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tonystarktogo · 4 years

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(this could’ve been) a villain’s origin story -- KHR remix

[this fic is my first attempt to write in the KHR fandom. i apologize in advance.]

II.

The first time it happens, Tsuna doesn’t see it coming at all. It’s not the kind of thing one sees coming.

He’s following up on one of the many, many anonymous tips they receive daily, about villain movements, suspicious sightings, potential collaborations, the works. Nowhere in the official Vongola Inc. recruitement speech do they tell you that working for the world’s largest superhero organization mostly means digging through trash and interviewing witnesses, rather than bashing a supervillain’s head in.

Granted, most teams go out and get at least some action and technically Tsuna’s team is no exception. Tsuna is, though.

“You’re more likely to get one of us killed than be of any help!” Mochida had snapped when he’d seen Tsuna trott after the others on their way to the briefing room. “Make yourself useful for once and stay out of the way.”

[continues under the cut]

[In all honesty, Tsuna can’t blame his squad leader. He never thought he, Dame-Tsuna, always too slow, too clumsy, too useless, would get recruited by Vongola Inc. The best, most powerful, most feared superhero organization the world has to offer and they wanted Tsuna.

Of course that turned out to be bullshit. Tsuna should’ve expected nothing less. Should’ve seen it coming. Why doesn’t he ever learn? But he’d been so shocked, so gratefulrelievedelated to know that someone saw something in him. That someone wanted him.

If he’d known all Vongola wanted was Sawada Iemitsu’s son -- his bloodline -- well. Tsuna knows himself well enough to realize that it probably wouldn’t have changed a thing.

But that doesn’t stop him from wishing it had.]

Mochida is cold and cutting and often cruel, but he’s not a terrible team leader. He takes his responsibilities seriously. And even though Tsuna knows the man doesn’t like him, sees being saddled with Tsuna as some kind of creative punishment by his superiors, Mochida doesn’t let Tsuna’s inability to walk a straight line without running into a a door and his utter lack of super abilities get in the way of their job. It usually ends with Tsuna being sidelined and manning the coffee maschine or the phonelines -- wherever he can cause the least damage -- but Tsuna doesn’t mind much.

Sure, it’s not glamourous, but it’s still little things that need to be done and Tsuna is glad he can be of help, even if his co-workers rarely appreciate it. Mochida doesn’t expect much of anything from him and sometimes that hurts, but he never sets Tsuna up for failure just to have something to laugh at either -- and that means more to Tsuna than it probably should.

Besides it’s not like spending yet another endless day at work, following up on various anonymous tips, 98 percent of which always turn out to be a useless waste of time, is a bad price to pay for a steady job in a respected profession.

It’s only in retrospect that it occurs to Tsuna that what happens next is not at all surprising. That it is almost inevitable. Because no matter how many crazy, paranoid or joking people call the Vongola Emergency line, sooner or later Tsuna was bound to stumble over a nugget of valuable information. That this was why they kept a tip line in the first place -- because it occasionally proves to be useful.

In Tsuna’s defense, he’s pretty sure none of the others expected today’s calls to be real either. They sure wouldn’t have sent him out otherwise.

But here he is. Searching -- read: stumbling through -- a long abandoned warehouse that Tsuna just knows would have Hana sniff in disgust at the utter cliché of it all. Without back-up or any particularly useful weapon.

[His team learned in their first month together not to arm Tsuna with anything he could use to hurt himself with. Or them.]

Staring in horror at the supervillain staring at Tsuna with equal surprise.

At least I’m not the only one caught off-guard, Tsuna thinks hysterically. And he’s allowed to be hysterical when he finds himself trapped alone and unarmed in an abandoned warehouse with Skull De Mort of all people.

[Tsuna doesn’t have many hero-like qualities, but he’s got a lot of free time on his hands when manning the phone lines and pulling graveyard shifts on days where even villains prefer to catch a break and sleep in. Tsuna also, by virtue of his heritage, has access to the kind of high-level intel most field agents can only dream of.

As such, Tsuna has a better understanding on the recently active and inactive supervillains than most.

Whereas the average newsreporter likes to scoff and sniff derisively when Skull De Mort pulls one of his outrageous attacks that always mean impressive amounts of property damage and no civilian deaths because Skull is just an ambitious, loud-mouthed thug with ideas above his station as far as the general public is concerned, Tsuna knows better.

Skull De Mort is an Arcobaleno. As in one of the seven most powerful villains in the entire world. He might not drown the city in blood, but it’s sure as hell not because he can’t do it.

Sure, Skull baffles Vongola Inc. regularly with his antics, but his name is spoken in the same breath as Reborn, Fon or Viper and the point is oh god, Tsuna is gonna die here.]

With perfectly reasonable, if unhealthy amounts of panic and horror fighting for dominance within him, it takes Tsuna several long seconds to realize that Skull isn’t launching into one of his infamous supervillain speeches. Isn’t even throwing glitter bombs at Tsuna -- and those glitter bombs might not kill anyone, but walking into Vongola HQ and leaving a trail of glitter everywhere just might.

Hibari-senpai -- who isn’t even Vongola, is the definition of unaffiliated asset everyone is too afraid to alienate -- hates glitter.

Tsuna is so dead.

Except he still isn’t. He’s been standing here, gaping and panicking for close to five minutes and Skull still hasn’t made his move. In fact, now that Tsuna pays attention, it’s not just his breathing that’s unnaturally loud and heavy in the empty hall. And-- Tsuna squints. Skull doesn’t seem to be leaning against the wall so much as clinging to it and he’s watching Tsuna with a look that no one has ever directed at Tsuna in his life, something that almost looks like, like wariness and--

“Are you okay?” Tsuna blurts out before he can think of all the reasons why starting a conversation with an Arcobaleno is a terrible idea.

It’s just— this is a supervillain and that’s terrifying and Tsuna should probably call someone more qualified to deal with this situation, but also this is an injured supervillain and somehow that makes all the difference.

Skull scoffs, ironically putting Tsuna a little more at ease. People always scoff or scowl when he reminds them of his existence, this is no different. Besides it’s hard to take the villain’s derision seriously when he promptly sways on his feet. He’s not wearing his helmet, either, and despite being dressed in the usual black motorcycle suit, Tsuna is pretty sure his violett hair is matted with blood.

“You’re hurt!” he exclaims, horrified. Promptly drops the taser he’s been trying to pull out of his overstuffed bag with shaking hands and rushes towards the villain’s side, who’s eyes widen in alarm as Tsuna approaches.

Somehow that makes it easier to breathe, but it’s not enough to distract Tsuna from the long cut along the man’s temple and the dark bruises on his jaw.

“The Great Skull-sama is fine!” Skull protests frantically.

He’s clearly not, considering he promptly loses his balance when he tries to take a step back. Instinctively, Tsuna reaches out to catch him, realizing a second too late that one, he doesn’t have the strenth to keep the taller man upright and two, Tusna is a walking, talking disaster who inevitably trips and brings Skull down with him. They hit the ground hard enough to knock all the air out of his lungs and land in a graceless heap on the floor.

“Sorry!” Tsuna squeaks, breathless from where his face is smushed against Skull’s padded shoulder. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me, Skull-sama!”

Kami-sama, he’s knocked the poor, already injured man over! Trying to untangle them immediately, Tsuna accidentally rams his elbow into Skull’s side, which earns him a pained groan and Skull another flustered apology.

This is why his team doesn’t take Tsuna on missions. He’s a hazard not just for himself but everyone around him.

Scrambling away from Skull before he manages to kill the guy through sheer clumsiness, Tsuna forces himself to take one deep, steady breath — only one, though, else he’ll have time to think about how stupid what he’s gonna do in a moment really is — and starts to unpack his bag. Tsuna might not carry as many weapons as a Vongola Superhero on duty technically should, but his emergency kit would make any aspiring doctor proud. And Nana too, but that’s because Tsuna’s mom thinks he’s healing the innocent bystanders — "My Tsu-kun has such a gentle heart!" — not himself.

"What are you doing?!" Skull asks while slowly pushing himself off the floor and into a sitting position.

"I’m just looking for the— there!" Tsuna knew he still has one of Irie’s newest ice packs. He kneads the white package for a few moments to activate it, then holds it out to Skull. "Here. Hold this to your jaw for at least ten minutes, but no longer than thirty. Ichi’s still working on some issues long-term use has on human skin."

Tsuna babbles like he always does when he’s scared. [It drives Mochida crazy sometimes because Tsuna is scared most of the time and Mochida hates babbling.] It doesn’t stop him from noticing the odd look Skull shoots him, a bit like he’s measuring Tsuna’s worth. Except that’s a look he’s intimately familiar with and would recognize anyone, so it’s something close, but not exactly that.

"Please take it, Skull-sama." Tsuna shakes the ice pack lightly, pretends like his hands aren’t trembling when those bright, violett eyes fixate on him. "That looks like it really hurts."

[He’s not sure if all Arcobaleno carry their superpowers on the outside. If it’s part of the costume, colored contacts and all, or if their bodies are brimming with power to the point where they’re overflowing, where it pours out of them in any shape it can.]

Slowly Skull takes the ice pack. Looks at it as though he doesn’t know what to do with it.

"H-Hold it against your chin, please, Skull-sama." Tsuna busies himself with sorting through his various bandages and tries very hard to pretend his voice isn’t shaking and squeaky like a frightened mouse. "It’ll help keep the swelling down."

"…The immortal Skull-sama heals fast." Skull says the words like a question. Tsuna doesn’t look up, but he can feel the weight of the man’s stare.

Hunching his shoulders, Tsuna pulls what little courage he has together, and stutters, "That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, Skull-sama. Please, can you just take it? I— I don’t like seeing people hurt."

Skull is still staring, Tsuna can tell, but it feels less like he wants to lean over and rip Tsuna open to figure out what’s inside, and more like he’s just watching Tsuna drop the disinfect spray for the third time. After a moment, he presses the ice pack to his face and even though Tsuna’s still trembling a bit, he smiles.

"Thank you."

Skull doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t protest when Tsuna tells him to disinfect the gash above his eyebrow — not deep enough to need stitches, thankfully. He draws the line at more bandages, though, which is worrisome. Tsuna is pretty sure the man has at the very least bruised his rips, but Skull is a supervillain, not runaway kitten, and maybe that means he knows what he’s doing.

That would at least make one of them.

Finally convinced that there’s no other injury Skull will let him help with, Tsuna carefully packs up his things again and bids the villain a hesitant goodbye. Which brings up a somewhat awkward point.

"I have to go back to work now and someone might ask where I’ve been." Eventually. Maybe. Tsuna rocks back on his heels, not sure how to put this. "If they ask, they might come here. And you— might not want to be there when they come," is what he settles on.

Skull’s watching him with another strange expression, both eyebrows raised as he watches Tsuna make a fool of himself. "Why?"

Tsuna eeps. [It’s not a full-on shriek, thankfully, but it’s far too close for his comfort.] There’s an intensity to Skull just now that has the hairs of the back of his neck stand up and reminds Tsuna rather violently that he’s talking to an Arcobaleno. That he’s been treating an Arcobaleno’s wounds. For a moment, Tsuna sways on his feet, as though his body wonders whether it should just give up on him completely.

"Ireallyneedtogonow!" Tsuna rushes the words out so fast, they trip over themselves, grabs his bag and high-tails it out of there. "Please take care of yourself, Skull-sama!" he adds over his shoulder, almost walking into the door as he does so.

It’s not until Tsuna is sitting in his comfortingly safe work chair that it occurs to him that not once during the entire, surreal encounter [he still can’t believe he was in the same room as an Arcobaleno and survived] did it occur to him to call Vongola. Even now Tsuna is hesitating to speak up, to tell one of his co-workers. Because while his gut feeling tells him that Skull got out of that warehouse as soon as Tsuna turned his back on him, he isn’t one hundred percent sure and what if they catch Skull because of him?

Tsuna resolves to spill the whole story as soon as someone asks — he’s a terrible liar and he never promised Skull he wouldn’t tell, not that the man asked himto — and tries not to think too much about the many crimes he committed by letting the chance of catching a supervillain of Skull’s calibre go to waste. Not that anyone would expect Tsuna to catch a supervillain, but still.

[His team returns two hours later, bright-eyed, bruised and breathless with the enthusiasm of a successful mission tangible in the air around them. Mochida even greets Tsuna with a smile and doesn’t scold him when Tsuna drops his tea cup in response and Haru tells him all about the exciting and ultimately successful arrest they’ve pulled off.

No one asks Tsuna where he’s been or if anything interesting happened while they were gone.

Tsuna tells himself he’s relieved, for Skull’s sake if nothing else, because the pang he feels at the thought that no one would miss me if I was gone has gone beyond pathetic a long time ago.]

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setaripendragon · 4 years

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Trapped in the Amber - 1x01

I promise I’m not dead! I know I haven’t been posting anything lately, but that’s because what I’ve been writing is mostly... well, this. The most ridiculously self-indulgent bullshit I’ve written in a long time, and it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever written, and it’s still not even half way done. I admit, I’m very self-conscious about this, because the nastier side of fandom has infected me with some bullshit prejudices that I haven’t completely managed to exorcise yet, but... I’m tired of being worried it’s not ‘good enough’, and maybe, if people do like it at all, it’ll motivate me to pick it back up. So, here I am, retelling Supernatural right from the start, with a next gen OC tagging along, fixing things here and there. (...Yeah, god, I know how that sounds...) It’s going to start out... sticking pretty close to the Supernatural script, although I tried to limit the amount of times I quoted the show verbatim, it still happens sometimes. The story will diverge from canon more and more as the little changes start piling up and having an effect, but... That’s a long way off, tbh. (For anyone who cares and doesn’t know me well enough to guess, the primary future!ships are Dean/Cas/Gabe and Sam/Mia, but apart from the main character being a Dean/Cas/Gabe baby who loves her parents, there really isn’t that much more focus on romance than there is in the show. For now.)

Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Friday 11th November 2005

Landing in the past feels like hitting the emergency stop on a bullet train, like she left her internal organs behind somewhere on the timeline. Meira knows it’s the past because the timeline had felt thick and gooey as she fell. Falling in the other direction would have felt worse, but that doesn’t mean she enjoyed the trip. Add that to the sensation of her grace suddenly retreating to coil up under her skin like a wounded animal, and she thinks it’s no surprise that the first thing she does once there’s solid ground beneath her feet is throw up.

“Oh, son of a bitch.” She groans once her stomach feels like it’s settled mostly back where it’s supposed to be. She braces her shoulder on a tree that’s conveniently nearby, and tries to get her bearings. She’s in a forest, she sees, as she looks around. There are a lot of forests on earth. There are forests elsewhere in the universe too, but she’s… pretty sure this is earth, anyway. And she’s somewhen in the past, although she can’t get any sense of where she actually is on the timeline, and when she tries to reach out with her grace to find out, a sharp, awful pain lances through her soul. She groans and staggers, leaning more of her weight against the tree and forcing her knees to keep her upright out of sheer force of will. She is not trying that again.

The thought that there might be something wrong with her grace is terrifying. She’s stranded, and she can’t get home. She thinks she might be able to manifest her wings, she can still feel them, after all, so they’re not gone, but she wouldn’t be able to fly on them. She can’t fly. She can’t fly.

The panic sits sharp and cloying in the back of her throat, and she swallows hard, as if that might get rid of it. It doesn’t. “Motherfucker.” She swears, and hates that it comes out more reedy than fierce. She has no idea how this happened, either, which doesn’t help. Well, she has some idea, because Heaven, Hell, and everyone in between has been trying to get rid of her for her entire life, and if whatever’s wrong with her grace is why she fell into the past, then she’d say someone finally succeeded. Dad’s going to go ballistic, she thinks, not sure if it makes her want to laugh, or cry.

“Hey, lady.” Someone barks, and Meira flinches so hard she nearly falls over. It’s only a decade of various combat training that saves her from ending up on her ass in the dirt. She has never in her life been unable to sense the people around her before. She’s always felt the shades and shapes of people’s souls. Until now, apparently, with her grace trapped under her skin and unable to reach out to feel the nuances of her environment.

The man standing a little ways off is fairly nondescript, with short-cropped light blonde hair and a touch of stubble, wearing what looked like wilderness gear. Meira has no idea what lies beneath his face, whether she can trust him or not and it makes her uneasy. “What’re you doing out here?” He demands.

“Getting lost?” Meira sasses, because nervousness has never helped shut her up.

And then, another man steps out of the underbrush, but this one, Meira recognises. It’s her dad. Even though he looks so baby-faced and young, she’d know him anywhere. The relief is like a physical blow and she sags against another tree. “And my name’s Meira.” She adds. “Not ‘lady’, thanks.”

Dad quirks a grin, enjoying her sass, and then says, with every ounce of cocky bravado she’s ever seen him use and then some; “Nice to meet you, Meira. I’m Dean.” He glances over at the other guy. “And this is… I’m sorry, what was your name again?” The question is so obviously insincere, and Meira chokes on an incredulous laugh, because she’s seen her dad playful before, even bordering on mean when he’s trying not to admit something’s wrong, but that was something else. It’s macho-posturing, she realises, with a mixture of hilarity and dread. He’s showing off, like a twat, for her.

Oh, god. She’s going to have to nip that right in the bud, or she’s going to throw up again.

“Roy. Roy Roberts.” The other guy replies through gritted teeth, glaring at Dad – at Dean, she’s going to have to get used to that, or she’s going to slip up, and things are going to get awkward real fast – with enough venom to bring down an elephant.

“Hey, mind if I tag along with you guys?” Meira asks, to diffuse some of the angry tension in the air. Absently she wonders if this is before Dean has admitted that he’s into guys, too, because that might explain some of that. Roy is a fairly good looking guy, after all. He reminds Meira of that guy who played Bond in those movies Dad likes from before she was born. That… probably haven’t even been made yet. Damn it. She’s going to have to be careful with things like that. “I have no idea where I am right now.” She adds, because Roy does not look convinced.

“We’re heading further in, not back out.” He warns her.

Meira shrugs. “You’re still a better option than trying to make it by myself.” And she has absolutely no intention of going anywhere without Dad. It’s not really very rational, but he’s her only point of reference right now, and until she can get her feet under herself and figure out what the fuck to do, she could use the illusion of support. So she grins into the face of Roy’s unimpressed glower. “You know I’m just asking as a formality, right? If you say no, I’ll just follow you anyway, because what the hell else am I gonna do?”

Roy’s glower shades towards resigned, and Meira knows she’s won. Her grin sharpens, and he rolls his eyes, but nods his acceptance. “Come on, then, if you’re coming.” He instructs, heading back the way he came without any further ado, leaving Meira alone with her baby-faced father.

There’s a brief moment where they stare at each other, both of them at a loss, and then Dad – Dean – jerks his head towards the bit of forest Roy disappeared into, and Meira takes that as her cue to fall into step with him. “So, before you were getting lost, what were you doing out here?” Dean asks, looking at her with open curiosity. Then his eyes flicker down and up again, and Meira catches herself before an Enochian exorcism can fall out of her mouth on instinct.

Instead, she switches to the first lie she can come up with that might make her dad stop looking at her like that. “I was running away from a dickbag who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She says without looking at him.

There’s a beat of silence, and a glance shows Meira that Dean is grimacing. “What an asshole.” He comments, just as they catch up with the others again. Roy looks sour, but he’s attentive, scanning the surroundings with a keen eye, which Meira appreciates, and standing nearby is Uncle Sam. Only he’s a squishy-cheeked, smooth-faced, gangly-limbed baby-Uncle now. Meira has to bite back the urge to coo and possibly pinch his cheeks.

The other two in the group are people Meira doesn’t recognise, a teenage boy with close-cropped hair, and a young woman with cute dimples that show when she smiles at Meira in greeting. Meira smiles back with extra warmth. “This is my brother, Sam.” Dean says, taking it upon himself to do introductions. “And this is Haley and Ben Collins. Their brother’s gone missing, which is why we’re here, looking for him.” He explains, gesturing.

“I hope we find him.” Meira says, specifically to Haley. She’s just decided that Haley is her salvation, and she offers her hand to the other woman to shake. “I’m Meira.” Haley takes her hand with just a hint of befuddlement.

“Alright, let’s keep moving.” Roy calls, before Meira can add anything else. She does let her hand linger, though, just a touch, before she retracts it. Their group moves off again, and Meira makes it a point to walk beside Haley.

“Tell me about your brother?” She asks, just to strike up conversation.

Haley glances at her sideways, but obliges. It’s clear she loves her family, just the way she talks about them, and Meira catches herself smiling for real, and not just as a flirtation, although it’s that as well. She does make a point to tell Haley how admirable she thinks it is, that sort of devotion to family, and Haley ducks her head with a rueful smile, bashful.

Behind them, Sam snickers. Meira glances back and catches a disgruntled pout on her dad’s face before he smooths it out into something more neutral once he realises she’s looking. She makes a bit of a show of glancing between Haley and Dean, and then grins, unrepentant, and shrugs in faux-apology. Dean snorts and waves her off, conceding defeat gracefully enough.

When Meira turns back around, Haley is watching her, one eyebrow arched. Meira refuses to feel sheepish at being caught out, and just nudges her with her shoulder, gentle and teasing, and asks her another question about her life. Haley rolls her eyes, but answers.

The conversation carries them on through the afternoon, until they reach a point where Roy stops. It’s almost a clearing, if it wasn’t for the waist-high undergrowth. “This is it.” Roy says, looking about them. “Blackwater Ridge.”

“What coordinates are we at?” Uncle Sam asks at once. Roy answers, and Meira aches a little at just how incomprehensible the numbers are. Before, she would have just known where she was, and she feels a little sick, being made aware of just how little she can tell about the world around her now. She looks around, hating how small she feels, how muffled everything is. She doesn’t dare try to reach out with her grace again, but she wants to, just to make that feeling of wrong go away.

“I’m going to go take a look around.” Roy announces.

Meira whips around to give him an incredulous look. He might not be in the know, might not realise that Sam and Dean are probably on a hunt right now, but even so, it seems reckless for anyone to go off on their own. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself.” Sam points out, so Meira doesn’t have to.

“I’ll go with you.” Meira offers, since no one else seems like they’re about to.

It earns her incredulous looks from all quarters, and a disparaging one from Roy. Meira gives him a hard look in return, the sort of ‘do you really want to try me, bitch?’ look that Pabbi has always told her makes her look like her qaada. And she might not be able to bring her grace to bear along with it like she usually does, but she is still an angel, no matter how constrained, and it would take a tougher man than Roy Roberts to not even blink in the face of heavenly wrath.

“Look,” he says in a carefully reasonable tone, “I know these woods, and I’m just going to have a look around, see if I can find any signs of people. I’ll be fine. You’ll be safer staying here.”

“You’d be safer staying with the group, too.” Dean interjects, making no effort to sound inoffensive. Roy gives him a sour look.

“Why don’t we all go?” Haley suggests, all false brightness and impatience.

Roy raises his hands in frustrated surrender, and heads off into the woods. The rest of them follow along like good little ducklings. They do spread out a little as they go, looking for any signs of other people in the area. Meira is not an expert woodsman, but she’d learned a few things growing up with a hunter family, and she tries to pay attention, to be helpful.

“Haley! Over here!” Roy shouts suddenly. Everyone bolts towards the shout, and they come out in a clearing with three tents lying there in mangled wreckages, blood-splattered and torn. “Oh my god…” Haley breathes, sounding horrified. Meira doesn’t blame her. She feels a little bit sick, too, and it’s not her brother’s campsite. The thought of something like this happening to Jace makes her want to smite something, and her grace roils under her skin, pushing at the boundaries of her physical form and aching every time it brushes against the inside of her skin.

“Looks like a grizzly.” Roy remarks, cool and practical.

Meira thinks not. Not only because if it was, it’s unlikely her dad and her uncle would be here, but also because there would be more blood and less wanton destruction if it had been a normal animal. If a bear had been hungry enough to hunt people, there would be a lot more blood, at least, and if it was pissed at them being on its territory, there would be bodies. But there aren’t. Just a bit of blood splattered about here and there, and a lot of claw marks.

Haley begins shouting for her brother, and Meira grabs her arm before she can walk any further into the camp. “Don’t.” She warns, eyeing the surrounding woods warily.

“What?” Haley demands, eyes a little wild. “Why not?”

“Something might still be out there.” Sam interjects, giving Meira a respectful nod. She tries to smile back, but she’s not too proud to admit that she’s scared. She ought to be able to tell what did this, to feel the spirits and souls around her and know. But she can’t.

“Sam!” Dean calls, and Sam heads off at a brisk clip.

Meira heads after him on instinct. Haley follows her for about three steps before Ben calls out in a voice that wavers despite his best efforts, and she turns back to him without hesitation. Meira catches up to Sam just in time to hear Dean saying “-tell you what, it’s no skin-walker or black dog.” Then Dean turns and stalls at the sight of her. “Uh…” He says, staring at her like a deer in the headlights.

In other circumstances, Meira might glory in making her dad look like that for once, instead of the other way around, but she’s still feeling unnerved enough that it’s hard to wring any humour out of the situation. “Why are we ruling out skin-walkers and black dogs?” She asks, propping her shoulder on a tree and crossing her arms. It looks less pathetic than curling her arms around her sides, but it still serves to make herself feel better. What would be best would be a hug from her dad, but there’s no way she’d ask for that when he’d probably just take it the wrong way.

“You-” Sam begins, realisation dawning in his expression.

“You’re a Hunter?” Dean demands.

“More or less.” Meira agrees. It’s never been a title that sits right on her shoulders. Not when she’s spent her whole life surrounded by people who actually dedicated themselves to the job, while she’s always felt more like a kid mucking about with a hobby. At Dean’s sceptical, bordering on suspicious look, she elaborates. “I was raised to it, but I’ve never… dedicated myself to it.” She hedged. “I just help out here and there when something crosses my path.”

“Right.” Dean acknowledges, and then jerks his head towards something behind him. Meira comes closer to look, and Dean explains the tracks. It’s almost like being a kid again, with Dad schooling her on this or that aspect of hunting.

“A skin-walker or a black dog could drag a person away, but you’re right, the tracks just stopping like that is weird.” Meira acknowledges, wracking her brains for what could do this. “A phantom cat could, too. Or a wendigo or a moonfiend. Or a harpy, maybe. It’s too early for a werewolf.”

“Werewolves don’t tend to drag their victims off, never mind vanish with them.” Dean points out.

“What’s a moonfiend?” Sam asks.

Meira blinks, reminded suddenly that this is not really her uncle. “It’s a… It’s kind of like a mothman, but less aggressive. They’re mostly harmless, actually, really shy, but if they’ve staked out a territory, you don’t want to go wandering into it.” She explains absently. “It’s just that they can fly, which would explain…” She gestures at the vanishing tracks. “Like Harpies. Wendigos are strong and agile enough to lift a human body, and phantom cats are spirits. It’s possible a phantom cats could transport a victim that way, but they don’t tend to drag people off, either.”

“Phantom cat. That’s the animal version of a poltergeist, right?” Dean checks.

Meira nods. “Yeah, pretty much. Although normal poltergeists generally just want to hurt or kill you, but some legends suggest that phantom cats steal souls.”

“The pattern of attacks would suggest it’s hunting, not protecting territory, so I don’t think it’s a moonfiend.” Sam adds with a grimace.

The three of them look at each other, all of them coming to the same conclusion, none of them actually willing to say it out loud. Before someone can muster their courage, the forest air is shattered with a shout.

“HELP!”

Meira startles, and then lurches into a run before she’s had time to think. Of course, Dean and Sam are already on the move, too, even as a second, and then a third cry echoes through the forest. They converge with the others, a wordless scream that sounds closer than ever egging them on. Then the forest goes silent, and they slow to a stop, wary and alert, listening hard. “It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn’t it?” Haley asks.

Meira feels painfully vulnerable, and she tests her grace, to see if she can conjure her blade. It’s made from her grace, and it’s still there, so the blade should be there, but when she tries to manifest it, a lance of white-hot pain ricochets through her, and she clutches at her wrist, gritting her teeth against the agony.

“Everybody back to camp.” Sam orders, and Meira obeys on instinct. She’s never felt so vulnerable before in her entire life, and it only gets worse when she realises they’ve fallen for a trap and all their gear is gone. Before, she wouldn’t have worried. She’s an angel, she can survive off the ambient energy of the universe if she needs to. It’s not fun, but it’s possible. But now, she has no idea what she can and can’t do. Her grace is still there, warming her bones, but every time she reaches for it, all she gets is pain.

“Alright, listen up.” Sam says briskly, looking around the camp with a tight expression on his face. “It’s time to go. Things have gotten more complicated.”

“What?” Haley asks, incredulous and irritated.

“Kid, don’t worry. Whatever’s out there, I think I can handle it.” Roy says, and Meira’s tempted to deck him for the condescending arrogance in his voice.

“If you don’t even know what it is, you have no idea whether you can handle it.” She snaps. It seems to startle everyone, but Meira doesn’t care. Yesterday, a wendigo wouldn’t have frightened her. She could move faster than it, could burn it to death with just a touch of the holy light in her soul, but today, she’s as helpless as Roy Roberts, and it pisses her off that he’s not as scared as she is.

“Sweetheart, when you’ve been hunting as long as I have, there isn’t much the woods can throw at you that you can’t handle.” Roy retorts smugly.

Meira scoffs incredulously, suddenly hating him. “Oh, that’s what this is. Did Sam taking charge just now wound your fragile male ego? Are you really going to put everyone here at risk because of your god damned pride?”

“How dare you suggest-”

“Hey, relax.” Dean interjects. Even though it isn’t directed at her, Meira can’t help but subside, too used to Dad mediating arguments between her and Jace, or her and Rob, or her and Pabbi that way.

Apparently, Uncle Sam hasn’t gotten the memo, though. “She’s right.” He says, as if Dad hadn’t said anything at all. “You have no idea what’s out there, what it can do. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“You, protect me?” Roy scoffs. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight.” He spits, getting into Uncle Sam’s face.

“Isn’t it about time you retired, then?” Meira snarks.

“You shut your mouth.” Roy barks, rounding on her.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Dad snaps, getting between them with both his hands out as if to physically hold them away from each other. “Just chill out, okay?” He prompts, giving Uncle Sam a pointed look. Meira tucks her arms around herself and tries not to freak out any more than she already has. Haley putting a hand on her shoulder makes her jump, but the comforting squeeze she gets helps a little.

“We don’t have time, Dean. We have to get these people out of here before this thing eats them alive.” Uncle Sam protests furiously.

“Look.” Haley speaks up, interrupting whatever Roy had been about to say in answer to that. “Tommy might still be alive.” She states, and Meira knows what’s coming next. She knows, because it’s what she’d say if it was Jace out here, in the claws of a wendigo. It’s what Dad would say if it was Uncle Sam. “And I’m not leaving here without him.”

“Then we’re going to need fire.” Meira says. “Lots and lots of fire.”

Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Saturday 12th November 2005

They build up a large campfire, and several smaller fires, too, and Meira helps her dad draw protective symbols around their camp. And then they sit and wait for morning or the wendigo, whichever comes first. The hours draw on interminably, and Meira sits right by the fire, close enough that she feels a little feverish with the heat baking her face, but it’s close enough that she could grab one of the big branches out of the fire if she needed to.

Sitting and waiting isn’t the best plan though, she thinks grimly. For morning, yes. Wendigos don’t really like bright sunlight, so they’ll have that small advantage once the sun rises, but after that? Haley isn’t leaving without her brother, and her brother, if he’s still alive, will be in the wendigo’s lair. Which they’ll need to find, and get into, and get out of, without dying or getting caught themselves.

“What’re you thinking?” Haley asks quietly, nudging her.

Meira glances at her, sees how worried she looks, and musters up a smile. “I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to find Tommy.” Haley blinks, then almost smiles, except not really. Meira knows the feeling, and goes back to staring at the fire. “Even if we kill this thing, we’d still need to find him, and… Shit, that’s a lot of wilderness to comb through.”

“We’ll do it.” Haley insists stubbornly. “I’ll do it.”

Meira smiles, slanting a fond look at her. “I know.” She assures her. “I have a little brother, too. I’d take on a wendigo for him, too.” That wouldn’t really have been saying much before, but now? Like this? She still means it.

“A…” Haley falters, frowning. “I’ve heard of that before. Isn’t that some sort of Native legend or something?”

Meira nodded. “Algonquian peoples, primarily. They tended to live more northward, where the long, lean winters often led to starvation. And starvation sometimes led to people who who looked at their families and friends, and saw not people they loved, but food.” Haley shudders in distaste. “And once they’ve eaten someone, they start craving it, and every time they eat someone else, they turn a little bit more monstrous.”

Haley gives her a sharp look, fear buried under anger. “You mean this thing’s going to eat Tommy?” She demands in a harsh whisper.

“It’s planning to, yeah. But it probably hasn’t yet.” Meira reassures, reaching out to put an arm around Haley’s shoulders. Haley grabs her other wrist in a desperate, unthinking motion, clinging to hope. “Wendigos are born of deprivation, they know what it’s like to go hungry, and they hate it. They tend to hunt in spurts, and hibernate for long stretches of time in between, but they don’t gorge themselves. They’ll take people alive if they can, so they have food for later.”

Haley squeezes her eyes shut. Then she sets her jaw and nods. “How can we kill this thing?” She asks in a hard voice.

Meira looks away. “I’m starting to wonder if we should.” She admits.

“What?” Haley asks, so sharply that Sam and Dean look over at them from where they’re sitting together across the fire, heads bent together and discussing something.

Meira opens her mouth to explain what she’s thinking, what she doesn’t want to be thinking, but before she can, someone out in the woods calls for help. She cringes, even as everyone else leaps to their feet, those with guns aiming them out into the night. She knows that it’s the wendigo, knows that it isn’t some poor bastard getting chowed on, but… well, before, she would have known, would have felt it, would have been able to tell for sure that, no, the only soul out there is the corrupted one of the wendigo. Now, all she has to go on is cold logic. It’s enough to convince her head, but not her soul.

Some part of her still feels the need to go and check, to be sure, because what if she’s just sitting here, listening to someone die when she could have helped them? Then the gunfire starts up. “I hit it!” Roy shouts suddenly, and Meira’s head jerks up just in time to see him dodging around one of their extra fires and rushing out into the woods.

She’s on her feet before she can think about it. Then she hesitates. What is she going to do, without her grace? But she can’t just leave him to his fate, either, no matter how much she doesn’t like him. “Don’t move!” Her dad orders, right before going after Roy himself.

That cinches it, really. Meira’s not leaving her dad out there with a wendigo. She snatches up one of the burning sticks, and bolts after them. “Meira!” Uncle Sam shouts, reaching out to try and grab her, but Meira’s played that game a million times, it’s habit to flex her grace to give herself just a little bit more speed so that she’s not where he expects her to be.

And this time, it works.

It’s such a relief she nearly stumbles, but she doesn’t have time to waste, so she catches her balance and runs on. She’s right behind Dad, and Roy is up ahead, and she can hear the wendigo in the trees. “It’s over here!” The wendigo calls with someone else’s voice, and Meira can see it reaching for Roy. The world blurs as she lunges, practically tackling Roy out of the way just as the wendigo’s hands flash out and the claws sink into her face.

She could retaliate, she has her stick, but she remembers the thoughts that had been plaguing her earlier, and doesn’t.

The wendigo jerks her, hard, but Meira’s grace isn’t gone. It’s just trapped, which means that when her neck snaps, it’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Painful, sure, but her grace heals the damage almost as soon as it’s been done. The wendigo gives her another shake, nearly breaking her neck again, and then wrenches the burning stick away from her, tossing it back down to the ground. She lets it, because she doesn’t want to have to heal being eaten, and then plays limp ragdoll as the wendigo darts off through the trees with her. It won’t fool it forever, but it should fool it long enough for it to take her back to its lair.

They drop back to the forest floor eventually, and then further down still, underground, Meira realises. A cave, or an abandoned mine, perhaps. She’s tossed into a larger cavern, lets herself roll limply along the floor, and the wendigo retreats. Meira’s just going to have to hope that her dad and uncle can keep Haley and Ben alive through the night.

“Ugh.” She groans and sits up, rubbing at the back of her neck. She’s human enough that that sort of damage is still unnerving, and leaves her feeling vaguely squeamish for hours afterwards. So worth it just to know her grace still works, though.

“Holy shit!”

Meira stills, looking around. The cavern is not, in fact, pitch black. There’s faint light seeping in from somewhere above her head, moonlight, and it’s just about enough for her to see by. There’s a man strung up from the rafters that looks enough like Haley and Ben that Meira feels pretty safe in guessing “Tommy Collins?”

“Yeah.” Tommy says breathlessly. “I thought you were dead.”

“That’s what I wanted it to think.” Meira tells him with a shrug, clambering to her feet and dusting herself off. “Now, let’s see if we can’t get you down.” She wishes, briefly but intensely, for her blade. It’s right there, sitting inside her soul, and she can’t manifest it. Instead, she casts about for something in the cave that they’re in, and settles on a broken shard of rock from the floor of the cave. It worked for prehistoric people well enough.

“How- how’d you know who I am?” Tommy asks after Meira’s been sawing at the ropes for a few minutes. They’re starting to fray, finally, which is a relief.

“Your brother and sister have come looking for you.” Meira tells him. “Brought me and a couple others along with them.”

“Oh, god.” Tommy groans. “Are they okay?”

“Worried about you, but otherwise, yeah. Last I saw, anyway. And D- Dean and Sam know how to handle a wendigo. They’ll look after them, I promise.” Tommy lets out a shuddering breath, nodding to himself.

“I think this is backwards.” Tommy says in a tone of forced cheer. Meira hums curiously, scowling at the rope as she continues to work at it. “We’ll the beautiful damsel is rescuing the handsome knight from the monster.” He points out.

Meira snorts her way into laughter, and leans back to get a better look at him. “You are cute.” She acknowledges, and in other circumstances, she might have flirted back, because she’s gotten the feeling that both Haley and Tommy are straight. “But your sister’s cuter.” She adds, going back to her work. The rope gives way before Tommy manages to muster up a response to that. He staggers when he drops, having been strung up for so long and deprived of sustenance that his balance is shot to shit. Meira catches him and slings one of his arms over her shoulder. “Do you know if your friends are still alive?” She asks him. There’s no one else in this cave, she doesn’t think, although she can’t be entirely sure of that with her grace locked down like this, but she’s pretty sure this won’t be the only place the wendigo has to stash its snacks.

She feels more than sees Tommy shake his head. “N-no, it-” He stammers out. “Oh god.” He says, and Meira recognises that tone well enough to shift the way she’s supporting him so that when he doubles over and retches, she doesn’t get covered in bile.

“Easy.” Meira soothes, rubbing a hand over his back. He dry heaves a few more times, but manages to regain control of himself after that. “Yeah, I can’t imagine watching something like that was any fun.” She muses, tugging him back upright and setting off. She hopes she can remember the way out. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“What about- about that thing?” Tommy asks her as they stagger along, into the first of several pitch-black tunnels.

“It’s almost certainly out in the woods right now, hunting the others.” Meira tells him, which she is aware is not as comforting as it could be, given that ‘the others’ includes family for both of them. Tommy swears, and Meira grimaces, figuring she can at least help a little bit. “Sam and Dean know how to handle something like this.” She assures him. “And they have plenty of fire. They’ll keep Haley and Ben safe. And I’m going to keep you safe.”

“In normal circumstances, that would sound ridiculous.” Tommy mutters.

“Don’t be sexist.” Meira chides, but she keeps her tone light, and gives him a gentle little jostle with her shoulder to let him know she’s mostly teasing. Then she sobers, because short of actually eating her alive, which admittedly is a possibility, the wendigo can’t kill her, but it could definitely kill Tommy, and if he’s going to play machismo bullshit because she’s a lady, she really does need to nip that in the bud. “But I’m serious. If it does come back, if we run into it, don’t you dare try to play the hero, alright?” She puts a touch of divine command into her tone. “I am not your responsibility, do not wait for me, do not come back for me, do not try to throw yourself into harms way to protect me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy mumbles, resentful and bewildered.

The rest of the slog out of the mines is made in silence, save for Tommy’s ragged breathing and Meira’s occasional curse when she makes a wrong turn and they have to double back. Finally, though, Meira picks out a hint of light and follows it to the exit. It looks like it might have been boarded up once, but the wendigo has made a neat little opening for itself, and she and Tommy stagger out into in the dim grey-blue light of false dawn.

Tommy chokes back a sob of relief. Meira grins at the sound and shifts him higher on her shoulder. “Come on, we don’t want to get caught here if it comes back.” She points out, and that convinces Tommy to pick up his pace. It’s still slow going, because he’s still pretty unhealthy after two days chained up in a cave with minimal sustenance. The wendigo probably wouldn’t have fed him, but they had been known to give captives water. They also have undergrowth to contend with now, and Meira might heal a broken ankle, but Tommy won’t.

“Where… are the others?” Tommy asks.

Which is a hell of a good question. “I have no idea.” Meira tells him, feigning cheer. “Right now our priorities are water and some way of making fire.” She informs him, and Tommy drags them to a stop.

Tommy clearly knows more about wilderness survival than she does, because within a few minutes of her pointing out a need for it, Tommy has somehow managed to get a small fire going. They’re still too close to the wendigo’s lair for Meira’s comfort, but having a weapon that might actually do something to it is more important than trying to escape something that could outstrip a bullet. They build up a campfire, draw some protective sigils, and Meira fashions them both makeshift torches, wishing bitterly that she wasn’t reduced to such primitive tools all the while.

Meira risks leaving Tommy alone with the sigils to protect him just long enough to see if she can find any hint of running water nearby. She does, so they relocate, going through the whole process of warding all over again, this time closer to the water. Tommy looks a lot better for the chance to drink and wash his face, and then they have to figure out what the hell to do next.

“Finding the others ought to be priority over killing the wendigo.” Meira muses. “There’s just the problem of how to actually go about that.”

Tommy nods grimly. “If it wasn’t for the monster out there that wants to eat us, I’d say set up a base camp, search outwards, leave signs.” He summarises. Meira is about to suggest that they should do exactly that, then, when a furious snarl echoes through the woods. Tommy flinches so hard he falls over where he’s sitting, only barely catching himself with one hand in the dirt.

“Think it noticed we’re missing?” Meira asks rhetorically.

They sit, tense and wary, in the ensuing silence, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t for long enough that Meira begins to wonder if she should do something. Then the yelling starts. “Help! Help me!” Meira clenches her hands into fists, heart squeezing.

“You know that’s not going to work, right?” She calls, standing slowly and bringing two of their burning sticks with her, one in each hand. Tommy hisses at her, grabbing at the hem of her coat as if that might make her sit and stop baiting the monster. A snarl answers her words, echoing oddly as the wendigo moves mid-sound and the doppler effect turns it multi-toned. “What? Pissed because you couldn’t kill me? We’re pretty tough prey, I bet you’ve figured by now. All this exertion must be making you kinda hungry.”

The roar that follows shakes the forest, full of fury and malice, and Meira nearly giggles hysterically. She only has the barest idea of what she’s doing, and her hands are shaking with the terror of having a predator that’s bigger than her focused solely on her, but she knows, she knows from painful, bitter experience that making someone angry makes them sloppy in the short term. And any advantage she can wring out of this situation, she needs.

Tauntingly, she steps a little closer to the edge of the protective sigils. And there it is, sprinting too fast for the mortal eye to catch, close enough to make the underbrush rustle right next to where Meira is standing, but not quite close enough for her to hit with one of her torches. Meira doesn’t want to start a forest fire, but oh, boy, is she tempted right now. “Is that supposed to scare me?” She mocks.

The wendigo rushes by again, and then- stops. In plain view. Not even looking at her. Tommy makes a choked noise of horror, and the wendigo doesn’t even twitch. Meira is so tempted to lunge out of the sigils at it, but it’s too easy, and she hesitates. She hesitates like an idiot until it’s suddenly gone, bounding off into the forest, and she realises what must have happened.

It heard something she couldn’t. Something that was easier prey.

“For fuck’s sake!” She explodes, and goes after it, even though it’s probably going to get her eaten.

“Hey! Hey, wait!” Tommy calls.

“Stay in the circle!” Meira calls over her shoulder. “If it comes back, set it on fire!”

The wendigo appears in front of her in an instant. Meira swings on instinct, a little too slow because she’s so off her game right now, but a little too slow is still something, because the flames pass by the wendigo’s emaciated flesh with inches to spare, and it must feel the heat, because it shrieks, an awful, too human sound of pain. A huge clawed hand strikes out, and tears right through the sleeve of her leather coat and into the flesh beneath. “Shit!” She curses, pained and indignant in equal measure, because if she’s guessing right about the limits on her abilities, she’s not going to be able to fix that.

“Meira?!” Uncle Sam’s voice shouts.

The wendigo ignores him, which means Meira succeeded in pissing it off. She ducks the second set of claws aiming for her throat, and then swings both torches up and in. They crash into either side of the wendigo’s head, and the smell of scorched flesh fills the forest just as Sam skids into view. The wendigo screams, rearing back and disappointingly not dead. Meira gears up for another swing, and the wendigo bolts. It’s gone in a flash, and Meira is about to go after it, to press her advantage, but then Uncle Sam is right in front of her, eyes wide. “Are you alright?” He demands, looking between her face and her arm.

“I’ll be fine.” Meira assures him, lowering her arms and hissing when the wound pulls. “My jacket on the other hand…” She bitches, tugging at the shoulder to get a better look at the tears. She whines when she gets a proper look at the damage.

“You bitch-slapped a wendigo in the face with a medieval torch, and you’re just upset about your jacket?” Sam asks incredulously.

Meira considers that. “I… huh. That was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” Sam snorts, shaking his head like he genuinely can’t believe her. Meira grins, before the situation catches up with her, and she jerks her head back the way she came. “We should get behind the wards I set up if we’re going to catch up.”

Sam, though, shakes his head. “I’ve gotta-” He gestures after the wendigo. Meira is just about to point out that running off half-cocked is going to get him dead, despite the disorientation of having to tell her Uncle that, when he goes on. “It took Dean and Haley.”

Meira stares at him for a long moment, then tips her head back. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” She whines at the sky. “I just got Tommy out!”

“You got Tommy?” Sam echoes, brightening.

Meira nods, and realises there’s really only one thing for her to do. “I’ll wait with him while you go help the others?” She offers, and Sam nods once, sharp and decisive. Meira thrusts one of the torches at him. “Here. Take that.” Sam does, muttering a quick thanks before he’s rushing off again, and Meira goes back to sit with Tommy.

It’s not even half an hour later when she hears footsteps, people moving through the woods, and then the others appear through the trees, all of them in a straggly exhausted group. Haley and Ben both let out cries of relief when they see their brother, and stumble into a sort of run while Tommy clambers to his feet in order to embrace them.

“Wendigo’s dead?” Meira checks.

“Yeah.” Dean confirms. “Shot it point blank with a flaregun.” He adds proudly. Meira whistles, impressed. Dean grins back at her. “Heard you hit it in the face with a torch?” He asks, jerking his head at Sam to indicate just where he heard that. “Pretty awesome.”

Meira shrugs, grinning bashfully. “I did what I could.”

Then she realises that Roy is watching her very intently. He looks more than a little worse for wear, something a bit wild around his eyes that suggests he’s not taking the existence of the supernatural very well at all. “You’re alive.” He says when Meira catches his eye.

“Yeah.” Meira confirms.

Roy swallows. “Coulda sworn that thing broke your neck.” He says, all of a sudden not quite able to look at her and instead staring somewhere over her shoulder.

“Oh, man, it tried.” She replied, grinning in a strange, giddy relief at the memory of how easily her grace had healed her. “Shook me like a ragdoll. But I’m fine.” She adds to reassure him, because he still looks a bit haunted.

Roy nods. There’s a long pause, and then he clears his throat. “You saved my life. When I was being an idiot.” He adds briskly, grimacing at himself. “Thank you.”

Meira shrugs, smiling ruefully. “Just because you’re an asshole, doesn’t mean you deserve to die.”

Dean snorts in amusement at that, and interrupts before Roy can say anything else. It doesn’t look like he knows what to say in any case. “Come on, let’s get back to civilisation. I don’t know about any of you lot, but I’m getting a little sick of these woods.”

No one’s going to object to that, so they get themselves organised, and follow Roy’s recovered GPS out of the forest. Along the way they discuss what, exactly, to tell the authorities, getting their stories straight. Meira’s mostly quiet as they hike, trying to figure out what she’s going to do now. Ideally, she wants to stick with Dean and Sam, but she isn’t entirely sure how to go about inviting herself along. She knows from her dad’s stories that he and Uncle Sam had been kind of codependent when they were younger, and trying to insert herself into such a close-knit dynamic is going to difficult.

She still hasn’t come up with any good ideas when they get back to a road and call the paramedics. Then it’s all chaos as everyone asks questions and gets medical attention. Sam tries to point the paramedics at Meira, but Meira dodges them with the excuse that it was just a scratch, she’ll be fine. “Hey.” Someone says behind her, and she turns to find Haley standing there, looking exhausted and overwhelmed.

“Hey, you alright?” Meira checks, touching her lightly on the arm.

Haley nods. “Thanks to you.” Meira shakes her head, but Haley presses the point. “You saved Tommy. You saved my brother.”

Meira relents with a smile, and shifts her hand up to brush her knuckles lightly over Haley’s cheek. “I’m glad I could help.” She says sincerely. Haley huffs, smiling incredulously.

“You never let up, do you?” She asks.

Meira shrugs and retreats. “I do mean it.” She points out.

Haley considers her for a long moment, then nods. “Yeah, I got that.” She acknowledges. Then she glances over to where Dean is finally escaping the paramedics himself. “I should go and say thank you to them, too.” She says, and Meira nods, watching her go. She watches them talk for a moment, before an idea occurs to her, and she hurries off to pickpocket a ranger, talk to Roy, and then circle back around to Haley. She gets there just in time to hear her say “Must you cheapen the moment?”

“Yeah.” Dean replies, as if it should be obvious.

Haley shakes her head, catches sight of Meira, and rolls her eyes. “The pair of you, I swear.” She huffs, and Meira grins. She’s heard it before, mostly from Qaada. Dad always protested that she’s way more like Pabbi, but given that the pair of them are the same flavour of irreverent flirt, she figures that’s one and the same.

Meira flips her stolen pen over in her fingers and proffers it to Haley. Haley takes it with a quizzical expression, while Meira shoves up her sleeve and presents her arm to her. “Gimme your number, and once I can get my hands on a new phone, I’ll text you.”

Haley narrows her eyes playfully. “And why should I?”

For once, Meira doesn’t rise to the bait. “Because then if you get into any other trouble, or if you see anything else weird, you can call me.” She explains. Haley’s eyes widen a little, and then she nods and scribbles a phone number onto Meira’s arm.

“Smooth.” Dean comments, half complimentary, half resentful, and Meira elbows him in retaliation. He elbows her back.

Haley shakes her head at both of them again, and then, surprising the hell out of Meira, she leans in and kisses them each on the cheek, Meira, and then Dean. “I hope you find your father.” She says to Dean, who sobers at that, and then Sam and Ben amble over and Haley guides Ben off to go to the hospital with their brother.

“You going to be alright getting home?” Dean asks, startling Meira out of watching the little family leave in the ambulance.

Meira winces, trying not to think too hard about exactly how far away from home she really is. Dean catches it and raises his eyebrows at her. Over his shoulder, Sam is frowning in concern. “Don’t really have one of those anymore.” She admits quietly, since it’s mostly true. She’s just muddling her tenses a little bit. She swallows and glances sideways at Dean. “Mind if I hitch a ride with you guys?”

Dean glances back at Sam, who shrugs. “Sure.” Dean says, a little uncertainly. “I guess.”

Relief makes Meira’s shoulders slump. “Thanks.”

“You really don’t have anywhere to go, huh?” Sam asks, sounding sympathetic.

Meira gives a slightly bitter laugh at that. “No, I don’t. It’s… it’s all gone.” She raises her arms a little in indication. “This is everything I have right now.”

“Shit.” Dean breathes. “What happened?”

“What always happens to hunters.” Meira hedges, tucking her hands into her pockets and hunching into her coat uncomfortably. It’s not even entirely a lie. “They missed one, and it came back to bite them.”

“Well, you can stick with us for a while.” Sam offers.

“Thanks. I don’t mind helping you look for your dad for a while as repayment.” Meira replies, and they both nod their acceptance. Then Dean tips his head towards the Impala, and Meira goes, aware of the pair of them following along behind her.

She’s pretty sure she’s not really meant to hear it when Dean says, in an undertone. “Sam, you know we’re going to find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam agrees heavily. “But in the meantime… I’m driving.”

There’s a long pause, long enough for Meira to reach the back door of the Impala and turn to look at them. She’s just in time to see Dean flip the keys across to Sam, and she ducks her head on a smile. As long as she’s stuck here in the past, this is exactly where she wants to be; with her family.

14 notes · View notes

kob131 · 4 years

Note

If you feel like giving t a look, here's the tally I was making of all the BS I saw being thrown around this Volume. It got disorganized near the end, unfortunately, but should be readable. I don't recommend reading if you're not feeling good, because the sheer amount will probably make you feel worse. You can also just delete this if you want. I'm not adding any more to it(going to attempt to stop looking for it all until next time), but I am keeping an eye on the ones harassing the CRWBY.

docs(.)google(.)com/document/d/1e_G931X02-e10qQHWD_nTHbJmZ_B1T-KSqrw0NaoNWk/edit?usp=sharing

Yes it does work FYI.

But damn dude, this beats even me out on the level of archeiving bullshit. And I’ve been obsessively playing modded Skyrim for a couple days so I’m actually feeling pretty good.

Let’s go through this all.

Week 1:

-Vexed Viewer Accuses the CRWBY of ripping off MHA (https://twitter.com/VexedViewer/status/1190773489139142657)

Yeah saw this when it was originally going around. It’s still just a ‘heroes standing together confidently’ shot. If you watch enough media, you see this a lot.

-Adel aka says that bring back Penny invalidates Volume 3/spreading ,misinformation about 7-1 (https://twitter.com/dandy3000/status/1190733104190758912)

Not watching his video. Just gonna say that- Between Yang’s missing arm, Pyrrha, Roman (whose death is AFFECTING Volumes 6, 7 and 8 so far), Ozpin ect.- It’s certainly NOT invalidated. As for the misinformation: Yeah not surprised.

-Floof rigs his bingo to ‘win’ as an attack against the writers, calling a ship “cancer” and calling their outfits retarded. (https://mobile.twitter.com/TheFloofArtist/status/1184022188178886656)

Yeah saw that too. He’s kind of full of shit.

-Admits to pirating the show (https://mobile.twitter.com/TheFloofArtist/status/1190654072262512640)

So effectively: Floof is not a part of the audience. Listening to him will not yield you any benefit. Because Floof is still gonna pirate the god damn show sos ignoring will make things simpler.

Dumbass.

-Making a ‘parody’ of Volume 7′s opening to take potshots at it

And he got it copyright struck down. Yeah funny thing about Copyright, it’s not an actual law. It’s a legal defense. And Floof’s bullshit was copying the OP BEFORE it was out officially so RT actually has a reason to take it down.

You fucking got that one coming, Floof.

Calling Ruby seeing Penny alive an ‘insult’ (https://mobile.twitter.com/TheFloofArtist/status/1190832821796892672)

Saw that one: the statement’s bullshit.

- ‘Ilia definitely exists for pandering reasons but it's funny because she's presented as a crazy murdering sociopath and gets redeemed instantly when Blake sits on her lap in V5 I really don't understand why anyone is a fan of her, she straight up tried killing Blake's family‘ (https://twitter.com/TheFloofArtist/status/1191889007413579776)

Someone show this to RWDE, I wanna see the infighting.

-Admitting to piracy again (https://twitter.com/TheFloofArtist/status/1191830069078982656)

Jesus Floof, you’re killing yourself even more than I thought.

- Lightning In My Hand falsely accusing RWBY of ripping off Code Vein and other series (https://twitter.com/theKitanoHouse/status/1190765532338966531)

He fucked up so badly even his twitter responses are calling him out.

Seriously, especially with very common shots like these, you need a very specific example to call something a rip off.

-Calxiyn trying to get at CRWBY for...a dark skinned character not having curly hair? (https://mobile.twitter.com/Calxiyn/status/1190741846747729920)

... leave it to the fanboy to have the dumbest thing I’ve seen so far.

Not only is race not the same in both our worlds but not all dark skinned people have curly hair!

- Still going after the comics even though they’ve been fixed

I have mixed feelings about that actually. On one handed, they could have just credited the guy or said they just had the same design by mistake (unlikely but still possible) but on the other she should have just moved on.

- IncorrectBumbleby saying Vic sounded like a cartoon.

Yeah gotta agree with you on that. Even if you consider Qrow’s old voice cartoonish- It worked EXCEPTIONALLY well.

-Says Vic also sounded like a ‘parody’

That’s just a stupid opinion (in that it doesn’t make sense). Probably is Vic bashing.

-Otaku Daiki wanting RT to lose RWBY

Tried looking him up- Can’t find anyone definitive. But to those arguing this, let me say: You think RWBY is soulless now? Just wait until a much bigger corporation who abuse creators and never knew Monty get a hold of it.

-Celtic Phoenix going after one of RWBY’s Writers (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mt3_bU9WzVA)

For the love of god- YOU CANNOT EXPECT PEOPLE TO PROPERLY RESPOND TO A THREE HOUR VIDEO.

It takes me about two hours to respond to a twenty minute video and I work with PURE TEXT.

- TheANIM06609813 hoping for RT to burn (https://twitter.com/TheANIM06609813/status/1191826952031629312)\

Nothing says ‘jilted lover-type fan’ like hoping the company to burn over writing differences while referencing a different company with no connection (Marvel)

-Hero Hei demonizing the RWBY fandom

Sorry man but without a specific citing I can’t say. Although him saying he doesn’t care enough to break something down HE’S MAKING A REVIEW OF says a lot.

-LJ/Berweebzy saying the fandom is full of retards and sociopaths (https://twitter.com/Berweebzy/status/1192427380431831041)

Bullying over ships happen in every fandom To be honest. And you can’t bitch about shipping bullshit then about it being faked this way.

-The cleo incident (a fake suicide attempt to demonize the fandom and shippers). (Proof: https://blakebellafuckingdonna.tumblr.com/post/188873797766/rwby-fandom-here-here-gather-around / https://captmrambeau.tumblr.com/post/188870982442/rwby-fandom-here-here-gather-around)

I think the only good thing to come out of this was Hero Hei doing some real journalism for once.

And considering that this 91 pages long (with very little personal input): I’ll stop here. Not reading mind you, just giving my own thoughts.

Damn man, you deserve SOMETHING after all this.

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therealtsk · 4 years

Text

On Criticism, Fanfiction, And Writers

I’d like to preface this with the fact that I am a fanfic author. I’ve made no attempt to hide this. I don’t feel any need to. Fanfiction itself isn’t anything to be ashamed of. I’ve enjoyed my time in my fandoms, and I honestly think that I’ve become a better writer because of what I’ve been through. I’ve seen fanfiction shilled as a place for new writers to learn characterization and plotting without having to worry about worldbuilding and such, and that’s true...if you have people who will give you good feedback. Otherwise, you’ll learn all the wrong lessons from writing fanfic, because most of the people who read fanfic are not there to help you improve. They’re there to enjoy something for free. I’d like to focus on that last bit: for free. Fanfiction is free entertainment. So long as you have access to the internet, you can read fanfic for free. And that’s why, I think, criticism of fanfic is oft so looked down upon. “Dude, this was written and produced for free. Why are you criticizing it?” “The author just wanted to write something for fun. They decided to share it with us, and you’re telling them they suck? Wow.” “Why are you giving crit! No one asked?!” To some degree, I agree with all of this. Posting crit in the comment section of a fic when is not asked for is rude. Full stop. And there are many, many people who don’t know how to give crit. There are many, many people who will use the guise of criticism to shit on something they don’t like. I have no love for those people. I’ve seen many authors bullied off of platforms or forced to change their fics due to the sheer amount of vitriol and hate from the anonymous masses of the internet. I have only enmity for those people. However. Let’s lay out three things. Number one: crit is not always for the author. As a matter of fact, this is what most reviews of books, movies, games, ect are. They’re not directed at the author, they’re directed at an audience. The author can choose to read this or not, but if someone chooses to discuss the failings of a fic without directing it at the author, I hardly think that person is evil. Obviously, there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. I’m not a fan of bashing. Criticism should always be con-structive rather than de-structive. Number two: crit is necessary to grow as a writer. Obviously, this doesn’t apply to the “I write fanfic for fun” gang- and there’s nothing wrong with that. But it is a solid fact that you are not going to improve as a writer without people giving you feedback. And even the nicest, most gently phrased crit is going to hurt. You have to learn to live with that hurt. This makes me sound elitist, but if you cannot handle criticism in any way, shape, or form, do not post to a public forum. Even if it’s frowned upon to send crit to authors who aren’t asking, people do it. It’s a shame, but they do it. If you wanna write fanfic but don’t want to deal with crit, share it with friends. Disable comments on AO3. But if you want to improve as a writer, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with it. Number three: nothing should be immune to criticism. I think that it is inherently dangerous to state that anything should be immune to criticism of any kind. Criticism is how we protect ourselves from propaganda and hate speech. Criticism is how we defend ourselves against the spread of toxic norms and ideas. Criticism is how we push back. Fanfiction can contain vile things. I’ve read fanfics that had my stomach churning. I’ve read fanfics that are offensive and I’ve read fanfics that I earnestly believe shouldn’t have been posted. “But fanfic is harmless!” No. It isn’t. Fanfic, like every other form of literature that exists on this planet, has the power to influence. In the age of the internet, nothing online exists in a vacuum. Ideas, the most potent and resilient of viruses, spread rapidly and spread unseen. And you’re mistaken if you believe that people can’t implant insidious things in fanfic. Just the last week, I’ve seen trauma exploited and romanticized. I’ve seen relationships with minors normalized. I’ve seen nazis excused and rapists defended. I’ve seen a lot of shit. And it’s important to call that shit out. To be brave enough to criticize authors who put those kinds of things in their works. If fanfic becomes immune to criticism, then how do we push out those kinds of ideas, when they’re buried into the works like worms buried in the dirt? In the lawless land of the internet, we must be the arbiters of our own communities. And criticism is essential to that. If you see someone bashing, tell them to stop. If someone is getting needlessly bullied for trying to defy fandom norms, defend them. But constructive, fair crit should not be treated as a crime. If it is, we’re failing to protect ourselves.

#fanfiction #criticism #mini-essay #fandoms

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thewolfisawake · 4 years

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FE3H

Favorite character:

I can’t just name one. Claude, Sylvain, Ashe, Lysithea, Hilda....I mean, there’s just so many to like.

Least Favorite character:

Uhhhh, I believe everyone has enough development to like all the characters at some level. However, if I have to go with anyone it’s probably Leonie. I like her interactions with literally anyone else EXCEPT me. It grates so much to hear how much she is on Jeralt’s dick and I was ready to fight when she claims I do not appreciate him. Like this is the man that raised me, who the fuck are y--

Also Felix. Like what the fuck is your problem man? It’s not a competition of what you’ve suffered but goddamn, have some humanity of what happened to your friends. Why are you a dick to people who just want to know about you or just in the same vicinity? There’s a line between being people-avoidant and being a jackass and he rides that so often. And it’s a bit sad because I thought I’d love him a lot since, as I’ve been told, he was ‘my type.’

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Aaaaaallllll ships are both canon and non-canon so it’s fan-tucking-fastic.

Claude/Byleth - Everyone says that he’s so underwhelming in terms of meeting back again. But this man who trusts NO ONE had faith that you would come back to him and never once doubted that. That’s a ride-or-die right there. Also they are like, power couple y’all. I mean that’s any house leader with Byleth but I really do find Claude to be the brains while Byleth can bash the fuck out of anything.

Mercedes/Sylvain - Okay this is a bit cheating since I haven’t gotten to A support for this one yet but Mercedes knows what’s up with Sylvain’s behavior and she doesn’t fall into it but isn’t a dick about it. Also Sylvain is legitimately upset by her circumstances. And I find that ‘I see through that’ to be something endearing to me.

Sylvain/Felix - This is a case of I like what the fandom does with this more than I care of what happens in the game. I know of their angst potential which is huge and always a plus to me. And, apparently, their end game is really intense but ‘sounds like love to me.’ But I....I just don’t like what I’ve seen of Felix but some people have been able to infer and see aspects I just can’t and put it with these two and I like that.

Lorenz/Dorothea - OH man gonna get so much flack for this. But. Here I go. Their supports felt like such growth for both of them. And even their nervous energy of being flustered was so cute to me. Plus it’s like a fairytale sort of ending with them together. Just saying.

Hilda/Marianne - How many times can you propose to your wife? Apparently as much as you can make things to give her. I can’t even explain all of what I love of them. Just that they are cute and Marianne deserves happiness goddammit.

I haven’t gotten through all the routes to have enough of an idea for everyone but I like a lot of ships. A lot of them are cute.

Character I find most attractive:

Based on looks alone? Claude, Felix, Dorothea and Petra.

Character I would marry:

Claude. Like he’s smart, funny, and strong. But in addition, I connect to his disconnect with his heritage as being what he is will do. I think he’s ambitious...honestly far more than I ever would be but he’s not ruthless in his way of going about it. And also, pet wyvern.

But on the other hand, I’ve been invaded by this fake himbo that is Sylvain. And he is problematic. Problematic as fuck. But at the same time, he’s kind and doesn’t give a fuck what anyone has to say about him. And I think I can live with that.

Character I would be best friends with:

Ashe. He’s just such a sweet heart, it’s hard to not befriend him.

a random thought:

But why make them into ‘heroes’ and not just exterminate them if they’re thieves? I’m just saying, a lot of this could have been spared if someone decided to deal with their enemies years ago. What do you mean the entire cast wouldn’t exist?

An unpopular opinion:

More time should’ve been put into the other countries that Fodlan trampled. Duscur, Brigid, Dagda and Almyra were all places related to characters and they should’ve explored it through them if they were never gonna be visited. It felt like such a disservice to Dedue and Petra in particular because their lives were changed because of war-mongering that ended up with both of their lands being taken by some part of Fodlan. Why are we brushing this aside?

My Canon OTP:

I don’t think I love one more than the other since there’s so many pairs that are interesting and should get some attention.

My Non-canon OTP:

Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh. Edelgard/Claude because just the sheer amount of political intrigue that brings. They are both ambitious people and are sure in their dream. They are willing to pull out the stops if it means giving themselves the chance of success. I feel like their dynamics would have changed if they were able to support each other because I think they’d soon figure out there’s more to the fronts they put on. I could look at them and think they’d be that stone-cold royal couple that you couldn’t fuck with even if you tried.

Most Badass Character:

Look. There was something spiritual about going into the final battle and having Claude single-handedly tank and kill multiple ‘sub-bosses’ and then successfully grievously wound and outrun the main baddie when my ass struggled to survive. And then barbarossa class? * chef’s kiss* Why did everyone keep that from me?

Most Epic Villain:

I didn’t find any of the villains cool to be honest.

Pairing I am not a fan of:

Mmmmm, I don’t think I have any I think ‘absolutely not.’

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

From what I have heard and get vibes from? Edelgard. I thought it weird and a bad sign to learn that Silver Snow is attainable only if you don’t go through Crimson Flower. Like? Why? You didn’t split any other character’s route. I save any reverence or judgment for when I get to her route but I feel like Edelgard had a difficult job to pull through with and it probably should be the longest and most heavy one. But I don’t feel this is what happened. And that hurt Edelgard more than anyone else.

Favourite Friendship:

I like most of the Kingdom kids. I actually feel like they’ve been friends for forever and just know how to deal with each other’s bullshit. And despite all the hardships, both known and not, they are here (until they’re not) and still putting their neck out for their friends.

Character I most identify with:

Mercedes. I too love sweets, want to take care of people, and tend to miss things entirely. And somehow ends up feeling like the older sister when I definitely didn’t do anything to earn that.

Character I wish I could be:

Dorothea.

#answered #wolfatrest #shctteredillusions

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 28: Inside and Outside

Chapters: 28/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde, Thor Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Reader Doesn’t Feel Comfortable With How Uncomfortable She Feels, Reader Feels A Lot But Doesn’t Want To Think About It, In A World Full Of People Nothing Is Simple Summary: Reader struggles with justification, while things brew outside the city.

Loki held your hand gently, allowing you to move energy slowly back and forth, but you could tell his concentration was weakened by the scent of warm cinnamon wafting from the basket nearby.

Oh, he was weak, weak, weak for Midgardian sweets. His eyes flicked back and forth between the basket and your face, and he kept sniffing the air, licking his lips. For someone with such a reputation for sneakiness, he sure wasn't being very sly right now. He refused to do or say anything about it, though, not until practice was over.

You felt pretty good after baking up the tasty treats; nothing quite got you going in the morning like the calm, domestic routine of a warm wash-up, and some simple baking. You usually made up some dough starter the night before, to be used the next morning; it made things go faster, but still allowed you to have fresh baked goods whenever. The cooks might be persuaded to put aside a little space in the cooler for you; you would make sure to ask about it next time you were in the kitchens.

His tongue swiped across his lips one more time, and you took pity on the poor, starving prince. You withdrew your hand and energy from his, and stretched hugely.

��Oh wow, what a workout!” You exclaimed. “I sure am hungry! What about you?”

Loki's eyes darted back to the basket. “If you are hungry, I would have nothing against joining you for a small snack.”

You snickered. He was so not smooth. “It's a good thing I prepared a little something this morning. Nothing big, just some rolls.”

“Oh, is that what the basket is all about?” Loki said trying to sound uninterested. “I thought perhaps you would need to bring food with you, since your energy reserves are not up to Asgardian standards. That's not your fault, of course, being an unpracticed human. So...if you ever need to bring large amounts of food with you, feel free.”

You could play this game. You slowly lifted the plate of cinnamon rolls out of the basket and uncovered it with a little flourish. The plate had his undivided attention.

“Well, you're right about my energy reserves, I'm afraid. My frail human body does need a lot of food to function. In fact, this session has been so tiring that I might just have to eat all of these.”

“All?” He choked out.

“I might.” You said. “I'm so weak, after all. So small. So needy.”

“So foolishly toeing the line.” Loki glowered. “You are teasing me.”

“You bet I am!” You laughed, holding the plate out to him. You had to snatch it back before he grabbed the whole thing, only letting him take one at a time. “Consider it proactive payback for whatever tricks you play on me in the future.”

Loki didn't even bother with a retort, he just shoved half the cinnamon roll into his mouth, making sounds you were sure ought only be made behind closed doors.

You may have created a monster.

You split the rolls between you, polishing them off quickly, and to great satisfaction. Loki couldn't seem to stop complimenting them, to the point that it made you bashful.

Once he'd finished eating, taking his time in licking the sugar off his fingers, he then took your hand back in his.

“I would like to try something new. If you will allow it, I would fill you with my magic, and see if you can use it as if it were your own. I believe I may be able to supplement your power with my own. If so, you might need not ever suffer the fatigue again.”

“Um...” That would be nice. The magic fatigue was terrible, and it would be nice to get rid of it. However, you weren't really sure how filled with Loki's...anything, you wanted to be. The relationship between you was getting confusing. The two of you were swiftly becoming close-and how could you not? You shared magic, and time, and proximity; meals, and opinions, and living space. You couldn't even move away from him, and you still wore his colors more often than not. He still tried to tutor you in everything, still coaxed your thoughts out over paperwork, and still held your hand in public.

Like right now, you were both on another one of your little 'picnics' in an open courtyard, sitting on a blanket, where anyone could see. You had known that you would eventually have to move on from just pushing energy back and forth, but to step right into letting him put this part of himself inside you...the part of you that accepted it as a logical next step in your training conflicted with the part of you that was trying to fight the increasing intimacy. You didn't feel like you were the right person for it, even though you were the only person for it. You were an employee, you kept telling yourself. A ward. A charity case, an inconvenience that had to be lived with and accommodated. You could be that. You knew how to do that.

But wasn't it a part of your job now, to be more? To be emotionally supportive, to be available, to be open and helpful? You would have to accept closeness as a part of it all, wouldn't you?

You'd had such a bad reaction to all that closeness before. You'd rebelled spectacularly, accused him of horrible intentions. Could you really turn it around so quickly? Wouldn't that make you a terrible hypocrite? Well, did that matter now?

“Um, I suppose so. Just...just go slow, okay? I haven't forgotten the plate incident.”

“Speaking of which, go ahead and put down the plate.” Loki suggested, and you did. You had to return it to the kitchen later, and you wanted it in one piece when you did so.

Loki breathed out slowly, and you felt him push as he did. It wasn't like the first time, where he just rammed magical energy into you until you 'popped', but gentle and careful. The familiar buzzing became a fizzing sensation, unfurling down your arms and legs, wrapping your bones, languorous coils filling your chest.

“You can hold it.” His voice reverberated through your whole body, strumming your nerves like harp strings. Your body sang.

“You can hold it. Just hold it for a moment. Acclimate yourself. Can you feel me? Can you feel how it differs from yourself?”

You could. He was effervescent, buoyant. He fizzled through you.

“I can't hold it!” You exclaimed.

“No, no, no, you've got it.” He encouraged. “You can hold it. Just a little longer. Let it flow around your body. Let it sink in and permeate you.”

“S-stop talking, please!” You couldn't take the play of his voice on your nerves. It peeled you open and left you raw and quivering in the sunlight.

“All right.” He whispered. “All right, now direct it.”

“G-g-give me a task! Tell me how!”

“That flower over there, the blue one.” He pointed out a tall lupine, blooming against the courtyard wall. “Bring the flower here, to your hand.”

You held out your hand, fighting for concentration. You could remember what it felt like to bring Thor's ax to yourself, and you tried to feel the same thing now, but the light that crept into your eye made it hard to focus on your target. The power swirled down your arm, uncoiled from your fingertips, and snapped out towards the flower.

It was in your hand a moment later, and Loki nearly bowled you over with his triumphant cry. You felt him withdraw his magic from within you, even as his other arm curled around your shoulders to hold you up. It wasn't the discomfort of magic fatigue that weakened you now, but the sheer, sore exhaustion of someone who had been working endlessly for hours.

Loki held you up, quietly praising. You couldn't feel his voice anymore, only hear it, and though you felt empty and hot, and weirdly alone, you could also still sense the shape of the runes that trailed up your arm, faintly taste sweet citrus on the back of your tongue.

He plucked the flower from your hand, examining it as you leaned against him. Whatever hesitation you'd had about accepting closeness had dissolved for the moment.

“Very good, very good.” He murmured. “Do you see? The break of the stem is very clean, but the lower part of the flower is crushed. We will need to work on your control, but this is extremely promising. You are doing so well. You always do so well. Do you understand how gifted you are, in this? I'm so glad that I get to have you, rather than some other, inferior sorcerer.”

The possessive tone in his voice cut through the floaty haze to clang jarringly against one of your mental alarms. You didn't belong to him! This was a work arrangement! You had to cling to that, you had to put, if not a wall, then at least a screen between you.

You shook your head and tapped the hand on your shoulder sharply: Loki withdrew it, looking down at you with a bit of concern.

“Little too much.” You mumbled. Loki held your gaze a few moments longer.

“I understand.” He said. Perhaps he did. “Would you like to bake again tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“More cinnamon rolls?” There was unmasked hope there.

“Nope!”

He deflated. “Oh. What then?”

“Ever had elephant ears?” You asked. Maybe you were being a little mean.

Concern spread across his features once more. “I'm hoping that the name is a metaphor. I know humans will eat nearly anything, but...”

“It's puff pastry! I saw some in the kitchens earlier. Elephant ears are rolled up puff pastry. With cinnamon and sugar.”

“So...it's crispy cinnamon rolls?” And the hope was right back.

“You'll just have to wait and see.”

*****

He sat quietly in his prison room, not quite ready to sleep. The day was fast approaching.

He had no doubt that the trial would not go in his favor. That didn't matter. What mattered was, when the war came, when the invaders were finally eradicated, he would be remembered. His example would have inspired others to action. He knew they were out there, right now. He had received letters of support from many who felt the same way he did. There were others who saw the truth, and while he must pay the price for humanity's current blindness, those others would carry on in his place.

The invaders would be beset on all sides. In the media, on their stolen land, in the global markets, they would be pushed out. And as for their human supporters; there would be nowhere safe for such traitors.

Yes, he was perfectly resigned to be martyr for the cause; the safety and supremacy of the human race.

*****

Sophie had recently come to several distressing conclusions about the newly arrived campers. Firstly, they were not here to be close to the gods, but to protest them. They were putting up fences and vaguely threatening signs, and refusing contact with Sofie's camp. Secondly, there were not one new camp, but two, strongly divided based on ideology. One camp merely wished for Asgard to go elsewhere, someplace that was not Earth. The other camp not only wanted them gone, but they also wanted Loki handed over to face justice, and they wanted the separation of all humans from Asgard. This camp was harsh and vicious in their segregationist ideals: they wanted all contact with Icelanders to cease immediately, for Sofie's camp to be eradicated, and the people either scattered or arrested, and they especially wanted you behind bars. They held a special vitriol for you.

Thirdly, both camps would be growing in response to the upcoming trial. Sofie had a feeling that, no matter the trial's outcome, there would be trouble coming from these protesters.

“They'll fight each other as well as everyone else.” Frodi had said, as they sat around the fire. The sun was finally starting to dip lower in the sky again, barely kissing the horizon. “There are many people who are full of conflict, with nowhere to direct it. Give them a target, and they will latch on hard.”

“They can't all be here in search of violence.” Sofie insisted. “They do have some valid fears. Not even the sagas always explained the gods motivations, so how can they know that they mean us no harm? Loki did not show us his best face when he finally returned, so I can see where they're coming from.”

“We need to prepare.” Fritjof interjected, having invited himself, unbidden, to the fire, as he always did. “If they bring their fight to us, we have to be ready to defend ourselves.”

“We don't need to go that far, I'm sure...” Sofie said, but Savane lightly touched her hand.

“You will be needed.” She said simply. “Do you have a knife?” She offered one of her coveted blades, in it's reindeer antler sheath.

“I certainly hope it doesn't come to that!” Sofie exclaimed. “Maybe we ought to focus on the upcoming winter instead. Getting through it more comfortably than last year. Savane, would you be willing to teach us how to make clothes like yours? When the night returns, it will get cold very fast. If those other camps want to be antagonistic to us, maybe we can win by outlasting them. Being better prepared.”

Savane pressed the knife into Sofie's hand anyway. “I don't mind showing you, but you lack the materials. You have no reindeer here, and no beaver, and not enough foxes. You need the pelts to make my clothes.”

“We've got sheep.” Frodi pointed out. “Sheepskins aren't hard to come by around here, and they're pretty well adapted for the cold.”

“Hm. It might work.” Savane said, contemplating. “It will look strange, but it should be warm enough. I will draw up patterns.”

“Do you mind if I record it?” Sofie asked.

“No, I don't. It will be educational, and it might get some more money to buy the supplies.”

Both women headed into Savane's tent, leaving Frodi and Fritjof behind to take care of dinner.

“This is why we need all of us.” Frodi mused. “People like them form the core of a community. People like me build things, and people like you stand between us and the big, wide, world.”

“I don't need your flattery.” Fritjof said shortly.

“No, you need to continue learning about the oath you took.” Frodi answered back, pointing at the othala rune tattooed on the back of Fritjof's hand. “What drove the Allfather to his wanderings?”

“The search for wisdom and knowledge.” Fritjof sulked.

“The search for wisdom and knowledge, wherever it might be found.” Frodi reiterated. “He consorted with giants and dwarves, with Vanir and elves. He spoke to beasts and witches, and learned their ways, even though it was frowned upon. You too must decide what's most important to you, and pursue that with all of your being. Or not. I can't tell you what to do.”

“And yet, you keep talking.” Fritjof snapped, emptying a few cans of soup into a pot to hang over the fire. “As if the gods somehow speak to you.”

“A god spoke to you once.” Frodi pointed out. “Did it do you any good?”

Fritjof froze up, soup pot in hand. They didn't talk about that. Nobody talked about that. It seemed the entire camp was in agreement about it. They were embarrassed by him, and ashamed that no one had stepped forward to help. The entire incident had peeled back the veneer of their community, and showed it to be lacking cohesion.

It had also led to a major change in the camp. Campers who had never spoken to each other before started coming together, learning and sharing. Most of the more negative elements had decided to leave; the presence of multi-ethnic einherjar, and the undeniability of Heimdall forcing them to re-think their worldviews. Only a very few had remained, or returned. The camp was more united than it had ever been; swiftly becoming a true community.

All because Fritjof had been wrong, and Loki had been swift and brutal.

Fritjof knew more about the gods now than many others did. He knew how close they were to humanity, and how different as well. He was no stranger to physical violence, but he had never felt anything like that kick to the chest. Never heard anything like that thunderous voice proclaiming all his failings. The nature of his devotion had changed drastically that night, and it had needed to.

No longer did Fritjof believe that the gods needed him or his protection from 'dilution' or 'degeneration'. In reality, it was he who needed them, to provide some kind of identity, some sense of acceptance in a world that could very easily hate him. Community was what he sought more than anything, and now it was growing up around him, all because Loki had a short temper.

“Yes, I believe it did.” He said, hanging the pot over the flames.

*****

Brunnhilde sighed and rolled her eyes.

“About how many would you say have gathered?” Thor asked the einherjar messenger.

“Somewhere around a hundred. Split into two groups. They fly a white and red striped flag, with a blue corner, filled with stars.”

“That is the United States of America. Many of my friends are there.”

“I cannot tell if they are friendly or not, my liege. They have put up many signs, but I cannot read them. Some of them have pictures of the crown prince or his Seidkona, with red slashes over them. Perhaps I misunderstand the culture, but this does not seem friendly. They keep coming, and the rest of the gate guards are becoming agitated.”

“Thank you for bringing this to us.” Brunnhilde said. “We'll send reinforcements to the gates for added safety. This will probably blow over after the trial.”

“The murderer of Adalheid's lover? The assassin who attempted the life of the Seidkona?”

“Afraid so. Both of them also come from that country, and the whole thing has been awfully polarizing.”

“We will take extra precautions.” Thor promised. “This is going to be a trying time for many of us, but I want no violence from our side. These humans are driven by emotion and passion; there are not likely to be trained warriors among them, and even if there are, they are too easy to harm.”

“I will spread the word, your Majesty.” The einherjar bowed and took his leave.

“I cannot believe that I didn't see this coming.” Thor grumbled.

“You were optimistic.” Brunnhilde said. “And it did take them a while to get geared up. I'm surprised this is the first we're seeing of it. Maybe you oughta call your friends, see if they can't do anything about it.”

“I don't know what they could do. People have the right to protest whatever they want, and as long as they remain peaceful, and don't try to enter the city, then they haven't broken any laws, and can't be forced to leave. Maybe they'll go away when it gets cold.”

“Trolekaerhalla has stuck around through the winter.” Brunnhilde pointed out.

“Yes, but they like us. Maybe I should go out and see them?”

“On the one hand, I'd say you're a fool for not doing that sooner. On the other hand, I can't advise it. You might start a riot. You should probably let your friends know what's going on. It can't hurt to keep in touch.”

“Perhaps they'd like to visit? You do still owe Stark a lot of alcohol.”

“He's the one who offered me a drink in the first place!” Brunnhilde huffed.

“He offered you a drink, not the entire liquor case! Anyway, we will double the number of gate guards for the next few weeks, and see if that doesn't deter any overly brave protesters. I meant it about avoiding violence. People are going to be afraid of us for a while, and there are still those out there who have a very legitimate hatred of my brother. He hasn't been able to make the reparations that he should, and there will be those who would not be willing to accept anything he offered anyway. Using force against them would not only be wrong, but it would also cast us all as villains.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Why must everything happen all at once?”

Brunnhilde punched him lightly on the shoulder. “If it wasn't, you'd just be complaining that things were too boring. They should've called you the Grumbler, instead of the Thunderer.”

“I have not yet begun to whine!” Thor declared teasingly, leaping to his feet. “Come! Let us see if the hotel bookings have been made.”

#loki x reader #lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)

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ryuutchi · 5 years

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Dearest Yulegoat [Mirrored Yuletide Letter]

[General]

To start with, if you're writing fic for me, I love you. I'm going to be happy just to be able to share my fandom love with someone. You'll notice I throw a lot of ideas out-- feel free to take one, take many, take none. I know how hard it can be to settle on an idea once the assignments come in. So I'm offering a bunch of options that I will enjoy. None of these suggestions are hard and fast requirements. They're here to give you an idea of what's going on in my head and what my preferences look like. My current blog is ryuutchi, over on Tumblr. I can't promise it will be helpful, but in the interest of helping with the stalking process, feel free to check me out over there. I like: Plot, adventures, banter and dry humor, happy endings, over the top AUs (steampunk, noir, organized crime, rum-runners, harems...), casual physical intimacy, emotional interdependency, bad decisions and poor coping mechanisms, hurt/comfort and whump-with-comfort, loyalty and morality confusion, worldbuilding, identity porn, questionable healthy attachments, seeking out physical affection, accidentally caught feelings, power-play, porn, gen, slash, femslash, het, any rating you feel comfortable with (for violence and/or sex), bittersweet things that are heavy on the sweet, Happily Ever After/Happily For Now endings I don't like: Deathfic, gratuitous angst, character-bashing, introspective character pieces, five times fics, mommy/daddy kink, A/B/O universes, contemporary social issues as the main focus/issuefic, sad or hopeless endings. (Also the standard DNWs: scat, watersports, necro, mpreg, homophobia, transphobia, etc) No Game No Life - Kamiya Yuu: Sora, Shiro The Series: They are both NEETs and Hikikomoris… but on the internet, the genius gamer siblings Sora and Shiro are known as the undefeatable “__” (blank). Sora and Shiro’s talents and skills are so abnormally good they are considered as urban legend. One day, they are challenged by the god of games to chess and are victorious. As a result, the god summons them to Disboard, a reality which revolves around games. Intent on maintaining their reputation as the undefeated gamers, Sora and Shiro plan to conquer the sixteen ruling species and to usurp the god of games... NGNL is a series of light novels, of which 6 have been translated (PDFs can be found here, or bought legally at any online bookstore). The No Game No Life anime can be found on Crunchyroll here. Request: The fact that Shiro and Sora literally cannot be separated from each other is one of the dynamics that I like about the series. I really enjoy codependent siblings as a Thing. So I would be happy if you played with that dynamic. Plotty gen for this series would be great-- it's always fun when one of them is much better than the other or they have to separate and execute plans while relying solely on the intuition of what their sibling will do. Alternately, someone kidnapping Sora and Shiro having to play a game to get him back while they both battle their inability to get anything done alone... I'd love background on them, where they tried to separate or were forced to separate and failed to function, or where one or the other tried to interact with other people (maybe a gamer who tracked them down) but were either terrible at it, the other one quietly sabotaged the budding relationship, or the third person got way too freaked out by the way Sora and Shiro act around each other. Future fic would also be great-- King/Queen Blank or even the Gods Blank, after they've beaten Tet. What does that look like? What kind of world are they making for themselves and each other? I ship them, but do not expect other people to, so if you want to write shippy fic (with aged up Shiro!!!) for them, I will be surprised but happy. I will happily admit to wanting kinky sex games. Extra Details: For reference, I've read through volume 8 of the light novel, watched the anime and the movie. I am not precious about spoilers for this series, so feel free to use later information. I know this series isn't everyone's cup of tea, with the sheer amount of fanservice and Sora's utterly otaku personality and the pseudo-incest thing with the 12 year old. Personally, as is probably obvious from the request, I'm less interested in the fanservicey characters, and much more about the dynamics of Shiro and Sora's relationship. I love the way they know exactly what the other is capable of and trust each other completely and whole-heartedly. Whether you write something small and domestic or big and plotty, for me the core of NGNL is that they love, care and respect each other in a way that is beautiful but also extremely unhealthy. If you want to go the shippy route, again, Shiro needs to be aged up appropriately-- it's always been interesting to me that Sora understands that it is inappropriate to sexualize his underage adopted sister, while Shiro goes out of her way to help sexualize other women for Sora's entertainment. There's a part of me that wonders if she's planning ahead for when she is old enough to be an "appropriate" (in age, if nothing else) sexual partner and is trying to get Sora to lose his virginity ahead of time. selector infected WIXOSS: Aoi Akira, Igarashi Rumi | UlithThe Series: WIXOSS is a popular trading card game in which players battle against each other with fighters known as LRIGs, using cards to support them. Certain LRIGs are able to communicate with their owners, and the girls chosen to wield them are known as "Selectors". Selectors are given the chance to have any wish granted by winning battles against other Selectors, but should they lose three times, their wish will be reversed into a curse instead. The main series, selector infected WIXOSS, follows a girl named Ruko Kominato, who becomes a Selector after receiving an LRIG that she names Tama. As she and various other Selectors battle it out for the sake of their wish, Ruko finds herself drawn into the dark, sinister world of WIXOSS, discovering that, win or lose, there is always a price to pay. The anime can be found on Funimation here Request: So, you know how in my "general likes" I said I don't like "gratuitous angst"? In this fandom, there is no such thing as "gratuitous". Darkfic is absolutely welcome here. The thing I am most interested in here is the manipulative, awful relationship that Akira has with Ulith-as-Iona. Like, I love them all, and for some reason in this fandom, that comes out to "please break them". Exploring their adult lives and how their relationships and the Wixoss game affected them in the future would be amazing. What else happened to them? What are their careers like? What are their home lives like? Are they... living together? Does some sort of magic continue to be a theme in their lives? Feel free to write in-universe plot or no-powers universe, or some horrible Madoka or Yurikuma Arashi or other magical girl thing, where they can all be horribly manipulative lesbians together because that's magical and wonderful. OTOH, if you want to write codependent-but-vaguely-functional adult Akira and Iona/Ulith being horrible assholes and having adventures of some sort (magic, detectives, idk) that is ALSO A+. I mean, I like happy endings, and if you can come up with something heartwarming (or "heartwarming") I'm not going to complain. Extra Details: Evil lesbians are Problematic, I know. But Akira was one of my favorite characters from the word go and (if you're paying attention to my fandoms as a whole) I really really like codependent or unhealthy relationships. I love her love/hate relationship with Iona and with Ulith, and the way those two characters sort of get mixed up for Akira specifically. If you want to play with Iona and Ulith's personalities and interactions as well, that would also be pretty fun. I'm also down for other types of AUs, like they have to get their shit together and track down someone who is killing Selectors, or they become selectors as adults and not girls. I know they're young, but given that this is a super-fucking dark canon, I am totally cool with dubiously consensual sex either on or off-screen. FANDOM: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers | Ronin Warriors (Shuu Rei Fuan | Kento Rei Fang, Mouri Shin | Cye Mouri) The Series: Ronin Warriors, known in Japan as Yoroiden Samurai Troopers (lit. "Legendary Armor Samurai Troopers"), is a Japanese anime series and manga adaptation created by Hajime Yatate. It's the story of five teenage boys, given mystical armor to protect the world from the evil Arago. 1000 years ago, Arago nearly succeeded in taking over the human world when Kaosu managed to defeat him. Although Arago's soul is banished to the demon world, his armor is left intact. Kaosu divided the armor into nine separate armor suits. Each armor will choose its bearer, and together they will fight Arago. At least that was the original intent... Although Arago manages to corrupt four sets of the armor, the last five remain safe. It's a bit like Power Rangers, only grounded in more serious traditional Japanese cultural trappings. Being created in the 80s, the art style is a little wonky, but it's an enjoyable thriller and is somewhat more focused and serious than a lot of sentai shows. The anime can be found on Crunchyroll here Request: I love Shuu/Shin with Shin being snarktastic and Shuu being smug and solid and dependable. I used to frequent the Minkland archive back when this fandom still kinda existed, and was forever disappointed that the skinny pretty boys got tons and tons of fic and Shuu was just sort of there in the background. (If you used to read Mink and Jink's fic, I will be so happy I could cry if I got that sort of cracked-out porny fic with Shuu, okay. Due to that formative influence, if you want to GO FOR THE AU, GO FOR IT WITH GUSTO. I've always wanted nanshoku/samurai AU. Or, you know, hooker fic, or dark!troopers fic, or harem fic or something like that. I also like found-family fic, gen-ish mysteries and adventures-- more fighting Massive Cosmic Evil, and curtainfic. Futurefic is also awesome, where they get on with their lives, maybe together or maybe trying to keep their friendships intact when there's no massive Cosmic Evil to keep them close. Extra Details: If you used to read Mink and Jink's fic, I will be so happy I could cry if I got that sort of cracked-out porny, possibly AU fic with Shuu, okay Fics I especially enjoyed from that archive: The Grand One The Clit Club Chronicles The Harem Vinyl Wagashi Cherry Zima Threesome Theater of Magic Due to that formative influence, if you want to GO FOR THE AU, GO FOR IT WITH GUSTO. I've always wanted nanshoku/samurai AU (see this image). Or, you know, hooker fic, or dark!troopers fic, or harem fic or something like that. My usual ships are Shin/Shuu, Shin/Ryo, Touma/Seiji and Ryo/Nasuti. But I multiship and am willing to run with anything-- I'm a Sex With All Teammates sort of person, so fivesomes and alternate pairings are not a problem for me. Dragon Prince Trilogy - Melanie Rawn: Ianthe of Princemarch, Sioned of River Run The Series: To blatantly steal someone else's review on Amazon: "Melanie Rawn created a world and a people that gives everything you could possibly want in a fantasy world. It gives love, hate, peace, war, magic, royalty, commoners, children to take over the next generation and best of all; dragons." I want to say "if this wasn't the matched fandom you should go out and read them right the fuck now', because I have read these books So Many Times. They're high fantasy novels about politics and the prince of a desert and magical people who communicate via sunlight and can conjure fire. AND DRAGONS. Also a lot of interpersonal and romantic maneuverings. It's a high fantasy politics and romance romp of somewhere ~550 pages. If that sounds interesting to you, pretty much every used bookstore I have ever been to has at least one copy of these books. I think they spawn on bookshelves or something. The books are also available in ebook form here (Kindle) and here (Nook) for 3 bucks. Please read them. (TW for rape in the first book) The Request: I love everything this series chooses to be. It's fun and cheesy and fantasy, which the best thing in the world. I've always thought that Ianthe had a serious hate-crush on Sioned and part of the reason she was so vicious and fucked up was that whole "you must marry a guy and expand the empire or your useless" thing when maybe she didn't want to do that. Ianthe's always been one of my favorite characters because she's brilliant and ruthless and clearly takes joy in clever plans that go well. Of course, being the villain in a cheesy fantasy, she got no depth whatsoever, aside from that whole sexually liberated, taking male consorts thing (which is AWESOME, okay.) Sioned is also awesome and brilliant and kick ass. Her hesitance in the first book while she decided what she really wanted to do was pretty great, as was the fact that she promptly made friends with Tobin and pretty much every character not designated "villain". It seems like up through Ianthe's death, they're playing a game of brinkmanship. (Which isn't to say I don't like Sioned and Rohan together. They're bookTP and totally awesome.) As for prompts, I normally prefer plotty fic to introspection. I feel like the whole sunrunner thing lends itself well to espionage, so political thriller, or murder mysteries or something would be great. If you want to do plot-what-plot involving these two-- either sex or just the sort of dancing around/pigtail pulling that would be great. Threesomes with Rohan-- also acceptable! Hell, if you want to do an AU where they end up together instead of Sioned marrying Rohan-- or alternately, an AU end to the trilogy, where Ianthe never died in the fire and ends up taking over as High Princess and making the Desert monarchs' lives hell and discovering her powers. Or something where she knew about her powers all along. Or Sioned, I don't know, realizing she kind of did think Ianthe was attractive. I also really enjoy Pandsala, but I didn't find her dynamic with Sioned and Rohan quite as engaging, even though she also did some bad-ass stuff in the long run. Her weird push and pull backstabby, politicized sisterly thing was interesting, though. Extra Details: Okay, like I said, I think this series is the cheesiest fantasy series in the WORLD and in a lot of ways it's one of my first nostalgia fandoms. If you haven't read them, they are kind of ridiculously long (Like, GRR Martin-long), but they're quick reads despite that and rather less depressing than a lot of high fantasy. It's silly in the way that "adult fantasy" that takes itself way too seriously can be. A lot of the main protagonists actively enjoy each others' company and that's as much integral to the book as the politics and dragon-slaying. That said, I kinda asked for a semi-serious plotty story. But if you want to run with the "it's cheesy fantasy" and want to write about Ianthe rescuing princesses or Sioned running away to be a knight and abducting Ianthe away from her toxic father, or something silly, I say get down with your nerd self and run with it. I've only read parts of the second trilogy, and the second generation aren't really very interesting to me. If you want to write future-fic, I would prefer that it continues to focus on the original generation (no matter how much I love Andry, Pol just seems like kind of a jerk).

House of M - New X-Men: Academy X: Any The Series: I'm surprised it took me so long to nominate and request this fandom. I love New X-Men and was GUTTED when Decimation forced them into killing off so many of the characters. If you've never read it, New X-Men: Academy X was an X-Man title in the mid-00's, focusing on entirely new students at Xavier's Academy, being taught by the more established characters. Some of the New X-Men have managed to escape and become general Marvel characters in their own rights (David Alleyne, for example), but for the most part, they were just teenagers at school who rarely got caught up in larger plots. 616 New X-Men were about teenagers fighting, and coming to grips with the fact that they're being raised and taught to go sacrifice themselves for a Greater Goal. They're all wonderfully, horribly traumatized teenagers with powers. The plots were fleshed out and realistic, and when they weren't they were still interesting or fun. This request isn't technically for that. It's for the House of M megacrossover from 2009. Wanda Maximoff, mutant reality shifter and sometimes-crazy-lady, decided that mutants should run the world. SO THEY DID. And suddenly the lives of our young students become very different. Half of them after still "New Mutants", working towards peace, and the others are "Hellions", SHIELD trainees in a violently anti-homo-sapien state system. I've always felt that House of M as a narrative concept has been dismissed too easily by Marvel fans, because there are so many pieces of worldbuilding left unbuilt. I'm most interested in seeing it from the eyes of younger participants who are being trained or have been trained for their places. What does that world look like? New X-Men: Academy X can be found online here: https://viewcomics.me/comic/new-x-men-2004. The House of M crossover runs for issues 16-19. The Request: There's a lot here to play with because the authors never really got to play in either the Academy X OR the House of M sandboxes long enough to do all of their ideas justice. So I'm going to lay out some of the stuff I liked most about NXM in general and HoM in particular. The nom is for HoM, but I think HoM is most interesting in conversation with the standard 616 universe, alongside having the fun YA action stuff and the complicated interpersonal relationships. For example: in 616 Josh joined the Reavers and pretended not to be a mutant until he was confronted with Laurie nearly dying. I can imagine a bunch of different scenarios for House of M that would lead to where we see Josh and Laurie in the HoM comics (Laurie undercover with the New Mutants, and Josh working as an interrogator alongside Kevin). Laurie's introversion in 616 juxtaposed against her brazen treachery and clear control over her skills in HoM. HoM shows Kevin in a full decontamination suit, but we know in 616 that his ability is blocked by wearing synthetic fibers (I imagined this to be a interrogator scare tactic, but it could be any number of other things). Kevin and Josh's relationship in 616 is fraught, especially with Josh's previous experiences with anti-mutant activists and the fact that Kevin killed his father when his powers manifested. But they seemed to work together well in HoM. And speaking of Kevin-- how did his powers manifesting actually pan out in a universe where mutants aren't seen as a threat? I have to wonder whether there's some concept of "acceptable casualties" because some peoples' powers clearly manifest first in dangerous situations. Alternatively: Fluffy Josh/Kevin with a backdrop of torture, murder and state violence. I ship mostly Josh/Kevin because rivals-to-lovers and boy-who-kills-anything-he-touches/boy-who-cannot-be-killed is Great For Me. I also love the abuse of powers and manipulation involved in being interrogators/torturers(/murderers?) for the House of Magneto. They work together, they hurt people together, but maybe they also... smooch? THAT SAID! Adding Laurie to that ship is always a great way to fuck up and destabilize them! Especially in HoM, where we know she's already keeping secrets and can and WILL use her pheromones to fuck with people. And David! OH, DAVID. The only real New Mutant in this request. Does he have previous relationships with Josh and/or Kevin? I don't mind David/Noriko, but I also ship David with Kevin and Josh, and also Tommy and Teddy from Young Avengers, if you feel like exploring other parts of the HoM world. I have never considered David/Laurie before, but if you want to give it a whirl, I'm down. As for David-- His responses to state violence (as evidenced by the Hellions and SHIELD) are clearly different from the rest of the requested characters, and it would be interesting to explore David and his experience of this universe. Are his powers still restrained the same way? I know he supposedly dies at the end of the HoM mini-arc, but we never see them die, so feel free to write David managing to crawl off and plan to take down everything and everyone. A specific DNW for this fandom is Josh/Rahne. I don't mind the relationship having existed and impacting the characters, but only as a past relationship.

Extra Details:

SENSORY DETAILS. When it comes to magic and meta powers-- especially ones that aren't battle-oriented-- is what they feel like. What does it MEAN for David to be able to know anything someone else knows? What does the emptiness and fullness of it do to him? Josh's powers are all tactile and his body actively changes after trauma (in 616, first by turning him gold, then by creating black spots on his skin after he kills someone for the first time). Does his power always alter him, but usually in unnoticeable ways? What can he know and feel from a touch? Same for Kevin-- does withering sate a hunger, or make him feel worse? What would it feel like if he touched Josh? And Laurie... I'd love both her thought-process and the sensory details of what she's doing. Can she smell her own pheromones? Do they ever affect her? What does she feel like when she's manipulating people so subtly that they barely notice a passing smell? If you want to bring in other 616 knowledge and see what it looks like in HoM, that's cool. So is bringing in other HoM storylines. There's a throw-away line in Luke Cage's HoM crossover that the Runaways are known as an organized crime group. Cage himself runs a resistence cell (and given the end of the NXM crossover, David seems like he'd be willing to throw in with that lot). Young Avengers, the other New X-Men who weren't given much screentime in the HoM crossover-- I'd love any of that. Young Justice (Comics): Match, Tim Drake

The Series: Comics are confusing! This request is for the late-90s version of Young Justice by Peter David, which consisted of Robin, Impulse, Superboy, Arrowette, Secret, and Wonder Girl, along with others. It's very much a young-heroes-trying-to-make-their-way. Unlike the newer show, this Young Justice tended to be left on their own without much of a guiding hand. It was a very 90s comic, with very 90s fashion and a lot of nod-nod-wink-wink in-jokes. I love it because it's a series that always wore its humor on its sleeve. It's an affectionate look at young superheroes, and allowed them to react to teen problems alongside the more standard superhero tropes. There's the possibility for angst and darkness (and once they graduated to Teen Titans especially, that came up more), but they were allowed to be both hurt and upset AND fun and cheerful. The comics weren't available collected until last year (it took them TWENTY YEARS JFC), and it's well-worth buying from your local retailer, but you can also find them online here. The character I'm requesting first appeared in Superboy's solo series (starting in issue #35), which can be found here and again in the first volume of Young Justice: Sins of Youth. The Request: SO! I have always loved Match in the original YJ and Superboy comics, and the writers gave him really short shrift. We have a clone of Kon, who is as smart, if not smarter, can pretend to be Kon for extended periods of time— but every time he tries, people get hurt or die. I’ve always wondered how Tim felt that he literally couldn’t tell his best friend from an imposter. And then Match went and ran off and disappeared and no one ever seemed to consider what he was doing, after thousands of his/Kon’s siblings/clones were murdered essentially in front of him and the Agenda fell apart. (I’m not entirely surprised that Kon didn’t pay attention to all of those clones of him dying, but think about it from the standpoint of someone for whom those were supposed to be an army of his siblings. What a way to get survivor’s guilt.) Did Match go to Lex? It doesn’t seem like it, but given that as Kon’s clone, he’s technically Lex’s son too, it’s a possibility. Or alternately! He got himself out of the superhero game and did something else! What was it? I’d also love for a story about him wanting to be a super and have that family that Kon and Clark have, but being shut out of that world because he’s a “villain”. Or him getting that family after so long. Or him showing up at the Kents’ place because “fuck it, if Kon can have this, so can I” and it goes… well or poorly, depending on you. Or him finding his own family in a place that is separate from the who superhero thing, and Kon or Tim or Clark stumbling on him. Or Lex trying to use him— whether or not it works is up to you, although I’d love for it to touch on Match’s need to be part of something larger— after all, he was built and trained to be the vanguard for an army that was summarily murdered in front of him. Tim's refusal to even vaguely hint about his real identity during this time is fun too-- we have two boys who are both hiding their identities in different ways. It makes me wonder if Tim COULD have figured Match out, if the Sins of the Youth plotline didn't happen or was delayed somehow, because he seems to have all of the pieces of information. Or maybe Match-as-Kon was the only person Tim revealed part of his real name too, and has to deal with the ramifications of trust. Actually, Tim and the Issues Of Trust is the YA novel that I'd love to see Tim and Match (and Kon and the rest of YJ) star in. Bring back Mr Sarcastic (PLEASE bring back Mr Sarcastic) and Alvin Draper. Bring back the way that Tim hides by burrowing under identities and performances, and collects information on everyone he knows. I love detective stories and, out of all the Bats, Tim has always struck me as one of the best actual detectives, rather than crime-fighters. So Tim getting lost in a mystery will always make me happy. There's also something interesting about a group of young teens fighting for their own autonomy and identity. At this point in Tim's story, I think he was still thinking of the Robin thing as almost an extracurricular, and probably grappling with how hard it is on him physically, as well as mentally. So, I guess struggling for a coherent snse of self and agency are really interesting touchstones in this fandom. ALSO, MY DEEPLY HELD RARE PAIR FROM THE 90s: Tim/Match! See above, re: Match being present for Identity Crisis instead of Kon. I’d love Match to be trying to follow Kon’s footsteps re: Cassie, and being way more into Tim, which leads to Tim being confused and into Kon. Also any of the above prompts can include Tim (maybe Tim tries to help cushion a meeting between Match and Kon or Clark! Or maybe he just ends up Match’s sugar daddy. I’m down.) Although this request is ripe for dubious identity weirdness with Match pretending to be Kon, I'd really prefer that you focus on Match getting to be his own person, even if there's some pretending-to-be-Kon in there. Extra Details: This has been a lowkey love of mine for literally decades. My absolute favorite gift of all time was original pages from one of the Superboy issues where Match appears for the first time. And as I've grown older, my love for this rare, obscure character has deepened. Also, as I've grown older, I've begun to want more adult!Match, or growing up!Match just because the idea of growing up in the margins of superhero culture after everything that happened to him is really interesting. He was straight-up groomed and brainwashed, and then the Agenda was gone, so how did he cope? What is he doing now? What kind of adult does he make? This request is specifically for the mid-90s comic, so feel free to stick to that. But if you read the 2010-era Teen Titans and want to explore some later story choices-- like Match becoming Bizarro-like, Slade making him part of Titans East, or his fear that Jericho would hurt the Titans in his body, or save Match from Superboy-Prime, I'm not going to complain. (Personal headcanon time: I think Slade was trying to mind control Match with the same stuff he used on Rose, and it caused the Bizarro-like symptoms). I also love Elseworlds and mirror!verse stuff too. As I've said elsewhere in the letter, I really prefer Happily Ever After/Happily For Now stuff, and I prefer my bittersweet fics heavy on the sweetness. Please give Match the love and affection he's always deserved. But also, please feel free to make both Match and Tim HURT first.

#yuletide #dear yuletide author #no game no life #selector infected wixoss #wixoss #yoroiden samurai troopers #dragon prince #young justice #new xmen

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wardog-of-the-endless · 5 years

Note

oh, hiii! what about 21?

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Hooooooo BOY. Ok, this is like, this is a DYNAMITE ask. Hello mystery person and Anon please know I am SO excited for this. In fact, I’m sorry in advance for how excited I am for this talk. I wanna list so many people but this should be kept to not-quite Encyclopedia length. I’ll cheat a little and say SO MANY WinterIron Writers! ALSO, I will start by saying several of this list are people I’ve talked to and consider friends, and that just, explodes my mind on the daily. These people are freakin’ incredible, you got no idea. The sheer amount of work they do, of effort they put in, of quality they produce, all faster than I feel is humanly possible? They’re incredible people, I say again, and most of em are my friends now? Just… Wow.

Ray (RayShippouUchiha) @rayshippouuchihaStarting with Ray because wow, there are not enough words for how I feel about Ray’s writing. I could wax poetic for eons, really. Her Femme Tony Stark (Natasha Antonia/Toni) gives me life on the daily. (Serious goals, friendo.) Her wordcount is crazy high. Her stories are detailed and so gorgeously written and crafted that she’s made me cry more than once. I want them printed and bound in a real book so I can clutch it to my chest, I want to bow at her feet, I want to buy her a coffee somewhere and just talk to her. I’d love to talk to her more on the internet in general, but I do show up in her inbox just to scream now and then. Just like, Ray, man. (Every now and then she turns up in comments on my fics and makes me swoon at her kindness, it’s not fair.)

TisDragons (Tisfan/27dragons) @tisfan @27dragonsI mean it might be weird to list them on one line except for the fact that they write so much together that anyone that reads them probably knows exactly why I did. XD Tis/Dragons are both super patient, supportive, knowledgeable individuals in the fandom. They write beautiful works together, seemlessly. Like, I’m not sure where one ends and another begins kinda seemless. I’m thrilled they’re published and I wish them every success, and I happily dive into their fics whenever I can. They’re lovely and helpful in BINGO and general fic/fandom research stuff. Tis in particular has been fabulously helpful about a wide range of subjects.

Rinn (rinnwrites) / Meg (rebelmeg) @rinnwrites @rebelmegOk so it’s probably a little biased to go throwing the names of internet babes around but GUESS WHAT I’M GONNA ANYWAY. These ladies are incredible. Meg regulary acts as a beta (chances are if a thing of mine has been beta’d it’s because Meg was merciful and loving) and talks me off ledges when I panic. Rinn and I are co-writing a series right now, and I just have so much fun plotting stuff with her, swapping songs for our fic playlist, or just talkin. Gorgeous writing support crew, these two are usually on the front line for me, I’m mad grateful.

Amy (Amethystina) @amethystinawritesAmy is a veritable Queen in The Loser’s fandom and also a professional badass in Marvel. I’m slowly working my way through her works, but she’s incredibly gifted, so welcoming to new people, and an insanely talented artist. Supportive and Engaging, Sheer fabulousness.

Honed (Finely Honed/ jaqen_hgar)/Sam (copperbadge)/ Pie (theappleppielifestyle) Full disclosure I’ve never talked to these peoples, but I have read a lot of their works and my kudos are given with the utter grattitude of a bashful fan. Have commented, very much admiration, no small amount of fangirling. Again, great stories, a lot of stories, often a lot of words, fabulous brains all around.

#wakandan wardog #Wardog Answers Stuff #Anonymous #Askbox Answers #Saluting Fanfic Writers #Quietly Fangirling

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unlikely-master-attendent · 5 years

Text

Ruffled Skirts

Fandom: Food Fantasy

Pairing: Salad/Escargot, background Red Wine/Steak

Characters: Salad, Yogurt, Red Wine, Escargot, Steak (Mentioned)

Word Count: 3,256 Words

Warnings: They/Them pronounon usage, mild swearing

There was nothing special about that day. The sun was up as morning dew lazily dripped off bowed leaves and nourished the greenery below. The slow crawl of daylight roused the various food souls who had taken up residence in their Master Attendant's growing establishment as empty halls began to fill with footsteps and raised voices floated through thin walls.

"Does anybody know where my pot-"

"Good morning!"

"-find you in there one more time I swear-"

"Is Master Attendant up?"

"Well, they've been work-"

"Oh dear, you look-"

"-tell you where you can shove that nasty ass fucking pipe-"

Salad blinked into awareness with the sound of a typical morning rousing the young Food Soul. A small smile stretched across their face as they basked in the light that dropped across their bed. Snuggling under their covers, Salad let a giddy grin spread as their mind wandered off.

They had a date with Escargot today! Kind, sensitive and reliable Escargot.

Trying and failing to suppress the excited squeal that came with the thought, Salad clutched their sheets closer to their chest feeling like a lovestruck school child. It was like a dream come true, spending a whole day with their crush. Master Attendant had even let them take the day off after catching wind of new love blooming between them.

A soft melody that was tapped against their door made their eyes snapped open, and they scrambled to their feet to greet their waiting guest.

Red Wine stood by the door, an impassive frown on his face as he regarded Salad's state of disarray. "I see the brute's non-existent clothing sense has infected you too." He scorned, his face twisting into a pained grimace at the baggy shirt that brushed against their thighs.

Looking down at their attire, Salad frowned and picked at the helm of the fabric. "What's wrong with this? It's comfortable." The unspoken follow up rang loud and clear within their words. It makes me feel like me. "Besides, I wasn't going to wear this today…"

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Red Wine pushed his way past Salad and into their room, making a beeline for the small closet. "No child of mine is going on their first ever date looking like that." He groused, digging through the few clothes tucked away into the storage space. "If you're planning to keep him, appearances are everything. You won't even woo a Fallen in that dreadful attire. How do you think I even kept that muscle head around?"

Shuffling over to their bed, Salad pulled out the basket and sat in it sullenly. They didn't really know what they were feeling, if it was shame for their mediocre clothing or if it was gratefulness for Red Wine taking the time to fuss over them. Either way, they began to rearrange the various produce in the basket while Red Wine raided their wardrobe.

Their usual outfit was put to the side, something Salad was okay with. They wanted to wear something special for the occasion and their regular work clothes wouldn't cut it. A navy pleated skirt joined the reject pile and Salad tried not to be upset that Red Wine dismissed their favorite skirt. The sweater vests joined the pile and the dress pants followed soon after. The maxi skirt that Miso Soup had gotten them one year as a gag gift was considered very briefly before it was tossed aside.

Not five minutes had passed before the other let out a frustrated growl and shut the wardrobe doors. "Come." He commanded, catching Salad's slender wrist in a gentle but firm grip.

"H-huh?!" They squeaked, suddenly yanked to their feet. Salad knew that Red Wine was strong, he could hold his own against the resident beefcake Steak for Terra's sake, but the ease that the older Food Soul had hauled them up was still surprising. Unceremoniously dragged through the halls, Salad tried many times to tug their wrist out of Red Wine's iron grasp to no avail. Soon enough, they gave up and focused on not tripping over their bare feet. That would be embarrassing.

Stopping outside one of the doors, Red Wine glanced backward and the small act made Salad smile slightly and shrugged back at him. Gloved hands rapped against the wood and the two hardly had to wait before the door was opened gently.

Yogurt's smiling face greeted them and her eyes positively lit up when they landed on Salad. "Oh! Come in, come in!" She ushered the pair into the room, closing the door behind them. "It's wonderful to see you two. I suspected that Red Wine wouldn't find anything that was to his tastes in your wardrobe." Giggling at the thought, Yogurt threw open her own closet revealing the plethora of crop tops, maxi skirts, floor-length dresses and more fabric than Salad had ever seen in their immortal life. "We're about the same size so grab whatever."

Crossing his arms with a scowl, Red Wine jerked his chin in Yogurt's direction, startling Salad from their wonder. "Go pick something that you like." He urged.

Biting their supple lip, Salad made slow steps towards the forest of clothing as Yogurt stood beside it like the gatekeeper. Gracing her best friend with a warm smile, she picked out a simple violet crop top and ruffled skirt combo, holding them out to Salad as if they were a wild animal in need of calming down.

Tentatively running their fingers over the soft fabric, Salad gasped at the sensations that flooded their senses. The discreet patterning on the top felt solid and warm but the material itself was light and breathable. A giddy smile overtook them as they cradled the clothing in their arms and it felt like it belonged there.

"Try them on!" Yogurt prompted, her smile a mile wide but it faltered at Salads hesitance. "We can turn around if that makes you more comfortable." She offered, already walking back towards the other side of the room.

"Thanks." Salad smiled turning around as well. Gripping the helm of their nightshirt, they hesitated slightly. Was this really the best idea? Before their doubts could get the better of them, Salad slipped the skirt off the hanger and examined it. The checkered earthen colors made them think of their own pair of shorts and smiled, but what surprised them the most was the shorts hidden amongst the ruffles, intended to protect the wearer against any douchebags hoping to sneak a peak. The material felt snug around their hips and thighs but when they spun gently on the spot, the skirt lifted up and fanned out around them and Salad had to bite their lip to stop the tears. They felt beautiful with the skirt and they felt reluctant to even take it off.

Shucking their shirt off was easier than before and the crop top replaced the worn clothing. Frills along the trim bounced with every movement they made and it was cut in such a way that it showed off their bare shoulders. The material floated around their body, keeping their figure relatively androgynous while giving a small feminine flair. Giggling with unbridled joy at the outfit, Salad spun around, another dose of giddiness running through them when the fabric fluttered around their frame.

Yogurt was the first to turn around, gasping in excitement and clapping her hands. "Oh, you look so cute! Red Wine, Red Wine, look! Doesn't Salad look adorable? Oh, you're growing up so fast!!"

"Well, they are my child, after all." Red Wine scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'd hope that they'd at least be able to pull this off."

"You adopted me last month." Salad deadpanned, letting Yogurt fuss over the clothes. "We're not even related."

"The time and blood are irrelevant." He brushed off, regarding them with a softer gaze. "It only matters that I'm your father and you're my child. Salad flushed at the statement, quickly turning to hide their red face

"And Steak's the second father, right?" Yogurt popped up from behind Salad, tugging the sleeves down slightly and shifting the skirt around. "Being a single dad's pretty hard. When are you going to ask him out? Everyone already knows that you two are banging anyways. What's the harm? Even baby Salad here had the guts to ask Escargot out and bagged a date!"

"I'm not a baby!" Salad cried at the same time Red Wine sputtered, face flushing a shade not too dissimilar to his namesake.

"My love life is nothing of your concern." He hissed, holding himself up defensively. "Besides, you would have been in the same boat if you had won the lawsuit, no? A single mother life is much harder than a single father's or so I've heard."

Yogurt rolled her eyes and leaned back to inspect her work before rummaging through the wardrobe again. "It wasn't a real lawsuit. Master Attendant just picked who they thought would be the better parent. And at least I would have asked for help." She shot back. "You're head's so stuck up your ass that you would've fathered poor Salad alone if it weren't for Gingerbread bashing some sense into you." Ignoring Red Wine's protest, Yogurt reemerged from the closet holding a pair of boots nearly identical to their own and knee-high socks. "Try these on. They'll match the outfit."

"I think you just murdered my new dad." Salad hissed, taking the clothing. Red Wine choked in the background and Yogurt burst out laughing. The socks felt sheer and lightweight in their hands while the boots were surprisingly familiar. But considering that their current footwear came from the same source, it wasn't all that surprising. "Now what will I tell Steak?! I can't just tell him that his boy toy died because you sassed him and I called him dad!"

On the floor dying of laughter, Yogurt wheezed out an ugly cough as Red Wine looked less vampiric and more sunburnt with the amount of blood rushing to his face. Nonchalantly pulling the socks up, Salad looked back quizzically. "What?" They huffed, wiggling his toes around the new fabric. Feeling aside it was exactly the same as their current pair but it made them feel lighter. Perhaps it was the sheer material that created that feeling.

"Being referred to as Steak's boy toy was highly insulting. For the record, however, it would be more accurate to say that Steak is my boy toy. He's the bitch in the relationship anyway." Red Wine sniffed. His statement was met with a snort and a very loud gasp that drowned everything else out.

"Don't swear in front of a child!!" Yogurt cried, scrambling to cover Salad's ears with a scandalized look on her face. "We didn't need to know about your kinky exploits and how Steak's actually a bottom! Or a verse. Whatever."

Salad rolled their eyes and pried Yogurts hands off their ears. "I'm not a child." They reiterated, slipping on the pair of boots. Standing up, they yelped and pitched forwards, hands windmilling to keep their balance. Yogurt laughed and helped Salad balance and they shot her a wounded look. "What are these?!" They whined, kicking a foot up. The sole of the boot was perfectly normal, a shade darker than the synthetic dyed leather but the heel was raised above the rest. Yogurt had given Salad high-fucking-heeled boots. Damn her.

Sighing, Red Wine offered his hands to Salad with they took gratefully. Stumbling around the room like a newborn fawn, they walked a few laps before shakily clopping around by themselves. They were quick to pick up the art of walking on heels and was soon marveling at how much taller they were.

Laughing, they spun around and beamed at Red Wine, tears gathering at the edges of their eyes. "Thank you so much." They whispered, voice watery with emotion.

Red Wine sighed and placed a hand on their shoulder. "It's only natural for a parent to want the best for their child. Your happiness is nothing to thank me for." He dropped a soft kiss onto their head and smiled. "You look stunning."

Holding back their tears, Salad nodded and wrapped their arms around Red Wine's slender waist, burying his head into the darkening and damp fabric. "Thanks, Dad." They chuckled when Red Wine flinched at the title before they felt arms wrap around their back.

It felt nice to be hugged. Of course, they've been hugged before, their previous Master Attendant had a very tactile way of showing his affection and Yogurt gave amazing hugs too. It was just something about being nestled between arms that have protected others for millennia that made them feel safe.

A shriek of excitement made Salad jump and stumble with the unfamiliar shoes but Red Wine simply tightened his hold and drew them closer as he gave Yogurt a venomous glare. "Sorry!" She whispered unapologetically and Salad wiggled around until they were facing Yogurt but still encompassed by Red Wine's arms. They leaned back into the embrace and a silly grin crossed their face when they received a light squeeze in response.

They gasped when they took a good look at what Yogurt was holding.

The dress was long, the helm swaying in the air with translucent satin and silk pooling around the floor. The sleeves dangled down, tapering into an odd triangle while the neckline was high and designed to fit snugly around the neck. It looked stunning, the pearlescent cloth shimmering slightly under artificial light. Smoothing down the material, Yogurt grinned at Salad and turned the dress around, displaying how the fabric parted after the waist, fanning out with the intention of showing off and accenting the wearer's legs. Embroidered ivory swept and curled on the dress, flowing smoothly from helm to helm carrying with it a faint vanilla scent.

"Oh." They whispered, eyes drawn to the dress like a moth to light. And in a sense, they were. Salad could almost feel the satin brushing against their calves and the light pressure against their throat and they felt the excitement begin to build in them again.

"I thought I still had this lying around." Yogurt triumphantly thrusting the clothing towards Salad with a broad but no less encouraging grin spread across her face. "This will probably look better under the crop top but it'll definitely make you look beautiful. Escargot's jaw is going to hit the floor!" With a giggle, Yogurt gently extracted Salad from Red Wine's hug and proceeded to measure the dress against their body, blissfully ignoring the annoyed huff Red Wine sent her way.

The high heeled boots gave Salad an extra inch, which allowed the dress to end comfortably at their ankles. When Yogurt was satisfied that her dress would fit her ward, she gave them the dress and a pat on the back before pushing Red Wine to the corner of the room. Hearing their parental figure's squabbling made Salad giggle as they held the soft material gingerly and turned around.

Now that they had the time to closely examine the dress, Salad found a zipper, cleverly hidden on the back by fabric that seemed to disappear once it covered its secret. The zipper went down without any resistance and Salad timidly stepped into it, pulling the fabric up to their waist. It felt like a second skirt, resting neatly over the checkered one they were already wearing. The crop top was thrown off and the rest of the dress was hastily pulled up as Salad shoved their arms through the designated holes. The material was surprisingly opaque despite its breathability, covering everything that Salad never wanted the world to know.

Reaching back, Salad fumbled with the zipper and fruitlessly pulled up. When they realized that their arm simply wouldn't bend the way they needed it to, Salad sighed and tried to twist around so that they could see Yogurt out of the corner of their eye.

"Yogurt?" They called, wincing as their back protested against the movement. "Can you uh… help me?"

There was a flurry of footsteps as Salad realigned their spine into a better position and felt the fabric tightening around their stomach before moving up to their chest and finally stopping after their neck was kept in a vice-like hold.

Salad was so focused on trying to re-learn how to breathe properly again that Red Wine's instructions to raise their arms didn't register and their hands went up involuntary. The crop top was tugged on gently and Salad blinked, their arms falling to their side. With a glance down, Salad could see how the top hung from their shoulders, violet curtains obscuring their chest.

Lifting their arms up to twist around and observe themselves, Salad giggled and beamed up at Red Wine. "Thanks!"

Red Wine waved the praise off, stepping back to let Yogurt put her final touches into Salad's outfit. A brief moment was allotted to dust a faint layer of makeup on to their face, nothing too outlandish just simple eyeliner and lip gloss, but having the makeup on made them feel like that could slay any fallen angel with a well-placed smile and wink. The confidence carried through even when it was time for them to head downstairs to meet Escargot. Stairs turned out to be a little bit of a struggle but Salad had never been more thankful for the rail that Master Attendant had decided to install.

The moment they stepped into the restaurant proper and let the voices of the many patrons wash over them, their confidence evaporated and suddenly Salad wanted nothing more than to bolt back up the stairs.

"Oh, I knew this would be a bad idea…” They whispered, worry making them clutch the helm of the skirt. “Why did I let Yogurt put me in this? What if Escargot hates it?” They dropped their hands in favor of wringing it in the air.

"Salad?" An exhausted voice asked from beside them and Salad squeaked, jumping slightly as they tentatively looked to the side.

Escargot was sitting on the two-person table beside them, head rested on a pillow and smiling gently up at them. Sitting up, Escargot yawned before it died in his throat, eyes transfixed upon Salad. They could feel his gaze traveling over their body, drinking in the sight of their new attire. The attention made Salad nervous, their hands involuntary going back to their skirt helm.

"D-do you like it?" They stammered after a long moment of silence, finding an old coffee stain on the wall suddenly very interesting.

Escargot startled but his reply was instantaneous and delivered with a warm smile. "I love it." He whispered, standing up to gently pry their hands away from the fabric. "You look amazing." And in a move that Salad thought had disappeared from modern culture, Escargot kneeled in front of them and gently kissed the back of their hand, showering each knuckle with attention.

Salad managed to laugh out his name, the ugly hiccup in their voice making their blush even darker. They couldn't help the elated smile that blossomed, covering it fruitlessly with the other hand. Escargot simply smiled, adoration sparkling brightly in his calm eyes as he stood up and tucked his pillow under an arm. "You ready?" He asked, gently squeezing their connected hands.

Nodding enthusiastically, Salad felt the earlier tension melt away from their body as they squeezed back. "Lead the way." They giggled, lightly swinging their arms.

#food fantasy #tsuko attempts to write #ff salad #ff yogurt #ff red wine #ff escargot #salargot #steakwine

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