idea with his eyes alone, that this is the worst, that Dorian definitely needs saving, but he doesn’t think anything gets across because the moment that Orym says that and looks at Dorian, Dariax seems to decide that he can’t have Orym looking at Dorian like that.

Dorian makes an embarrassing screeching sound as he is dipped backwards on Dariax’ lap. There is a very handsome, dwarven face with glinting eyes right in front of his when he opens his eyes again.

“Just go along”, Dariax whispers and before Dorian can protest or even just try to catch up with what’s happening, there are dry, warm lips pressed against his mouth and Dariax is closing his eyes.

Dorian’s brain is blank for a few seconds, then it kicks into overdrive, much like his heart that seems eager to jump right out of his chest and into the campfire. Dorian can’t fault it, because he, too, would love to jump into the campfire, never to be seen again.

Dariax is holding him with one arm while his other hand is resting on Dorian’s cheeks where Dariax’ thumb starts rubbing circles again as he kisses Dorian.

Dorian wants to run away.

He wants to kiss back.

He wants this to be real.

Dariax doesn’t actually want to kiss him. He only does it because he’s pretending, there is nothing real about any of this, no matter how nice and exciting his warm lips feel against Dorian’s.

Dorian pushes him away, clambers up from his position, trying very hard not to fall as he stands up, and steps away from Dariax hastily.

“I—ah. I need to. Pee. Yes. Pee. I’ll be—uh. Later!”

And he walks as fast as he can without breaking into a run.

His lips are still burning after he stops walking without even seeing where he’s going. It’s dumb. All of this is so incredibly dumb.

Beautiful eyes, beautiful voice, beautiful person.

Dariax really has to stop saying these things.

It’s already enough that Dorian developed this stupid crush after such a short amount of time on the road. It’s stupid that it had to be Dariax of all people—couldn’t it have been someone reasonable? Like Orym?

Couldn’t it just have been no one? Or a nice, noble lady that he impressed with his songs and good looks?

No.

He’s standing in the middle of nowhere, his heart beating rapidly in his chest with no clue where he even is or what he’s doing. The trees around him are leafless and bare, stretching towards the dark sky like skeletal silhouettes. Dorian doesn't know what to do.

Dariax kissed him.

He had his first kiss with a complete and utter maniac of a person. His lips are still tingling and gods, he wants to kiss him again and again and again—

“Dorian! Doriaaan!”

Dorian turns around and wipes at his face that feels weirdly wet.

Gods, he hates everything and everyone right now.

Dariax comes to a halt in front of him, his breath coming quickly and holding his compass rose.

“Okay—wow. Your legs. Are so. Long. You’re so. Fucking fast”, Dariax huffs and puts his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

Dorian looks at him and can’t decide whether he wants to kick Dariax in the shin or just run away further.

“So, uh—sorry. I got a little carried away and I kinda—uh. It was brought to my attention that it wasn’t very cool of me to just kiss you without asking if that’s okay with you. So—uh. Really sorry about that, shoulda thought about that before I—uh. You know.”

Dariax scratches the back of his head as he looks down at Dorian’s left knee.

“It’s—well. Yeah, I suppose a little warning would have been nice. It’s—uh.”

Dorian stops and wipes at his face again and when he looks back up Dariax is studying him, his gaze intense and uncharacteristically serious.

“Wait—wait a second. Was that your first kiss?”

“No! I mean. Yes! Sort of! Maybe!”

Dariax gapes and Dorian wishes the earth could swallow him up whole.

“Oh fuck, buddy, man, that’s. I’m really sorry, I didn’t—damn. I really fucked that one up, huh?”

Dariax looks so earnestly mortified at what he’s done that Dorian can already feel how he’s forgiving him, how he finds it endearing, how his heart swells in his chest like the idiot that it is.

“It’s not such a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just—uh. Maybe we should talk about all of this stuff before… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally. I swear I’m usually not a creep or anything, it was just… you know. The heat of the moment, or something. So…”

Dariax is scratching the back of his head again and swallows before he shoots Dorian a lopsided grin.

“So. No kissing and stuff like that, huh? Just the hand-holding? Hey, maybe a hug or something?”

Dorian stares at him and he could swear that Dariax’ cheeks are a little redder than before, which, Dorian supposes, comes from his embarrassment about his earlier fuck-up.

As long as they’re doing this fake-boyfriend gig, Dorian could kiss Dariax whenever he wants. Because apparently Dariax doesn’t mind that one little bit. He might never get the chance again to kiss him if he says no now.

So Dorian does something incredibly stupid and impulsive and maybe it’s even a real ash-hole move. In this tiny moment in time he decides to be selfish.

“Kissing is fine. Uh—you know. You’re not that bad at it, I guess”, he says and laughs which sounds terribly false in his own ears but Dariax perks up and throws him a reckless grin that makes Dorian’s heart stumble in his chest.

“Ha! You just wait for it, I’ll kiss your brains out before you know it!”

*

Dorian might be addicted.

He knows that this is all a ruse based on a misunderstanding but gods, kissing Dariax is so good.

And Dariax somehow makes it seem as if he’s just as into it as Dorian is, because he keeps kissing him all the time. Of course, it never happens when they’re alone and only when Orym is in more or less close proximity but if Dorian isn’t careful he’ll start believing that they’re actually boyfriends sooner than later.

Dariax is so good at pretending.

He kisses Dorian as if he never wants to kiss anyone else. He holds Dorian’s face in his hands as if it’s something precious. He kisses Dorian breathless and at more than one point Dorian had to stop him because he was getting a little too into it and he’s afraid of overstepping any boundaries.

Dariax promised that he would kiss Dorian’s brains out and it’s absolutely working. On the seventh day on their journey south they get so caught up in making out that they don’t realize that the others have gone to find a camping place for the night.

“We should—uh. Probably follow them”, Dorian croaks and stares down at Dariax’ lips.

“Hmhm. Yeah. Probably a good idea”, Dariax mumbles. Then he kisses Dorian again.

Dorian gets lost in the sensation of tongues sliding against one another and the feeling of Dariax’ hand cupping his cheeks. Dorian slides his hands into Dariax’ hair and buries his fingers in there, something that provokes a sound from Dariax. A sound that gives Dorian goosebumps all over his arms.

He wants to hear it again. He wants to touch more. He wants, he wants, he wants—

Dariax pulls back, his eyes glassy, his breathing labored.

“I—uh. Ha. I got a little carried away. Sorry. What do you say about checking where the others went?”

“Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Let’s go.”

He steps away from Dariax and stuffs his hands into his pockets to keep Dariax from reaching for them. This is a complete and utter disaster.

Dorian knows that he should stop it.

He shouldn’t abuse Dariax’ trust like this and keep up his pretense when all that Dariax wants is to help Dorian make Orym jealous.

Which has, of course, not worked in the slightest, but Dariax insists that it’s just because Orym is such a rational and level-headed guy.

“We just need to wear him thin, you know.”

Dorian doesn’t know.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything anymore.

When they finally reach the campsite, Fearne has placed her head in Opal’s lap and seems to be napping as Opal carefully braids her long, green hair.

“You guys alright?”, Orym asks with his eyebrows raised. Dorian feels himself flush and clear his throat.

“More than alright”, Dariax answers and winks. The implication makes Dorian’s cheeks heat up even more.

He didn’t think that Orym’s eyebrows could climb even higher, but that’s exactly what happens as he regards the two of them.

“Dorian, can I talk to you for a second?”, Orym asks and gets up from the log he was sitting on. Dorian shoots Dariax a glance and he seems… off.

Dariax doesn’t return Dorian’s look, he just walks over to the fire, lets himself fall down next to Opal and asks, way too loudly to be necessary “So what’s for dinner?”.

But Dorian doesn’t have any time to think more about this, because Orym grabs his wrist and pulls him towards a group of trees, away from the campfire and away from Dariax whose eyes seem to bore themselves into the back of Dorian’s head as he follows Orym into the night.

“What are you doing?”

Dorian doesn’t have to ask what Orym means. He wrings his hands and stares at the ground.

“I—uh. I don’t really... I don’t really know?”

“So when you said adventurous and brunette, what you actually meant was short, stocky and a complete disaster?”

“I—um...”

Orym looks at him with raised eyebrows and despite the fact that Dorian is so much taller than him he suddenly feels very small.

“Well. Dariax kind of got it into his head that I’m into you. Which I’m not.”

“Yes, we established that.”

“Exactly. And. Well, he thought it would be a good idea to be fake boyfriends to make you jealous.”

Orym’s eyebrows rise even higher towards his hairline.

“But I’m not jealous. Because you and I are just friends.”

“I know, okay? It just kinda got out of hand?He’s so—I don’t know! I don’t know what to do!”

Orym sighs and rubs his temples.

“So. You’re actually into Dariax?”, he asks.

Dorian presses his lips together and takes a deep breath before he nods.

“And he doesn’t know. He thinks you’re into me?”

Dorian nods again.

“And now he’s waiting for me to get jealous and for us two to be boyfriends?”

Dorian shrugs helplessly.

“Isn’t that... I don’t know. It seems like lying to him.”

“What do you want me to do? Just tell him that I have the hots for him and then leave the country forever?”, Dorian hisses.

“Well, maybe he has the hots for you, too!”, Orym whispers back and Dorian can’t help but laugh. It sounds a little hysterical.

“Then why would he offer to help me to get with you?”

Orym stares at Dorian for a full thirty seconds. Then he sighs.

“I guess it’s a little hard to... fathom... what goes on in Dariax’ head.”

“That seems like an understatement.”

Orym scoffs and shakes his head with half a smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you actually fell for—that.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. I guess to each their own.”

“So what’s your type then?”

“Uh—I don’t really have a type. I’m not into the whole relationship stuff. Or—uh. The sex stuff, for that matter.”

“Oh. Oh! I see. Well, that seems pretty convenient. Way less stressful than what I’m doing with my life.”

Orym smiles and shakes his head again.

“I’m not going to lie, when I’m watching you and Dariax or Opal and Fearne I am glad that I don’t have to deal with any of it”, Orym admits.

“Opal and Fearne? How do you mean?”, Dorian asks. His brain is still stuck on kissing Dariax without Orym even being in any close proximity. His whole brain capacity seems to be occupied by thinking about Dariax. It’s an absolute clusterfuck.

“Never mind. So, what do you intend to do? You can’t keep this up forever”, Orym says and pulls Dorian away from a trail of thoughts that was leading towards something explicit and utterly unbefitting of a talk with a good friend about feelings.

“I—uh. I’m still figuring it out. I’ll just. You know, I could just tell him that I’m not into you anymore and then he would probably stop”, Dorian says and ignores the uncomfortable tightness of his chest as he thinks about not being able to kiss Dariax anymore. Or hold his hand. Or being told that he’s beautiful.

He’s so fucked.

“I think you should just tell him, you know? We’re adventurers now, no one knows what might happen. If I learned anything from our Voice of the Tempest, it’s that you should do your best to live without any regrets, because time is a precious thing”, Orym says.

“A weird soup”, Dorian answers, his voice weak and his heart hurting. Orym snorts.

“Yes, sure. A weird, precious soup. Anyway. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

*

Something is up with Dariax.

Dorian has no idea what it is, but there is definitely something wrong.

He’s quieter than usual, which is disconcerting. He’s also, very definitely, holding onto Dorian’s hand way tighter than before.

“Hey, is everything alright?”, Dorian asks him quietly as they’re getting ready for the night. The sky overhead is dark and full of clouds and the moon is barely visible.

“Yeah, sure. Stellar”, Dariax says but he’s not looking at Dorian.

“You don’t look stellar”, Dorian insists and puts his hand on Dariax’ shoulder. Dariax’ eyes flicker down to his hand and then up to his face. Dariax opens his mouth to answer, but Dorian doesn’t hear anything because there is a searing pain on his back and he slumps forward and crumples onto his knees.

His vision goes blurry from the pain and he can feel that there is something coursing through his body. It hurts.

“Dorian? Dorian!”

Lying down seems like a great idea. What if he dies now and he didn’t even tell Dariax that he’s not into Orym? What if his adventure ends here already? He doesn’t want to sink into the weird soup that is time already. He wants…

“Take your hands off my boyfriend, you fuckers!”

“Hey! What’s going on?”

“Dorian, are you okay?”

He is definitely not okay and while he probably should have different priorities as he’s bleeding out in the grass, all he can think about is the fact that Dariax just called him his boyfriend.

“Dorian, are you okay?”, Dariax’ voice sounds muffled and far away.

“Heh. You’re really good at pretending”, he lulls as he’s turned onto his back to look up at Dariax’ face.

“What? Guys, I think he has a concussion or something!”

“Well, heal him!”

“I’m trying! Dorian, hey! Buddy, don’t pass out on me, okay?”

“Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?”, Dorian slurs and he wants to raise a hand to touch Dariax’ face that seems way too red all of a sudden, but he can’t move a muscle and as he feels Dariax’ warm healing magic flow into him, he passes out from the mind-numbing pain.

*

Dorian has never shared a bed with anyone. Neither in a platonic nor in a romantic or sexual way.

When he wakes up there is someone plastered to his side. The quiet snoring tells him that it must be Dariax.

“Are you okay, Dorian?”, Fearne’s soft voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to see her sit on his other side, her hand places closed to his shoulder as if to make sure that he’s within reach.

“Uh—ow. Yeah. What happened?”

Dorian tries to concentrate on his own body and on Fearne’s words, but he’s distracted by the feeling of Dariax sleeping so close to him. His arm is thrown over Dorian’s chest and his face is pressed into Dorian’s shoulder. Orym is nowhere to be seen.

“Those Nameless Ones seem to have a pretty far reach. They really want that spider crown.”

Dorian groans as he tries to move.

“They hit me with poison or something?”

“Yeah. Dariax fixed it. Then he insisted on carrying you back to the cart. Then he insisted to tuck you into bed. And then he just sort of flopped down next to you and stared at you really intensely until he passed out.”

Dorian tries to laugh but almost chokes on it as he imagines this short man trying to carry someone as tall as Dorian. His thoughts circle around the fact that Dariax cared for him, healed him, tucked him into bed.

“So. Ah—where are Orym and Opal?”, he asks to distract himself from the feeling of having Dariax pressed so close to him.

“They’re checking to see if we’ll be safe for the night. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Fearne smiles down at him and starts scratching Little Mister under the chin as she hums a melody that Dorian’s never heard before.

“Did you ever have a really dumb crush?”, he asks before he can stop himself. Fearne turns her head to look at him again and cocks her head.

“A crush that was dumb because it wasn’t mutual or a crush that was dumb because the person was dumb?”, she wants to know.

“Ah. Huh—I haven’t thought about it that way. I guess… how about we go with both?”

Fearne puts her index fingers to her lips and cocks her head from side to side as she thinks about it.

“Well, I don’t think crushes are dumb just because they aren’t mutual. And I also think that Opal is very intelligent in her own, special way.”

Dorian blinks.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on Opal?”

“Sure. I thought it was pretty obvious”, Fearne says and smiles dreamily.

“Uh—maybe. Now that you mention it, I think Orym clocked it.”

“She is just. You know. Very exciting and spontaneous and funny and creative and pretty.”

The way that Fearne just talks about her crush makes Dorian wonder why he isn’t able to just say it like this. That he likes Dariax because he’s funny and brave and adventurous and a complete idiot in a lovable kind of way.

“What do you like about Dariax?”, Fearne wants to know.

“Uh—well”, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. Dariax is still softly snoring into his shoulder. “I guess… I guess pretty much everything?”

“That’s so sweet! And that’s what he said too. You guys just fit so well”, Fearne says with an earnest smile.

“Wait. What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that you guys fit really well.”

“No. No, I meant before that.”

“Uh—well, when I asked him what he liked most about you, he also said that he likes everything about you. I thought it was really sweet, you know? There was a whole list of things, but he stopped midway through it and said ‘So basically, everything’.”

There was a whole list of things.

A list.

 “So basically, everything.”

“Dorian? Are you really okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Hm? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Peachy. Never better.”

He laughs nervously and glances over at Dariax as his insides dissolve into small, hyperactive butterflies. Maybe it’s not what he thinks. Maybe Dariax meant that he likes everything about Dorian as a friend.

“If you’re sure you’re okay I think I’ll stretch my legs a little bit. This cart is pretty small”, Fearne says and scoots towards the exit of the cart. Little Mister follows behind her and a moment later Dorian is alone with a snoring Dariax, whose hand has somehow managed to sneak under Dorian’s shirt.

What is he supposed to do now?

Wake Dariax up? Confess his feelings?

His heart beats so quickly that Dorian is almost afraid that it might just leap out of his rib cage. In the end he’s not brave enough to wake Dariax up and instead intertwines their fingers and turns his head to look at Dariax who has definitely drooled onto his shirt.

He knows that he’s completely fucked because he thinks that this is endearing.

Dorian raises his arm and gently cards his hand through Dariax’ hair.

Dariax makes a small sound in his sleep, something that sounds like a content sigh, and the butterflies in Dorian’s stomach start dancing happily.

“D’you really think my eyes are pretty?”, Dariax mumbles a second later and Dorian pulls his hand away hastily as Dariax’ eyes open.

“Um—well. Yeah. They’re… they have a very nice color”, Dorian croaks. Dariax pulls his hand out from under Dorian’s shirt and starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You okay again?”

“Yeah. Thank you for saving me. And carrying me to the cart. And—uh. Tucking me in.”

Dariax’ cheeks redden as he coughs slightly before sitting up.

“Well, you know. It’s what boyfriends are for, right?”, Dariax says with half a laugh in his voice that doesn’t sound completely genuine.

Dorian swallows and bites his bottom lip as he tries to find the words. He’s usually not bad at talking, so why does this seem so endlessly hard?

“So—uh. I have something to confess”, he starts as his thoughts start spinning around in panicked circles. Dariax turns his head to look down at him.

“I know, I know”, he answers.

“Huh?”

“Well, I figured, you know. When Orym dragged you away I thought you guys probably had a talk?”

“We did, yeah”, Dorian says but he is endlessly confused about what that has to do with anything.

“See, I knew it. So you think it finally started working, huh? Told you, I’m really good at this kind of stuff.”

Dorian decides that he has to sit up for this. His head is spinning and his heart is racing and he is endlessly confused about what in the ever-loving hell is going on.

“Working? What are you talking about?”

“You know, the jealousy thing.”

Dorian stares at him.

Then it finally clicks.

“Dariax… I don’t want to be fake boyfriends anymore”, he says quietly before he can think of a better way to say it. Dariax’ expression twists and he looks away, his hand reaching for the back of his head to scratch at his scalp—a sign for nervousness, as Dorian knows by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I—uh. That’s—“

“I want to be your real boyfriend.”

Dariax blinks a few times. Then his face turns the deepest shade of red that Dorian has ever seen on him.

“You—what?”

“I don’t like Orym. I never have. Not like that. I—uh. I like you. And when—if—I kiss you again I don’t want it to be just pretend, I want to really kiss you. Because I—uh. I really like kissing you.”

Dariax is still staring at him, seemingly stunned. The hand at the back of his head has stopped moving and started to sink slowly back into Dariax’ lap.

“So…”, Dorian says and the nervous energy humming under his skin is almost unbearable, “can I? Can I… kiss you? For real?”

If Dariax doesn’t say anything soon Dorian might have to flee from the cart and actually leave the country. The suspense is torturous, his words hang heavy in the air between them. And then, faster than Dorian can react, Dariax lounges himself at Dorian and kisses him so passionately that Dorian can’t suppress the moan that escapes him.

Dariax pushes at him, shoves Dorian back down onto the bedroll, sinks one hand into Dorian’s long hair and cups his face with the other.

Dorian’s brain goes blank as he arches up against Dariax’ weight on top of him.

“So, is that a yes?”, he pants into the kiss.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes”, Dariax rasps and kisses him again. “Gods, you’re so pretty. I thought I was going to go insane.”

Dorian makes a very embarrassing noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Maybe he likes those compliments more than a normal person would.

“So you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? So fucking much.”

Dariax is kissing his whole face now and Dorian wraps his arms around him. He feels light as a feather and the butterflies in his stomach have gone completely off the rails.

“Are you guys decent?”, Opal shouts from outside the cart.

“No! Go away! I want to make out with my boyfriend!”, Dariax shouts back and Dorian laughs.

“Don’t leave any icky spots though!”, Opal says.

“Oh, come on”, Dorian hears Orym protest.

“That’s what Prestidigitation is for, Opal! Read a book about magic!”, Dariax announces loudly and Dorian has no time to protest this obscene exchange because Dariax is kissing him again and Orym seems to be dragging Opal away from the cart.

“So do you know what that means?”, Dorian mumbles against Dariax’ lips.

“Hm?”

“I don’t need any flirting lessons from you after all.”

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Nine

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: OHOHOHHOHOHOHHO. That’s all I can say about this chapter. Hope you enjoy it. All of you need to go to horny jail. 

Buy me a Ko-Fi

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.7k

Chapter Nine

“I have a feeling I know how this story ends,” Jesper said sadly. You found yourself scoffing at him.

“No, you don’t,” You said lightly. “I still don’t know how it ends,”

“What do you mean?” Kaz spoke up, interested suddenly. You let out a sigh, sending a glance over to Inej who was watching you so closely; so worriedly.

“He’s still looking for me, still trying to find me. He doesn’t know I crossed the Fold—,”

“You crossed the Fold?” Kaz interrupted, standing abruptly. “Why? How?”

“You—you should be dead,” Inej said timidly. She was right, they were both right to react in such a way. It was almost impossible really, to cross the Fold on your own. No skiff, no secure route, no way of knowing what would happen when the dark swallowed you whole.

You thought then about telling them how—telling them how you did it and came out of the dark with nothing more than a few scratches on your body; but a lot of scratches in your mind. But you chose not to; that was the end of the story.

If it ended, then maybe... they’d throw you out. Cast you aside. Be done with their interest in your sad little life. You were scared that they’d leave you, even though you hardly knew these criminals. You were scared that you’d be alone again, when the weight of realisation that you’d been alone all along at the Little Palace had hit you so hard before.

All you wanted was security, stability, a home, a family.

“I know,” You finally replied, forcing yourself to smile. “You’re getting too far ahead, though,” Kaz slowly descended into his seat once more, fingers curled tightly around his crow-headed cane. You wondered then, what it felt like to constantly have something on your person.

Inej with her knives. Kaz with his cane. Jesper with his pistols.

You had no such thing, unless you counted the raggedy old Kefta on your shoulders, but you didn’t particularly want to. You’d hated it from the beginning; you’d only worn it because of him.

You could still remember the first time you’d ever donned it.

The Little Palace, Six Months Ago

“Hey! Hey!” Genya’s yells cut through the forest easily, as if the trees allowed her voice to penetrate through them to hit your ears. You stopped training as she approached, breathing heavily, her face blotched with red.

“Genya,” You said, amused, jogging over to where she was hunched over, catching her breath. “Did you run here?”

“No... horses... left...” She heaved out, waving a hand in front of her face in place of a fan. “Saints—that woke me up,” You placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, on the brink of laughing at her flushed face.

“What’re you doing?” You questioned, as she started to calm down. She sucked a breath deep into her lungs, regarding your amused expression.

“It’s the General,” She said. Your face immediately dropped as your heart catapulted into your throat. “He’s back,”

You waved Genya off as she rode your horse back to the stables. There was more than enough space for both of you on the steed, but you needed time to calm your trembling limbs. The walk back would be able to offer you that.

It’d been four months since Aleksander had left the Little Palace. Time had gone fast, but also agonisingly slowly at the same time; which still confused you as to how that was even possible. His face had been forever etched in your mind since that night—his timid knocks, his abrupt and unapologetic kiss, the way his fingers roamed your bare skin like an extension of your own body.

Your heart had been aching ever since, but you’d tried to replace that void with training. You worked hard, mercilessly, tirelessly, so that Aleksander would be able to marvel at your improvement after his return.

He’d sent letters, but rarely. You had three in total, scrawled down in rushed handwriting by a man who you imagined to be busy beyond belief. But he’d still sent them; he’d still checked in with you, sent his words of affirmation, adoration—

Craving. Words of craving and longing and the obviousness that he was missing you.

You kept those letters in the locked drawer of the desk in your chambers, keeping the key secure in the cabinet at your bedside. Maybe it was supposed to be secretive, maybe it was supposed to be kept in the dark—or maybe you were overanalysing it all—but you didn’t want people prying. You didn’t want the extra pressure or scowls or attention that would no doubt come from having this kind of relationship with the General.

If it even was a relationship. You opted not to call it as such, not fully understanding what Aleksander even saw in you, wanted from you—liked about you.

As much as these four moths had been incredibly lonely, you couldn’t stop the uncomfortable wave of anxiety that beat through your entire body as you walked back over the fields to the palace. Beyond those cream walls and gold trim and décor, Aleksander would be back inside.

Waiting for you.

You’d improved; there was no doubt about that. There was a small thought then, when you got ever closer to the palace, that perhaps you should show off. You could already see the hub of carriages and Grisha in the distance, surrounding the General upon his return—

And Saints, maybe it was jealously, or excitement, or fear—

But there was something urging you to summon the air and glide to him. Show him what you’d learned, what you were capable of, what you’d taught yourself in his absence.

You took in a deep breath, bringing your hands together quickly. The air surrounded you almost instantly, circling your body and ruffling your hair and blouse as it descended to your feet. Within seconds, you were hovering atop the mound of air at the ground, and as you directed your hands forward, the air followed your commands.

You were propelled forward quickly, gliding effortlessly up the remaining fields until you were back on the palace grounds. You kept going, rounding the stables and slaloming between plant pots and other garden décor, until you approached the courtyard in a flash.

A few Grisha squealed at your arrival, parting the crowds around Aleksander’s carriage and making way for your storm. You lowered your hands then, jumping to the floor as the air at your feet dissipated into nothingness. You took one step forward, and all of a sudden his eyes were on yours—

His stare unwavering, his shoulders broad and brooding, his eyes as dark and deep as the time he’d left; but the smile on his face was one that you’d never seen before. Some mixture of longing and nostalgia and awe. He was impressed, as his eyes roamed down your body until they hit your feet, where your summoned pocket of air had been just moments before.

He trailed his gaze back up your body, landing upon all of the places that he’d touched before. You skin buzzed beneath your clothes, set alight by his stare that you hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed him, until he was stood before you once more.

Aleksander turned, fully, to you then, approaching you slowly, step by agonising step.

“General,” You spoke first, trying to bat away the huge grin on your face into something more subdued. “You’re back,” You added, with a lack of what to say, other than I missed you, Aleksander. Saints, you wouldn’t say that here, not around the other Grisha.

“I see you’ve... improved,” He said softly, trickling his rough voice over you warmly. Saints—you’d missed that fucking voice.

“I suppose that’s up to you, Sir,” You replied, ignoring the tension that floated between the two of you like a storm cloud, just waiting for thunder to crack and lightning to flash.

“Let’s discuss your improvements later. This evening, in my office,” He stated. You tried to keep your expression flat; professional.

“I’ll see you then, General,” He shot you a smile before moving away. The crowd of Grisha and officers dissipated as Aleksander made his way to the palace, and all too soon the black of his uniform was hidden behind the closed doors.

Genya came up beside you then, crossing her arms as an amused smile littered her face. “Someone’s happy to see you,” She said slyly. You shoved your elbow into her rib softly, giving her a light push.

“Shut it,” You said, but there was no denying it. You were happy, the happiest you’d been in months, seeing the stubble that dotted his chin and the pensive look he reserved solely for you. You didn’t care about the murmurs surrounding your abrupt entrance or the obvious secretive nature that you and Aleksander conversed in from the other Grisha—you only cared that he was back.

He was back with you, after what felt like years.

You couldn’t shake the smile from your face when you walked through the upper corridors of the Little Palace, headed back to your chambers that evening. You couldn’t shake the excited energy that coursed through your veins or the anxious buzz that you got from imagining being alone with Aleksander again, after so long.

“He’ll get bored, you know,” Her voice was the only reason the smile drained from your face then, as you stopped in the corridor and turned back.

Zoya stood in the middle of the hallway, silhouetted by the dwindling evening light. You’d recognise her defensive stance and tense shoulders anywhere. “He always does,”

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to be face-to-face with her, after so long avoiding her presence. But all too soon that uncomfortable feeling hit your gut whenever she was around; fear of the unknown.

“What are you talking about?” You replied, but you knew she was talking about Aleksander. She took a few confident steps forward, brooding and almost frightening in this isolated part of the palace. You kept your guard up strongly.

“Kirigan loves girls that he can mould to his own perception. You’re just another in a long line of Grisha that he’s taken an interest in,” Zoya said, her voice coarse and unforgiving. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say.

“Let me guess, he called you special. He called you powerful and strong. He’s littered your mind with ego-building drivel and promised you what you desire the most,”

You were stunned by her words, as your mind started fretting the last six months under this roof. But—this was also Zoya. Zoya, who hated your fucking guts. Zoya, who was endlessly jealous of any woman that stood by Kirigan’s side. Zoya, who evidently had qualms with the General himself that had been long forgotten by him.

You refused to acknowledge any words that fell from her lips as fact. She was untrustworthy and always would be in your eyes. She continued to approach you, and you started to lose your nerve. You balled your fists instinctively, and she stopped when she saw your shoulders drop defensively. The grin that curled onto her lips was akin to the Devil—devious and all-knowing.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, when he decides you’re of no worth. What happens when he finds the Sun Summoner, hm? You really think he’ll stay by your side?”

“You’re hurt over something that has long since passed, Zoya. Kirigan saw through your childish behaviour. You need to grow up,” You finally replied, but the words felt muddied leaving your mouth. You hated confrontation at the best of times, but this conversation had curdled your blood faster than you’d expected.

Zoya let out a disgusted chuckle. “See? You’re already too far gone,”

“And you’re a snake who can’t get over the fact that Kirigan may prefer the company of others. Others who don’t hoard past relationships over his head like a curse and constantly beg for affection that he doesn’t want to give,” You watched as her face dropped, and then all too soon she was storming towards you. She swiftly shoved you into the wall of the corridor, shoving her arm beneath your neck and pushing down just enough to keep you stuck. You refused to fight back.

“Your days are numbered. He will soon come to realise that you are nothing but a lost soul, just like the Volcra in the Fold that he wishes to destroy,”

She left as soon as she’d appeared, rounding the corridor and leaving you to place a soft hand against your neck, sucking in air as you caught back your breath. You shut the door of your chambers quietly, flexing your fingers in an attempt to make them stop trembling.

You washed and freshened yourself up, your mind racing. That’s when the wardrobe caught your eye; something within it was burning to get out.

You stomped to it, opening the doors swiftly and laying your eyes over the long forgotten Kefta that Aleksander had commissioned for you so long ago. You draped it over your arm, tracing your fingers over the intricate and beautiful patterns of white and grey, next to the backdrop of such a deep black—his colour—

The colour of the Darkling.

“Enter,” His voice said lowly, and you entered his chambers confidently. Aleksander stood with his back turned to you, placing down two tumblers and that oh so familiar bottle of Ravkan rum on the dark wood table.

When he turned, he stopped immediately. Time slowed, the air stilled, and Aleksander was but a marble statue in a world of concrete creatures.

You stood by the centre table, tall, chin out, Kefta donned for the first time. The fabric draped over you snuggly, the belt showing off the waist that you had underneath such bulky clothing. In this light, the embroidery glistened like Fjerdan snow; bright, light, powerful. After six months, the Kefta that Aleksander had so desperately and patiently waited for you to wear was now on your frame.

You were a Grisha. And perhaps, you were his.

The smile that curled onto his lips hit you—that’s what you’d been waiting for in response. The subtle curve of his smile, the gleam of his dark eyes as they traversed every crevice and curve of your body before him, the subtle flex of his fingers as if eagerly awaiting when he’d be able to touch you again.

The Aleksander you had so dearly missed, after months without his presence. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“Just as I expected,” He said finally, as he began to walk towards you slowly. “Radiant,”

You blushed at his words, allowing yourself to don a small smile as he approached ever closer. “You picked the right colour,” You replied, prompting a small scoff to fall from his lips.

He reached you then, standing face-to-face comfortably. You peered up at him, noting the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp he made. Tension surrounded you both once more, but it was much stronger than you’d been expecting.

Aleksander reached out and grabbed the belt of your Kefta, tugging you forward abruptly. You refrained from squealing as you were pulled into his chest, laying your palms flat against him and feeling the unmistakeable pitter patter of his heart, thumping mercilessly beneath his skin.

“It’s such a shame that the first time I see you in your Kefta, I also want to rip it off of you,” He whispered lowly, cascading his voice over your face until you were mere putty in his hands. His hands snaked around your waist then, keeping you flush against his chest. You raised your hands to his neck, eyes flicking to his lips involuntarily as a warmth gushed through your gut.

“That doesn’t sound like a shame to me,” You whispered back, drawing circles over his skin with your fingers. He shivered at your touch, and a small growl sounded from the back of his throat. Abruptly, he hoisted you onto the table, treading quickly so he stood between your legs snuggly. You let out a gasp at his forwardness, but there was no denying it—

Both of you wanted this, wanted each other.

It’d been months in the making, and the absence of one another had only increased these feelings tenfold. You wanted Aleksander to rip the Kefta from your body and kiss you everywhere. You wanted to run your fingers over ever section of bare skin that the Darkling possessed; intentionally, lingering your touch wherever you could, so he’d always feel the warmth of your fingertips even when you weren’t there.

“Do you know how much I thought of you while I was away?” He questioned, and you swallowed down your incessant heartbeat.

“I imagine it was close to how much I thought of you,” You replied, inching your lips closer to his own.

“I poured over your letters,” He admitted. “I imagined your voice reading them to me. I imagined us in the forest, alone together, when my body refused to sleep,”

“Aleksander,” You said abruptly, when the feeling in your gut became far too intense. “Just kiss me,” You begged. He obliged.

His lips pressed into yours with a ferocity that you’d been waiting for since he’d left. It was more than the kiss you’d stolen before he left; more meaningful, less hasty, as if he was taking his time to navigate the intricacies of your body and mouth, now that he was able to.

You gripped onto him as if you’d never let go, feeling the curve of his spine, the tension in his jaw, the soft but trusting way his eyes were closed as his lips were flush against your own. Without parting, his hands pried off the belt of your Kefta, exposing your bare chest beneath. You’d opted against wearing your blouse, almost knowing that this would happen.

When his hands lay upon your warm, bare skin, Aleksander parted from you. His eyes skimmed your chest, landing upon your clavicle and your exposed breasts. There was a hunger in his eyes that you’d never seen before, but one that only made you want him more.

He smiled boyishly. “This was quite presumptuous of you,” He let out roughly, referring to your bare chest.

“I know you, Aleksander,” You replied, as you allowed the thick Kefta to fall from your shoulders until your torso was utterly exposed.

“Yes, you do,” He said, before plunging his lips onto yours once more. You noticed the difference now, as if he was craving so much more, and didn’t know how to grab as much of you as he could. His fingers swiped down to your trousers before long, toying with your waistband.

But this time, you pulled away quickly. You looked at him with a smug expression, flicking your eyes over his clothed body. “I don’t think that’s fair,” You said playfully, as your fingers moved to the buckles of his uniform.

You’d seen Aleksander bare just once, when you’d both jumped into the lake those months ago. You’d been thinking of that day ever since, imagining the time you’d get to be the reason for him undressing in front of you.

He mimicked your smile, but instead of helping, he simply raised his arms. Like the body of Christ on the cross, he smiled and waited for you to undress him. You let out a scoff, jumping off of the table to kiss him playfully, as your fingers pried apart all of the buckles on his jacket and dropped it to the floor.

Aleksander toyed with you when you got to his shirt, nipping at your earlobe and neck while you tried desperately to undo the buttons.

“You’re terrible at this,” He whispered in your ear.

“You’re terrible at standing still,” You replied, giving him another peck while you tried to avoid his playful teasing. You undid another button and moved onto the next.

“I don’t want to stand still,” He said. “I want to carry you to my room and lay you down,” His words made your entire body shiver. Arousal crept up through your gut to your chest, causing your heart to almost explode beneath your ribs.

“You can do that after I’ve touched every inch of you,” You said, amused, but Aleksander let out a guttural moan. He stopped playing suddenly, as he abruptly wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you from the floor. You wrapped your legs around his hips instinctively.

“I’ve run out of patience,” He muttered, as he carried you to the adjoining room of his chambers. You’d never been in Aleksander’s bedroom before, but it was just as you expected. A dark wood, four poster-bed in the centre of the large room, dotted with matching furniture.

He dropped you to the bed and wasted no time as he went for your waistband once more. You protested playfully, scrambling to keep undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“No fair!” You yelled, but it was obvious you weren’t really complaining. Aleksander tugged down your trousers, pulling you abruptly as he loomed over you. His arms were by each side of your head, your body encased in his shadow as he towered above you, boxing you in from all angles.

He stopped then, as his eyes ate you up. All bare skin and soft curves and subtle goosebumps—his. He looked at you like he’d imagined this moment often, like it littered his mind when he tried to focus and only left him frustrated by his own desires.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get more beautiful,” He whispered. You swiped your fingers over the last button, undoing it finally and tugging the shirt off of his shoulders. Your fingers skimmed over his chest softly, until you reached his heart. You placed your palm flat against his skin, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

“Your heart is racing,” You said, feeling his incessant beat. It only made your own speed up even faster, mimicking his own pulse.

“You know why,” He replied, and as he did, he dipped his head down, pressing his lips against yours strongly. You inhaled him fully, wrapping your legs around his hips and bringing him down on top of you.

He pulled away, coiling his arm around your head until his fingers were combing through your hair.

“It’s because of you,” He breathed out. “I’m only focused on you,”

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Thanks for reading! See you next time!

[shycoconutt]

I Found My Light: Chapter 3 (Kakashi x Reader)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

A/n: Sorry for the delay! Wasn't sure where I wanted to go with this but it came to me in the shower (as all good ideas do). Hope you enjoy it! This story is far from over.

Summary: You attend the group training session where, to your dismay, Kakashi is in attendance.

Word Count: 1800

Warnings: fem!reader, SFW (but won't be in future chapters), violence, angst

Fanart!: Please check out this fanart inspired by this fic by the talented @szamasza <3

If this training session goes like any other typical training session, you are in for a long one. Training usually begins around mid-day and lasts several hours until everyone feels like they’re on the brink of death. Then, when face down in the dirt, Asuma tries to convince everyone to head to the bar on the main street that gives discounts to shinobi. After a few minutes of resounding I’m-too-tireds and maybe-next-times, everyone gives in and spends the remainder of the night into the next morning crammed in a booth getting absolutely sloshed.

This night was like any other night, except not because your anxiety was at an all-time high.

Kakashi showed up about an hour into training, aloof as ever. You were deep in your spar with Genma when you saw him out of the corner of your eye. Genma must have noticed your distraction, as he didn’t hesitate to spit his senbon at you with full force. Luckily you were refocused in less than a second and caught it between your fingers.

“Nice try, buddy,” you teased him, “It’s going to take more than that to throw me off.”

Genma raised his eyebrow at you. “I don’t know, (y/n), you seemed a little distracted,” he teased.

And just like that, you were back at each other’s throats.

Kakashi ended up finding a spot sparing Gai. Typical of him, as usually Gai is the only one who can keep up ability-wise. Although, Kakashi hasn’t seen how much you’ve grown and a part of you is hoping you’ll get a chance at him. You still have yet to use your chakra sword-whip, your most brutal weapon, in front of your fellow shinobi. It’s remained in its sheath strapped across your back, waiting to be used against the most brutal opponent.

“Alright, alright,” Genma pants, curled up on the ground holding his left side where you just landed a forceful kick, “Please show me some mercy, (y/n).”

“Only if you admit that I’m a better shinobi than you in every way,” you say smugly, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Yes, you are a better shinobi than me in every way. You're stealthy, quick, strong, intelligent, adaptable, beautiful, and, most of all, kind. Which is why you’ll give me my senbon back.” He pleas, still laying on the ground with his hand out to you.

“Mmm, fine,” you tease, pulling the senbon from your hair where you used it to hold it in a bun. “It does make a great hair accessory though. I think I might have to get one for myself.” You help Gemma back up to his feet and stick the metal needle back into his mouth.

He gives you a smirk, still grasping onto your hand. “You should see my collection. I have at least two hundred of these,” he boasts, taking the senbon out of his mouth to twirl it in his fingers. “I‘ll make sure to pick one out for you.”

“I would be honored.” You smile warmly, squeezing his hand.

At this moment you could sense a set of eyes staring at you from the other side of the training field. Well, one eye, you should say, as Kakashi is staring directly at you while he holds Gai in a headlock. His expression is unreadable as his eyes flicker from you to Genma and then back to you. You could swear that you saw his shoulders drop a bit before he brought his attention back to Gai who is currently struggling to breathe in his grasp.

“Ka-ka-shi-ple-ase-le-t-me-go-” Gai gasps, holding onto Kakashi’s arms currently wrapped around his neck. Kakashi’s eyes widen when his attention is brought back to his opponent and he immediately releases Gai from his grasp. With a thud, Gai drops to the floor and sucks in one big breath.

“Are you trying to kill him?!” Kurenai yells as she runs to tend to Gai who is sitting on the ground rubbing his neck. Everyone else on the field stops what they’re doing when they notice the commotion and circle around Gai wondering what happened.

“I’m sorry-” Kakashi starts, hands back in his pockets still staring at Gai wide-eyed.

“Apologies are unnecessary my rival!” Gai cuts in, still gasping for air. “Flashes of my youth came to me as I was falling out of consciousness. It reminded me how much there is to live for. I thank you for the near-death experience, Kakashi!” Gai quickly recovers and stands up, dusting the dirt from his green jumpsuit. “You win this round, but I wouldn’t get used to it!” Gai challenges, holding out a hand for Kakashi to shake.

“Yeah, sure Gai.” Kakashi agrees sheepishly, accepting Gai’s hand.

“Damn, Kakashi.” Genma starts, a smug smile pulling at his mouth. “The Anbu made you a pretty ruthless fighter, huh? I didn’t realize friend-killer Kakashi applied to us too.”

You could hear everyone in the circle try to hold in their gasps after registering Genma’s statement. Kakashi’s whole body stiffened and you could see the appearance of a grimace form under his mask. He is visibly uncomfortable. Yet, instead of looking at Genma who just addressed him, he is looking at you.

You suck in a breath, feeling terrible for Kakashi. Rumors spread, nicknames are formed, it’s all a part of being a shinobi. But “friend-killer Kakashi” is on a whole other level of petty.

That jerk.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Genma?” You turn to him and yell. “What makes you think you can say shit like that?”

“Oh c’mon!” Genma retorts. “We were all thinking it! This is the first time he’s been back training with us since the Anbu. You’ve heard what people have said about him. I’m surprised one of us isn’t already dead!”

This time no one was able to hold in their reactions as gasps escaped everyone in the circle.

You are fuming.

“Actually, Genma, the only one you should be worried about killing you is me because I am a second away from shoving that stupid senbon down your throat.” You take a step forward, challenging him.

“Hey, hey,” Genma retreats, taking a step back with his hands up in defense. “I was just trying to look out for us, for you especially. I mean out of all of us, you should be the most concerned. You know, with the whole situation that happened with Ri-”

You close the gap between you and Genma in seconds, grabbing the collar of his vest, you yank the senbon from his mouth and hold it against his throat.

“If you finish that sentence it will be the last words you ever speak.” You threaten. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea the details of what Kakashi has been through. What Rin went through. What I went through. It isn’t your place to speak about a situation you know nothing of. So do us all a favor and shut up.” You let go of his vest and shove him back a couple steps.

“Wow, damn, okay, sorry.” Genma apologizes, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I was just joking around. There’s no need to be so serious about it, (y/n).”

“My hand went through Rin’s heart,” Kakashi speaks up from his silence. “There’s nothing to joke about.”

Hearing Kakashi speak this hard truth sends a sharp pain through your heart, and you instinctively grasp onto the part of your shirt lying over your chest.

You turn and look back at Kakashi, who meets your eyes.

Pain.

So much pain.

You turn to step towards him, but he’s already retreating from the circle.

“I think that’s it for me today guys. I’ll catch you around another time.” Kakashi says as he turns away from the group giving you one last glance. Heading towards the forest, he reaches around to his pouch and pulls out his Icha Icha novel, bringing it in front of him to pick up where he left off.

After a few silent beats, Asuma claps his hands together to bring attention to him.

“So,” he starts, “drinks anyone?”

Everyone immediately becomes more relaxed now that the focus has shifted. You, on the other hand, are feeling so tense that you start to hear ringing in your ears. You get that Asuma is just trying to relieve the tension in the group, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he’s trying to move on from what just happened so quickly.

Kurenai meets your gaze and can read your annoyance. She gives you a pleading look that says drop it for now, (y/n).

Everyone in the circle, including Genma, give a resounding “yes” and head in the opposite direction of Kakashi back towards the village. You're left alone standing in the middle of the grounds as they make their way out.

“(Y/n), are you coming?” Kurenai calls out to you.

You contemplate for a second and begin to wave her off.

“I think I’m going to stay here for a minute. You guys go on ahead, I’ll meet up with you later,” you reply. Honestly, you have no intention of getting back together with them, as any place where Genma is hanging out is the last place you want to be.

“Okay,” Asuma shouts back at you, “we will be at that one bar on main.”

“As always.” you joke back, trying to sound light-hearted.

Once they are out of sight you turn to look back at the trees that Kakashi exited through. You have absolutely no idea where he could be headed to or how fast he could be traveling through the trees. It might be a waste of time to head out after him. After all, if Kakashi doesn’t want to be found, you have no chance of finding him.

Feeling slightly defeated, you plop down to the ground and sit criss-cross in the dirt. You sit up straight and put both of your hands palm-up on each knee. Taking a deep breath in, you feel the breeze rustle through your hair. Taking a deep breath out, you hear the sound of the trees flowing in the wind.

If he wants to talk, he will come to me. In the meantime, I will meditate.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s dark out.

Damn, how many hours have passed?

You close your eyes.

More time passes.

The next time you open your eyes, Kakashi is sitting a few feet across from you mirroring your position.

His eyes are open.

As if your thoughts are mirroring each other as well, you both speak in unison.

“I’m sorry.”

[softcallofdutyimagines]

The crew with their soulmate headcannons

Ok, to make it up to y'all for the angst yesterday, here's a response to the death by broken heart post 😌

This one goes out to @smokeywhalee since I've had her crying for the past like three posts 💀💀😂 I also snuck in a little something to the Weaver one for @direwolfspostsrandomshit and I specifically 😌💅🏻

No warnings, just a very long post and lots of fluff lol

Adler

You two met when he was still young, before he even joined the CIA

Back when he was a goofy, carefree kid who didn't know better

You've been with him through so much by now, that he knows he can always count on you when something's bothering him

There's no one he trusts more in the whole world

Adler knew you were the one around the time he got his scars

He thought for sure you'd leave him, thinking he looked like some kind of monster with half his face bandaged and bloodied like it is

But when he came home from the hospital, you were so overjoyed to see him again, it's like the bandages weren't even there

You kissed his face and helped him clean and dress the stitches and cuts everyday until they healed

With you there to give him all that affection, he's never let his scars make him feel any less then handsome

Of course, it doesn't hurt that you remind him often

Even now, he never tires of you kissing his scars

Hudson

You and Hudson met in college, back when he was a shy, nerdy outcast

It's not like you were exactly popular, but you at least had some social circles to run in

He never thought someone like you would even look twice at someone like him, but...

He's been wrong before

One day you decided to give him a chance, maybe just see what his story is, and you've never looked back since

Hudson's life path calls for the utmost secrecy for nearly everything, and you've lost contact with a handful of people because of it

But you've never complained

If anything, you consider it their loss for losing you

That's how Hudson knew you were the one

You have an undefeatable, never give up attitude and can find the silver lining in just about everything you put your mind to

And of course... You indulge him in his love of head rubs

It's you and his best kept secret of all

Lazar

You've known each other since you were just kids

For him, it was puppy love at first sight, and he was crushing hard before he knew it

But... He was always insecure about his weight, being a bit chunky as a kid and all

He was afraid of rejection because of it

A shame really, since you would've loved him no matter what

But as fate would have it, you stayed friends all the way up until highschool where sports had him shedding weight like crazy

All the fluctuation has left him with stretch marks, some loose skin, and a belly pouch, but luckily growing up gave him enough confidence to make up for it

He asked you to the senior dance your last year of highschool, and later that night you shared your first kiss behind the bleachers outside

You were his first kiss ever

Lazar always knew you were the one

You've been his closest friend and biggest supporter since you were kids on a playground

He just wanted to make himself feel worthy of you first

No one else makes him feel as comfortable in his skin as you do, and only you are allowed the special honor of touching his body

A gift you exercise frequently when you cuddle him at night

Mason

Alex didn't meet you until after Vietnam and the whole... brainwashing business

After trying and trying for years only to end up with an ever growing list of failed relationships, he just assumed he was too damaged to love

Besides, he's getting a bit older now... Maybe he's just not meant to find someone

Or so he thinks

He meets you randomly in public, on an ordinary day in an ordinary place

You two happen to hit a conversation and it just keeps going and going...

Until finally you exchange numbers and begin seeing each other more frequently

And that's when Alex knows you're the one, he can just... feel it deep down

But it isn't until one, vulnerable night, when he tells you about his past and the war and.... Well, everything, that he knows for sure

With so much fear being pushed about the Russian threat and all that, he thought for sure the knowledge that he's been a brainwashed sleeper agent once would scare you away

It was a shock for sure, but... You aren't afraid of him, in fact, you feel sympathetic for his plight of anything

Alex doesn't need your sympathy, mind, but he is thankful for the empathy

That's all he wants, really

That, and someone who'll hold him through the nightmares at night

Looks like he lucked out there too :)

Park

She met you as a fellow agent through MI6

Things were purely professional for a looooong time

But she must admit though, you're quite charismatic, cunning, and frankly?

Adorable

Helen's not quite sure when the joking, friendly flirting turned serious but...

She's glad for it

You ask her out on a date first and things go well

More then well

She doesn't kiss and tell, but let's just say... She knows you're the one

You always have her back on the field and off

You're her closest friend and confident

She's breaking the rules by cluing you in on the goings on with the hunt for perseus and all, but there's no one here she trusts more for feedback and brainstorming

But it's probably a good thing you're not in the safehouse, considering you almost killed someone after the skyhook debacle

She rolls her eyes at your fussing, but you swear to never let her go again

And you know what? Park may not show it, but she loves how much you care for her

Perseus

He met you back in the ussr, when he still looked like his picture

You two grew close in your service to the government, and you were one of the first people he trusted to try and recruit for his operation

When you didn't even hesitate to say yes, that's when he knew you were the one

You've already proven yourself and impressed him with your wit and integrity in your service to the ussr

In fact, few have ever stood out to him in such a way as you have

All he needed to know was if you trusted him and truly believed in a better future

Many are jelous to see you running around with the exceptionally handsome man, but perseus was never one to get hung up on looks

However, he's glad you enjoy his appearance as much as you do his mind

Together, you raise hell for the capitalists, bringing a true biting edge to the cold war threat

In return for your loyalty, he does all he can to keep you a secret, both as his lover and his accomplice

If anything happened to you like what happened to Bell...

He would take the fight to your captors himself

And they wouldn't stand a chance...

Weaver

He met you through working in Requiem

You're one of the strike team operators, but you spend a fair amount of time talking with the consultants and himself back at base

Weaver finds you a little intimidating, but in a good kind of way

Sort of how he use to be back in the day

When he realizes he may or may not have a little thing for you, he suddenly becomes very shy

He's afraid to try and make a move on you because surely rejection would be the only outcome?

After all, he's way too far past his prime by now, missing an eye and slowly letting himself fall out of shape

It's a mess

So why haven't you just moved on from him yet...?

Doctor Grey seems strangely invested in this little one sided romance, so with a bit of help, he manages to ask you out for coffee

The last thing he expected was for you to say yes

It's not until the day that you almost don't make it back to base that he realizes how very much you mean to him

Weaver stays with you as frequently as he can while you recover and can often be found cuddling you in your med bay bed (bc why the hell not?) or at home

He has to pull back a little on visiting you in the med bay however

He's starting to get teased for how much he loves all the head pets, jaw scratches, and tummy rubs you give him while you're bored and resting

Carver has now begun addressing him as "Fido" with no end in sight

Woods

He meets you out at the marine base he spends all his time at

It was one of the many occasions that he was doing target practice at the range, and he today he's caught you watching him

At first he honestly didn't think much of it, but of course he took the opportunity to show off a little

He succeeded in managing to lure you over with his skills, where you came to stroke his ego a bit

For that, he offers to show you some pointers and before either of you know it, target practice together becomes a regular occurance

From there, anything more social is up to you to initiate

He's a bit taken aback when you invite him out to do something off base sometime, but... He accepts

Once out of his element, he's like a whole other person

You're surprised to find that he's a lot more shy and little more warm towards you

You find it adorable

That starts the slippery path to how he knows you're the one

You're the only person he truly feels like he can be himself with

Everyone else expects the hardened sargent, and while that is still him...

He never feels like he has an opportunity to share his softer side

You can never complain about being cold or lonely with him around

Frank loves nothing more then cuddling with you whenever and wherever he can

Not only is it just, well, nice, to have the human contact, but it makes him feel like he gets to protect you

And nothing makes him happier then to see you safe :)

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter One

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate. 

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 1 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Trope: ‘Enemies to Lovers’; mainly angst, mutual pining, fluff, and eventual smut

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 4000+

A/N: Ooo, let’s hope this does numbers! I love myself some ‘enemies to lovers’ tropes. It’s been a while since I’ve written Steve fanfics. :)

~

Wakanda, 2018, 4:04 pm.

     The flash of bright white light temporarily blinded you, sending you back to the ground and cupping your face in self-defense. But as quickly as the initial crack, it was over. Eerily silent and loud at the same time. The birds whistled their same tune, some higher-pitched than others. The wind seemed to blow louder, rustling the leaves from the trees and landing all around you and your teammates. 

“Thor?”

You lifted your head at the sound of Steve’s voice and checked if the coast was clear. All that remained of the evil was a new blood-stained hammer - a hammer that Thor was watching intensely, as if the answer lay hidden there. It was the only remnant left and your mind was already wondering how to use it to bring that evil back to finish a fair fight. 

“Where’d he go?”

The birds stopped singing. 

“Steve?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of Bucky’s confused voice, watching as one of your best friends dropped his gun and looked up at Steve as his hands began to disappear. In a matter of seconds, Bucky - or what became of him - fell to the dirt below. No one spoke, and you watched as Steve tried to control his breathing as he took a knee to place his shaking hand over his best friend’s ashes. A life and mind brought out of the darkness to finally amend those knots he had twisted, now ceasing to exist. In the distance you could hear Okoye shout in turmoil and Rocket begin begging. 

“What’s happening?” you finally choked out, turning just in time to see Wanda lift her head to the sky, defeated and out of will, and succumb to the same fate. “No!”

You ran and fell beside Vision’s now gray and decaying body, reaching over and palming through Wanda’s ashes. You rubbed them between your fingers, inspecting them, and brought your hand to your chest. The pit of your stomach churned as you sat there, immobile and numb. 

“Sam!”

So many names were being called but soon everyone who remained fell silent. The trees were still guiding the wind, leaves falling into the ashes of your friends, a sign of a new and unwanted chapter. You felt Steve drop beside you, turning Vision around to see the damage to his body. You winced when you saw the gaping hole in his forehead. 

“What is this? What’s happening?”

Natasha ran to where you were seated, hand over her stomach as if she was ready to vomit. And once she took one look at Vision, that’s exactly what she did. 

You removed your hands from your chest to look at them, the ashes still there and practically mocking you into finally believing this as reality. “Did we just lose?”

Steve was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. He simply looked up at the trees, watching the way the sunlight still burst through with no disruption. “Oh god.”

You caught Steve as he tipped his upper body toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding onto something real. He had to believe you were real. Anyone. And you were the closest person to him. You shut your eyes and held him, running your hands through his hair, wincing when you realized Wanda’s ashes were now on him.

You held him tight, praying to any God you chose to believe in at that moment, that Steve wouldn’t disappear too. 

Unknown Location, 2025, 1:07 pm.

     The air was incredibly musty, as if each person who struggled for breath in this room at one point or another left a piece of their soul floating in search of last minute penance for their sins. And the man in front of you was no different, choking on the purple blood that dripped down his neck and onto his now unbuttoned, white dress shirt. His chest was rising and falling, his breathing becoming less labored with each blink of the eye. His hands were tied behind his back and to the chair he sat on, a flickering light in the corner of the dark, concrete room somehow mocking this man’s last remaining seconds of life. 

“I’m not an evil person,” you started, kicking one of the legs of the chair to startle the poor man. But your guilt was minimal - it’s not like you wanted to do this - but knowing this man did exactly what everyone said he did, hands red and dripping with young blood, you selfishly took pleasure knowing this man would look at you when he died. “It’s just my job as third in command.”

You gave the man a small smile as you bent down to his level, head hanging in shame, slow breaths now pausing in between each intake. You looked to the other party in the room, handing them the gun in your holster, and walked out the room as the sound of two gunshots rang out. 

Left twist. Sting. Breathe. 

You washed away any smell from that godforsaken room, giving extra attention to the roots of your hair and under your fingertips. 

Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

The crack of your neck frightened even you, and you stood under the burning shower for a few more minutes before deciding the sting was enough. You changed into the most comfortable sweats you owned, surprisingly calm for such a gruesome morning you had, and took your time with your skin care routine. 

Circle. Wash. Dry.

Soft music played in the overhead speakers, the classical sounds vibrating from one wall to another and surrounding you with something tranquil - something still. There was nothing to expect from such a sound, only the next repeated chorus, no words or drops - just tranquility. You could barely hear yourself breathe but you were at peace - or mostly - and ready to sooth your growing headache behind the eyeballs with more than just music. You slipped on a pair of comfy, forest green socks and bent them at the ankle to achieve an even fluffier look. You applied your favorite perfume, lotioned up your hands, and donned your tacky friendship bracelet. 

One for you. One for Bucky. One for Peter. And one for Wanda. 

You hummed the whole way to the common room, waving at the morning staff as they fixed lightbulbs, covered holes in the walls, and swept the floors. One muffin and a cup of coffee later, you were resting with your head in Wanda’s lap as she filled your thoughts with your chosen sceneries.

      “I can make you see anything you have already seen, so yes.”

“A miniature golf course, Peter’s high school graduation, a field of all kinds of flowers, and Natasha.”

Wanda stilled her floating hand, smile faltering for a moment before she nodded. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”

     They were images well-drawn out, slow and steady to make the atmosphere similar to when you were actually there. They seemed to float across your vision, comfortable in their positions and radiating the same warmth you had felt the first time around. A moving picture. Wanda really had excellent control of this. 

     “I won!” Sam leapt into the air, pointing at a disgruntled Bucky, who stepped off to the side to not throw Sam over his own head. “I won!”

“How is it possible for you to get a hole-in-one each fucking turn?” Bucky groaned, moping in Wanda’s shoulder as she held him and struggled to keep herself standing from her own intense laughs. 

“I think we got a cheater on the loose,” Steve grinned, pointing at the ring Sam was trying to discreetly tuck back into his pocket. A friendly gift from T’Challa, no doubt. 

“Nuh-uh, give me the fucking proof, Wilson!” Bucky roared, wrapping his arm around Sam’s neck and tugging him forward. “I will not admit defeat if there was foul play involved!”

Sam escaped the hold, climbing onto the rock located to the side of the flag and a sign that read ‘do not climb on rocks’. 

“It just helped me calculate all things geometry, Barnes. We’re good.”

Bucky looked as if he was going to leap on him again, but before he could even finish that thought, Sam slipped on the wet surface and plummeted into the rushing little river. 

Laughter erupted and did not cease until you were escorted out of the fairgrounds by four security guards. 

     A flick of Wanda’s wrist and a new memory began forming, colors blending like an oil painting, dried and covered with a glossy varnish, ready to hang. 

     “Don’t trip on your way up, kid.”

Peter swatted Steve in the side as the super soldier left the room, leaving Peter alone in front of the full-length mirror. He adjusted his tie and tried to lay that pesky dangling strand of hair over the top of his head.

You got up from the couch and made your way over, wrapping your arms around Peter and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do great. We’re all so proud.”

“It’s just high school…”

You frowned and turned him to face you. “No, you should already be in your second year of college. This is seven years in the making. We are all so proud.”

Peter could feel the slight burn at the corner of his eyes but he swallowed it down, giving you a small smile and a hug. 

“And can you trip? Don’t you stick to all surfaces?”

Peter scoffed and pushed you away, his tiny smile never faltering.

     You could feel Wanda shift her legs underneath you, searching for the most comfortable position as she continued her work. You sighed, already feeling the therapeutic effects. 

     “They’re all so pretty!” you yelled cheerfully, running through the field with your arms extended to the sky. Bucky and Steve followed close behind, leaning down every so often to pluck the flower of their choosing and adding to the bouquet in their hand. 

“Which did Tony prefer?” Steve asked, snapping you from your pollen-filled, ecstatic state. 

“Aesthetic beauty, Rogers! Natasha was a sucker for anything pink and sunflowers.”

Bucky nodded, seeming to take that information into consideration as he plucked the yellow and pink flowers only. Steve chose the most healthy looking flowers, his hand struggling to hold them together as he reached the two dozen mark. 

“I think we’re good. These are good.”

You smiled at both super soldiers and admired their bouquets, leaning over to sniff their masterpieces. “Awesome.”

     Wanda sighed as she neared your last vision, debating on showing you your chosen moment instead of another one. This moment always hurt Wanda as she wasn’t there to witness it, but it was special to you. There were so many others to choose from, but you insisted this was the one you always wanted to see. And Wanda was always hesitant at first - but when she lifted her hand slowly and dropped the memory back into the front of your brain, she couldn’t help but smile. 

     “Are we ready?”

Everyone was practically bouncing on their heels, both excited and terrified. Time travel was new to humanity and you were to be one of the first to experience such a thrill. You were going to get everyone back. 

You squeezed Natasha’s hand once more before you walked back over to Thor and Rocket. You all nodded to each other, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck’ with your childlike expressions. 

“See you in a minute,” Natasha grinned, her cheeks reddening with a friendly blush as she looked over at Steve. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, a braid you had helped her make, and she was carrying an extra pair of socks in case of a long hike. 

Then a blast of color surrounded your body and the smell of peaches as you landed on Asgard filled your overstimulated senses. 

     You opened your eyes and smiled up at Wanda. You didn’t want to see old memories with your friend, but the most recent. It was like you were grasping onto that last memory of her, not wanting to change anything about her last smile, her last laugh, her last shred of existence. It was oddly calming, and so you hoped Wanda would understand. 

You thanked her again and proceeded to the kitchen. It was bigger than the one before, the soft forest green color of the walls a nice contrast from the blue ones before. You laughed to yourself and your conscience as you silently thanked the explosion that obliterated the horrid blue walls, quickly backtracking at your dumb thoughts. Still, you chose to joke about everything that happened before to avoid falling deeper into yourself. The kettle started howling, smoke circling around the tip. You poured your tea, dropped two cubes of sugar in, and added a little milk. 

It was quite bizarre how quickly you could bounce back from the morning you had. A very bloody, order-filled morning. When one order was given, you had to come up with a plan on how to not disregard the other. You had to listen to Fury and your father, gaining a few feet on each side without toppling the other. Still, it took a physical toll on you. But with Wanda’s help in easing your mind and the very sweet tea you nursed, your emotional baggage was pretty minimal. It sometimes scared you how easy it all was. 

Your morning carried on quietly as you sat on the concrete curb, happily sipping your tea in your sweatpants. You could hear Sam and Scott arguing about something a few feet away from you and Bucky taking his afternoon jog around the track. Quite distracted, the sudden ‘thwip’ and superhero landing of a certain teenager scared you enough to spill a little of your tea. 

“Goddamn, dude!” you whined, looking up at Peter as he tried to control his laughter. 

 “I’m sorry, I thought you saw me!”

“Excuse me for being distracted by the hot super soldier just over there,” you joked, pointing over at Bucky. 

Peter rolled his eyes and sat next to you, immediately reaching over to take the tea from you and take a sip himself. You let him, as you had no other choice, rolling your eyes anyway. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had classes today?”

Peter handed back your cup, “Nah, I’ve only got classes every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Ugh, that sounds great. I remember I scheduled my classes for every day of the week just to have more units,” you sighed, taking another sip of tea. 

 “Stupid.”

You pushed Peter’s shoulder playfully, both your laughter catching the attention of Sam and Scott. But as quickly as you had distracted them, they ignored you and went back to bickering. 

“I’m just here to see my friends, sue me!”

“Nope, you’re always welcome,” you smiled, holding out your wrist and bumping your bracelet with his. “How was your week otherwise?”

“Eh, nothing major. Just trying to navigate the world now that they know who's behind the mask.”

You gave Peter a look of sympathy, still mad at the sudden manipulation of the kid after such traumatic events. You had promised him you would protect him by any means possible, as did the rest of the team, but he seemed to be navigating the situation just fine. Staying away from reporters, scheduling his classes during the most isolated gaps of the day, and signing dozens of forms that promised to protect him, give him royalties, etc. After you had brought everyone back, it seemed the least the new management/orders could provide for you all. 

“We all have our days,” you muttered, handing your tea back to Peter. You two sat there for a while longer, enjoying the slight breeze and taste of sugar. 

An agent rounded the corner and spotted you, jogging up and handing you a yellow folder that was sealed in plastic. “For you, from Fury, from whoever before that.”

“Um, thank you?” you said as the agent walked away. You inspected the folder, turning it over in your hands and playing with the thin plastic. 

You lifted it up to Peter’s face, “Here, smell it and tell me if there’s poison.”

Peter scoffed, “I can’t do that!”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Peter muttered to himself as he took the folder from you, sniffing it awkwardly. “Smells like paper, dude.”

“Cool, thanks.” 

You ripped the plastic off and unhooked the folder, dropping the single item onto your lap. Peter just sipped your tea and watched you open it. 

It was another envelope, but this one was white with custom-printed indents that swirled across the front and a big, red blob of wax smushed- with your initials- sealing it. You ripped it open and pulled the invitation from inside. You must have read it a thousand times, eyes rapidly scanning the small page with secret meanings. 

“You got invited to a wedding?” Peter asked, taking it from you and reading it himself. 

“Yeah, but this is so much more than that,” you said, snatching it back and standing up from the curb. You quickly went back into the compound, searching for the one person who needed to read it also.

You seemed to find everyone before you found the super soldier who wasn’t out for a jog, a line of somewhat concerned superheroes following behind you from room to room. Eager minds and yet, inflexible rib cages full of anxiety and worry, all ready (and quite not) to tackle the new evils of this new world. And whether they followed you blindly or with functioning minds, they were prepared. 

With the rest of the team behind you, you burst through the second floor with the invitation held over your head. Steve stopped mid-bite, milk dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at everyone in confusion. “Um…”

“It’s time-” you started, pulling the stool from next to him and sitting down. 

“Time for what?” Steve interrupted, his mouth still full of cereal.

“Time for this,” you motioned to the envelope you were handing him. “-to finally end.”

Steve read the invitation word for word, the wrinkles in his forehead becoming deeper as his mind worked. You couldn’t quite discern the feeling in the pit of your stomach, twisting and spinning into a tight coil, seeming to spread to the others as it grew in pressure within you. 

“All three?”

“All three,” you confirmed. 

Peter pushed through Bruce and Rhodey, “What’s happening? What’s gonna end?”

You looked over at Steve, his bowl of cereal now forgotten and soggy. 

His eyes were distant and rather cold, hands extended on his knees as if he was drying the accumulating sweat, shoulders building tension. 

“Steve, we can finally end this. We have to tell everyone. It won’t be enough if it’s just you and me.”

He wanted to explode, in both anger and anguish, to stumble over his intact persona and leave it behind - someone he hasn’t known for a long time. It ate away at him each day since Fury notified him of your selfish choice, burrowing into his now tarnished soul in the most sadistic way. But the prospect of finishing this chapter - a chapter that was unexpectedly halted when half the world disappeared - was considerably euphoric. A chance to move on. 

“Okay.”

Rhodey already had knowledge of your background, recruitment, and family but Steve’s initial involvement - the start of it - was still a mystery. You sat everyone down in the living room, making room for the others who arrived later, and clapped your hands together. “Story time!”

Steve groaned, face already pressed against a throw pillow. “Just tell them.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“You know whose spawn I’m from,” you began, snickers from your amused friends encouraging you. “To better transport their product, they sent me over to the states to attend college like the good little girl they think I am.”

Sam cracked open a beer and lifted his legs up onto the couch, sitting back with a massive smile on his face as he got comfortable for your story. He handed another beer to Scott. 

“Wait, product?” Scott asked, taking a sip from his drink. 

You smirked at him and tapped your nose twice, amused by his ‘O’ reaction. “Anyway, by then I already knew that I wanted out of the game. I didn’t like that life, I didn’t like the violence, I didn’t like my family.”

Steve knew that was an understatement, a cruel and restrained statement from your part, and he wanted to tell everyone just how justified you were in your words, how real you were being, and how much help you would certainly need for this. But like always, he remained silent. 

“But Fury got to me before I could leave. So, we made a deal. I would train as a field agent and he would promote me every other year to lessen suspicion on this whole ordeal. The deal being I would play both teams.”

By now, your whole team was intrigued. 

“I would do what I could for my father and still have my family’s trust, while feeding the information to SHIELD and our lovely star-spangled man over here,” you pointed over at Steve. He gave you a tiny but forced smile. 

“But after the collapse of SHIELD, my father only became more violent, more hard-headed, more suspicious. He- uh-” you stuttered, flashbacks suddenly filling your head. Wanda watched your eyes dart rapidly, sensing the rush of blood to your legs and tips of your fingers.

“He was power hungry,” Wanda said, immediately feeling your heart rate lower. Although you never actually said it, she could tell you were grateful for her intrusion. 

“Yeah, exactly,” you cleared your throat. “But Steve’s involvement all started when Fury asked me who would be the best front - the most reliable front.”

“So, with only Fury and the bad guys knowing - Y/N named me as her partner in crime,” Steve explained, head hanging low as if it was such a disgrace to do what you openly did. You knew his troubles with coming to terms with such an offensive role were multiplying daily, but you were now this close to stopping  every bad force involved. 

 “So, Captain America is the ultimate drug smuggler,” Scott spoke, somehow trying to comprehend the information all at once. You and Steve both nodded in confirmation and avoided the wide and questioning eyes looking back at you. 

“Yeah, he’s essentially the top boss.”

“Y/N-,” Steve interjected, but you beat him to  it. 

“And here we are! Him and I both invited to the wedding.”

Wanda stretched out her words, “The wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding - where three of the most famous and powerful drug lords south of the border will be attending and ready for our taking - including my father.”

Steve stood from his seat, posture straightening as he spoke to the group. “The invitation reads like a threat. No cameras, no plus-ones besides those listed specifically on the card, no speaking to reporters before or after. The trust Y/N has gained would unknowingly make us the contraband of the party.”

After going through more specifics about the whole situation, Bucky finally raised the question eating away at his mind this whole time. “Whose wedding is it, anyway?”

You grinned that stupid little grin Steve always prepared himself for. It was the grin you would display whenever you were going to make a serious matter a joke, or brush something serious off your shoulder as if it didn’t bother you. The sarcastic grin he always wanted to wipe off your face as you defied orders. 

“My lovely little sister’s.”

Rhodey stepped forward to take the invitation for personal inspection, “When is it?”

“A week from tomorrow,” you beamed. “Which means I got to get shopping for a wonderful little, red number!”

“Please, be more excited about this,” Steve groaned, sarcasm dripping off each syllable. 

You flicked your right hand up and in position to flash your charming little middle finger at him, a river of fluffed ego and delight flowing to your cheeks as he huffed and left the room in a stumbled march.

“So…” Scott’s voice ripped through the awkward silence. “We’ve been secret drug smugglers this whole time?”

~

Please let me know what you think! I listened “The Archer” by Taylor Swift and I was like... yes, I see this, lmao. Tell me if you would like to be tagged in later updates! xxMoni

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz brekker x reader In The Rain

A/N: So this is going to be interesting... So because Kaz has some problems with touching people I thought I would make the reader suffer as well... The reader in this story has problems with skin contact as well and was abused as a kid so beware! Also this was also posted on my wattpad account you can find me on wattpad @ kk123huff!

Warnings: Bad writing, CHILDHOOD ABUSE, HARASSMENT, language, HAPHEPHOBIA, SEXUAL ABUSE, THE MENAGERIE, THE READER THINKS OF HERSELF AS NOT GOOD ENOUGH YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL IN EVERY WAY FOLKS! Some angst then some fluff near the end. You have been warned!

Summary: The crows are on a mission (Matthias is alive) and the crows don't know you very well (well expect for Kaz you and him have known each for years and he's technically your boyfriend but the other crows have no idea!!!) It's a dangerous mission (well when is it not hehe.) And Kaz is going to die but you save him! Let's see what will be revealed to the rest of the crows because of this dilemma. The reader also can turn into a creature like; wings come out of her back claws produce and she gets horns and a tail, and Fangs. She has a healing factor, kinda like Spiderman's, and she can touch people and they can die, and she basically has a mix between Alina's powers and the Darklings powers that I call moonlight magic. All her senses are amped up and same with her strength, agility, speed the whole shebang. Cheesy I know. But anyways onward and enjoy!

(All rights go to Leigh Bardugo and You I just own the plot!)

Reader p.o.v.

Running in the rain sucks. Especially when your running from the Blacktips. Especially when there are Blacktips chasing you and another group of people named the Hunters. Especially when those people were hired by Tante Helen. So to start off today I was going on a mission with Kaz and his crow friends, to officially end the Blacktips and whip them out  completely. Then to give the mission a good start none of the crows (besides Kaz) were trusting me at all. And I didn't expect them to but when I mean trust I mean like mission level of trust so they would at least trust my capability or at least trust Kaz. But they absolutely did not!    

Which is fine, because why would they trust a monster? Not that they know I'm one (again besides Kaz.)

So when we went to ambush their leader (the Blacktip's) there was no one there.

Well Kaz's entire plan just about went up in flames in those couple moments.

So we scope the area a bit till this guy jumps me and holds a knife to my throat.

Fantastic. This day is just perfect.

Being held right up against a man that's not Kaz with a history in the menagerie may off set me a tinsy bit. Screw you guy. Then it was fine though because I hit a spot on his neck to make his hand go numb so he drop the dagger and with his knife I killed him. Slit throat of course.

The irony that comes with living.

Then at least 33 men because apparently the Blacktips are sexist come into the abandoned warehouse. Kaz turned to us gave us a nod and we ran. While we're running for our lives these guys (there's about 8 of them) which call themselves the Hunters as they yelled what they wanted at us and came pouncing towards me. And of course they wanted to kill me.

So life is just amazing right now, and running in the rain sucks. Screw the rain saint/god because I'm going to tear their eyeball out if I meant them in death.

I run around a corner with the rest of the crows following because I can run inhumanly fast (well not really just faster then the average human.) Then I run into a weird sort of field thing that was close the the warehouse so we can fight and know where everyone is because their is a lot of people who want to kill me and Kaz. Great.

You could just let your other side out and this could be done in minutes. A voice in my head whispers.

Shut up. I think to myself. Everyone hates a monster. I think as I take a quick glance over to Kaz.

The crows and I gather ourselves together, I look to Kaz; "We could still end this, the Blacktips's leader is here." I nod my head over to the big bulky man with dirty blonde hair and redish pale skin looking for our hiding spot.

Kaz's gaze is on mine unwavering with those topaz eyes with that strike of green in them every now and then. "We could." He says

"But..." Nina says. I glance over to her quickly, but what? So I say exactly what I think.

"But what?" I snap slightly annoyed- we should be getting a move on there's 41 people to take down we have to get going.

"Those guys wanted to kill you Y/n, it's not safe for anyone here it could be potentially fatal to this job."

I shrug my shoulders uncaring, who would care if I died? Kaz might for a while. I sneak a glance at Inej. But he has her, and I know she's 100 times better than I am Kaz just needs to see that.

"Who isn't after to kill me these days? Plus a jobs a job, I die, I die, there's nothing anyone can do about that. If I'm going to die might as well do it fighting, also you don't just stop a job you keep on going regardless. It doesn't matter if I'm a casualty as long as the job got done then it's fine."

Everyone looks at me with a face of shock apparently not expecting that answer.

"So what's the plan." I snap yet again being set of guard by that damn man.

Kaz sighs knowing he can't stop me. "Okay..." He starts talking. "I know how we're going to get out of this."

_________________Mild time skip like 25mins top, and your just about to start the plan____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sorry that was weird, onward!

I take Kaz's hand and squeeze it slightly but let it go just as fast. Just a reminder that I needed - even if he had the gloves. He glances over to me and his face is a mix of emotion;  worry, love, anger, and some more I couldn't identify.

Love? He could never love you. The voice hissed. You will never be enough, you monster! The voice laughed. You must be going insane! I growl slightly. Quiet. Fine suit yourself to your madness you inhuman.

Kaz looks over to me and his mouth quirks up a little bit and he nods at me.

"Come on let's go show them what a murder of crows look like." I grin sadistically.

We come barging out of our hiding spot hitting them at all ends. I pull out my knives and charge towards the Hunters.

I slash my knife onto one of their arms and the man growls in pain, as I place another cut right on his thigh. He nods his head and 7 other men come to back him up. I cock my head to the side and grin.

"Well boys, it looks like it might not be a fair fight for you!" And with that I'm off. I pounce on the one beside the one I already injured and with two knives in each hand like claws coming out of my skin I slash his throat open and he drops to the ground dead.

Then 3 come at me this time while 4 come around to my back. Not a chance kiddos.

I jump really high into the air then with amazing speed come down onto 2 guys killing them on impact. Now the other five are pissed at me for killing 2 guys at once great. They circle around me, it's like their trying to Hunt a predator with their sloppy movements and mindsets mind you.

"We we're sent in here by Tante Helen to bring you to her or to at least kill you." The man smiles.

"It may be easier than we thought." Okay so you can call me whatever you want I don't care but never tell me I can't kill you. It's the only thing I seem to be good at.

I howl out into the open and I can feel the transformation already.

Dark black feathery wings spout from my back like flowers on steroids, I feel my teeth take the shape of some deadly fangs, of brown-red cat like tail comes out from under, horns warp around my head like warping paper, and majestic claws form onto my nails.

The men look at me in fear and a certain blood lust is there that wasn't before.

"You ready boys."

It's a mess of bodies and I think there's only 4 guys left, I jump on one of them tear off his head blood splattering all over me even though it probably didn't matter because there was blood all over my body at this point. I stick my claws into the other chest and he slowly falls to the floor chocking on his own blood.

Then I see it.

It's obviously another man but the difference here is that he has a gun trained on Kaz while he's occupied with the other boy.

And he's pulling the trigger.

Without so much as a second thought my wings lift up and take flight and with a boost of moonlight magic I fly right into Kaz causing him to slip and kill the other man.

Oh and I got shot.

Blood sputters from my chest and I fall to the ground. Kaz whips towards me and yells; "Y/n!"

Or least I think he did everything is a bit hazy right now. I feel myself transform back into my normal human form. And Kaz cradles me in his arms and I realize with a first he doesn't have his gloves on. He commands something to Jesper about killing the last man and something to Nina and Inej about finding healers.

"It's going to be okay Y/n stay with me damn it!" But it sounded slow and hazy - it must be that damn rain. Suddenly I gasp in realization. I could use my moonlight magic to heal myself. In my excitement I accidentally kissed Kaz.

We haven't kissed before think that neither of us we're ready but by the saints, I never wanted to stop.

His lips we're gentle and soft against mine, they shifted with mine as if we were meant to fit together. It was all the stars in the universe coming down on us, it was binding us yet it was destroying everything around. Beautiful destruction.  

Oh and I healed myself while this happened.

We pulled away running out of air and because Kaz thought I was still dying.

"Moonlight magic it helped me heal some of the way, my healing factor will do the rest." I manage to say with Kaz so close to me.  He raises his eyebrow, then Kaz fucking Brekker gives me a full on relived smile.

Then in that moment we realized we had an audience.

Fuck this shit.

Kaz picks me up (what the fuck) but I'm secretly glad because I don't think I could even stand up right now. The crows faces are just priceless I giggle a little and right now it doesn't even matter to me that I showed them the monster, Kaz trusts them so I should take that leap. Plus Kaz and I just toke a big step in our relationship I couldn't be happier.

"Meet my girlfriend."

Their faces transform into surprised and even more shock, but a little bit of pride too. And I smile because for the first time in years the voices in my head are speechless.

So that's that I guess. I honestly suck at writing for Kaz and there may be a part 2! We will see... 🤪

2014 Words

-thedelusionreaderbitch

[crystalirises]

FundXD au thrid part? Maybe the final confrontation between Dreamxd and George? imagine George offering to take Fundy's place, but XD teases him because he obviously only loves Fundy now (before Mumza saves the day!! or whatever you had planned if you already had something in mind).

Not me accidentally posting it separately. But anyway, here's the third part! I'm sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy this.

But yeah anyway, please do take heed of the trigger warnings. This is probably now what I consider the darkest and the most uncomfortable one-shot I've written. Like in terms of themes, yeah I am just: oh wow I wrote this huh...

So yes, please do heed the warnings and do not read it if any of the the warnings make you uncomfortable.

TW: Forced Relationships, Forced Kissing, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Captivity, Implied Harm, and A Lot of Dark Implications

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/84740365

“A radiant day for a wedding, do you not think so, my fox?” If only the mattress could swallow him whole. He buried his face on the silken sheets, pressing the pillow to the top of his head, wondering if he could suffocate himself if he tried really hard enough. “Beloved? You’re quiet.”

He rolled his eyes, holding back the urge to scream.

After a moment, he felt the twist of vines against his ankle, gently pulling him away from underneath the covers. Fundy let himself be dragged, having learned the hard way that clawing at the bed to keep himself from getting dragged was a bad idea. He shuddered at the bad memory.

“My darling star, don’t you agree that today is a splendid day for our wedding?”

No, he did not agree. There was no day where he’d ever even consider marrying the god.

“I don’t feel well. Can we move the wedding?”

“Do not lie.” The room turned colder, the chill of ice piercing through his skin that he nearly buckled underneath the pain. Then in just a second, the cold was gone. He was still in his their bedroom, the sunshine filtering in through the glass-stained windows, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of color. XD was holding him by the elbow, their spherical head never faltering in its cheery smile, if one can call it a smile. The god pulled him into their embrace, holding him with such warmth that Fundy wanted to cry. They shouldn’t be so comforting. “You are well.”

“Ya…” Fundy felt like throwing up, “...well…”

For a god who had lived as long as the world, XD was not as patient as Fundy had hoped. It had only been a week, but the god had given up on Fundy’s flimsy excuses. Fundy had used every excuse that he knew: headaches, fevers, coughs, even “fainting” that one time XD had actually gotten him to stand on the altar. They had grown tired of waiting. Fundy turned his head towards one corner of the room, their wedding outfits only seemed to mock him. He shivered within the god’s hot touch, XD didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, but they noticed the way he was staring at those, arguably, beautiful outfits. XD led him towards them, holding him by the arms.

“I could change your suit if you wish, anything for you, my fox.” Fundy paled, refusing to look at the suit now that it was in front of him. It was in a beautiful hue of orange pastel, decorated with a pastel green flower pinned to its chest. XD had chosen to wear a dress for the wedding, and if Fundy wasn’t being held there against his will, he might have even blushed at the thought of the god in a dress… walking down the aisle. It was a mostly white dress which faded into a pastel green in the middle and into a forest green at the bottom. “You could wear a dress if yo—”

“No.” Fundy already loathed the suit, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to wear a dress. At least XD didn’t mind, though - and Fundy knew it was stupid to feel - he found it somewhat adorable that XD wanted to wear a dress. The wedding dress suited them, even if Fundy didn’t want to marry them. The god hummed behind him, a low sound that had no lyrical or musical tone to it whatsoever, before picking him up. He shrieked, holding tightly to the god’s shoulders.

“My dear fox, the wedding will be divine, it shall take place the hour between day and night.” Fundy had a few hours of freedom. Then… He clenched his hands, angered that he no longer had his claws to tear into the god’s skin. “The wedding venue has not changed from the last time we tried to marry, but, sweet fox, would you wish for any new changes? What do you wish for?”

His only wish was to go home.

The god leaned down and Fundy knew what was to come. He closed his eyes, letting the god do what they wanted. Maybe he should have heeded his papa’s advice. Maybe he shouldn’t have befriended the god who seemed too kind to be true. Maybe he should have stayed at home and lived a normal life instead of searching for… he didn’t even know anymore. But he knew he missed his home, he missed his dads. He missed the normal life in their little cabin in the fields.

Once the god leaned away from the kiss, Fundy let out a sigh. “I want cake.”

---

“Wil, I love you, but now is the time for your ritualistic shenanigans.”

George tapped his foot on the muddy ground, placing his head in his hands as Wilbur ignored him for the tenth time. Wilbur had refused to say what his secret was, in favor of showing what his secret was. If George had known that said secret would involve Wilbur drawing intricate symbols in the mud, George would have gone deeper into the forest on his own instead.

After a few more seconds of agonizing silence and waiting, Wilbur finally stepped back, gesturing for George to come near him. He raised a brow, choosing to stand beside Wilbur despite the nagging voice in his head telling him to leave and go look for their son. George took in the symbol that Wilbur had drawn. He’d traced a circle in the mud, and within the complex lines, George could make out five symbols. The lines merged to showcase a woman. In her right hand, she held a blade. In her left, there were musical notes and discs emerging from her palm.

At the bottom of the symbol, the lines converged to create a pair of angel wings.

“Wil, is now the time to show me that you can draw—” He cut himself off once Wilbur started to chant under his breath. He stepped back, doubt racing through his mind. George had never been interested in magic, being more talented in redstone and engineering, but he feared those who excelled in the practice. Magic meant gods, and gods meant double-edged deals. “Wilbur…”

The symbol began to glow a light gray hue, the smell of metal and death tainting the air. His fear doubled, but he didn’t try to run off. Nervous as he was, he trusted Wilbur, his dear husband.

A splash of cold landed on his cheek, he brushed it away, but then a downpour of rain began to fall around them. The ground turned muddier, nearly grasping onto their legs. George looked up, furrowing his brows at the sight of sunlight. It was raining despite the warm sun rays that were filtering in through the trees. The intricate symbol wasn’t affected by the sudden storm, its glow intensifying underneath the torrent of water. George didn’t know why, but he felt sick. A sickness that wasn’t nausea, it was worse. Like someone had taken a sharp pickaxe and started to chip away at his heart. He held a hand to his chest, grasping for Wilbur’s arm with the other.

Wilbur’s chanting had grown louder despite the rain, almost like he was fighting against the noise. The light gray glow had taken over the entire drawing, the lines scorched away by its brilliance. Then the world began to shake, and for a moment, George could hear screaming.

He slipped once the earth started to sink. Wilbur pulled him up just as the ground gave way, the symbol had caved in, going deeper and deeper until he could see bright red. He shuddered, but Wilbur held him close. He had half a mind to throw his husband an irritated glare. If his husband would stop with the theatrics for a moment and actually tell George what his secret was, then maybe he wouldn’t be second-guessing everything that's happening right now. He glanced back down at the hole. Wilbur had just opened a gateway to the underworld. Despite the red lights of the underworld, the chasm let out a chilling cold that seeped deep into George’s skin and soul.

“You’re a hellspawn, is that the secret? If so, it was not much of a secret I already knew that, Mr. Soot.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek. Once Wil had left George on stable ground, he watched as his husband walked close to the chasm. Wilbur reached down a hand. George wondered if Wilbur was asking to get kidnapped. “Wilbur, the dead can’t help us.”

“You’re correct. Zombies are pretty shit at… everything. Skeletons… perhaps.”

George took a breath through clenched teeth. He knew Wilbur was worried about Fundy too, but he couldn’t afford to waste anymore time with Wilbur and his shenanigans. XD had taken their son, a wish god had taken their son and George knew the god would refuse to let Fundy go.

“Wilbur, please. We need to find Fundy. XD would do anything they could to keep our son from ever leaving them, we have to go.” He pleaded, but Wilbur was too busy looking into the chasm.

George loudly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The rain continued to pour around them, and if he didn’t hurry, he’d lose his way down the forest path due to the mud that was beginning to drown everything in its path. He turned to leave, but then a voice broke through the silence.

“A sunshower…? Did you forget to tell your own mum that you're getting married, Wilbur?”

---

Fundy flitted about the room, pressing his hands against his ears as the rain continued to pour outside. He didn’t know why XD had thought it would be romantic to marry one another while a storm threatened to destroy the land, but the constant tapping of the rain on the ground was beginning to grate on his ears. Despite the heavy rain, he hated the warm sunlight even more.

Why couldn’t the weather just be either gloomy or happy? It was a mockery of his life.

He glanced down at his suit, fixing the green flower so it wouldn’t fall off by accident. He didn’t know what XD would do if anything were to ruin their “special day.” He huffed, pressing his head against the glass window. He could see the neverending forest from there. XD had insisted that they live on one of the highest trees in the forest. They wanted to give Fundy a good view.

When XD had first shown him their abode, Fundy had been ecstatic to see the entire forest. He collapsed on a nearby chair, putting his head in his hands. Now everything felt like a big joke.

It was so wonderful before, but he saw through the roses, and now knew their thorns.

He looked back up, worried for a moment that XD would be standing in front of him, ready to whisk him away to the altar. There was a shift of movement at the right side of the forest, perhaps XD reimagining the wedding venue now that the rain had completely ruined the god’s chosen outdoor setting. He took momentary pleasure at the thought of the weather going against the god’s wishes. No, today was not a radiant day for a wedding. But Fundy knew that a “little” storm wouldn’t stop the god. They were too excited, too eager to get the ceremony over with.

Fundy winced, maybe his constant escape attempts had been the cause of that rush. It had only been a week since the god had taken him captive and kept him in their domain, but Fundy had spent every day trying to find a way to escape. He’d given up after the fifth escape… after… Fundy pulled his knees close to his chest. He didn’t want to think about it. But he had to. He had to keep a reminder in his mind about how much he loathed the god and what they’d done to him.

The first attempt wasn’t even an attempt, it was him screaming until XD forced him to sleep.

The second attempt had begun the moment the god had gone into stasis, or the godly equivalent of what was sleep. The god’s hands were wrapped around Fundy, keeping him close to their chest, but Fundy had managed to sneak away after hours of slowly moving. He’d gotten to the door of the bedroom, unlocking it with a bobby pin that he’d found in one of the drawers. He’d gotten down the tree by the time XD realized he was gone. They’d teleported him back to the bedroom, vines growing against the surface of the door, effectively keeping him locked inside.

The third attempt was Fundy painstakingly cutting through the clump of vines after XD had left him to prepare for their wedding. He’d gotten through half of them by the time the god had come back. They’d been disappointed in Fundy, sad that he hadn’t even gotten dressed in his wedding suit yet. Then in a blink of an eye, the vines had grown back, with even more thorns than before. Then XD had whisked him away to the wedding venue, where Fundy then pretended to faint.

The fourth attempt was Fundy getting so frustrated that he took a chair and threw it at one of the windows. The glass shattered on impact, and he’d quickly tried to squeeze through the space, not caring for the shards that pierced his skin. XD had not taken that escape attempt all too lightly.

The fifth and last attempt… he’d convinced XD to give him some sand and gunpowder.

The god had been furious, even more so than what they’d been after the fourth escape attempt. Fundy had nearly killed himself in the process and had even attacked XD out of anguished rage.

Well… XD made sure Fundy could never attack them again.

Fundy sniffed, wiping at his tears. He didn’t want to be crying at his own wedding.

---

It was odd to have a wedding without a wedding officiator. Fundy kept his gaze on his hands, his fingers trembling each time XD traced his knuckles with their thumb. He could feel his throat dry up, his head heavy with nausea that he thought he was actually going to faint and fall over.

“Do I take Fundy Lore-Soot as my lawfully wedded husband?” XD paused, “I do.”

Fundy found it ridiculous. XD had taken up the mantle of wedding officiator, and if Fundy didn’t know any better, he would think that he was part of some comedic play or some big cosmic joke.

“And do you, Fundy Lore-Soot, take the god of wishes, XD, as your lawfully wedded spouse?”

Fundy gritted his teeth, he could feel the god’s magic in his throat. He could barely breathe a few seconds ago, but now it felt like he needed to speak like his life depended on it. “I do. I do. I do.”

He trembled, uncontrolled anger racing through his veins. It was torture to say ‘I do’ once, but the god forced him to say it three times, like Fundy was as desperate as them to get married. XD pulled him close, their gaze hot against his skin. He wished he would melt, that he could melt against the god’s touch and be swallowed by the grass. Anything that could set him free.

“Then by the power vested in me as the god of wishes, I now pronounce us married for eternity.”

The god leaned close, “I may now kiss the groom.” Fundy tried to move back, but the god had formed one more pair of hands. One hand held his hands, curled gently around his wrists. One hand was cupping him by the waist. One hand was on his chin, pulling his face up and towards them. The last hand was at the back of his head, pushing him forward and keeping his head in place. He closed his eyes, losing himself in his mind, refusing to accept what was happening. He focused on the life he’d lost, and his dads who would no doubt why he never came back to them.

After what felt like a lifetime, the god finally let him go.

Well, they didn’t. But they’d stopped kissing him in favor of picking him up.

XD laid him down on the altar.

Fundy blinked, holding onto one of XD’s hands out of fear. The god chuckled at the “endearing” display. “H-hey… the wedding’s over, ya? Time to head home, right? W-what are you doing?”

“The ceremony is not yet over, my star.” XD tilted their head, “You are still mortal.”

Any thread of cooperation they had established broke with that proclamation. Fundy screamed, pushing himself away from the altar just as a series of golden chains rose up from its sides. They wrapped around his arms and his legs, pulling him back down on the altar’s marble surface. He wailed, tears slipping past his eyes. He thought he’d only endure it for this lifetime, that the god would have no choice but to give him up to death at some point in the future. XD watched his struggle, summoning an intricate dagger. “Don’t worry, my sweet fox, I shall make it painless.”

“I OBJECT!”

---

George pushed past the leaven doors, not caring that the action caused the whole entrance way to collapse to a flimsy pile of autumn leaves. He stood at the end of the wedding venue, drenched from the rain. His heart beated loudly in his chest, his ears ringing as he made his way down the aisle. Wilbur was still by the entrance. George had told him to wait before he actually entered.

“Papa—” Fundy’s scream was cut off with a hand, the god having swiveled around to face whoever had dared to ruin their perfect day. George kept walking down the aisle, anger racing through his bones. His son looked so frightened. He clearly didn’t want to be marrying the god.

“Let him go, XD.”

“Why ever shall I do such a thing, my dearest friend, Georgenotfound? I have no intention of ever letting my newly wedded husband leave me. My old friend, I believe you are a few seconds too late. Fundy and I are married.” He heard Fundy scream out a protest, muffled by the hand that the god had left. George could see the tears on their son’s face, and his gaze turned towards the dagger that the god was carrying. He took the chance to look behind him, catching Wilbur’s pale gaze. His husband was looking at the dagger. “Leave before I cast you out. You are tresp—”

“I’ll take his place.”

The only sound that could be heard was Fundy’s fit of screaming. Wilbur was silent. XD had merely tilted their head, the god’s cold gaze meeting George’s eyes, piercing right through the goggles that he wore. He swallowed down the sickness he felt at the thought of marrying the go. XD had been his best friend once, and George had never thought of them in any other way. But the god had taken his friendship as romantic affection. “Fundy doesn’t love you.” The god reeled back, the ‘XD’ carved symbol on their head disappearing, only to return as golden chains that surrounded their white spherical head. “You and I know he doesn’t love you, and neither did I.”

George shook his head, “But I am willing to stay with you if you let him go.”

He met his son’s eyes, holding Fundy’s gaze for as long as he could. He worried it might be the last time they’d ever see each other again… if it went wrong… George shook his head. It won’t go wrong. He turned back to the god, the chains still present. “We could pretend like nothing has changed. I could stay here with you for all of eternity. We could be friends again, you and I. It must have been lonely when I left. You were never really great with making friends with others. We could try again. Just you and me, stuck in this forest forever. Like how it used to be. I won’t run away anymore. I won’t leave you ever again. Let Fundy go, and I’ll stay with you forever.”

The god was silent. For a moment, George thought they would agree. Then the ground disappeared from underneath him and a large hand was painfully gripping him by the leg. “No.”

Sharp cold pierced through his leg. The god glared down at him, “You are nothing to me.”

XD looked over at Fundy, “He… He is everything to me now.”

George placed his arms over his head, preparing himself for the fall. He heard the loud screech, and then his leg was free. He closed his eyes, but instead of hard earth, he fell into a pair of warm arms. He opened his eyes, embarrassingly laughing once he’d realized that Wilbur had caught him. His husband placed him back down, looking at his leg with worry when George stumbled. It wasn’t broken, but XD’s sharp cold magic would keep him from properly walking for a while.

Wilbur helped him away from the angered god. George looked up, watching as the hand that was previously holding him rotted away. XD screeched, turning to them, their golden chains glowing with a blinding light. A scythe appeared within view, striking the wish god right on their face.

The Goddess of Death entered the wedding venue, a disappointed look in her eyes.

“You should have let my grandson go, God of Wishes.”

=============================================================

Ambiguous ending but uh... I have preferred ending and it's def not the bad one.

Clarification for the title (which can't be seen here but is in the ao3 version): So a sunshower is a weather phenomenon where it is raining despite there still being sunshine. While the rain is not as heavy as a storm, I changed the rain here to be that like a rainstorm despite the sunlight that is still present. The reason for this is because where I'm from (or at least according to my mother) when a sunshower happens, that means a kapre and a white lady are getting married (or well, other Filipino mythological legends are getting married).

I just think with XD here being a somewhat monster of a god... well, poor Fundy having to marry him.

The sunshower is basically an indication here that a god is getting married, that's why Mumza asked Wilbur if he was getting married (also Wilbur is the god of music here, not all that powerful against a wish god).

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Losing you pt II: Dressed to kill

Introductory part

Pairing: Spencer x fem!reader

Category: angst.

Resume: Reader goes undercover to trick an unsub and help the team catch him but things go dramatically down hill. She regrets not listening to Reid’s advice, he helps her cope. Basically, this is what would happen if Linda Barnes was the leader of the team and you joined.

Trigger warnings: Linda Barnes slander, death, blood, injuries, trauma, weapons; a gun and a knife, medication. (please let me know if i forgot something <3)

You checked yourself in the bathroom mirror. You wore a little black dress with glimmers that suited your morphology better than anything you’ve worn before. You ran your hands on your silhouette anxious at the thought of being so close to a serial killer. The worst part is that you had to pretend you liked him so he could trap you. You felt slightly dehumanised like you ridiculously were the cheese on a mouse trap.

“Are you done, Y/n ? I’d like to see how the dress looks on you.” JJ asked knocking on the door. You unlocked the door seeing Tara and JJ stand right in front. JJ slightly gasped and Tara’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ in reaction to your sultry beauty.

“Well, Tara, if you were ever considering an alternative career stylist might be just for you.” said JJ complimenting Tara’s choice.

“Are you okay, Y/n ? You look horrified.” Tara asked concerned putting a hand on your shoulder. “Oh, I’m fine. Let’s go see the guys,” you answered stepping out between them your heels clicking on the floor. They glanced at each other shrugging exchanging a contentment frown.

Spencer was rambling without catching a breath to Luke until he slapped his shoulder when he noticed you were out and ready. Luke made his way towards you. “Well, will you look at that ? Looks like I’ve got competition on the team’s most attractive member.”

“Shut up.” you answered playfully to which he laughed putting his hands up in defeat.

Spencer stood behind but not as far as he was before when he was chatting with Morgan. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets looking at you and only as if everyone around him disappeared. He saw you before and the fact that you wore a tight dress did not change that. His stare was more of the analytical type. As you walked down the few steps you almost tripped catching yourself thanks to the rampart. You closed your eyes with a hand on your chest to calm your heart throbbing at your ribcage. Before anyone had the time to say anything you laughed it off; “Stupid heels, pretty but could kill you in a flash.”

 The team went along and laughed with you except Spencer who only furrowed his eyebrows. You did not trip because of your shoes but because you were dizzy. You hardly slept or took care of yourself before this; you were too anxious. Spencer giving you the cold shoulder did not help either. You did not understand that very well, you thought things were good between you two. It’s not like you could guess every single that ra through his head when your own was spinning already.

Once you were all in the elevator Spencer whispered in your ear “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to ?” You felt his warm breath on your neck, this closeness along with his voice made you feel fizzy inside.

“This is the only way.” you whispered back nodding your head now looking into his eyes.

You were going to meet the unsub at his favorite hunting spot; the dive bar. You were sitting aside Tara at the back of the SUV while Penelope was at your right violently typing at her laptop. At the front was Luke at the steering wheel. He pulled up by a secluded spot a few blocks away from the bar. Penelope was rarely on the field but you were glad she was. She was not only an anchor for you since the beginning, but your first true friend within the FBI. She liked to call you “kitten” or her “little protégée.” Plus she was taking care of your spying devices such as your ear piece and the mic she would hide in your dress including your GPS tracker.

Luke’s phone started ringing, he answered. After a very brief conversation he debriefed it to you three. “It was Barnes, they’re ready. Once you get out of the car, Y/n, the rest of the team is going to join us in this car to listen to your conversation enhance the unsub’s confession. Except JJ is going to be on the field undercover to update us on your every move.” You nodded to let him know you understand the instructions. “Then we’ll follow you to the location the unsub takes you to and arrest him. Tara and I will be out there in hiding in case anything happens. Got it?”

“Got it.” You said gesturing toward the door at your right. Penelope got out with you, before you left she said “Just know, we’ll be right here listening to everything but please be safe. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“Penelope, you’re not going to lose me.” You hugged her tight, “Plus you know if I died I’d haunt all of you.” You chuckled as you detached yourself squishing her hand before walking away for good.

Everything went according to plan, you gave the eye to the unsub, you perfectly fit his idea of the perfect victim. You acted naive and what if you were ? Because even though the whole time you had the worst gut feeling you still went thinking that was going to grant you validation from the leader of the team, Linda Barnes. The cold hearted one that can not trust a woman yet you trusted her, how pathetic.

The unsub took you to a dark alley but before Tara and Luke could get out of the SUV, Barnes told them to stand their ground.

“Why ?” Tara asked.

“Because I can’t risk the unsub seeing you and lose his confession or evidence.” he answered.

You started panicking, going from anxiety to a state of agony as the unsub pointed a knife at you.

“Well, can we go now ?!” asked Luke.

“We can’t take this risk just yet.”

“You know what ? I can’t risk Y/n being dead!” Spencer said rising from his seat but getting slammed back down by Linda.

“It’s okay, we’re not going to let anything happe-“ A gunshot interrupted this back and forth conversation. Everyone ran to you seeing you on the floor, blood slipping through the cracks of tar. Your shaky hands dropped the small gun right next to your boy bag purse. You tried to stand up but you couldn’t, you wished you could cry but you were too shocked, too numb to even let a whimper out. Spencer took off his windbreaker before running to you helping you up and slinging it over your shoulders with an arm around them. 

As he guided you towards the medics he bit back at Barnes, “Not going to let anything happen, right, Linda ?” He did not respond instead he looked down at the floor which would now let him forget the repercussion for his actions since it was tinted crimson. What the team was doing in your tear stained glory you were unaware nor did you care. You sat on the edge of the ambulance as Reid made sure you were taking care of properly like a polite version of a scientific Karen. He leaned in towards you, his head titled looking at your face.

“She has a scratch on her cheek, you might want to check for a concussion.” advised the genius doctor. He straightened his index finger a few inches from your face asking you to follow it with your eyes. As you did the exercise, he noticed your eyes fluttering to hold back tears. When the medic was done with cleaning and sanitizing your bloody hands and went back inside the ambulance to gather anything needed to heal your wounds and medication, Spencer sat down next to you in silence as you stared in the distance. His eyes landed on your face when saw you put your hand down drying a tear. You felt him looking at you.

“Suit yourself, you can say you told me so” you said breaking silence.

“You know, Y/n…” he started taking your hand in his, you looked back at him, “I’m really glad you’re alive.” This made you immediately sink into his side taking him by surprise, unable to hold back the tears. He leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes feeling your pain and mentally sending you his energy in hope it might heal you.

The medic walking towards the two of you, when she looked up from the container in her hands full of medical products she stopped in her tracks; “Alright, I’ll come back, uh, in a minute.”

“You should hydrate yourself,” he advised handing you a water bottle as you put your arms in the sleeve of his jacket. As you took it, he rose from his feet a hand on your shoulder as he said; “I’m going to go check in with the others, you’re in good hands.” You nodded looking up at the medic smiling at you, you managed a weakened smile back.

When Reid was back with the team, he noticed they were arguing. Linda took Reid’s presence as his opportunity to shut the other members down; “Ah Reid, how is she ?”

“She’s injured but she’s holding up,” he answered fidgeting with his hands. The team was concerned about you but did not want to circle around you, make you talk to too many people at once since that would overwhelm you. Your injuries were quite superficial, you were scarred, you were bruised but you were going to be okay…physically.

Once back at the police department, you took off Reid’s windbreaker folding it on his desk with a post it note that said “Thanks :)” You went back to your desk changing into some more comfortable shoes than the heels you wore all night. You tried to channel your thought but as you were about to get lost in the turmoil, a low male voice made you breakout of your trans.

“Y/n, may I see you in the sheriff’s office ?” You nodded hurtfully knowing things were about to heat up for you, fearing you were in trouble.

You’ve been in Barnes’ office for quite a bit of time or at least longer than usual.

“How long ?” Luke asked.

“Oh at least 10 minutes.” Garcia answered, “and he isn’t the very chatty type.” The entire team was in front of the steps that led to offices, some leaned on desks, some fidgeted in place in impatience.

“He was going to kill me, Barnes!” You screamed.

“We would’ve protected you!”

“But you didn’t!” You felt your heart sink, “you didn’t.” There was a beat too long for your own taste. As you were about to leave Linda stopped you in your tracks; “Maybe you should take the rest of the week off, take some time for yourself.” You looked back at her in disgust, shocked she had the audacity to blame it all on you. “Sure, my pleasure.” you responded almost slamming the door behind you. However, you weren’t as pleased as your pride made you claim you were.

Once you were doing your walk of shame, Garcia hugged you and handed you her favorite cat squishy toy knowing you were in distress. They all encircled around your desk as you gathered your things.

“She is making me take the week off.” you informed them.

“Yeah, we heard so.” JJ said nodding sympathetically.

“We’re with you, Y/n.” Tara said.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know.” Garcia told you moving her hands. “Snacks, blankets, a shoulder to cry on.”

“If I do I will, thank you Garcia but I think I’ll be fine.” When you were ready to leave, Spencer offered to drive you back which you decline. They all stood there watching you leave confused at how ‘fine’ you looked despite experiencing a near death experience.

[catboygretzky]

best stucky fic recs pwease

Okay, disclaimer, these are all like five+ years old (which is the best Stucky era, imo) and definitely not the only ones I enjoy; these are just a few in my bookmarks on ao3.

In no particular order besides the order I bookmarked them and under a read more because there's a shit ton of them (really, it's a lot):

- hold me until we crumble; Not Rated, 23k

“Sam told me you were watching Antiques Roadshow,” Natasha says, shaking out her hair. “I assumed it was a national emergency.”

- despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained); Explicit, 72k

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

- family means no one gets left behind or forgotten; Teen, 11k

“Why did you think I wouldn’t like you for being gay?” Steve asks gently.

“You’re Captain America.” Eli’s got his teeth clenched and is resolutely looking ahead. “You stand for truth and justice and the American way. You stand for American morals. You stand for…” he shrugs awkwardly. “Not people like me.”

Steve blows the air out of his cheeks slowly, trying to figure out how to keep the anger out of his voice so Eli doesn’t think it’s at him.

Or, Steve comes to terms with his new world, and gains some children in the process.

- Mistake on the Part of Nature; Teen, 1.3k

Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face.

"Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas."

In which an American icon is mourned. But probably not the one you're thinking of.

- Swear Jar; Teen, 1.5k

Bucky isn't the only troll in the future.

OR

Steve has a Swear Jar and he makes the Avengers pay up every time they cuss.

- Barnes & Rogers and the Goddamn Truth; Not Rated, 19k

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

- perfectly right wrong number; Teen, 32k

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

- The power of the right shirt (a.k.a. God bless America); Teen, 1.2k

"He just…" Phil trails off, mouth gaping. He is staring at the field outside the house, eyes glazed.

Clint sighs. "Yeah, he just ripped a log in two with his bare hands."

- To fill it up with something; Teen, 21k

A fateful encounter with Dr. Strange leaves the Winter Soldier transformed, and Bucky Barnes reunites with Steve Rogers in a most unexpected way.

“Steve brings the puppy inside, into the apartment that doesn't quite feel like home no matter how much he's been trying. He isn't used to being alone. Before the war, he always had Bucky, and his mother until her death. During the war, Bucky was there, too—and the rest of the Howlers, of course—but Bucky always meant home. (And well, maybe Steve's already got a name for the puppy in mind)."

- build it bigger than the sun; Teen, 10k

“Yeah, because nothing says heteronormative like living in Dupont Circle for two years and wearing skin-tight shirts to hit on hot airmen when you go running in the morning.”

“Look, I know you’re being sarcastic but I really don’t get how no one picked up on that.”

Steve and Bucky try to work out their relationship. The Avengers keep getting in the way.

- Memories Circle (Like Birds of Prey), Teen, 32k

Everything seems to be going right, Steve's fighting with his Commandos, they've saving lives-- until Steve falls from a train, is taken prisoner, and turned into the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile, Bucky takes up Steve's mantle as Captain America, and thanks to Zola's experiments, he gets dropped into a whole new time, only to cross paths with a Steve who doesn't know who he is anymore.

Essentially, the events of CA:TFA, mild mentioning of Avengers, and CA:TWS but with Steve as the Winter Soldier and Bucky as Captain America

- The Gentleness That Comes; Mature, 9k

Steve Rogers never really views the things he had to do to get by before the War with any sort of shame or embarrassment. People ask him for his opinions on modern issues in interviews, but Steve has gotten good at talking around those types of questions. Fury insists that there's no way to answer them without casting a shadow of controversy across the reputation of the Avengers, and that's the last thing Steve wants.

But then a sex tape is released featuring Tony Stark in bed with another man, and Steve can't stay quiet any longer.

- salt for the sea; Mature, 7.5k

Natasha comes home with intel regarding the fate of the Winter Soldier; Steve leaves to go and avenge Bucky Barnes.

“It's a list of everyone who was involved in his death, and a rough timeline of everything that happened beforehand,” she tells him.

“And the notebook?”

“I explained what they did,” Natasha says, “The blank pages are for you to explain what you do to them.”

- Lone Cat and Samurai; Teen, 8.4k

"We lost Kitten America sir!" Junior Agent blurted out. Then turned an unlovely shade of purple. "I mean, Captain America. Who’s a kitten. Because magic. Sir."

- Waiting To Prove You're Not Alone; Explicit, 41k

Months after he woke up on the banks of the Potomac, when a reporter mistakenly assumes Steve would disapprove of homosexuality being as accepted as it is in the modern day, Steve accidentally snaps and unleashes his real opinion on the matter... and with that, a secret he's hidden for over eighty years.

When that secret comes looking for him in New York, Steve can only hope that he can get a second chance at saving his best friend, even if it means keeping his heart in check.

“Yeah, back in my day it wasn't tolerated, and because of that I knew from the minute I figured it out, that I’d never get to tell my best friend that I loved him, and sure enough, he died without knowing that I’d been in love with him for a decade."

- I'm Not Sick (But I'm Not Well); Mature, 30k

Steve Rogers doesn’t meet Bucky Barnes in the 1930’s. Instead, Steve meets him April 17th, 2012.

Well…sort of meets him.

In actuality, Bucky had almost hit him with his truck.

Or: The fic where millennial Bucky Barnes nearly runs over a freshly thawed national treasure, and what Steve Rogers did to adjust to modern NYC during those two weeks before the events of The Avengers.

- pure as the driven slush; Explicit, 11k

He should have worked it out sooner. But then, Steve always was a sneaky little bastard—had to have been, just to survive this long.

For the SteveBucky Fest prompt, "Steve is quite experienced while Bucky's never gone beyond second base with anyone".

- Let's Be Exposed and Unprotected, Explicit, 5k

Bucky’s pretty sure he should be into getting fucked through the floor while walls explode around him like in that Mr and Mrs Smith movie that Clint loves. But he likes it like this. He likes being on his back with Steve looming above him, big and naked, blocking out the rest of the world.

- Man of Steel; Explicit, 6.7k

It’s like Steve looked at his metal arm and thought ‘Challenge Accepted.’

- 5 Times Steve Got Arrested and 1 Time They All Did; Teen, 4.9k

What it says, 5 times Steve Rogers ended up in jail (with and without Bucky) + 1 time all of the Avengers got arrested with him.

- the best of you; Teen, 16k

Bucky is on a mission when he gets the call.

They tell him that Steve has been compromised.

[The story wherein Hydra captures Steve to create a new weapon. Bucky, alongside the rest of the Avengers, come together and work through the fallout.]

- pull apart the dark; Teen, 79k

Steve's unending faith in his best friend was beginning to look less like hope and more like fantasy. When they'd caught the Soldier – in a fire fight that still gave Sam nightmares – the only thing the man seemed to recall was how to hit exactly where it hurt.

Four months later, Barnes still refused to speak English. Refused to heed anything but Steve's voice.

So, all in all, it was not a great time for Hydra to attack New York. All in all, Sam really wished they'd just killed him, instead of turning Captain America into a baby.

- Not Another Supersoldier Fantasy; Explicit, 8.9k

Bucky finds a popular sex toy modeled on Captain America's own anatomy. Well, isn't this just perfect? Because even after all this time, he still hasn’t seen Steve’s supersoldier cock. But apparently in this day and age anyone with $29.95 can get a decent replica. The unfairness of this is of galactic proportions.

- the blood of the covenant; Teen, 7.5k

Steve has a "thing" for hot water.

Or, Sam Wilson adopts Steve Rogers.

- Mighty like Love, Mighty like Sorrow; Teen, 19k

After freeing himself from the Russians' mind control, Bucky is left at loose ends, drifting through the decades. Still, he's in no hurry to take up Nick Fury's offer to once again fight the good fight -- especially not when Fury has the nerve to put some imposter in his best friend's old suit and send him out to fight against Chitauri.

- Read Me Like a Book; Gen, 1.5k

In which Bucky accidentally becomes a book collector, because when the universe gives you a million biographies about your boyfriend, you go bookcase shopping. And then he finds out about The Grenade Incident, and the boys actually talk about it like actual adults. (Somewhere, Sam sheds a proud tear.)

- the broadest stroke of color; Gen, 16k

Sarah Rogers always loved Steve's hands.

"Your hands will do a lifetime's work," she'd say. "Remember to do the work you can for those you love."

Almost a century later, Steve does just that.

[The story wherein Steve draws comics for Bucky to help him recover his memory. Through a series of events, the issues are leaked, and Steve finds himself reviving the Captain America comics. He still isn't sure how that happened.]

- If You're Loved By Someone (You're Never Rejected); Teen, 9.4k

You’re fifteen when you realize why you stare at Bucky’s lips more than normal when he laughs and when he says your name. You lean into his shoulder when you walk next to him and when you’re sick you don’t fight off his soft hands. You tease him, he teases back and being around him is so easy you forget what it was like to live without him. You can’t remember life pre-Bucky and it scares you.

- Unusual Weather; Explicit, 8.7k

Bucky’s been at the Avengers Tower for three weeks before he finally gives in to Steve’s gentle coaxing and Stark’s cheerful waving of fistfuls of circuits, and lets them scan the arm.

It doesn’t go well.

- this city bleeds its aching heart; Explicit, 35k

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

- Good Boy; Explicit, 13k

Bucky is still adjusting to life with the Avengers, and Steve is willing to do whatever it takes to make him feel comfortable. Increasingly, though, what seems to make him comfortable is strangely intimate.

Surprise, Steve! You're a gentle dom and Bucky wants to be your pretty pet!

- Brooklyn; Teen, 8.8k

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

[catchester]

Guardians of the Galaxy, Ragnarok, and Classic Loki

I was discussing Classic Loki's costume with someone online and I admit, in the small teaser, I was really disheartened.

Yes, it was a faithful copy of a classic Loki costume, but comic book costumes are ridiculous, especially older ones. And if that wasn't bad enough, his pants looked like a nappy.

I'd been mostly impressed with the mixture of drama and comedy but this outfit was just a step too far for me. I was not confident in where the series was going.

Then in the next episode, they took this walking visual joke and gave him not only a full, but a fulfilling character arc.

I admit, Classic Loki is my second favourite variant, just pipped to the post by alligator Loki.

And isn't that weird? Alligator Loki is objectively more ridiculous, not in his costume but in his whole character. He's a freaking reptile FFS! But I love him.

And that reminded me of a discussion I'd had with a Ragnarok fan who would hear no wrong said about her movie. The points i brought up with her had nothing to do with Loki, I chose the slavery

It's on Sakar

Valkyrie is a slave trader selling people into certain death because no one wins forever, but somehow a hero,

And that Odin build Asgard using slave labour.

And there's the colonialism, related to the third point.

Both of these issues went totally unaddressed in a movie that didn't even need them. They could have written it a different way and still had a good movie.

I mentioned how T'Challa went into the afterlife to berate his father and ancestors for their wrongs and promise to correct their mistakes, while Thor went to his colonising, slaver father and... asks for advice? Really? That's like showing Thor asking Robert E Lee for advice.

She of course, argued that they were making entertainment, not the colour purple or 12 years a slave. Of course that's a straw man argument, but I reminded her that Black Panther had plenty of humour, and GotG literally sends itself up all the time, and even has a goddamn dance off with the villain, yet it still made me care enough to cry about the death of a tree!

Ragnarok had me wondering why Thor tortured his brother, do heroes do that now? Thor isn't even an anti-hero, he's just straight up hero. That scene just left me cold, it wasn't funny and because it was played for laughs, I didn't empathise with Loki. I mean, he just looks constipated.

You all know how much I love Loki, I've written enough stories about him, after all, but Ragnarok Loki is just meh. I care that he was being tortured from an intellectual perspective, because it feels wrong for the hero to do that, and his betrayal of Thor cam out of left field, but I don't feel sympathy for him. I can't relate to him, I feel neither love nor hate for him, I'm just indifferent (to all the characters actually).

The only thing that rouses any emotion in me is Taika and the rage his mishandling of important issues and dismissal existing character arcs brings out in me.

Contrast this torture scene with GotG, which had me sympathising with Nebula while she was being tortured because, sure she's a bad guy, but she's also a well rounded character and her torture wasn't being played for laughs. We know she's been tortured, in one way or another, her whole life. Yes, she's bad, but I can relate to her because I understand her.

Then this Taika fan said something that was more telling than she knew, and was actually 100% correct. Taika thinks comic books are ridiculous, and he's out here making a Road Runner movie.

And it suddenly hit me, she was right.

Everything in Ragnarok is treated the same way an anvil falling on Wile.E.Coyote's head is treated. There are no consequences. There are no lessons learned. There are no character arcs. At the end of the Road Runner series neither the roadrunner or the coyote had changed in any way. They were 2 dimensional, both literally and figuratively.

Unfortunately for her argument, 30 years ago we had what is still arguably the best cartoon Batman series ever, Batman the animated series. It took it's two dimensional animated characters and gave them three dimensional personalities. 30 years later it's still hailed as brilliant.

And I think that's why Classic Loki and GotG can take utterly ridiculous characters (let's face it, all superheroes are ridiculous to some extent) but while some even acknowledge how silly their comic book heroes are, they actually take the characters, the story, and the issues raised seriously.

Yes, Classic Loki looks like a joke, but he's never viewed as one from the crew's perspective.

Alligator Loki is even more preposterous! Who even made his horns, and who puts them on for him? But while the show acknowledges how silly he is with our Loki's questioning, he's a Loki and everyone treats him as a Loki. Yes, he injects some comic relief, but the laughter is never at his expense. He's even shown to be able to hold his own in a fight.

Rocket is a talking raccoon, but he's never laughed at. In fact he's even pitied once you learn what happened to make him that way. He's ridiculous, but he's not a joke. And yes, he makes jokes about how ridiculous they all are (bunch of jackasses standing in a circle) but while a comedic character, the joke is not on him. He's a fully formed, well rounded character. We care about him.

Yes, Star Lord is an idiot at times too, but his heart is in the right place and he wants to do the right thing. So you think he's gone mad when he has a dance off with the villain, but you quickly realise he's being an idiot for a very good reason and is playing to his strengths (and using idiocy as a strength is clever). I think we also understand, because he's a fully formed character, than his humour is a defence mechanism. He plays the fool because that's the niche he's carved for himself to help him cope, but that doesn't mean he is a fool.

Ragnarok wanted to be GotG, but Taiks forgot the part about while it's ridiculous and fanciful, the characters aren't a joke.

To Taika, if it doesn't get a laugh, it's not important. The few serious or touching moments we get are as a result of the MCU bigwigs forcing changes in reshoots, or forcing Taika to stick to the script.

There are no character arcs. You could argue that Loki goes from villain to hero or anti-hero, but he's already been through that journey in Dark World. Why did he regress? Who cares, it's not funny, he's just a bad guy again, forget about the plot holes and just laugh at the guy being killed smelling like toast!

Thor turning away from his father's teachings, like T'Challa did, would have been a wonderful character arc. Seeing his dad, realising his dad was wrong that and he needs to do better, and calling on his own inner strength to protect his people. That would have been a fulfilling arc. Instead he still needs advice from his colonising, slaver father. And this is actually one of the few scenes that wasn't played for laughs. It had so much potential, yet Taika just didn't care enough to reach for it.

Ragnarok is a road runner movie where our heroes toss a series of ACME anvils and dynamite at each other and the bad guys, but like the RR cartoon, there are no consequences. Just like Wile.E, they get straight back up again and lob another anvil at someone.

Hulk has been murdering innocent slaves for quite a while now, but he doesn't care. You'd think Bruce Banner might care about what his alter ego has been up to but no, this good, gentle, introspective, intelligent and caring man doesn't give one single fuck, because it's ACME Hulk and murdering innocent slaves has as many consequences as crushing them with an ACME anvil.

And I think that's the difference. Yes, your characters can be utterly ridiculous, but the crew must take them seriously and make them fully rounded characters who face consequences. Consequences are how we learn and grow.

And if they don't take the movie or characters seriously, you end up with a 2 dimensional story that no one cares about, because you haven't given them a reason to.

I don't care why Wile.E is trying to kill RR. I don't care what his motivation is. I don't care when he gets squashed or blown up, or falls off a cliff, because he's not a character, he's a caricature.

Ragnarok is just a collection of caricatures.

[writesowhatnext]

we’re only getting older, baby // george weasley

Summary: enemies // that’s how you and george weasley started out

Request: nee

A/N: this has been in my head a while and essentially it’s a 3-part enemies-to-lovers thing and I am excited about it!!!!! And also Y/L/N is your last name which I usually skirt around but couldn’t in this :)

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: swearing, arguments

enemies // friends // lovers // epilogue

Almost immediately, you could tell there was something wrong with that bludger.

You were a beater, and a hell of a good one at that, and so you had a knack for knowing when a bludger was acting strange. It was your job, really, and you considered the one that seemed to have a death wish for Harry Potter definitely out of the ordinary. Until it broke off the end of Wood’s broomstick and sent him spiralling to the ground, you hadn’t even noticed it and whilst you had absolutely no love for the Gryffindor keeper, or Harry Potter for that matter, you knew that a bludger, especially a rogue one, could do a lot of damage.

Despite the inevitable grief you’d get from your teammates, it was obvious that Potter was probably quite important in the grand scheme of things in the wizarding world and it seemed that whilst you did really want to win the match, you were also pretty fond of being alive. And so, after a few moments of internal debate, you cursed under your breath and set off after Potter, your bat at the ready.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Slytherin beater, is… following Harry Potter?” Lee Jordan shouted over the speakers, garnering a healthy level of confusion from the crowd.

When the bludger came at him, certain to knock him off his broom if you did nothing, you huffed and adjusted the bat in your grip. With a grunt, you smacked it away, sending it spiralling across the other side of the field.

“What- what are you doing?” Potter stuttered; his eyes wide as he looked at you. They turned into saucers when he looked to your right and without thinking, you surged your broom forward and turned, the bludger striking your bat so hard the vibration reverberated right down your wrist.

“No need to thank me, Potter,” you said dryly, looking around for a blur of black in the sky. “Bludger’s enchanted; if you were smart, you’d get out of the sky.”

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Flint and Pucey sandwich one of the Gryffindor chasers, angling her into the Hufflepuff stand. You rolled your eyes at them, already vaguely irritated at the presence of your own morals, their cheating only adding further insult to injury. You couldn’t deny your annoyance that every Slytherin success was surmounted to pure cheating and they did nothing to help the case.

Turning around to reprimand Potter, you groaned when you saw him disappear into the stands followed by a flash of green and white. The bludger soared after both him and Malfoy and you ground your teeth together, reluctantly flying over.

“As Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy search for the snitch, they are followed into the stands by a bludger!” Lee Jordan’s voice rang out. “And Y/N Y/L/N?”

Loud, echoing boos filled the air as you grasped your broom, trying to listen to the sound of beams being broken by the weight of the iron ball. You rolled your eyes, barely stopping in time as the dark object whooshed in front of you, the force of it blowing a gust of wind through your quidditch robes.

As it curved in the air, preparing to circle back into the stands and no doubt maim Harry Potter, you prepared yourself. With your shoulders set back and palms gripping both your broom and bat tightly, you inhaled, watching it gather momentum. Absentmindedly, you contemplated how far Potter would fly if it hit him. Then, with a hefty swing, you sent the bludger over the top of the stands, so far that it disappeared for a few moments in the mist. The sound of your bat cracking down the middle was a horrible one, the wood pinching your palms as you grimaced. You slowied your broom down to a stop and hoped they’d give you a replacement. That is, if you were even allowed on the team anymore, after this stunt.

You only remembered why you’d cared so much about the bludger in the first place when both Potter and Malfoy rocketed out of the stands with their arms outstretched in efforts to reach the snitch you were far too far away to see. A chuckle left your lips as Malfoy hit the ground, rolling over twice before lying still, clutching his side. Potter, however, was a different story and when he tumbled to the ground, your mood soured as in his opened palm, was a shining golden glint that could only be the snitch. Applause and cheers rang out through the stadium along with Lee Jordan’s incessant shouting and you huffed, your shoulders sagging as you lowered your broom to the ground. You’d never hear the end of this, you thought crossly, knowing Flint would more than likely bar you from the team.

Strolling casually over, you didn’t even blink as the bludger soared back from where you’d hit it, never wavering from its desire to pulverise Potter. It exploded in the sky just above him as you dragged your broom across the field, only mildly interested in the swarms of people invading the pitch. You were halfway between Malfoy and Potter when you slowed to a halt, standing your broom up and watching carefully as crowds surrounded them both.

“Oi, Y/L/N!” Flint called; his anger palpable. You clicked your jaw and twisted your head to face him, clutching the handle of your broom tighter at the look on his face.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“The bludger was-“

“I don’t give a shit! Why weren’t you paying attention to the game?”

“Me?” you said indignantly and probably far too loudly. “I was the only one that bloody noticed that bludger going after Potter.”

“That was fine by us,” he said, shrugging. “With Potter out the way, we’d win the match easily.”

“You’re such a fucking troll, Flint,” you snapped. He lunged at you, only for you to slam your hands into his chest, pushing him back.

“Don’t forget whose side you’re on, Y/L/N,” his breathing was ragged as he got close to your face. “Helping Potter’s done you no favours.”

“Helping?” someone called from behind you. “She wasn’t bloody helping anybody!”

You turned around to see the Gryffindor team collecting behind you, the Weasley twins looking decidedly angry as they glowered at you.

“She was firing bludgers at Harry the whole bloody game,” George said gruffly.

You grumbled, tilting your head to the side, already done with the whole debacle.

“He’s lucky he’s alive!” Fred added, scowling. “What, with her stalking him the whole time!”

“Oh really?” you asked, turning to the twins, the air turning tense. “Where were you idiots, then? He’s on your bloody team, isn’t he?”

“Hey!” George leant forward, his fist clenching at his side. “That’s not-“

“That was blatant cheating,” Wood interrupted, his voice stern.

“Remind me, Wood; isn’t hitting the bludger at the other team the beater’s job?” Flint asked, though judging by the dirty look he sent you, you were inclined to believe that his intention wasn’t to stick up for you.

“This is different, Flint. That bludger-“

“Was enchanted!” you said, throwing your arms up, only to catch the eye of George, who seemed more irked than ever.

“So that’s your excuse, is it? Bloody enchanted, eh?”

“Have you ever seen a bludger behave like that, you moron?” you countered, leaning closer to him, itching to just punch him in the jaw.

“Typical Slytherin,” he muttered, his red brows drawn together. “Cheats, the lot of you.”

You started forward, beyond prepared to start a fight when Professor McGonagall stepped between you, fixing her glare first on you before turning it to George.

“I think we have more pressing matters to deal with,” she said pointedly. “Don’t you?”

You stepped backwards, still simmering with anger as you looked at Weasley, who also appeared barely able to control himself.

“Like restoring Mr Potter’s bones, perhaps?” she stared icily at Wood for a moment. “Or maybe Mr Malfoy’s ribs?”

Her stare trailed back to you and her lips twitched and if it hadn’t been for Malfoy’s overly-dramatic groan, you thought she’d probably have never looked away. With a miffed huff, you turned on your heel and stormed off, muttering under your breath.

You didn’t see George Weasley again until Professor Lockhart’s stupid duelling club. You were peeved enough that you had to be taught by a glorified mannequin, but having to navigate around all the spiders that kept cropping up everywhere was slowly pushing you over the edge. George Weasley was just the icing on the cake.

“You know, Fred,” he started, a teasing grin on his lips. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Y/N was the Heir of Slytherin.”

You rolled your eyes, purposefully stepping backwards to grind your heel into his foot. You were rewarded with a little yelp, but you stiffened when you felt him come closer behind you.

“Careful, George,” Fred said, the smile in his voice evident. “You could get yourself petrified.”

You scoffed, turning around sharply, surprised to see George’s face so close to your own.

“Oh, yes, Weasley!” you whispered rather loudly. “You’ve cracked the bloody case; I just go around petrifying people for the fun of it! Brilliant detectives, you prats are.”

They mocked your words, wobbling their heads from side to side as you whipped back to face Lockhart, suitably aggravated as you crossed your arms over your chest. A Hufflepuff from one of the lower years turned around to shush you and in turn, received the full brunt of your anger as you tutted loudly.

“Oh, piss off, Finch-Fletchley.”

Your mood only soured further when George snorted behind you.

Why George Weasley pissed you off so much you couldn’t say. Your head-butting was indisputably his fault with his catty remarks and stupid pranks and all just because you were a Slytherin. It would’ve been a lie, though, to say that you didn’t return the favour. Justifiably, though, you thought. Ever since your first year, it had always been the same; you and Weasley at each other’s throats, somewhat enjoying having somebody to hate, somewhat enjoying the rush of arguing with someone. Thankfully, though, you didn’t have to think about him a lot; you were rarely in the same classes and when you could, you just ignored him for the sake of your own wellbeing.

When you saw Harry Potter and the youngest Weasley boy, Ron, in the corridor, though, spying on the teachers as they examined one of the messages that had been sprouting up all over the castle, you couldn’t help but think of George. His little sister was missing and despite every insult you’d thrown his way, you felt bad for him. You knew that you should’ve reported them for being in the corridors when they shouldn’t have been, but you watched Ron’s expression go from upset to desolate as his eyes settled on you and with a quick decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret, you turned away. They whispered to each other as you walked in the opposite direction, confused as to why you acted as if you hadn’t even seen them.

You did, in the end, regret your kind gesture, and any other you’d done in the past, when George stormed into Slytherin common room, barrelling past the charms and stopping short right in front of you, panting like a stampeding rhinoceros. You clenched your jaw, standing up so that you were chest to chest.

“Was it you?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

You narrowed your eyes, fully aware of the dozens of ears eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Was what me?” you said slowly, trying to contain your anger. He really didn’t have a clue, did he? He never did.

“Oh, you know what,” he spat, joined by his brother Fred. You rolled your eyes, knowing that if everyone wasn’t already staring at you, they sure were now. “My sister.”

You bit back every retort you wanted to spout and instead leant forward, poking at his chest with your finger.

“Weasley,” you said, your voice level, but rippling with barely concealed irritation. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Yeah, well, you would say that- what?” he stopped, visibly taken aback.

“I heard about your sister,” you said, dropping your hand and looking at his chest. “I’m sorry she was taken. I didn’t do it.”

Fred, along with the rest of the common room, watched your jaw clench before you exhaled. The toll attempting to be civil to George Weasley was taking on your composure was obvious.

George opened and closed his mouth like a fish and, had you seen, you would’ve mocked him, but you didn’t notice. Your just lifted your chin as you sat down, turning back to your book and pretending that you could concentrate on the words with your heart thumping so loudly in your ears. You didn’t look up until he fled the room, his twin hot on his tail.

After that altercation, you didn’t see much of the twins. The castle seemed to somehow go back to normal, the petrified students reanimated again and the blood washed off of the walls like it was never there. Potter smiled at you in the corridors sometimes as well and though you didn’t mean for it, he always noticed the slight curl of your lips in response.

That particular day, you were lurking near the doorway of the Great Hall, waiting for the house-elves to bring out food for you to take on the train home.

As you dug dirt out from under your fingernails, you watched Granger walk past looking a lot less lifeless than the last time you saw her. She stopped in front of you, her smile faltering slightly under your stare, your eyebrow raised in question.

“I see you’re up and moving again, Granger,” you said offhandedly, hoping she would actually do something other than stare. “Can I help you with something?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at you before she just shook her head, scuttling off to where Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting at the Gryffindor table. You rolled your eyes at her as someone clearing their throat next to you drew your attention. You grimaced at the sight of Fred and George.

“Uh,” George said, his face alone enough to flare your irritation. “Harry told me that the bludger at the start of the year was enchanted by a house-elf.”

You stared at him passively for as long as you could before your anger bubbled over.

“So, you blamed me for the work of a bloody house-elf? Oh, right, yes, cheers, George,” you said sharply, watching Fred scurry away, leaving you facing his brother alone.

“Well-“ George said indignantly before you cut him off, leaning closer.

“And let’s not forget that you also blamed me for what You-Know-Who did in the ‘chamber of secrets’-“

“Right, I’m trying to say sorry here,” he said plainly, scowling.

“You what?” you asked, rather breathless after your little rant.

“I’m trying to say that I’m sorry for being such a git,” he said, the air thick as he waited for any semblance of a reaction on your face. “And to say thanks, you know... for not telling on Harry and Ron.”

George expected many things when you opened your mouth then: shouting, insults, a punch perhaps, maybe even a hex. What he did not expect, was rationality and fairness.

“Alright,” you nodded, your expression still hard.

“Alright?”

“Yes, fine, I accept your apology.”

“What?” he said, the stupidly confused look on his face stoking your rage again.

“Are you thick? I said I’m accepting your apology.”

“I didn’t expect you to accept.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to calm yourself down.

“Well, you don’t know a lot about me, Weasley,” you said, your voice surprisingly soft and almost religiously guarded.

He relaxed a little, strangely curious all of a sudden.

“I suppose I don’t…” he said, a wary grin pulling at his cheeks. “Maybe we could be friends?”

In fairness, he’d said it more to judge your reaction than anything; to test the waters between you.

You stared at his outstretched hand with a deadpan look.

“Don’t push it.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

@peachesandpinks​

@yuptha-tsme​

@obsessedwithrandomthings​

@dreamer821​

@iprobablyshipit91​

@in-slytherin-we-trust​        

@haphazardhufflepuff​

@princesof-theuniverse​

@whovianayesha​

@ickle-ronniekins​ 

@harrysweasleys​ 

[huayno]

from neon genesis evangelion, vol. 12

The Mysterious Stranger

The Anime, the Manga, and the Mark Twain Novella

"God will provide for this kitten." "What makes you think so?" Ursula's eyes snapped with anger. "Because I know it!" she said. "Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it." "But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

There is a short novel by Mark Twain, written near the end of his life and published posthumously, entitled The Mysterious Stranger. The tale is set in a small village in 16th century Austria, where three boys one day meet a young man different from themselves: "he had new and good clothes on, and was handsome and had a winning face and a pleasant voice, and was easy and graceful and unembarrassed, not slouchy and awkward and diffident, like other boys."

The mysterious stranger starts to do small but amazing tricks for them—causing water to turn to ice; conjuring grapes and bread out of air; even making birds that can fly out of clay. At last one boy, the story's narrator, works up the courage to ask the stranger who he is:

"'An angel,' he said, quite simply, and set another bird free and clapped his hands and made it flyaway."

The angel then proceeds to really impress them by making an entire toy castle, complete with five hundred miniature soldiers and workmen that move around by themselves. Naturally the boys get involved with this ultimate playset, making their own knights and cannon and cavalry, and although they get rather nervous again when the angel reveals his name is Satan, he assures them he is not that Satan, but only named after the fallen one.

"We others are still ignorant of sin; we are not able to commit it; we are without blemish, and we shall abide in that estate always." Distracted by two of the miniature workmen, "Satan reached out his hand and crushed the life out of them with his fingers... and went on talking where he had left off: 'We cannot do wrong; neither have we any disposition to do it, for we do not know what it is." Horrified as the other boys are, "he made us drunk with the joy of being with him and of looking into the heaven of his eyes, and of feeling the ecstasy that thrilled along our veins from the touch of his hand.'"

Yes, Kaworu Nagisa made quite an impression on the fans of Neon Genesis Evange/ion, despite the fact that, in the original broadcast version of the TV show (before it got all director's-cutted, box-setted, special-editioned, and platinum-lined) he shows up for only slightly less than thirteen minutes of total screen time, the climax of which being an entire minute where nothing happens at all.

That's what being a beautiful angel will do for you, especially when you make the most of your thirteen minutes on Earth by having a Whirlwind romance with the main character that ends in a lover's quarrel with Prog Knives and finally a voluntary martyrdom at the hand of your boy here. Relationships don't come any more tragic than that of Kaworu Nagisa and Shinji Ikari, and when fans (including this one) first saw it on TV, the affair was so brief and shocking the story logic of it didn't click in until much later.

In the anime, Kaworu is acknowledged as the Final Messenger, and, of all the Angels Shinji has to fight, this is the most ruthless battle, won at the highest possible cost to himself. It took even longer for me to realize that the showdown in episode 24 had also taken us full circle from Shinji's first fight in episodes 1 and 2, which emphasized his personal helplessness against the looming Angel Sachiel. Against Kaworu, it is the Angel who becomes the small, helpless figure, while Shinji is represented only by the gargantuan, frightful helm and arm of his Eva Unit-O1. We never see Shinji's human face once throughout the whole final minute of decision.

So as Col. Trautman would have said instead of Major Katsuragi, "It's over, Shinji! IT'S OVER!" Kaworu v. Shinji (or Kaworu x Shinji, in the doujinshi) was the big final showdown between humanity and the Angels. And with the outcome leaving Shinji at his most wretched ever, wouldn't it be nice if everyone just died—your wish being Eva's command, as it turns out that fortunately humanity hardly ever needed the Angels to slaughter itself.

"I am perishing already—I am failing—I am passing away. In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever...But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

Satan's words near the end of Mark Twain's story also uncannily prefigure the end of the world and the Instrumentality project, both of which follow his death in the TV show in such quick order you picture Anno as a hairnetted fry cook dinging the counter bell. By now you see Sadamoto's handling of Kaworu, and perhaps nothing illustrates the different experiences of the manga and the anime better than his handling of this critical character.

No longer the last Angel to be fought, Kaworu actually becomes an active Eva pilot and fights an Angel—the dude even has the nerve to observe the fight is fixed, based on his knowledge of SEELE's prophecies. Sadamoto of course introduces him at an earlier point in the narrative—at the equivalent of episode 19's end—and then sends him to NERV near the equivalent of episode 22's beginning—before certain important events, to put it mildly, can occur. When one notes this kind of thing, of course, it's important to restate that the Evangelion manga has always been a separate but equal "official" version of Eva, with no particular obligation to align itself with the anime, and indeed it was with Book Five, the first released after The End of Evangelion, that Sadamoto began to truly seem free to go in his own direction.

Nevertheless, as the "other" official version of the Eva story, it is reasonable for fans to view it as an "alternate history" relative to the anime, and the way Kaworu has been introduced makes us realize the manga may end very differently indeed. Despite the fact we know here that Kaworu is an Angel from the very beginning, he appears destined to at least hang around long enough to pick up a few paychecks. It's not clear when your health benefits kick in at NERV, although if Ritsuko is your primary caregiver it might be best to forego them.

Sadamoto's remarks upon visiting the U.S. in 2003 indicated that the Eva manga might (might) be planned as a twelve-volume series in all. There is still plenty of room for speculation, as the slow working pace to which the artist himself often refers has of late become almost relativistic���as of this writing, it has been eight months since Sadamoto has drawn a new installment of Eva in Japan, and hence a Volume Ten is nowhere in sight. It may be small comfort, but those of you reading this are pretty much in the same drifting boat as the Japanese fans.

"An angel's love is sublime, adorable, divine, beyond the imagination of man—infinitely beyond it! But it is limited to his own august order. If it fell upon one of your race for only an instant, it would consume its object to ashes. No, we cannot love men but we can be harmlessly indifferent to them; we can also like them, sometimes."

—from The Mysterious Stranger

And with Book Nine we see the most staggering difference thus far between the manga and the anime; Sadamoto's Shinji doesn't even like Kaworu, much less love him. Of course, you could say the less-ethereal Kaworu of the manga is harder to love. I can't believe Sadamoto had him tell Rei he thought she'd be "heftier." And yet he did.

I don't think any A.T. Fields actually got penetrated in the anime; while I do think Shinji felt sexually attracted to Kaworu, and that you the audience are supposed to feel that he felt it, what Kaworu himself thought was a very different matter. Like Rei, I believe Kaworu to be innocent—coyly, he appears not to be so, because while Rei needed to be reached out to, Kaworu has come to reach out; whereas Rei has spent her existence being observed; Kaworu has come to observe.

Indeed, in the manga, Shinji's irritation about Kaworu's invasion of his personal space seems almost a parody of his attitude in the anime. In the TV show, when Kaworu put his hand on Shinji's, he flinched but did not pull away; whereas in the manga it's easy to imagine Shinji slugging him. Instead he goes to run after Rei, hoping to get closer to her again.

I hardly think the change reflects any phobia on Sadamoto's part (after all, we even get to see Shinji's "Unit One" in the manga), but the fact the manga Shinji is less emotionally bleak and empty, and hence less vulnerable. Shinji's just as negative in the manga, of course, but it's an active variety, rather than the passive negative creep (in the best Nirvana song sense) we know from the anime. We don't have to imagine him slugging Gendo; from the look of surprise on Dad's face in Book Seven he would have smacked the beard off his face if Kaji hadn't stopped him.

Neither is Shinji in a positive emotional situation where we leave him here, either; indeed at this point in the manga there's arguably no one he can turn to—the more brutal fate that befell Toji has cut him off from his school friends, Rei has become hesitant, Kaji is dead, and his perennial self-esteem booster Asuka is going to need to rebuild her internal supply before she can even get back to calling him a loser and idiot.

So, like Misato trying to put her own hand on Shinji's, all I can do for now while we wait for Sadamoto-sensei is to recommend for your winter vacation reading list The Mysterious Stranger, which I can almost guarantee will give you new angles to think about Kaworu, and may even earn you class credit besides. A quick look at the novel's comments on Amazon list a teacher who says fundamentalist students walked out of his class when he taught it; another compares it to The Matrix; those who dislike it call it "sick," "bitter," and "twisted." Sounds like good old Evangelion to me!

—Carl Gustav Horn

[a drawing of Kaworu holding a kitten]

Although The Mysterious Stranger can also be found in a number of print editions, including The Portable Mark Twain from Penguin (haw haw), the story, being from the days when mp3s came on shellacked cylinders, is legally available online at http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/TwaMyst.html. The same site has a book called The Holy Bible, King James Version, which fans of Evangelion might also enjoy, although it's technically "Editor's Choice."