#i've intended to write this for weeks

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

You want me to talk about Verity Willis? I'll fucking talk about Verity Willis.

Spoilers for Agent of Asgard, maybe some other comics beyond that. Let's crack into it because I love Verity.

They're soulmates. The God of Lies and the Human Lie-Detector? Are you kidding? They were made for each other! They were meant to find each other, they were meant to oppose each other. If they aren't soulmates, they're (I'm not a Homestuck person, so I don't know what the opposite of soulmates are) meant to be rivals. But, to steal a phrase from Merlin, they are two sides of the same coin, essentially.

What the universe did not anticipate, however, is that Verity's ace. I don't make the rules; Verity is ace. And so, not a love interest. However, that doesn't mean they're not soulmates. They are, have been, always will be, in any life, in any world, in every iteration of Loki and every variant of Verity Willis, in every dimension, in every universe, queer-platonic soulmates. They're best friends. They're not "just friends". They're best friends.

You want me to talk about Verity? I'll fucking talk about Verity.

Even when shit hits the fan, even when Loki has been off doing god knows what shit for months on fucking end, and drives her insane to the point that she's like "I don't know if I can do this anymore, Loki," and he's like, "I'm sorry, I'll try to be better," she still sticks around and she still wants to be by his side.

And that's love, bitch! It may not be romantic love, it may not be sexual love, they may not be love interests. But that's love, bitch. He loves her. She loves him. They were made to be a match. Just not a romantic one. Just not a sexual one.

And in that moment of reckoning, that final moment when Loki is grappling with himself, and waffling between remaining in the void with the other versions of himself or going back to his brother's heartbreak and anger and Asgard's distrust and the All-Mother's betrayal and the chains of the future or die and not return. Or to transcend, undergo ego-death. To change, to transform, to do something that's ultimately going to be very painful and very hard, and what might not end up doing what he thinks it's going to do for him in the end. In that moment, she calls him. And he is on an alternate plane of existence, his phone should not even work, should not even exist. He is talking to previous iterations of himself and grappling with his own ego, he's not in a physical plane, he shouldn't even have his phone. But she calls him, to tell him she's on his side, still, after everything. She was there, when he told Thor what he did, she was already on the outs with him, before he told Thor what he did. She left.

But she's calling him, across planes. A love that transcends logic, that transcends planes, that transcends the existence or lack thereof of cellular towers. The human lie-detector, whose name literally means truth, calls the long-hated, long-condemned God of Lies, to tell him she's on his side, and that it's not the end.

Now, for my personal thought, I think she saves his life. I think there's a part of him, however small or large, that is not planning to come back from this, that is not planning to undergo this metamorphosis, that is like "What the fuck is the point? No one thinks I can change. Why the fuck should I change for them? Why the fuck should I change for me? Why the fuck should I even try? Why the fuck should I come back after I've changed, even if I manage it?"

But that one phone call from his best friend, from his fucking queerplatonic soulmate, saves my boi's life. And I don't think it's the first time she saves his life, nor am I convinced it will be the last. And she has no idea. Not a clue. She's got this lingering sense that he's about to do something stupid while they're on the phone, and she's like "Don't do something stupid." But I don't think she really knows that she saves his life.

And then he undergoes ego-death, and she is the first person he goes to. We don't know how much time passes between when he comes back from ego-death, figures out there's an incursion (I think that's what the event was. It might have been Ragnarok again), and goes to her. He could've gone to her and then been like, 'Oh shit, there's an incursion, I guess I'd better save her now.' Or if he knows there's an incursion and decides to save her first. We don't know, but we do know that they go to her first. And I think that's telling. Yes, Thor is mad at them; yes, the All-Mother betrayed them; yes, there's a sadistic future version of themself in their apartment right now (maybe), so there's not a lot of options. But they have options, and they go to her first.

Because they love her. And she loves them. Because they're best friends. And soulmates. And they were made for each other.

Literally. I mean, the future Loki created her for AoA Loki, more or less. He didn't plan on her eating the ring as a baby, but that's basically what happened.

You want me to talk about Verity Willis? I'll fucking talk about Verity Willis. Verity Willis is the shit. And I'm waiting for her to come back. Because she needs to. Because Loki needs her to. Because all this nonsense about being cursed and unloved and unwanted? Verity nips that shit in the bud. And Verity would stand there in front of Naglfar, and be like, 'Yeah, I know you think you're telling the truth, dipshit, but just you think it's true does not mean that it's true.'

And I think Loki needs to hear that. So they can stop feeling sorry for themself and start doing some shit.

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #14

[masterlist] [part one]

Trigger warning: depiction of a dissociative episode, misconception concerning the sentience and sapience of a being. Warning for Jason's language and use is Zalgo text

=============‹«⟨∞∆∞⟩»›=============

Jason was... Well, he was a lot of things, but terrified was near the top of the list. He'd seen and experienced a lot of crazy shit since trying to steal the tires off the batmobile, including his own death and revival, but having control of his body forcefully taken from him by what he could only assume was the Lazarus Pit was by far the most insane and terrifying thing he'd ever experienced. Not even the Joker had made him feel this hopeless, he'd still been able to run his mouth then, but this? This was like sitting in the driver's seat of a high-tech hyper realistic RC car, frantically stepping on all the pedals, pressing all the buttons, flicking all the switches, and trying with all your might to crank the steering wheel, and all of it doing jack shit. You're stuck watching out the windshield as the car goes flying across the haphazard track, your seatbelt is locked, the doors don't even open from the inside, and nothing you do makes a damn difference as someone else takes you for a joyride.

Of course, he's the fucking Red Hood, he wasn't gonna let the Pit just do whatever the fuck it wants, hell no! He'd successfully fought the thing off during the height of his pit madness and homicidal tendencies, there was no fucking way he was gonna let the Pit use him to murder a kid!

"W̸e̷ ̴d̷o̴ ̵n̵o̵t̷ ̵m̸u̵r̷d̴e̵r̶ ̵c̵h̴i̸l̸d̶r̷e̵n̶!̷" Came a voice from inside his head. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard, like a gestalt of different voices from all different walks of life. Time seemed to be endlessly slow as he/it/they screeched a war cry and took off.

"Oh yeah? Why the fuck are we charging the kid, then?!" Jason yelled back. It was weird, his voice was both echoey and soundless at the same time. He didn't like it.

"H̸e̶ ̴i̵s̶ ̴c̶h̴i̷l̷d̶/̸i̶n̶f̴a̸n̴t̵/̵l̸o̴n̴e̷l̴y̷/̴k̷i̸n̸g̷.̵ ̵H̴e̴ ̶i̷s̴ ̶U̸n̵C̸l̶a̵i̸m̸e̶d̶.̶ ̵H̴e̶ ̸i̶s̶ ̵O̶u̵r̷s̷ ̸n̵o̷w̴.̴" As the Pit said that, Jason watched through green tinted vision as the Pit disarmed the goon, extracted the kid, and outright threw the goon into the wall to the side of them. As soon as the goon was out of the way, the Pit adjusted the kid so they were cradling him, and suddenly Jason was drowning in overwhelmingly foreign feelings of comfort/safety/claimed/calm/peace/safe as distinctly nonhuman sounds came from their mouth.

He'd like to say he'd managed to claw his way out from under the flood of emotion by himself, but that'd be a lie, and he tried not to lie to himself too often. It was the sound of a sudden, sharp, almost adorable little frustrated chirp the kid let out that let him breach the surface and actually think again. "What the hell was that?" Jason asked. If his consciousness needed to breathe, he'd be gasping right about then.

"H̴e̷ ̸w̵a̶s̷ ̵p̶a̵n̵i̷c̵k̶i̷n̵g̵.̶ ̵W̵e̸ ̴r̶e̸s̵p̵o̷n̵d̶e̸d̴ ̴a̵p̶p̶r̶o̶p̴r̸i̶a̷t̵e̷l̵y̵.̸ ̷W̸e̷ ̸a̸p̷o̶l̸o̶g̵i̶z̶e̴ ̶f̷o̵r̷ ̷s̸m̴o̴t̴h̸e̵r̵i̷n̷g̸ ̴a̶ ̶p̴a̷r̸t̷ ̵o̸f̴ ̸U̴s̷.̵" The Pit sounded genuinely apologetic, but he wasn't sure he trusted it. Their head turned and Jason saw the rest of the Bats arrayed in wary stances, with Damian taking the lead. He said something about wanting to check on the kid in their arms, but that they could keep hold of him. He could see how much B wanted to protest that, but a sharp gesture from the kid silenced that Bat. "W̴e̴ ̵d̸o̵ ̷n̶o̶t̶ ̷k̷n̵o̷w̷ ̶t̵h̸e̸ ̶o̷n̷e̶s̵ ̶b̵e̶h̶i̴n̶d̷ ̴u̵s̵.̴ ̸A̸ ̶p̵a̶r̵t̴ ̷o̸f̴ ̶U̴s̸ ̵d̷o̵e̴s̶.̸ ̷C̶a̷n̷ ̷W̴e̷ ̷t̸r̶u̶s̵t̸ ̴O̵u̶r̷s̶ ̴w̵i̴t̸h̵ ̴t̸h̵e̴m̵?̸"

Jason thought about the question for a bit. He was fairly certain, as long as Damian was the one taking the lead, they'd be fine. Since Bruce was letting the kid take point, Tim was more likely to follow along, and Dick would only jump the gun if the kid looked injured or terrified out of his mind, which he was neither. In fact, the kid was making some of the cutest fucking noises he'd ever heard, nevermind they didn't have any right coming from a very human looking kid. "We should be good, so long as the baby bird is in control, he seems to grasp the situation better than the rest," he finally replied.

"V̶e̸r̴y̸ ̵w̵e̴l̸l̶.̸ ̸W̶e̸ ̸w̷i̶l̴l̷ ̴t̵r̵u̷s̶t̷ ̷t̷h̵e̵ ̶B̸a̴b̵y̶ ̶B̵i̶r̶d̵,̵ ̶a̸s̷ ̴p̶a̶r̵t̵ ̷o̶f̷ ̸U̶s̴ ̵c̶a̸l̴l̴s̵ ̶H̷i̵m̶.̸" They slowly turned around, the kid held protectively within their arms, though visible enough for the Bats to be able to determine he was okay.

They all stared at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. Jason was getting ready to make a sarcastic comment about the stalemate when the kid spoke up. "Hey, so, uh, I'm Danny, it's nice to meet you all."

Oh shit. How could a teenager be so adorable? "I have never thought of a kid as adorable, what the fuck?"

"H̴e̴ ̷i̵s̷ ̸O̵u̶r̸s̵.̵ ̶H̵e̴ ̶i̸s̶ ̶C̶l̷a̶i̴m̶e̵d̷ ̷b̵y̸ ̵U̴s̶.̴ ̵H̵e̶ ̶w̶i̴l̸l̶ ̶a̶l̷w̸a̷y̸s̶ ̶b̸e̴ ̷a̴d̶o̴r̷a̶b̸l̵e̵ ̷t̵o̶ ̶U̸s̴,̸ ̵e̴v̴e̵n̷ ̶t̶o̶ ̴a̷ ̵p̴a̶r̸t̸ ̷o̷f̴ ̵U̸s̸ ̵t̸h̵a̵t̸ ̸i̷s̶ ̷n̵o̶t̴ ̶o̷f̷ ̶U̶s̴.̴"

Wait. "Did you adopt him? What if he has parents! We can't just adopt random kids!"

"W̴e̶ ̵d̶i̴d̴ ̶n̴o̶t̶ ̷s̴e̵e̸ ̷a̸n̴y̷ ̴P̶a̴r̶e̶n̷t̸s̴.̴ ̷W̴e̵ ̸o̸n̷l̷y̷ ̴s̵a̷w̷ ̷H̶i̸m̴.̶ ̶H̵e̶ ̴w̴a̴s̴ ̴U̵n̴C̷l̸a̷i̸m̵e̴d̸,̵ ̷n̷o̷w̵ ̶H̸e̵ ̷i̶s̵ ̸C̶l̷a̴i̷m̸e̸d̶.̷ ̶I̷t̵ ̵i̵s̷ ̴f̴a̴i̵r̶.̶" The Pit was being far too cheeky. It was like the Pit was saying "finders keepers losers weepers". Jason... Wasn't sure how he felt about that, honestly. "A̷n̷d̸ ̷H̸e̵ ̷i̸s̷ ̴n̵o̴t̴ ̴r̷a̴n̶d̶o̴m̴.̸ ̶H̴e̷ ̷i̶s̵ ̸k̸i̸n̷g̵.̶"

Wait, wait, nope, he had to have heard that wrong. "Hold the fucking phone, are you saying he's some kind of royalty? Of what government? His accent sounds Midwestern!"

"H̸e̵ ̷i̴s̴ ̶H̷i̶g̷h̵ ̴K̷i̴n̸g̶ ̸o̶f̷ ̵t̶h̸e̶ ̴I̴n̶f̷i̶n̵i̶t̷e̴ ̶R̴e̶a̸l̶m̸s̷.̵ ̶H̷e̷ ̸i̵s̵ ̴G̵h̵o̴s̵t̸ ̸K̴i̶n̴g̴.̶" The tone with which the Pit spoke of Danny was complicated, though pride and seriousness were prominent. "H̵e̸ ̴i̵s̷ ̴O̶u̵r̶s̶ ̷a̵s̶ ̸W̷e̸ ̴a̴r̴e̷ ̸H̶i̶s̷.̸"

=============‹«⟨∞∆∞⟩»›=============

"Hey, so, uh, I'm Danny, it's nice to meet you all."

The teen in Jason's the Pit creature's arms was remarkably calm, in Damian's opinion. He'd seen many people bathe in the Lazarus Pit come back not right, not themselves, enough to have an idea of how to handle this thing that took his brother's body as its own. Admittedly, this creature was among the most tame he'd ever seen or heard of, though, he never thought someone could become a Pit creature years after bathing in the Pit's waters, either, so perhaps that wasn't saying much.

Damian refocused and gave the older teen a small smile. "Hello, Danny, are you alright? You've had a rather stressful day, haven't you?" He needed to figure out a way to get Danny away from the Pit creature without provoking it. He had no idea how long it would stay reasonable and he didn't want to chance Danny getting hurt by what was once his brother.

Danny let out a snort. That... Wasn't the response he was expecting. "Honestly, the past week was significantly worse, this was nothing. This was almost expected, honestly. No, yeah, I'm doing pretty well now that Goony McGoonface over there isn't trying to use me as a meat shield anymore." The creature let out a short screech, and Danny glanced up at it, face contemplative, almost confused for a second, before understanding flashed across his features. He then let out a few chirps that, to Damian, sounded almost like he was asking for clarification for something. The creature responded with a trill and a few chirps of its own. Danny nodded and turned to look back at Damian with a slightly apologetic expression. "Um, he said you can come closer, Robin. He trusts you not to hurt me, but the others will have to stay back for now. Something about you being vouched for? I guess?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that, but Damian could work with this. He nodded before either of his brothers could argue, silently grateful his father was following his lead like he'd asked. "Thank you for passing along the message, I will gladly take you up on that. How close may I get?"

Danny turned to the creature again as it tilted its head in thought before chirping something at Danny that caused his eyes to widen. Danny trilled a question back, the mental impression of a disbelieving, "Really?" strong enough Damian could have sworn he'd actually heard it instead of imagining it. The creature repeated the trill back with a few chirps at the end and Danny's eyes widened further as he turned to look back at Damian. "You, uh, you can get as close as you'd like, he says he remembers you, now. You must have made a good impression, I wouldn't have thought he'd let anyone near me for the next hour, at least."

Well then. That was significantly closer than Damian had expected based on previous experiences with Pit creatures. What did Danny mean, the creature remembered him, though? How could it remember him? "Thank you again, both of you," Damian said as he started forward, being careful not to move too quickly or make any sudden movements. The closer he got to the two of them, the more he started to notice a deep rumble and slightly higher purr coming from the two he was approaching. They seemed to resonate within his own chest, touching at something he'd never noticed was tense and on constant alert until it started relaxing at the interaction. It made him just the slightest bit less hesitant at getting closer to the two of them.

It was only when he was within reach of the creature that he realized that something in his chest had started buzzing, an answering purr that startled him enough for him to pause in his tracks. That... He'd never... What? His purr hitched at his disjointed thoughts. The Pit creature slowly sat down, shifted a suddenly worried looking Danny to sit on its lap, and carefully extended an arm in Damian's direction. His purring hitched again at the movement, and the rumbling shifted in tone slightly. Somehow, the rumble seemed to draw his purr into harmony with it and the other purr, which Damian was starting to suspect was Danny's. The Pit creature chirped softly, and somehow, Damian understood it this time. "Baby bird. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

It—the Pit—Jason—Damian took a quick moment to sign back to his father that he had a plan he didn't, he didn't need one, either before diving into the being's arms. He'd been wrong, this wasn't a Pit creature like he'd assumed, and he could only be glad he'd said nothing about his previous assumptions aloud.

He'd only ever heard hushed rumors about it, but once, a long time ago, near the beginning of his grandfather's reign as the Demon's Head, there had been a being who'd bathed in the Lazarus Waters and came out not less than they had been, but more. They had still been themselves, they had still been healed like others before them, they'd just also become the avatar of the Waters in the process. They'd been honored by many, hailed as a great protector and given many titles as thanks, though his grandfather had apparently taken exception to someone else having such an elevated position. His grandfather had killed the being and destroyed all mentions of them as he could, even going so far as to ban talk of them. But thoughts and ideas cannot be bound, and there were those who still revered the being more than his grandfather, even within his own League.

Somehow, Jason, his brother, had become the next Avatar of the Waters. His brother was still there. His brother wasn't dead again. He held back his sobs as he let out his own quiet trill. "You're still here."

=============‹«⟨∞∆∞⟩»›=============

WOW. Didn't expect I'd be able to write this sequel any time soon! Well, surprise, dp×dc week has provided the prompts I needed to write a number of my more requested sequels! ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧

Good news, I'm feeling better today than I have this entire week lol hopefully this continues through the rest of the week, right? (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

If anyone thinks I missed a trigger warning for this ficlet, PLEASE let me know! I've tried my best to cover all the ones I thought might be an issue, but I'm not the most knowledgeable on what topics can be triggering yet (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠) I want my readers to know what they're getting into before they get into it, y'know?

Thank you all so much for your patience! I've got some people who asked to be tagged when I wrote the sequel, so hopefully I got them all! @stealingyourbones, @ghoststoneguard, @meira-3919, @onyxlightdragon, @gatorgoose, @rainbowbunny0159, @jarlyd, here's the update y'all asked to be tagged in! Hope you liked it ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

[universestreasures]

The Lockets (Drabble)

Expansion/Spin Off From This Thread With @shacchou (Hope you like this Ani <3)

The young boy didn't expect her to come, if he's being honest. Since Gozaboru Kaiba passed away, Mokuba had cut off all contact with Lady Suzuha. It wasn't because he was grieving over the abusive man. No, it was because his focus had...shifted. He didn't want her to see him like this, to see him do what he thought he had to in order to regain what he lost...

His big brother's love...

Now that the puzzle of his big brother's heart had been broken due to the Penalty Game he suffered at Yugi Muto's hands, and his brother left in a coma for weeks now, everything had shifted. Mokuba was starting to act like himself again, as if he too had been consumed by the demon of games just like his older brother for the last half of a year. That was why he reached out to, really, his closest friend, to one of the only good things that being adopted by his stepfather had given him. And thankfully, she responded and hurried over quickly, overwhelmed with concern and worry herself after having heard the news about his brother's condition.

The two were in one of the many living spaces inside the mansion, arts and craft supplies spread all over the massive table in the middle. The two children often did this activity when they met up, this time being no different. He had something specific in mind that he wanted to do, something that had his immediate focus as he worked diligently on his project.

"M-Mokuba, dear?" The voice of the young lady pulled the youngest Kaiba out of his focus, purple hues staring at hers that could be seen above her signature pink fan. "Are you sure...this is what you called me over for? I-I mean, making arts and crafts with you is certainly a delight and one I rather missed. However, considering...recent events, I...I thought...I thought you called me over so that you could...have a trusted ear to talk about what happened..."

Her inquiry causes him to freeze in place, almost dropping the rope he had been working with. He should have figured this would happen. His friend was rather perceptive, not that Mokuba was any good at hiding his emotions to begin with. Unlike his older brother, he wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see, and she had seen right through him.

"I...I..."

"It's alright if you'd rather not discuss it. I...I know things are hard for you as it is right now. I simply wanted to express my own thoughts. If you simply want my company as we make artistic creations together like we always do, then that is alright. I am here for you today. No one else."

"...Thanks, Suzuha." Mokuba gives her a weak smile. He appreciates her understanding. It was true he did want to talk about it, but...not right now. Not when he had something he needed to finish first and his own thoughts and feelings together.

The room is filled again with silence as the two return to their work. While he worked on his project, she seemed to be painting a tea set of some sort. Perhaps it was a gift for Lord Amanosuzu. If that was the case, then they both had a similar idea in terms of what the purpose of making their crafts was.

As soon as he is about to put the finishing touches on his twin creations, he looks up as he notices Suzuha had gotten out of her chair and was above his shoulder, examining his work closely. "My, my! These are quite lovely, Mokuba dear! Are these for...you and your brother?"

"That's the idea...but I'm not sure if he will-" His words are cut short by the gentle gloved hand of the older young lady being placed on his shoulder, Suzuha's reassuring smile providing a comfort he had been lacking in his life for so long now; the smile of someone who cared about him deeply.

"Of course, he will like it! No, he'll love it! It's a handmade gift from you, his dear little brother! What sibling wouldn't adore such a thing filled with one's true feelings of brotherly love?"

"L-Love...?"

The word sounded so foreign escaping his lips, as if it was the first time he'd ever heard such a concept. His brother had told him brotherly love was a waste, something that only held one back. Those words stuck with him, even as he desperately tried anything and everything to get it from the older Kaiba since his spiral. That's why he had doubted even doing this in the first place, but yet he persisted anyway, creating something with his whole heart that was broken into many pieces by the events that had transpired.

Seems like the more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?

Before he can continue his response, he and she are both directed to the door. It then opens, revealing both one of the mansion staff and someone that caused both Suzuha and Mokuba's eyes to widen in surprise.

"Master Mokuba, Sorry to interrupt, but Officer Ryuenji is here to see you."

"Hey. Sorry for dropping in like this. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright, Mokuba."

Before Mokuba can attempt to comment on the other's words, the ruby hues of the other focus on the other individual in the room. A hand goes over Tasuku chest as Mokuba watches him do a slight bow, like a prince would greeting a princess. "Lady Suzuha? Is that you? What a surprise! I did not expect to see you here today. I was not aware you and Mokuba knew each other."

"O-Oh! Y-Yes!" Mokuba's eyes widen just a bit at the sudden stammering in her voice, something he has never seen before from his friend. Suzuha whips out her fan, quickly covering the light blush forming in her cheeks with it. "We've been friends for years, T-Tasuku! Our fathers...were acquainted, and that's how we got introduced. My being here today is just one of many I've had with Mokuba dear over the years. I was not aware you were acquainted with him as well, but considering the celebrity that you are, I guess it's no surprise."

Mokuba and Tasuku both take a sigh of relief at her conclusion,both seemingly deciding to go along with it. Considering all the work Tasuku and the Buddy Police had done to keep the Death-T incident from going public, Suzuha becoming privy to it would put that in jeopardy. Not only that, Mokuba didn't want his friend to know his part of it, a part he felt like he had to do as a last-ditch effort to get the older Kaiba's attention at the time.

"Thanks for coming to check on me, Officer Ryuenji. I appreciate it."

"Please, just call me Tasuku. I think you and I are well acquainted enough to not speak so formally to one another."

Tasuku then took a seat, watching the two go back to their crafts as he did not want to intrude it seemed. It was a new thing for Mokuba to have 'friends over' like this, people who actively wanted to see him and were not trying to get anything out of him. It was...nice.

Was this...the feeling that comes from true friendship and unity with others? The very thing that Yugi seemed to have harnessed to beat his brother?

Mokuba then picks up the last part, the last piece, to his creation, the one item from the past he's treasured and preserved throughout the years. It was something he had clung to, a spark of hope he always held onto despite the darkness that came into his life. It was important to him, more than anyone including his brother, knew..until today that is.

"Mokuba? Is that...?" Tasuku questions, looking over along with Suzuha at the item the youngest in the room now held in his hands.

"Mhmm...It's an old picture of me and Seto before we were adopted by Gozaboru. We looked pretty different back then, huh?"

"You look the same to me, dear Mokuba. It is your brother who is the different one here. I..I have never seen Seto Kaiba...smile with such heart before. Not even during events we've both attended or any promotions I've seen. It's... polarizing, to put it mildly."

"Yeah...It was...a different time, a time before...all of this. That's why this picture is very dear to me, probably the most important thing I own now. And..."

Mokuba begins to do the unthinkable next, slowly starting to rip the photograph in two. His actions shock the other two in the room, both almost going to say something before he continues on and starts to place half of the picture into one of the lockets, precisely the half of the photograph he is featured in.

"I'm going to share it with him, share with Seto my most treasured memory, so that he will...come back to me someday."

Once he finishes the process with the other locket, the boy moves to leave the room, telling his guests he needs to do something. With that, he runs down the long corridors of the Kaiba Mansion, not stopping until he reaches the most guarded part of the house: his brother's chambers.

The maid moves aside to let him in, bringing Mokuba face-to-face with his brother for the first time in weeks. Just looking at him like this, in a coma and stuck in a wheelchair like a lifeless husk, pained him like nothing else. However, he pressed forward anyway, for he had something important to do.

"Big Brother...I...I don't know if you can hear me, but...I...I want to give you something, something to help guide you back to me...A piece of my heart..."

Mokuba then places one of the lockets he created, the one containing his own picture, around his brother's neck. He then puts the remaining one, the one containing Seto's picture, around his own neck, the boy then clenching it protectively like he was a dragon protecting a treasured gem. He can feel his heart start to ache and his body start to quake along with it, his emotions that he had been trying so hard to manage in order to stay strong finally taking over him.

Before he can realize it, his knees buckle, sending him down to the floor and his face into Seto's lap. Water flows from his eyes and land on the white fabric of his brother's clothing, his cries starting to echo throughout the mansion. His friends, immediately upon hearing it spring into action, both stopping in their tracks upon meeting the maid when having reached the entrance. The woman told them to leave the young master on his own for now, to allow him his feelings he's been holding in to come out freely without judgment.

"Mokuba..."

"Mokuba..."

And so the two listened and waited outside the door as Mokuba's cries continued for what seemed like forever, the cries being some of the most painful they'd ever heard. Little did they knew that this was not even close to displaying the amount of anguish the young boy felt, an anguish that had been building up for years upon years that all just spilled over the second his brother went into that coma. For he had been through so much, seen so much, all since that fateful day that changed everything for him and his older brother...

"Seto...Come back...Come back to me...Big brother...I...I miss you...I...I need you...I need you here with me...I don't know who I am without you...So, please...Please I'm begging you...Come home soon..."

[wildberryjams]

Hello ♡ It's been a while!

It's been over a year I think? I haven't kept track tbqh

I'm not really back, because I want to be noncommittal as possible (since I have a tendency to disappear when my motivation to write does)

But this is me saying that I'm finally working on under the rose again! ♡

I'd all but abandoned it months ago, but yesterday I had a burst of energy and managed to write a couple hundred words. Tonight, the total is 1300. It's not much, but it's a start!

I don't talk about my personal life for many reasons, but this year has been one of the most difficult I've ever experienced. The last thing on my mind has been Will and Azul, as much as I wish they'd kept occupying every inch of it like they used to.

That spark is coming back, I think! ♡ (More in the tags since this is getting long)

[novelconcepts]

i don't make resolutions, but if i did

it would be to finish this fic

(and to be kind to myself for however long it takes to actually do so)

[erabundus]

rolling  around  the  idea  that  when  he  sustains  severe  injuries,  there's  a  chance  you  may  actually  glimpse  tiny  flashes  of  electro  emanating  from  the  wound  as  ren's  body  acts  to  repair  the  damage.  it  doesn't  happen  often  —  only  in  situations  wherein  the  trauma  is  extensive  enough  to  expose  his  inner  workings.  visually,  it  isn't  unlike  sparks  shooting  from  a  malfunctioning  machine. 

[leslutdepointedulac]

So me and my family spent the morning at a rescue looking at dogs and there's two that we're looking at inparticular and I shit you not one is giving pure Louis vibes while the other reminds me so much of Lestat it's literally Louis and Lestat but if they were dogs. The only thing is, we're only getting one but we love them both so making a decision is going to be so hard

[twicethetrouble]

Writing Family Web Daily: Day 9

DONATELLO

Donnie woke slowly, like he was dragging his mind back to a consciousness it would rather not be in. It wasn't out of the ordinary for these last few days, but it did feel like more of a struggle than it had been.

When he finally managed to crack his eyes open, it was dark, the plastic stars Leo had on his ceiling glowing faintly.

Leo's room then. Donnie must still be sick.

He took inventory as his eyes slowly followed the glowing star's constellations he had helped map out years ago. He felt exhausted and fuzzy brained, which certainly helped support his 'still sick' assessment. His sides still hurt, but differently than before. Instead of a sharp, piercing pain, it was a dull ache. Like a scrap or cut that has already been treated but still wants you to know it's there. In short, it still hurt, but it felt better. Especially compared to the last-

...

Oh. Right.

Memories of the last time he woke started to resurface. April and Leo's worried voices, getting an x-ray, the argument; all broken up by intense bouts of pain that felt like someone was drilling into his side. Though, in retrospect, it seemed to be more accurate to say something had been drilling out. It had all stopped by a prick of a needle in his arm and then blissful unconsciousness.

Donnie looked for Leo in his customary spot on the spare mattress.

He wasn't there. Instead, April was curled up there, her glasses still on and her phone in hand, like she had fallen asleep unintentionally.

It took him longer than he thought it should to find Leo.

He was on the complete other side of the room, sitting with his back against the wall and his knees pulled against his chest. Awake and clearly aware that Donnie was as well, though he made no move to come check on him.

But Leo always checked on them when they were sick. Especially if he was making them stay in his room. That was the very reason he did it to begin with, so he could pester and check on them the second they opened their eyes. So why wasn't he?

Was Leo mad at him?

They had an argument; he knew that much. He thought it was about the surgery. Leo hadn't wanted to do it, but Donnie had been desperate enough to take any option that would make the pain stop fastest.

Was Leo mad at him for that?

Should he apologize?

He didn't know.

Donnie brushed the question aside, instead trying to get back onto familiar ground that wasn't riddled with possible emotional landmines by reaching towards his twin. His sides protested the movement as he made a gimme motion they were both familiar with.

Leo shook his head, not moving otherwise.

Oh. He must be mad then.

[immunetoneurotoxin]

Just wanna drip by and say Incendiary has made itself a permanent resident in my brain.

Your writing is absolutely amazing, every scene got me gripping my seat in excitement. Seeing someone write a Pyro-focused long fic, let alone texas toast is so so so rare, I think I've only read 3 (including incendiary) that I've liked so far.

I love this little fire guy with all my heart, and I absolutely adore how you didn't make him too much like a child like how many mischaracterize him. There's the childlike wonder in him but he is capable when push comes to shove and I like that a lot! Every single characterizations in this fic is wonderful, I would love to give Engie a little kiss on his bald head.. he's so adorable.

I'm probably rambling but I just love this fic so much. I'm dealing with semester's midterms, stressed as all hell and this fic has been keeping me going. I practically cheered when I saw chapter 10 update in my inbox lmao. I would love to maybe make some fanart when I have the time, should I just tag you on this site?

Thank you so much for writing Incendiary dude, no kidding when I say it changed my life. I can't wait for the story to unfold! Please take care of yourself and rest well. Good luck on the job hunting as well!!

Omg stranger whoever you are, I just about teared up seeing this in my Inbox -

This is the most grandest, heartfelt comment I think I've ever received in my entire writing career and my heart is GUSHING rn!!!! I was literally out running errands when I saw this and I couldn't stop thinking about it -

When I joined the TF2 fandom in like... oh god, 2014 I think, I was really shocked to see throughout the years that there weren't many Pyro-centered stories out there, which blew my mind. Like how could there not be a deluge of fanfic for Pyro, who is this extremely mysterious, multi-faceted character with so much room for interpretation?! When I first watched Meet the Pyro, I KNEW I had to write a novel about Pyro. Who they are, where they came from, and what happened to them before the events of the gravel war. Massively inspired, of course. But still nonetheless, an origin story that could very well be canon if squinted at, hehe.

This rings true for texas toast content, too!! There isn't a whole lot of it out there and it makes me so sad - I love their dynamic so much! When Incendiary is finished, I do plan on writing some more texas toast oneshots on my AO3 to fill that void. <3 One of the plans is to write a short story about their relationship during the gravel wars as well, that takes place after the events of Incendiary. (plus, Incendiary has only just started to crack the surface tension of the slow burn, and it's only a matter of 1-2 chapters away from when the texas toast really starts showing through so there is that to look forward too as well. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ ))

also I literally hollered when I read your comment about Pyro's characterization in this story especially, because THAT is THE ONE THING I have been working so incredibly hard towards holy shit - when I tell you the amount of stories I've read that writes them off as this danger-child that needs supervision - which don't get me wrong is not an entirely bad thing!! they do have this massive childlike side to them, but there is also so much more to them than how the fandom perceives them, not taking into much consideration how they typically canonically act in the comics/in-game, and taking into LARGE consideration Meet the Pyro. I was reeling when I realized that a lot of people seemed to completely forget about that interview. I could go on a whole rant about this sdfghjkl but yes, Pyro is definitely more than capable when push comes to shove! they are in a war, after all ;)

and engineer, oh man. I love that soft Texan so much. :') I could talk your ear off about him too!

man I am definitely rambling now, but I literally cannot even express how genuinely happy I am receiving this message, it means the actual world to me. and FANART?!?! oh my god YES - you can definitely tag me here if you do make fanart for Incendiary!! I would be BEYOND honored omg

Thank you so so much for brightening my entire year with this feedback literally - I'm so honored to have you here as a reader and a fan. <3 And I'm sending you all of the luck with your midterms!! You've got this!!

[mangopit]

MY (theoretical) WRITING PROCESS (for 2024)

preferably with pen and paper, write everything out as stupidly open as possible. use the first words that come to mind, don't waste time and energy thinking of cooler synonyms. don't think about sentence structure. don't think about reusing phrases in the same section. just write what feels right.

take a moment to feel proud that you wrote exactly what felt right. you had an idea and you were able to put it very precisely into words. you have a perfect foundation for revising and editing, and now you can maybe avoid that stage in revising where you rethink a huge chunk of the plot because you mentally prevented yourself from going there during the first round. good job.

type your writing into a word doc, and start fucking it up in a good way. make the obvious details more subtle, the way they'd be in real life if they were revealing themselves to a human in real time. inject small yet meaningful details in places where the reader needs to feel the time a bit longer. maybe consider changing up that phrase you reused a bunch. make the writing feel real. make the writing into something you'd feel really proud to share.

share the writing, but love it for yourself. read it and enjoy it for yourself. feel proud.

forget about this piece of writing. rediscover it some time later and feel proud again, maybe not for how it still meets your standards (it won't), but for having done it in the first place, and for doing it out of love and passion. soak in those same feelings you felt when you first baked them into the story. reminisce about the things that happened, the emotions you felt, the people you touched when it was first complete.

go back to step 1, and repeat.

[hinotorihime]

currently i am procrastinating writing fanfiction by filing my taxes

[strawberry-cowmilk]

I'm inactive on every platform and that's because winter is absolutely destroying me

[artemisiatridentata]

guys omg i posted my first ever fic on ao3 yesterday and people are being so nice!!! I've already got three sweet and thoughtful comments, almost 100 kudos and nearly 500 hits!! i'm pleasantly surprised :']

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

Don't forget! Inklings story in word press 😘

Thank you darling! Here we go! @inklings-challenge I know this isn't technically quite the challenge itself, but it's connected, and it talks about nature, and it's a prequel to my actual inklings challenge entry which I still need to edit so I can post the first scene.

I wrote this during October, but couldn't share it anywhere until the competition I wrote it for was done (it was commended!! I have a nice ceramic mug now :D).

an Inklings Prequel (untitled, suggestions for title are welcome)

Part One: Spring

It was spring, and the frost had melted from the plants, the last snow sliding off branches and tumbling into muddy drifts that warmed and turned to mush. Through the ground new shoots, fresh and green, pushed in their narrow, fragile endeavours. Many of them were crushed by the feet of workers, trudging to and from their homes, completely uncaring of the young abundant growth at their feet.

There was one in the crowd who sidestepped every tender shoot with a care that would seem inordinate to anyone else; but that was just the way she was. Her name was Hadassah, and spring was her least favourite season.

It was so full of change and growth that sometimes it left her dizzy and struggling to catch up with life, like an enormous wave that broke over her while others felt it only as a gentle swell. However, that did not mean that Hadassah was willing to punish the innocent grasses.

Some of them might turn out to be beautiful.

Part Two: Summer

It was summer, and some of the grasses had been crushed and flattened for good, dying brown stalks broken and torn from their moorings. Hadassah was the only one who took the time, while there was nobody else around, to sweep up the trampled grass and deposit it in the great firepit in the centre of town. Nobody ever remarked on it, but it did not stop her.

Occasionally there were fire warnings, and then Hadassah could feel the satisfaction of a job well done, for dry grass was not wanted on such hot days.

Some days she walked to and from work hiding her face with both hands, for it was bright enough to cause her actual anguish, and heat radiated off the ground at her feet and off the bodies of those who walked nearby. Hadassah longed for the darkness of her cloak, but it was too heavy, too hot for the painful temperature. Every so often she fainted, and they tossed cold water into her face and told her to get up again.

Part Three: Autumn

It was autumn, and the scorching heat had faded and left only lingering warmth, the grass dying off as everywhere cooled. The world burned in shades of red and gold and yellowing green, and the leaves were falling into great drifts that privileged seasonal workers swept up and tossed into the firepit. Hadassah welcomed the cessation of unbearable heat, and occasionally paused on her measured, consistent journey to close her eyes and feel the wind on her face. It was still too warm for her cloak, most days, but occasionally she picked it up and pulled it round her, just to feel its comforting embrace, and remember that winter was coming.

She had always found it a strange, restless time of year, a great upheaval as trees shed their painstakingly-grown leaves and animals prepared for winter. There was a great sense of change and difference. Even the smell of the air was different, and a little moist.

Hadassah did not like change, and it was autumn that was her second least favourite season. All the same, she found occasional leaves that struck her with their beauty or fragrance, and kept them until they grew withered, brown, and brittle enough to crunch into powder. Then she would throw them into the pale hearth fire and watch them burn to ash.

Part Four: Winter

It was winter, and the last of the leaves and grasses had been trampled into mush during the first frost. Various trees were heavy laden with fruit, which pleased Hadassah, for she only got fresh fruit during winter. At other times she had to find less expensive options to retain her health, but winter was when those fruits were available cheaply enough for her limited budget.

Hadassah took to wearing her cloak, although not every day until it was truly too cold to avoid freezing on her way to work. It was heavy and cumbersome. The brilliance of summer was well and truly gone by now, replaced by overcast skies and early sunsets. Ice formed delicate patterns that crunched under her boots after freezing sleet and a cold night. If she had known how to skate, she would have rejoiced that the lake froze.

She kept her hands tightly within her cloak, unable to bear the feeling of mittens yet avoiding frostbite. In the evening, while others were out collecting or chopping wood, she would prepare food and intermittently warm her fingers at the fire. Even so, they grew stiff and cold, and developed chilblains.

Still, there was a certain routine and sameness to winter that she appreciated, and for that reason it was her favourite season despite its drawbacks. It was not so cold that she could not last it out without outside assistance. Hadassah liked the comparative darkness of the season, and it was like the embrace she never asked for or initiated. She avoided touch, but the touch of the seasons was pleasant.

Then it grew warmer: and it was spring again.

[novelconcepts]

One more prompt and then I promise I'm done, cross my heart. Van and the line "What's happening to me?"

Filled! May I interest you in some werewolf!Van AU?