#no beta we die like twilight almost did

[archerlullaby]

There aren’t enough TOTK comes back to the Chain fics out there so I figured I would write one. Hurt/Comfort, some angst, and some self-worth doubts. TOTK Link needs a hug tbh. Also, This is a Zelda slander fic, though I don’t directly hate her she kinda gets on my nerves in totk. MY BOI IS JUST SO TIRED LET HIM SLEEP PLZ.

Weariness and Worth

He was just so damn tired. He tried to be patient. He tried to put on the “Hero Façade”. But his resolve had begun to splinter with each passing moment alongside the princess.

He dragged his feet to the nearest cooking pot as Zelda strode purposefully up the Lookout Landing staircase. As soon as she got her wits about her after falling from the sky, she vehemently insisted that Purah is the first one she needed to see. It had only been a few hours since he had dragged her out of that lake, his body aching from his fight against the literal incarnate of evil, and the first thing she focused on was how she was home. How she needed to talk to Purah. How she needed a change of clothes. How she, who was a dragon for 10,000 years thank you very much, would like a good, hearty, home cooked meal, so Link, could you whip something up while I talk to Purah, please and thank you? He sighed, and all but collapsed at the edge of the fire, eyes starting to close of their own accord. The others in Lookout Landing all but ignored him, the Princess taking up all the attention while she smiled and waved as the individuals around her practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

“You look pretty worn out there son,” the elderly stablemaster chuckled, startling Link out of his stupor. This old man was the only one not rushing to greet the princess, and is instead settled a couple yards away from the cooking pot, his gnarled walking stick leaning against the inside of his knee. Link did his best to give him a smile, but only came up with a strangled-looking grimace. In the very least, he was grateful somebody at least acknowledged him. The stablemaster sighed.

“If only I was younger, maybe I’d have a chance with the young lady. I used to be something of a hero myself back in the day. Now all I got are my horses and these old bones!” He laughed, rapping a knuckle against his knee. “You are one lucky young man!”

Link’s grimace turned into a scowl. Yet again was he fooled into thinking someone cared about him. How naive of him. He stood and turned away from the old man, taking the Purah Pad from his hip. After stoking the fire, he decided on meat and rice balls. However while flicking absentmindedly through the Purah Pad for ingredients, he felt a very deep, sharp ache slam into his ribs. The pain gnawed at him like a wild beast, quickly buckling his knees and knocking the wind out of his lungs as his butt hit the ground. He gingerly felt around his chest, and came to the conclusion that becoming a dragon’s chew toy probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for ribs. He chuckled darkly. At least his shining sense of humor survived. The amusement was short lived, however, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes when he realized he used all his healing potions during the fight against Ganondorf, and that nobody, not even the stablemaster a stride away, cared enough to come to his aid. Everyone was so enthralled with that Princess. He fought the urge to bury his face in his arms and cry because he’s the Hero, the Chosen One, the Sworn Protecter of the Crown. Instead, he gathered himself quietly, stood, clipped the Purah Pad back to his hip, and hobbled out the southern gate without barely a glance towards the gathered crowd.

It had been an hour when he finally stopped walking, or rather, when his legs gave out and he flopped to the grass. The sun was just touching the western edge of the world, dew and darkness creeping into Hyrule Field as crickets began to sing. He knew he should go somewhere safer, somewhere where the wolves and the monsters wouldn’t catch his scent, but he could hardly keep his eyes open, and the smell of the earth and grass was so encompassing that he couldn’t bring himself to care about the danger. So instead, he closed his eyes and peacefully listened to the sounds of the coming night. That is, until his thoughts caught up to him. Coward, they called him. Abandoning duty for some pitiful, self-absorbed notion that he should be recognized, awarded, for accomplishing that for which he was destined to accomplish. These thoughts swirled through his head and screamed in his ears until he thought he would be deafened by the voices themselves.

That is, until the familiar and oh-so-welcome sound of time and space being torn open met his ears. Link blearily stumbled to his feet, and was met with the sight of a portal suspended in air just to his right. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. He’s Link, he doesn’t get this type of fortune in his life. He felt like he could cry as he tripped over his feet and fell just a step away from the entrance, the burn in his side stealing away his breath. He only paused for a moment as he considered what this meant. He would disappear again, the people of Hyrule clueless as to where he went. Zelda clueless as to where he went. He bit back a bitter smile. She’ll just have to find him this time. Perhaps it was cruel, but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. So, on his hands and knees he dragged himself to the very edge and lurched through the swirling colors.

It was so warm, so gentle, so peaceful to just lie floating in the darkness. This didn’t feel like the icy cold waters of the shrine of resurrection, nor was it similar to the dark and damp cave he woke up in on the sky islands. No, this felt like a warm, thick wool blanket wrapped itself around his body, a soft embrace. Perhaps it was the downy feathers of the soft bed in Rito Village. Or maybe, Link mused, this was the water bed at the Seabed Inn in the Zora Domain. Sidon had spoke about a warming technology for the beds Kayden was trying to develop. Whatever it was, Link wanted to stay in it forever. Unfortunately, this peace was cut short.

“Cub? Wild, please look at me.” A familiar voice cut through the fog as he started to come around. His body changed from warmth to and almost refreshingly cool, as if aloe had been spread over a burn. A gentle magic encompassed him, one that was similar to Mipha’s, though less like a bubbling stream and more like that of the sun in the deep woods. He sighed, and snuggled further into the comfort that called to him. “Cub. CUB. Link!” Something tickled his nose, and it quickly pulled him away from soft darkness and into an irritating light. He blinked his eyes open all the way and was met with the welcome sight of a face donning a single black mark upon his forehead.

“Twi?” He muttered, voice raspy from lack of use.

“Oh, Wild, what happened to you?” Twilight asked, voice thick with emotion. Wild opened his mouth to reply before Twilight shook his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Damn right. You fell through that portal and straight into Time’s lap. You’re lucky he wasn’t wearing his armor. You would’ve ended up with a concussion to add to your broken ribs!” Several chuckles came from the group, and a hearty laugh rang from Warriors. Hyrule, with his hands alighted on Wild’s side, looked pleased with his joke. Twilight merely shook his head and brushed his hand through Wild’s bangs. Wild had a thought to bat the hand away, but the worrying felt so good, so needed, that he found himself leaning into the touch, and, as Twilight continued his ministrations, Wild couldn’t help the tears that began to leak from the corner of his eyes for a second time that day. He brushed them away quickly and palmed his eyes.

“Sorry. M’fine,” he said gruffly, “Help me get up please.”

Twilight opened his mouth to protest, but Wild was already trying to shuffle himself out of Time’s lap when large hands, one on his forehead and the other on his shoulder, gently pushed him back down.

“Rest, Wild. You have no need to push yourself now. Your family is here to care for you,” Time’s voice rumbled from his chest, soft but demanding.

“But—”

“No arguing.”

Wild relented, and settled back into Time’s embrace, eyes feeling heavier than he would like to admit. Though despite the welcoming tendrils of sleep that curled around his consciousness, he couldn’t find it within himself to give in, not yet.

“What’s the matter, Cub?” Twilight still knelt next to him and Time while the others had begun to set out their bedrolls. Wild merely shook his head.

“It’s just-” he swallowed, “I’m afraid if I fall asleep, everyone will be gone when I wake up,” he whispered, embarrassment turning his head and closing his eyes so the others couldn’t see his face. “That always happens to me.”

He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s the Hero. The Savior of Hyrule. He doesn’t get to show weakness. Wild doesn’t want to open his eyes and see what surely must be disappointment on Time’s face, or disgust in Twilight’s eyes. Only a gentle warmth along his side breaks him from his thoughts. He looks down hesitantly and is met with the wide eyes of Wind, who has taken residence tucked along Wild’s hip, an arm thrown across his chest. The youngest gave him the biggest smile he could muster.

“It’s okay to be scared. I promise I’ll stay right here until you wake up in the morning. Even if you snore,” Wind said, and snuggled closer into his side. Time shifted, lying down close as Twilight tucks his pelt under Wild’s head.

“We all will,” the eldest reassured. It was only then Wild allowed himself a small smile. The doubts still ate at him, but they were lessening in their ferocity. The tiredness he felt before settled deep in his bones, an exhaustion so deep it slowed his breathing and finally closed his eyes, and finally, finally, he could sleep.

[zirobitches]

One Piece: Soulmate AU pt. 2

Always in this twilight - Sir Crocodile x GN!Reader

here's pt. 1

Summary: In a world where soulmates are incapable of harming each other, you just found out your captain is your soulmate because he attempted to kill you. Sadness ensues

Tags: angst no comfort, Original characters bc I needed a crew for Croc, no beta we die like Roger, reader is former's Roger pirate raised alongside Shanks & Buggy, also reader is a former slave, the Vice Admiral is Sakazuki but it is not formally mentioned, Tom's Workers are the best

word count : almost 5600. damn.

Notice: this is not a croc/reader centric plot!!!! if you wanted to make out with croc im sorry this aint it. hop over to my ao3 if you want spoilers for this universes timeline: ao3 - im sorry in advance

You evade the Navy and Crocodile for a while into the night.

Back when you had helped your crew settle into the hotel you all had noticed some individuals dressed in robes and masks - some sort of festival they had going on in Water 7.

May as well participate.

You manage to swipe a black robe and nondescript mask from a local vendor. Normally you would have paid, but you had a feeling that the Navy may have spread word to locals to keep an eye out for you.

Even with your new disguise you still didn’t feel at ease walking through the canals, so you went up.

Up the levels of Water 7 towards the top. You found a fire escape that allowed you to get to the rooftop of some hotel. You stopped and took off your mask for a moment; there were no buildings nearby taller than yours, so you felt as though no one would see you. 

A warm gentle breeze brushed against your face. The view of the city at night was wondrous- warm lights glowed all across the spire city, gently illuminating the pale buildings, the midnight blue sky filled with stars and the dark seas blended with the sky on the horizon. The sight would have put a smile on your face if you could have seen it in a better situation. You replace your mask and keep moving, hopping from building to building. There was no final destination in mind, just wandering atop the city. The only thing on your mind was to keep running. Thinking about anything else would make you distracted; distractions could get you in hot water.

But you couldn’t forget your crew. They were in danger - Crocodile wanted to take them to fight Whitebeard. To be killed by Whitebeard.

You and Crocodile had planned for the crew to stay in Water 7 for three nights. You weren’t sure if that was still his plan, but it’s not as though the Marines were going to chase him out of Water 7.

You stood at the top of a building overlooking a large square, one of the first open spaces you’ve seen in Water 7 that isn’t by the shore or occupied by multiple canals. You observed the space watching as some locals walked through going about their day.

Running errands, taking leisurely strolls, leaving their day job.

Why did you choose this life?

You could have settled down - Dressrosa was always your favorite place if you ever ‘retired’ like you joked you would. 

A quaint, beautiful kingdom with a fair ruler. Fairies and flowers. It’s literally the place of your dreams, the kind you dreamed of when you ran out of reasons to keep going, back when you were in chains.

Why did you stay on the seas after Roger left?

Because you loved being a pirate? 

Or because you didn’t have the strength to live alone?

A voice takes you out of your contemplation. Your eyes that had been gazing upon the locals' little lives now locked onto a silhouette you could never mistake.

Crocodile had entered the square.

And he carried something in his arms.

How you had tried to run away from your captain and ended up running into him anyway made you feel stupid. Without a doubt, it was odd that Croc was in the middle of Water 7. There should have been no inclination that you went this direction. So what was he doing here?

Crocodile was calling out to a group of Marines in the square that you hadn’t noticed. Even from your high vantage point you recognized the same Vice Admiral from before among them. Your position made it hard to make out what they were saying, so as quickly and quietly as you could, you jumped onto the lower building next to yours.

It was dark enough that with your black robe you shouldn’t be easily seen. By the time you had yourself better positioned, Crocodile had met in the middle of the square with the Marines. During your move, Marines had closed off the square, forcing local residents to evacuate the premises. God forbid they acknowledge their cooperation with pirates.

But then from your new vantage point you finally saw what your captain was carrying.

It was a dead body.

It was certainly not the first time you had seen him kill someone - and you knew he had killed this person because of their desiccated corpse; dried out in his signature fashion.

But it was the first time you had seen him carry a body so tenderly. 

And the first time you had seen a dead body wear your clothes.

“I found them.” Crocodile’s deep voice clearly reached your ears. A chill went down your spine at his implication.

The body was supposed to be you. At closer inspection, the body he had had a similar skin tone and hair color as yours - if you had been dried out maybe. You’re not sure how he planned to explain the change of clothes - the body wore some clothes you had planned to wear during your stay here and had brought to the hotel.

But then again, Marines weren’t very clever.

Your captain dropped the corpse at their feet. Some of them backed away in disgust as parts of the corpse crumbled away at the impact. The Vice Admiral simply looked down with disdain.

“You were supposed to bring them in alive. No pirate affiliated with Gold Roger should be allowed to evade proper judgment.” The Vice Admiral’s words were laced with poison. You could feel his hatred from your hiding place.

Your hands clenched at his mention of the Roger pirates. Your old crew weren’t bad people - you had encountered plenty of truly evil pirates, and the crew of the Oro Jackson were far from evil.

Crocodile ignored the Vice Admiral. “You got what you wanted in the end though. A dead Roger pirate, courtesy of your new Pirate Warlord. Put that in the papers and you’ll have a field day with the celebrations. They might even give you a medal.”

You flinched at memories stirred up by the newspaper comment. For the past three years since Roger’s death you’ve seen some of your former crewmates names end up in the paper - articles about their capture and subsequent execution. Crocodile was very aware of your history, of how close you were to your old crew.

He had seen your sorrow once when you happened to be in a civil town when the news of one such loss hit the papers. How you had struggled to hold back tears while civilians laughed and celebrated ‘one less dangerous pirate’. How you shut yourself away that night. How you kept your distance from your new crew for weeks after.

And now here you two were.

Still the older Marine was not pleased. “I’m surprised you killed your first mate. Aren’t you pirates supposed to have a code that prevents you from doing so? How am I supposed to know this is actually their body?” The Vice Admiral did have a good point. A mummified corpse was hard to identify, it could be anyone. Apparently the Marines were more clever than you gave them credit for.

But before Crocodile could defend himself, there was a small commotion at one end of the square.

“Hey, no civilians allowed!” A marine was blocking someone from entering. A familiar someone. You felt your heart sink like a stone.

It was Tink.

Tink, one of the four that was part of Croc’s crew before you joined. Tink, the Neverland pirates' loyal shipwright. Tink, who was so young, a teenager that you had grown to see like your little sister.

She shouldn’t be a pirate. And she shouldn’t be here now.

“Let me through! That’s my captain!” She cried out. Crocodile looked back at her. You saw him clench his jaw - in anger? Or in dread?

You knew Crocodile was always more gentle with Tink. She was the kid of the crew, everyone loved her. And now she was caught in the middle of negotiations with him and the Navy. And she was about to see a dead body that was supposed to be you.

“Tink,” you whispered, unable to keep the words inside. “Tink, please go. It can’t be you, anyone but you, please.”

But Crocodile was in need of someone who could back his claim that the dead body was yours.

You didn’t know if he had told the crew about what had happened - his acceptance of the Warlord title, his offering you to the Navy, about you two being…

You two being-

He didn’t tell them. Sir Crocodile would certainly have taken this burden alone. He always kept secrets from you, and this was not something he would have shared with them. There was a possibility he ran into the crew when he went to retrieve your clothes from the hotel. But you imagined he snuck in and out - being able to turn into sand made things like that a breeze.

So in short, Tink was about to walk into this square surrounded by Marines, see a corpse that could only have been killed by Crocodile, dressed in your clothes.

You were frozen in place as you watched Crocodile beckon Tink towards him.

It felt like an out of body experience. Maybe you had died. Maybe he did kill you and this was your soul punished to not be able to do anything but stand by and watch your family fall apart again.

She walked past the Marines to him - gods, she looked so small from this height. Tink has never looked younger in your eyes than she did now.

Tink paused.

She had finally caught sight of the body on the ground.

A whisper of your name passed her lips.

You had to cover your mouth to hide the sob that threatened to escape.

A louder question of your name now. Then she ran past Crocodile who stood motionless. He didn’t watch.

Tink fell to her knees beside the body. Her eyes ran up and down and then carefully, so very carefully, touched the arm of the body. It fell apart in her hands.

She gasped a sob out, then started crying fully. She kept reaching out to grab the body - your body - but would then flinch back in fear of it crumbling away. Tink ended up wrapping her arms around herself to prevent from touching ‘you’ and just wailed.

This clear display of grief seemed to satisfy the Vice Admiral.

“Hmmm. I knew you wanted this title badly Sir Crocodile, but I’m still surprised at how far you were willing to go.” Crocodile still had not turned to face Tink and the body and had instead pulled out one of his cigars and set it alight. The smoke hid his face from your sight.

Tink’s grief stuttered in response to the Marine’s words.

“W-What?” She looked up at the Vice Admiral who only met her tear stained face with contempt and a small smirk. Tink then turned her head to Crocodile, who had finally mustered the decency to face what he had done.

“Captain, it can’t be true.” Her voice, broken though it was, still carried through the square. You saw some of the Marines forming the barricade uncomfortably shifting in place. Some just stared at the ground.

“Did you do this?” It could not have been clearer that it was his handiwork, but you understood denial very well. It was a strange feeling to see grief from the outside like this.

“Did you really kill our first mate? After everything?” She cried up at him, still on her knees on the ground, but now she sat in between your body and him as though she was trying to prevent him from getting closer to you.

“And for what?! A fucking title? A little more power?” Tink was yelling now, screaming even with tears and snot still running down her face.

“They loved you more than anyone else on our ship!”

You gasped at that, tears freely falling now behind your mask, hands tight against it to prevent the crowd below from hearing. You never thought your admiration was noticeable - hell, you hadn’t even fully realized you were in love with Crocodile till today.

But Tink did. The crew had known.

The force of Tink’s words hit Crocodile the hardest. He flinched back at Tink’s scream, a small step back as though she had actually hit him.

“They would have given you the world! Why couldn’t that have been enough?”

“Why aren’t we enough for you?” 

These last gut wrenching words seemed to drain Tink’s strength. She fully fell to the ground now, head to the ground, entire body shaking with her grief.

Crocodile could do nothing but stand and stare at the mess at his feet.

Through your tears you noticed movement near where Tink had entered the square. You looked, and let out a quiet sob.

It was the crew. Not the whole crew, but your original crew.

There were four people who accompanied Crocodile before you: Tink the child shipwright, Diat the purple-haired helmsman, Kalmia the mute sharpshooter, and Rutako the fishman navigator. It was an odd crew to begin with, a group of individuals you would not have assumed were related in any fashion, but quickly grew to see their friendship.

You grew to love them.

They were the first family you found outside of the Roger pirates, and you had wanted to run from them. Wanted to run so if things fell apart as they did in front of you now, you wouldn’t have to feel the pain.

Was that really just last night you had wished for that?

Now all you want is to run to them.

But you had just been declared dead - Crocodile has gone and killed a random civilian to fake your death. If you ran out now you could prevent him from becoming a Warlord. Rejoin with your crew. It's not as though Crocodile could kill you - but the Marines could.

To reveal Crocodile’s deception would be to risk the safety of everyone you loved. It would begin an instant fight to the death, one your crew was heavily outnumbered for. No party would walk away without losses.

As it stands now, the only thing that will be hurt tonight would be the Neverland pirates. The crew would certainly fall apart with you, their beloved first mate, dead; killed by your own captain no less. Maybe this is how your crew would be saved from Whitebeard. As foolish as Sir Crocodile may be, even he surely wouldn’t fight Whitebeard without an entire crew to back him.

And this was your chance to escape. Leave it all behind, get rid of all attachments so you could never feel this pain again.

You watch as your original crew find Tink and the body. Watch as Rutako gently takes Tink into his arms. Watch as Diat starts to interrogate his captain for answers. Watch as Kalmia tries to keep their composure since they know the danger of being surrounded by the Navy, but still notice the way they begin to shake.

Diat was furious. “I’m not an idiot Captain, it is clear as day that you did this, but I just can’t figure why in the hell you would kill your own first mate.”

Crocodile is now appearing unfazed by it all, seemingly detached from the world around him. “They were going to try a mutiny in response to my new title as Warlord. They were the one who instigated a fight between us. I had no choice in the matter: it was me or them.”

Tink, who had been crying into Rutako’s shoulder, looked up at this. “That Marine said you killed them, in order to become a Warlord!”

The Vice Admiral who had been watching the scene as if it was normal to him, snorted at Tink’s call out. But Crocodile continued to back his lie. “They were going to betray me because I’ve already accepted that title. And now they are dead. There’s no way to change what’s been done.” He fixed Tink with an icy glare.

“Now get over it.”

Diat would never let anyone talk to your crew like that, not even Crocodile. You had seen him angry before, but now he was truly incensed. “They were our family! How fucking dare you tell us that!” 

During all this commotion, a couple Marines walk up and begin to carry away the body. Rutako attempts to stop them, but guns are drawn on him in response. Diat points to the corpse. “Look at what you did to them. Look, you bastard! And now you’re letting them be taken by the Navy? You know what the Navy did to them! And to the people they loved!”

You can only watch as Diat finally also breaks down. “They belonged with us! Us, damnit!” Finally Kalmia interferes, setting a hand on Diat’s shoulder to pull him back. Kalmia guides him to where Tink and Rutako sat, regrouping the four of them.

Of course Sir Crocodile couldn’t allow them to grieve in peace for even a minute. “Listen up. From here on out things will be different. If I’m going to achieve my goals I need a loyal crew, not people who try to stab me in the back at the slightest thing.”

The four look up, still crying but managing to glare at their captain as well. He continues anyway,  “However, if you are only going to follow me out of fear that I’ll kill you as well then I have no want for you. I need unwavering loyalty if I’m to rule the seas. This is your one chance to leave my crew without any consequence.”

The four are startled - and you as well. Mercy, after such cruelty? This was out of character for your captain, but you think you understood why.

You’re very familiar with cutting off the people you love because you love them.

They seem at a loss for an immediate response, but the Vice Admiral finally chimes in again. “Can you pirates figure out your problems elsewhere? I have better things to do tonight than listen to you all whine about some criminal getting what they deserve.”

The crew is clearly set off by this, words yelled immediately, but Crocodile steps between them and the Marine. “It’s time to go. Get up,” he commands to his crew who slowly and begrudgingly listen to him. The five walk out of the square in single file, Crocodile taking up the rear.

As they pass through the Navy barricade, Crocodile pauses, then turns and takes a glance in your direction. You duck back before he sees you, and take that as your cue to leave before anyone else notices your presence.

- 

You don’t know how long you wandered. You recall wandering down the city, back to the shoreline. You found a small, dimly lit corner you deemed good enough for sitting in, and plopped yourself down. The adrenaline had worn off and the tears of the day had left you an empty shell of exhaustion.

You had only meant to close your eyes for a moment, have a chance to catch your breath, but you fell unconscious.

Eventually the early morning sun wakes you. It is the dawn of a new day, and you have no idea what you are going to do. Your body and heart still ache and your head pounds from dehydration. 

You keep thinking about Tink and Diat.

 Kalmia and Rutako.

Shanks and Buggy.

Rayleigh.

Crocodile.

The vivre cards.

That finally clicks. You can't let anyone else find those. Ditching your clothes on the ship would've been fine, but you can't leave the vivre cards. If Crocodile wants to turn in Roger pirates he has a whole free list to steal, one that'll lead him straight to them.

You have to get back to your ship.

Head pounding and vision fading temporarily as you stand, you try to orient yourself. Based on the sun’s position, you are on the north eastern side of Water 7. If you remember correctly, and if the ship hasn't been moved, your ship should be on the north western side. So not too far, but still not as close as you'd like.

So with a dry mouth and your disguise from last night still on, you make your way to your ship.

You find it docked where you left it. Sails tied up, anchored down, in pristine condition. And hopefully, empty.

You still didn't know what happened after your crewmates left the square last night. If any of the crew was still intact. If they were still alive.

When the ship docks most of the crew are typically thrilled to sleep in some fancy hotel with their own beds, but after the events of last night some may have left the hotel to stay on the ship.

The only way to find out was to look. You walked up the plank to the deck.

It was empty. Just as you had left it. No one at the crow’s nest, no one at the bow.

Then you went below deck to the cabins. No snores were behind any doors, and no sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen.

You finally arrived at your quarters and quietly opened your door.

There, on your bed, was a curled up tiny Tink.

You immediately went still, freezing every muscle, holding your breath.

She was out cold.

You slowly walked towards her. She clutched your pillow, burying her face into it. Short blonde hair stuck up on her head, tussled from her slumber. You wanted to reach out and fix it, but you had your priorities.

You walked to your dresser. Middle drawer, back left side, under some old t-shirts. The vivre box.

You grabbed it then began to quietly look around your old room. You spotted an old backpack of yours. You decided to take just a couple things, not too much so Tink wouldn't notice, but a couple old things that wouldn't be missed.

A couple of those old shirts, some pants that hadn't been worn in a while. Other little mementos and old knick knacks.

You paused after almost filling the bag and stared at a sword hanging by your door. It was your main weapon, gifted to you by the man who taught you to use it.

It was one of the few things you still had from your time on the Oro Jackson after Roger left.

You grabbed it, hoped Tink wasn't planning on taking it as a keepsake, and holstered it.

While doing a last sweep for things as Tink slept, you paused in front of your mirror. It was the first time you had looked at yourself wearing the mask since you grabbed it. The cloak hid your body entirely. You would never have recognized yourself.

In the mirror you notice it. It had been hanging around your neck for so long you hardly noticed its presence, its absence was more noticeable to you - it had been there that long. A necklace that matched ones around the necks of the other original five crewmates. A chain that hung a ring, a ring far too big for anyones hands.  Except for your captains. 

Years ago there had been a challenge to steal one of your captains rings. You at first claimed it was a stupid endeavor. Then when Diat showed off the ring he snagged, your old competitive streak came back. You managed to sneak one off Croc’s hands - no one was sure how you managed it, not even yourself. Then Kalmia got one, then Rutako, and finally, Tink. You all had succeeded and ended up keeping them as mementos. It became a symbol of the “first five” as other crewmates like to call you. Crocodile never asked for them back.

Now you stared at it hanging from your neck. Your hand clutched it, the cool metal burning your palm now. You wanted to tear it off, maybe leave it with Tink. But then you turned to look at her, still asleep on your bunk.

The rings no longer belonged to the captain. They belonged to you.

But you couldn’t leave your crew like this. You needed a way to say goodbye to your family.

You left your room, quietly closing the door behind you. You snuck into the captain's office - also empty - and grabbed a blank paper and pen. A letter would work. A letter that allowed you to say goodbye to your crew and warn them about battling Whitebeard.

After trying to compose your thoughts, and a couple discarded drafts, you ended up with this:

Dear Tink,

If you are reading this it means I have left the crew. I am sorry that it happened like this, but I simply cannot stand by Sir Crocodile any longer if this is the path he has chosen. I imagine my departure may cause some of the crew to want to leave as well, but do not be mistaken, I have no aspirations of being a captain myself.

This letter is a goodbye and a warning. The captain believes he can defeat Whitebeard. Apparently that’s part of his deal as a Warlord with the Navy. Let me clear: he has no chance of winning. Please don’t let him drag you and the rest of the crew to their deaths; it will be a massacre of the Neverland Pirates. whitebeard and my Captain Roger were lifelong rivals, I witnessed several of their battles last days on end. Whitebeard is the strongest man alive, with a fleet to match. Sir Crocodile has become delusional. If you hope to keep this letter at all, best not to tell him I said that.

If you ever reach the New World you might find me in Dressrosa. I’m not sure if I ever told you about it, but it is one of my favorite kingdoms I’ve ever been to. I believe it will be a nice retirement home for an old pirate such as myself.

I wish I had the courage to say goodbye to you and the others in person, but the truth of the matter is, I am a coward. I run when I get attached so others cannot hurt me. I understand the irony of hurting the ones I care about, but unfortunately this is my true nature.

I love you Tink. Thank you for being my family the past few years.

Your former first mate,

And then you signed your name on the letter with a shaky hand. It’s hard to write legibly with watery eyes.

You felt bad for not leaving a note for the others, but you knew that Tink would need this the most. You walked to Tink’s usual sleeping quarters, folded up the paper and stuck it under her pillow with just a corner peeking out with the hope she will find it.

And then, for the last time in your life, you walked off of Crocodile’s ship.

-

You wandered back into the streets of Water 7. You had taken your wallet from the ship as well - thanks to your years on the ship, you were pretty well off financially. 

You found a street vendor in a market and grabbed something for breakfast. Eating in public didn't feel right especially with your crew still in town, so you scaled the buildings once again. Eating with a rooftop view was fun. Watching the city wake up and come to life.

You remembered visiting here before as a kid on the Oro Jackson. Apparently the man who built your ship lived on Water 7. He was a large fishman by the name of Tom.

You wondered if he still lived there.

As you pondered your situation with empty exhaustion, you noticed a news coo fly overhead. 24 hours ago it was the newspaper that started you on the path of your fabricated demise and subsequent departure from the crew.

Time to test your luck again.

You waved the bird down and it landed on the ledge in front of you. You aren't very good with animals, but if you've ever seen a bird look shocked, this was it.

You handed it the fee for the paper and it apprehensively handed you a copy, then took off with haste.

Confused, you open the paper. Then you understood the bird's reaction.

On the front of the paper was Crocodile’s face and your own. It announced the official instatement of Crocodile was one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and your death as a former Roger’s Pirate.

Your apathy disappeared as it all sunk in again.

Sitting on the roof, you cried as you ate your food because you knew: you were alone and no one except the man you loved and the man who tried to kill you knew you were alive.

-

After a couple hours of walking through town and asking locals, you found Tom’s Workers.

During your search you learned that Tom was in hot water for building the Oro Jackson and he was now building a… water train? For the government. You knew this meant he may no longer have any sympathy for Roger and his old crew, but you had no other friends in Water 7, and no plausible means of leaving. Not when your face was in the morning’s paper, announcing your death to the world.

You stood on a nearby building, the roofs of Water 7 your new temporary home, and watched the workers from a distance. Tom is hard to miss - a giant yellow fishman, hoisting and tossing heavy materials as though they were light as a feather. Working alongside him was a tall teenage boy with dark purple hair who kept yelling at a younger boy with bright blue hair.

Their quarrels only made Tom laugh, mixed in with the occasional reminder to keep on task.

You didn't really understand what they were building or how it would work, but watching them made you feel as though you were watching a scene from your childhood.

It made you miss your brothers.

-

You waited till nightfall to approach them. The boys had left around sunset when an older woman came by to tell them to go have dinner. You followed them at a distance and planned to wait for at least two more hours, hoping the boys would go to sleep, so you could have the chance to talk to Tom alone. But only ten minutes passed when the door opened.

You hopped back from where you had been loitering, trying to hide from the light that poured from the doorway. However the woman who opened the door only looked amused.

“Tom says to come join us for dinner.”

You stood in the shadow for a minute trying to process what she said. But knowing you were going to approach them anyways, you gave up hiding and stepped into the light.

“I don't mean to intrude. I just hoped to ask Tom for a favor.”

The woman smiled and waved you in. “Why don’t you ask him over a warm meal?”

You walked inside. It was a small space, clearly the living space of shipwrights with papers, drafts and other craftsmans things scattered about. Tom and the boys sat around a dinner table, the boys giving you an odd look - you figured your mask and robes would lift eyebrows. The woman also noticed you made no motion to take off your disguise.

“It’ll be hard to eat with a mask on.” She smiled, still trying to coerce you to the table.

“Thank you, but I already ate.” You replied, choosing to awkwardly stand in the entryway instead.

“Kokoro’s food isn’t that great but it’s warm!” The blue haired boy piped up, a goofy grin on his face. His smartass comment however earned him a smack on the back of the head by the older boy who sat beside him.

“Franky, you can’t say things like that! Have you no respect for adults?” The purple haired boy reprimanded him.

“That’s enough you two, we have a guest.” Kokoro interjected, seemingly unfazed by Franky’s insult to her cooking. “Even if you aren't hungry, you can sit beside me as they finish if you’d like.” She turned to you as she rejoined the table offering the seat next to her.

You looked at the table; Tom took up the majority of one side with Kokoro next to him, and the boys sat across from them. You would end up sitting at the end of the table Between Kokoro and Franky. You cast a glance around the home and found no other space you could possibly stay in instead as you waited, so you ended up taking her offer at the table.

Dinner resumed as it had been before you joined. The boys bickered, but both would go silent to listen as Tom told stories. He had several, all about ships he had built or pirates he had encountered. The older boy, Iceberg, would discuss schematics and plans with Tom for projects beside the Sea Train. The younger boy Franky pulled out his own plans for small warships - meant to bring down Sea Kings apparently.

Kokoro just seemed to enjoy some booze and the company at the table.

Eventually, after some odd looks from Iceberg and invasive questions from Franky, the boys went to bed, Kokoro and Tom sending them off. Kokoro ended up leaving as well, and then it was you and Tom.

“Kokoro mentioned you wanted a favor from me? Just know I’m awfully busy with the Sea Train and I don’t have time for much else.” Tom had a friendly demeanor, but you could tell your insistence on hiding your appearance from them had bothered him.

You glanced at the door to the boys’ room. “Is it okay if we stepped outside? I think it may be best to leave others out of my problems if possible.”

Tom again seemed to question what was going on, but he stepped outside anyway. A couple yards from the house you handed him this morning’s paper. You braced yourself, then asked him, “How do you feel about the news of another Roger Pirates dying?”

Tom bristled, “Look, I’ve been welcoming but I have to know who you are. If you’re another CP agent I’ve told you I-” But before he could finish you pulled off your mask.

Tom froze.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Tom. I didn’t want to come here and endanger you and your family but I’m out of options. If there’s anything you know about a way I can escape Water 7 I would be grateful.” You rambled, trying to explain you knew his situation and that you could pay him for just a schedule, someway he might know of that could help you sneak off this island, but you didn’t quite finish your thoughts.

Tom reached out to you, and you flinched, preparing for the worst. Instead, he crouched down to eye level and rested the hand on your shoulder. His eyes were sad, mouth pressed into a hard line.

“If there’s anything I can do for one of Roger’s kids, I will do it without hesitation.”

You crumpled beneath the weight of his words. The smile that stretched across Tom’s face gave you the same feeling when Roger smiled at you after he told you you were no longer a slave.

For the first time since you got to Water 7, you felt safe.

More Notes: tysm for reading!! never expected so many people to want a continuation - i knew this is where it would go when i wrote pt 1, but im sure this is a surprise for some of you. i really appreciate comments and might write a non-canon compliant au of this soulmates fic - MAYBE, do not expect anything. also i cant write smut so it would just be fluff/ angst w comfort kind of thing. get dicked down by croc elsewhere

ily all, ty again - Ziro(Bitches)

[superhero--imagines]

Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here!

A/N: not superhero themed. I just read midnight sun and had this idea and I don’t feel like making another blog so.... hope you like twilight lol

There will be a part two, and just a reminder, I’m still looking for beta readers so DM if you’re interested!

* It probably starts with you reading midnight sun, you remember reading the books/watching the movies when you were younger.

* Man, you really forgot how bad this book was. The writing itself is good, but the plot...

* It’s like everything revolves around Bella, everything is created for her.

* You almost feel bad for the other characters

* Well, whatever, you’ll finish the rest of the book tomorrow and never think about that awful franchise again.

* When you wake up you feel an ache in your head. But you didn’t drink last night, maybe you’re dehydrated

* You shift, noting the smooth silk of the covers. Now you’re alarmed.

* You don’t have silk sheets

* You see a mirror in the corner of the room, and rush over

* The face that looks back at you is different then yours

* It’s the same in some ways, but different all the same

* The curve of your nose is slightly off, your lips are thinner, eyes a little closer together.

* The memories begin to flood in, in this world you were on a graduation trip with your parents, you got an all inclusive package. Three days of sightseeing in Volterra.

* You got sick on the last day, when you were signed for a tour of the castle, your parents went without you

* That was the last you saw of them

* You dumbly followed, asking question where you shouldn’t. And ended up at the volturi’s door

* Aro had grasped your hand to see how much you knew, only too see nothing. Likewise Jane’s powers did not work as well

* They were astounded by this, it appears this was several years before Bella was introduced to the story

* And so, you became a prisoner of the tower

* Your soul must have been in this body for quite some time, but you’ve only remembered now, that’s the only explanation for why their powers didn’t work on you. Your consciousness is not of this world.

* There’s a short knock on your door

* “Are you decent?”

* You call back and Alec pops his head in.

* “Ready to go to the library?”

* He looks so kind. The boyish grin that stretched across his face as you shook your head.

* It was in direct contrast to the sadistic personality you had become accustomed to in the books

* “I need a few more minutes”

* You half expect him to lash out at you for being slow. By he only nods, closing the door and waiting outside for you to finish.

* He was you friend. You realized

* He IS your friend

* You think back as you turn on the faucet. He didn’t like you at first, being assigned to guard a human was insulting

* But he started to warm up to you once he heard you play the piano

* This body was quite used to the ivory keys. And so you charmed him as best you could, half for your survival, because the happier you kept him the less likely he was to kill you.

* And half because- you were so lonely, the Loneliness echoed in this body like an ache. Suddenly an orphan, in a continent where you knew no one. All you had was this boy.

* How long have you been here? You kept a talley at one point, but abandoned it after the thirtieth day. What was the point? You would either die or become one of them

* A shiver erupts through at the thought, in your past life you were a vegetarian, you didn’t relish in the idea of killing something alive and moving.

* You pull on a sweatshirt, ripping of the chanel tag. They bought you the nicest things money could buy, the most lavish food you could have.

* They did the same thing with the tourists they lured, keeping them happy and well fed, the same way the cows that became wagyu beef might be cared for. That way when it came time to slaughter, the meal was that much more delicious.

* You suspected this was similar, that should you be an unnecessary addition, you would make a meal suitable for their palette

* Alec basically talks your ear off the entire way to the Volturi library, mostly about literature

* “What are your thoughts on Anna Kerenina?”

* “That the patriarchy needs to be burned to the ground.”

* “That is.... valid”

* He even talks when you’re at the library, much to the annoyance of a few of the other patrons

* “Which book are you looking for now?”

* You stop mid motion on the ladder and turn to look at him. His ruby eyes glowing, he looks bloated. Like he’s fed too much.

* “Alec, why are we friends?”

* You really should keep your mouth shut. Alec was the only real ally you had, you shouldn’t say anything that might put him off

* And yet, it unnerved you, because the Alec in front of you was a very different character then the one you had come to see.

* He looks at you like you hung the moon,

* “Because you’re the most interesting human in the world”

* You burst out laughing, earning several glares.

* “I-I’m sorry Alec, but I’m not, I’m just the most interesting human you KNOW, there’s way more people who are more interesting than me.”

* You expect to see him offended, and he does, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes

* “I’m not so sure about that”

* The days creep by, reading books, eating snacks, it’s nice

* You learn, that Alec hasn’t talked to a human in a very long time. Outside of the screams he heard after devouring one.

* He hasn’t been outside the castle walls in many years, possibly a century.

* “What’s the best part of the human world?” He asked you once

* It’s the 90’s, so smartphones haven’t been invented yet.

* “One tree hill and friends”

* “Well you have a friend right here”

* “No friends the show”

* “The what?”

* And that’s how you got Alec hooked onto cable television

* Who knew the cure to vampire- sadism was a healthy dose of Jennifer Aniston fumbling about on screen

* “Is this what life is like?”

* You shrug, it was what college had been like for you in your past life.

* “It’s kinda what schools like, but i never got to be on my own”

* This body was only 18 after all.

* Alec doesn’t say anything, but his expression falters

* Alec’s only now starting to understand the life you will be denied once Aro decides when to turn you

* Jane joins later

* One day when you and Alec are lazing around the library when she appears, she says nothing, just sits down next to Alec and reads a book

* You’re sure they hear the uneven thumping of your heart as you turn back to your book. Her power doesn’t work on you, you remind yourself

* Not that she even needs it, she could snap you apart like a Kit Kat bar

* And if it came down to it, you’re sure Alec would let her, he might like you but his loyalty’s always remained with his sister

* “So... you watch human television together?” Her bright red eyes flickered from Alec to you.

* You nodded, never sure what exactly it was that would set Jane off

* You had seen enough in the books to know her moods were compatible at best.

* “I would...like to join” she awkwardly looking away, and you were sure if she could, she would be blushing.

* Honestly it’s kind of cute.

* “Sure, the more the merrier”

* And that’s how you basically adopted the sadist twins

* It’s a little harder to get Jane to open up, but once you make a comment about how Phoebe was the best character in friends, she starts to open up

* “Humans are cruel, even when they’re kind it’s only because they want something from you.”

* “Is that what you think about me? That I’m only nice to you because I want something?” she meets your eyes for a few minutes before turning away

* “I’m not sure”

* You understand very gradually why they’re so twisted

* They’d been treated terribly during their human life, in every kind act lingered a dark shadow, in even minor misunderstanding the image of a monster

* Their centuries in the Volturi didn’t help. Under Aro’s ruthless tutelage, and Caius’s sadistic tendencies, They had no one they could trust but each other.

* They were only surviving just as you were

* “Sometimes I wonder how much of my loyalty is real, and how much of it is Chelsea.” She whispers one day, so quietly you barley hear it

* You rest your hand on hers, it’s the only comfort you could think to offer

* When Jane grasps your hand in hers, she breaks every bone in your hand

* She doesn’t understand the pained screams or your mangled hand fit a second, and then she realizes what she did

* Alarmed she carries you halfway around the castle screeching for someone to help

* You pass out from the pain, when you come to you’re in your bed, a very cold hand holding your own

* “How are you feeling?” You don’t recognize this vampire, but you don’t really know anyone outside of Alec and Jane.

* You feel light headed, a warm feeling washing over you, you must be on some strong drugs

* “My body’s still grieving, but my mind is sharp.”

* It’s incoherent at best, but there’s truth to it, your body is still grieving for your parents and the life you’ve lost, but your otherworldly mind is ten steps ahead, cross referencing every action.

* The man offers a short chuckle

* “You really did a number on your hand. I’ve done what I can but...”

* You look down to your hand, half surprised by the bright yellow cast encasing it

* You had figured you would wake up to be a vampire, it just made sense, these were unfamiliar human aches to them after all and vampirism was a simple and effective cure

* They must want something from you, if they’re keeping you human

* You suspect it’s something along the lines of how they waited until Jane and Alec were burning at the stake to save them, so their power would be that much more potent

* Maybe they’re doing the opposite with you, trying to make you as happy as possible to see what effect it has on your ability

* It’s too bad you don’t have one

* “Thank you for your hard work.” You mumble, being human for a little bit longer is well worth the pain.

* “How did you break your hand?”

* “I held Janes’ hand”

* Your doctor let’s out a short laugh

* “That sounds about right”

* You smile, it does sound right, of course you would break your hand that way

* The conversation flows naturally after that, you talk about all sorts of things

* “You think vampires have souls?” He quirks an eyebrow

* “I’m of the opinion that a soul is something you create through hardship and struggle, being able to live longer means that you have more opportunities to have the experiences that result in a soul”

* “That’s an intriguing notion, I wish I had brought my son with me.”

* You’re about to ask about his son, when you’re interrupted by the door swimming open

* “I heard you were awake, are you alright?” Alec rushes in, his eyes frantic

* “Yeah these drugs are top notch” you press the button that releases the pain killers and let out a giggle

* “Is that alright? Humans are awfully sensitive.” Jane pipes up from behind Alec, you hadn’t noticed her in your haze.

* Your doctor chuckles

* “I’m aware,” he’s smiling but it’s strained

* “What’s wrong?” You ask, he was so calm until a second ago, he doesn’t answer you

* “I’ll give you three a moment.”

* You only register he’s gone when you hear the door close

* The twins rush over to you, Jane is kneeled by your side, while Alec hovers over you

* “I-I’m sorry I hurt you, I forgot-I didn’t remember.” You we’re sure Jane would be crying if she could

* “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You raise your cast encased hand and give her a gentle pat on the head. “From now on, physical signs of affection will just be one sided.” You joke, which makes Jane grin

* “I’ll practice with some animals before I try touching you again”

* The three of you chat for a bit, they’re both surprised by your cast and ask several questions about its “primary function”

* “I didn’t know there was a doctor here” you murmur, feeling drowsy

* “Carlisle’s not with the Volturi, he’s from another coven in the new world.”

* Your drowsiness flies away in a second

* “That was Carlisle?”

* Jane looks somewhat confused but nods.

* A flutter of hope erupts in your chest, it’s so strong even your grief stricken body feels it

* You might have a chance. It’s slim, Carlisle has a family he loves and needs to protect. But still, they were strangers once too. No different than you.

* It’s a way out of here

* The next few days follow in a drugged haze, Alec and Jane visit every so often, and Carlisle engages you in occasional conversation while checking progress on your hand

* “Why are your eyes gold?” You know, but well, you need him to believe the lie

* “It’s a bit of a long story” he says with a wary smile.

* “I’m not going anywhere”

* He sighs, a genuine smile encompassing his face as he recounts the tale.

* Even though you’ve already heard it all before, it still makes you cry

* Even in the haze, you know something’s.... off

* There’s something about the way Alec won’t meet your eyes when he talks to you, and the uneasy weight that lingers in the air whenever someone else is in the room

* On the third day, it’s Aro who visits you, Alec and Carlisle in tow behind him.

* “Oh my, all that internal bleeding, how awful”

* Even you can feel the insincerity, but it’s the first you heard about internal bleeding

* So that explains it, the drugs and the aches all along your body, it wasn’t just your hand, you were dying

* “Don’t worry, we’ll save you” Aro’s smile is cruel “won’t we Alec?”

* Alec looks afraid, almost pained, but he nods

* Ah, so this was punishment for Alec too. Until that moment, when Jane broke your hand, Aro must have been ignorant to how close the three of you had gotten.

* You close your eyes, you knew this would happen eventually. There were only two ending to this story, and it seemed one had finally been picked

* You feel a pinch on your neck, right above your collar bone, no worse than a flue shot.

* You wait for the pain, the vivid screams you remember from the books and movies, but it never comes.

* Instead it’s just a warm numbness that spreads across your neck and left shoulder.

* “It doesn’t hurt” you murmur, you feel a cold hand rest against your forehead, Alex’s hand.

* It’s so gentle, he must have practiced on some animals first, you think.

* “No the pain comes later.”

* And so you drift into inky black unconsciousness, the last sleep of your human life in this world.

* You dream that you’re sitting at the bottom of a tree, a fig tree, like the one Sylvia Plath wrote about

* Each fig a different path, half of them have already fallen off, dark, as they rot at your feet

* “How do you do it?”

* You look to your side and find the person who’s face you see in the mirror, they’re hugging their knees to their chest, dark circles under their eyes

* “How do I do what?” You ask, they bite their lip

* “How can you be so strong when you’ve just lost everything?”

* You see their eyes brim with tears, and you look away, to the tree that looks over you both

* “I don’t know” It’s the truth, you have an unfair advantage in this world, because you know all the secrets each person carries, while yours remain shrouded in darkness. And yet... it’s not why you persevere

* “All I do know, is that I want to give them hell”

* Your counterpart grins at that, and to your surprise, you feel a smile stretch out across your face

* Yeah, it’s not about power, you just want raise some hell in this backwards misogynistic world.

* “I guess that’s the one you’re picking then huh?” Your counterpart points to a fig, it’s on the tallest branch of the tree, so far out of reach it almost seems unobtainable

* But you only nod

* “Yeah, I think that’s the way I’m going to go”

* They look at you and smile.

* “If you ever get the chance, I hope you punch that jerk Aro right in the face”

* You laugh.

* When you finally awake, you’re still laughing. A smile etched onto your face.

* Everyone’s there, all looking at you with concerned glances.

* Yeah, you’re going to have a lot of fun in this world.

[jupitermelichios]

On a more possitive note, I’ve started watching Sword Art Online. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever seen (and the last film I saw in cinemas was Cats to give you context for the scale i’m working on here) and I kind of adore it in much the same way I love garbage like Smallville or Twilight. It’s so stupid on so many levels. You could challenge someone to write the worst anime, and it would almost certainly be better than SAO. It’s almost hypnotic how terrible it is.

No one should watch this terrible terrible show so I therefore don’t feel at all bad that I’m about the spoil absolutely everything, but honestly if you do also hate-watch this please come talk to me about how terrible it is. I don’t know anyone else who watches it.

Highlights of Season 1 include:

everyone is trapped in an MMO, and if you die in the MMO you die IRL. but if you were a beta-tester you’re probably fine because they just let them keep all their levels and items from the testing, so they’re all massively OP and everyone just accepts this as a normal and non-game-breaking thing

it’s a fantasy MMO but there’s no races, no magic system, no weapons except swords and maces, and not even an option to dual wield - literally all you can do in this fucking game is stand in front of an enemy and mash the attack button. I’m pretty sure they’re trapped there because the devs realised no one would play this post launch-day otherwise because it’s boring as shit

when the villain traps everyone he also just changs all their avatars to look like they do IRL for absolutely no reason, like actually none, he doesn’t even say he thinks it would be funny, he just does it and no one questions it and it is literally never mentioned again because this is the worst TV show ever animated.

in the second episode the main character deliberately witholds information about how to defeat a boss, indirectly causing multiple deaths. there is absolutely no reason for him to withhold it, he was just being a jerk because he doesn’t like people

in the third episode they reset his entire personality and he’s now a selfless hero pretending to be a lower level than he really is so people will find him more relateable and be his friend because all he wants is to help people. this is not a consequence of episode 2, they just decided they didnt like the character as he’d previously been written.

he makes some new friends who are all objectively terrible people who have decided for no season that the twelve year old who doesn’t really know how to play and keeps having anxiety attacks about the very real possibility of death has to be the guild tank. the MC is high enough level to be functionally immortal in like half the levels, but doesn’t tell anyone this he just lets them go on bullying this child

none of his friends survive that episode, in the game or IRL. which is also a christmas epsiode. a child dies in battle because she’s a terrible tank and then a man commits suicide out of guilt, so then the main character murders santa to try and bring them back from the actual dead but it doesn’t work because again, this is a video game and they are dead IRL, so then he walks off into the snow alone. Christmas!

we meet the best character in the entire show in episode 4, Rosalia, who has gone evil and started just straight murdering people because she’s sick of being an attractive adult woman who can’t get a date because she’s surrounded by lolicons who are only interested in the preteen characters (not a joke, that comes up, the show is firmly on the side of the lolicons)

in the same episode we get an extended bra and panty sequence staring an actual fucking child, like canonically this character is maybe 13 at best. this is one of only 2 occaisions when they feel the need to undress a character and it’s the fucking 12 year old, it’s so gross it reads like a parody of itself

literally every single named female character aged over 8 who talks to the MC falls in love with him after like 5 minutes (and in season 2 this includes his actual sister). he shows absolutely no interest in any of them (including his sister, thank god) until...

the main character gets engaged to a girl he only knows from an MMO after a virtual single date (he doesn’t actually win her in a PVP match but only because he looses the match, he 100% canonically tries to win her in a match, which she is apparently fine with). he then doesn’t bother to ask for her real name until the final episode, he just calls her by her screen name

(that’s okay though becuase it turns out that this moron of a love interest used her real name, on a local server, in a game where your character looks like you do IRL, because apparently getting doxxed is her hobby)

they then get in-game married off screen. there’s not even like a still of a wedding photo. nothing. the main character proposes and then the show immediately jumps to the honeymoon, it’s fucking bizarre.

they find a creepy child dressed all in white with no memory alone in the woods a week into their honeymoon who starts calling them mommy and daddy literally seconds after they first meet her, and they don’t suspect anything suss is going on and adopt her

for hilarity bear in mind the main character may only be 15 at this point (he says he’s only just turned 16 in the last epsiode, but his actual birthday is never mentioned), and his virtual wifu is 16, but no one ever questions the marriage or the adoption, even though ‘hey marriage in a video game is as important and meaningful as marriage in real life’ is an actual conversation people have multiple times. also they think the child they adopt is an actual IRL 8 year old who thinks these randos she met in an MMO are her mum and dad and everyone just goes with that like it’s a totally normal thing

a character called ‘Thinker’ agrees to meet an enemy faction leader for peace talks. the “peace talks” take place in a high level dungeon and he is told to come alone with no weapons and no fast travel. he does this. no one ever comments that his name is ironic, and in fact they seem to think that being betrayed and trapped in a dungeon with a boss is a totally unexpected turn of events Thinker could never have planned for

they take their new baby into the dungeon to rescue thinker, because they went to the jean grey school of baby rearing, and she imediately reveals that she’s actually a magical maggufin with infinite power, murders the grim reaper, and then dies. In literally the second episode she’s in

after she dies the MC hacks the admin account of the game, converts her corpse into an in game item, and saves to the local storage on his console, with the intention of bringing her back to life as a robot once they’re saved from the game. I’m not joking, that’s an actual thing that happens.

the fact that the main character can just access the main admin account and make massive game-breaking changes isn’t used again in that game and he never thinks to try and use it to force log people out or give himself infinite life so he can just rush the game and free everyone. nope, convert a corpse into an item and then never think about it again.

there’s an entire episode where all they do is go fishing. its the only filler episode in the season, and it immediately follows the death of a small child. it’s the most tone-deaf beach episode in writing history

it turns out this game, this game where they didn’t bother coding in any difference races, weapons, or any kind of magic system, was intended to have fully sentient AI therapists, because why the fuck not at this point honestly

oh also the game has PVP and you can trick the game into thinking a sleeping player is in PVP with you in order to actually murder a real person without it flagging in-game as a murder making the crime impossible for the real life legal system to investigate even though you just murdered a person. and they expect us to believe this game had actual beta testers. at least cyberpunk wasn’t played on microwaves you connected straight to your brain (also not a joke, the VR consoles canonically work by sending microwave radiation into your brain, no wonder VR never caught on)

the set up for the show is that they have to reach level 100 of a dungeon in order to win. At level 75, the writers got bored and the show just ends.

it turns out the power of love allows you to just break the fucking game and the main villain literally has a line about how ‘love allows you to remove debuffs, huh, we didn’t think to plan for that’ because again, there’s no metaphors in this show, everything is 100% literal including the fact that falling in love with another player means you’re immune to the paralysis status effect

power of love also allows you to very briefly become a poltergeist after being killed, but only for like 2 seconds. again not a joke or a metaphor, main character is killed but then gets to hang around as a ghost for a little bit to enable him to defeat the boss. he also doesn’t die in real life despite that being the entire fucking premise of the show, again because power of love.

the bad guy literally has no plan, he’s just doing shit for the sake of having something to do. His actions directly cause the deaths of more than 4,000 people, and it’s not even in aid of anything. they ask him why he trapped 10,000 people in an MMO and allowed them to slowly die, and he’s just like ‘huh, i forgot i did that, random’ and then just fucking peaces out

the fact that he committed one of the largest mass killings outside of war never really comes up again, as far as we know he doesn’t even go to jail. i think the show actually kind of thinks he’s a good guy, which is a fucking WILD moral stance to take on the deaths of 4000 completely innocent people for absolutely no reason

If this sounds hilari-bad but you don’t want to invest the time to watch a show which is objectively garbage, it has an abridged series which is famously better than the show it’s parodying (i’m dead serious, people have character arcs, the getting married after one date thing is properly addressed, the mc has to deal with PTSD because of all his friends dying in epsidode 3, they don’t immediately follow the death of a child with an extended fishing montage, the villain has an actual plan). It’s mostly actually pretty good, but this is the internet and it’s an abridged series, so while there are a lot fewer yikes moments than most it still has enough that I’m not comfortable recommending it without the caveat. that said I still enjoyed it a lot, although possibly not at much as pointing and laughing at the garbage that is the actual show.

[givemeonebreath]

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. 

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again.   We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one 

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death   “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything 

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling.   But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through.   In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you. 

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this  But I just don't have the patience anymore 

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover   Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again 

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation  The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream  And you want to shout But you've built up steam  And you can't let it out This is pressure 

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years  Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides  To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides  To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so  So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water  Can't go on Can't go back   Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard  

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it  My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"  Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Sooo... I think It’s the size of my tag list that was fucking this chapter up so much! Every time I have more than my previous chapter had, this chapter deletes itself from my page/drafts! I’ve contacted Tumblr about it, but don’t cross ur finger’s on that one lol. I am sorry if you weren't able to make the list!

(If you beta read for me you could read the chapters up to an entire day ahead of every else tho! If ur interested in that, just inbox me!)

HnM

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Month 1, Month 2 , Month 3,

--Month 4--

‘SLAM!’

The front door crashed shut like ammunition through cannon fire. The sharp bang clapped and echoed throughout the small, otherwise quiet living space, and soon, three roommates filed out of their respective rooms. One by one, they inched out to get a glimpse of the oncoming storm: Hurricane Katsuki.

Denki warily removed his gaming headpiece as Bakugou whipped past his bedroom door, “Oh hey, Bakugou! You sure disappeared outta nowhere. We coulda used the backup in squads! Where’d ya go, man!?” 

The others listened carefully for the explosive blond’s answer, but got nothing short of an insult in return,

“None of your business, you damn idiots. GO DIE ALREADY!” and with that, Hurricane Katsuki simply slammed the door shut-- somehow even louder than before.

Kaminari, who had gotten the brunt of the explosion, was left wide eyed,

“Woah…”

Sero gave a low whistle as he shook his head at Bakugou’s shut door, “Looks like a wild Teenage Bakugou has entered the chat.”

Denki gave an abrupt, slightly uncomfortable chuckle at the remark, but soon gulped, giving his roommates a concerned gaze, “So… should we…” he trailed off.

Kirishima fervently nodded, stepping fully out into the hallway, “I’ll go check on him, guys.” He flexed before making his way to Bakugou’s room—a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere along the line to reassure himself before he dived headfirst into rough situations.

He looked back to his other two roommates one last time and threw a pleading glance as if to say “Wish me all of the luck” before giving a few slight knocks to the rage-secreting room, “Bakugou,” he called out, “You okay, buddy? I know that there is something up. There’s no point in hiding it…we can talk?”

No answer.

Kirishima gave a long sigh, “Well, when you finally want to talk about it, you know where to find me...” 

The other roommates sighed as well before both retreating to their rooms and shutting their doors. Kiri turned to make his way back to his room as well, but only made it a few feet before Bakugou’s door sharply yanked open a few inches.

“Where are those other idiots?” Bakugou’s eyes were redder than their usual vermilion as he glared out from the cracked doorway. Kirishima gave a thick blink in surprise. Had he… had he been crying?

“They back in their rooms?” Bakugou said very lowly. His voice had an extra hint of raspiness weighing it down, Kirishima noticed.

“Y-Yeah.” Eijirou quickly replied, startled by the unseemly sight of his best friend, “They’re prolly back on the game by now.” Bakugou did not say another word as he threw his door open a few more inches and marched deeper into his room to stiffly throw himself on the edge of his bed. Kirishima cautiously followed him-- this was as good of an invitation as any in ‘Bakugou language.’

Bakugou sat, glaring seriously at the floor in front of him, as if it offended him, and his leg bounced nervously. The red head uncomfortably cleared his throat. ‘Holy shit, what the hell is going on…?’  Kirishima had never seen him do that before, “You.. uh.. you wanna talk about it, buddy?”

No answer.

Kirishima waited a few beats before releasing another sigh and shutting the door behind him so that he could make his way to the bed. He sat down next to his best friend and simply sat deep in the silence with him. The two waited for what seemed like hours before someone finally spoke up,

“I got a girl pregnant,” Bakugou said very flatly, still glaring at the floor and bouncing his leg.

Kirshima had to stifle the choke that erupted out of his throat as his own saliva sneaked into his larynx, “Ack! Achkaka!” His natural bodily functions were completely forgotten as his brain tried to compute the sudden and drastic information that was just thrown at him.

Bakugou?? Pregnant? He never thought he would hear the words in the same room, let alone the same sentence! The guy hardly ever did anything but work, work out and come home to play video games. He didn’t converse with people. He didn’t get girls pregnant. Girls didn’t even look at him!

In his coughing fit, Kirishima’s speech was also forgone, “I-I- uh.. man that.. wow I…” he tripped and tumbled over his words. He was dreaming. He had to be. Well, either that or he had wandered into some strange episode of the Twilight Zone or something.

Bakugou’s glare at the floor intensified, “I thought she might not be so bad… but I didn’t want to be with her like this,” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the underlying tone of hurt buried under his friend's words, and then they widened even further once he realized what he just said.

Had Bakugou fallen for someone for the first time?? And then his eyes widened the furthest as things finally began to click within his confused mind.

He sucked into a sharp gasp, “You mean that model!?”

Bakugou simply scoffed, finally relieving his glare form the ground and focusing his hot gaze on Kirishima, “Yeah, turns out she’s actually a fucking bitch.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped, “BAKUGOU! That’s the mother of your child! You shouldn’t—”

“She didn’t remember the night at all. I was just another fuck toy for her,”  Bakugou stood up and clenched his fists over and over again as if they itched to be slammed against something—tears welling up in his red-hot eyes, “Now tell me if the roles were reversed, how shitty it’d be then, huh?” Kirishima immediately shut his mouth from speaking up anymore as he allowed his friend to release his feelings. It wasn’t often that Bakugou built up enough to let things out this way.

Bakugou scoffed again as he began pacing the room, but Kirishima swore that it had the hint of a cry layered within it somewhere, “they might not even be mine since she likes that ‘fuck toy shit’ so much. That night meant nothing to her…” he threw his arm against the wall, effectively tearing a hole into it

Kirishima jumped a bit from the action as his mind briefly wandered to the security deposit on their lease. He pushed these thoughts away as Bakugou stiffly returned to the bed, his leg bouncing even more fervently than before.

Kirishima simply watched for a moment to allow his friend to simmer down before he spoke up very softly, “But you think it is yours though…”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to Kirishima’s, whose eyebrows were furrowed deeply into each other as he stared back.

In all his years of knowing Katsuki Bakugou, Kirishima would have never described his best friend with anything even resembling ‘gullible.’ His gut feeling and instinct were as sharp as ever and hardly ever wrong,

“Must be for a reason then…” he tried to look past the tears that filled up within his best friends eyes but they still left his heart feeling a little heavier than usual,  “If you think it’s yours then I’ll have your back no matter what buddy. You’re not alone in this.”

“They.”

“What…” Kirishima eyebrows folded toward the center of his expression.

“She’s having fucking twins.”

“Holy Sh…” Kirishima quickly swallowed his words as he took in the forlorn expression plastered onto his friend’s face. There was no room for him to be shocked right now. He had to be Bakuous ‘rock’ so to speak, “I-I mean congratulations!”

Meanwhile you found yourself studying the woman in the reflection of your mirror. Your eyes trailed every detail of her swollen, red eyes. Then to her hair that was fuller than you had remembered—the beauty of bottled color maybe? You danced over the way that loose strands stuck to the slimy mess of tears and mucosa that had accumulated on your cheeks.

Nasty.

A sharp chuckle came out of you, spittle following not too shortly after, but as it reached your ears it resembled more of a cry.

Okay, that’s enough self loathing for one lifetime.

And with that, you moved away from the mirror; however, as you did so, your sight basically smacked the open cabinet of liquor bottles that you were eyeing earlier.

Okay…. Maybe not quite enough self loathing. Your mouth began watering at the delectable sight. It was a desert after a delicious four course meal.  There was always room for more…

With a shake of your head, you brought your hand up to smack these thoughts out of your mind. What was wrong with you? You had been a lot of things in life, but were you really so low to bring yourself to effectively murdering your own children?

That’s what would happen if you drank, right?

You loudly groaned as more tears slipped from your eyes. You really didn’t know shit when it came to this pregnancy thing.

Your mind briefly wondered to Baby Notes Vol 1. You should probably take the time to actually read through it a little. Skimming it wouldn’t kill you.

Physically.

The sudden pounding at your door snapped you almost immediately out of your thoughts.

“Y/N?? Y/N, it’s me!”

With a final pathetic sigh you found yourself gathering up all the alcohol from the cabinets that you could into your arms and placing them in the bathtub before jotting over to the door.

As soon as you opened it Deku barged in and gripped you softly,  “I came as soon as you called! What’s up, what's wrong?! Are you okay??” His eyes frantically danced around your wet eyes and red sockets before he allowed them to roam all over you, checking for injury.

He wouldn’t ever think that Kacchan was the type of guy to put his hands on you, especially with how much he’s grown since high school, but the nagging voice in the back of Izuku’s mind fervently reminded him of all of the bruises and burns and numberless emotional scars he accumulated with he was quirkless from his childhood friend.

And here was a woman he deeply cared about-- quirkless—having to spend time alone with said childhood friend.

“What’s wrong??” Izuku found himself repeating as his hands mindlessly wiped the fluid from your cheeks. As soon as he committed the action, however, his face ran completely red and he quickly released you from his grip, so that he could get a grip of himself.

You didn’t notice his slip up, and if you did you sure as hell didn’t care at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand. Two to be exact, “Twins,” you simply said to him as tears began flowing down your cheeks more furiously.

“Huh? Oh… Oh.” Izuku’s eyes went wide as your words sunk in. As soon as he threw you an obviously apologetic glance you threw yourself into his chest and sobbed throwing him a bit off guard as he barely caught you in his arms.

Izuku’s eyes nervously roamed around your home as if he were searching for the right thing to say to you, but as he made contact with an open pantry in your kitchen, his jaw dropped-- your alcohol pantry.

It was far less full than it had been the last time that he visited, “Y/N… What’s with the… have you been drinking?” he pulled you away from his chest and looked seriously into your eyes.

The sight honestly kind of scared you a little—like a 15-year-old being caught with their first beer-- that is, until you remembered that you were innocent as fuck, “No,” you gave a slight chuckle through your tears at the sudden surge of intimidation, “I need your help getting rid of it.”

You walked away from Izuku for a moment, leaving him confused and a bit wary of where this was going, until you returned with a hammer—leaving him even more concerned,

You were aiming for bad ass Harley Quinn vibes, but you were sure that with a dried trail of tears on your cheeks and the force smile splitting your face you came across like more of a psycho ass Harley Quinn. Furthermore, the look on Deku’s face screamed that you were correct (also it screamed ‘GET THIS GIRL IN A STRAIGHT JACKET!’).

“What are you gonna do with THAT?” Izuku squealed.

“I need to get my favorite bottles out of the house. Stat. and you're gonna help me.” At your words, Deku gave a gigantic sigh of relief, but still kept his eyes glued on the hammer in your hands. You noticed and shrugged a bit, “Smashing things is also really cathartic. I am sure you of all people can agree with that.”

“Heh… Yeah. But are you sure this is okay? I mean, I don't want to raise your blood pressure or anything because--”

“Deku. Less talk, more smash,” you threw a towel in your tub to make clean up a little easier, and so you didn't knock a chunk of tile on your bathtub. You gave Deku one last glance. He was still looking very uncertain, but you threw him a short smile before bringing the hammer down onto a bottle of tequila. The bottle instantly shattered, sending bits of glass throughout your tub. You looked up to give Deku an excited glance, and surprisingly, he returned one right back.

“See? Not so bad!” 

But you spoke too soon as the scent kicked you in the fucking nose. It was too far to turn back now. You choked down your nausea and handed Deku the Hammer, “You go ahead and get started. I’ll go get another weapon-- I mean… tool,” you corrected yourself after he sent you a terrified stare.

As you made your way back to the after grabbing your second weapon-- I mean tool a sudden thought crossed your mind. Without hesitation, you pulled your phone out and dialed in,

“Hello?”

“Yes. How may I help you today?” Dr. Yamakawa sounded from the other line.

“It’s Y/N…Y/N L/N…” you trailed off, hoping that you wouldn't have to say the ‘p word’ or anything relating to it.

His old ass better take the hint. To your dismay, his old ass did not take the hint, and a long pause of awkward silence filled the air.

You pursed your lips together in annoyance, “Mama Bakugou,” you clarified through gritted teeth, still dancing around the fact that you were a maternity patient of his.

“Ohhhhh!” He exclaimed, causing your face to fall into an expression of disappointment as he continued, “What can I do for you, Mama Bakugou?!”

This mf. You internally ground and fought the urge to facepalm, “Well. I need you to write a doctors note for me.”

“For…?”

“Work?”

“For your pregnancy? Dear, why don’t you just take maternity leave for that?”

“No.” In the moment you shook your head even knowing that he couldn't see you,  “I need a few weeks more before I can tell my job about this… situation. I’m a model. They own me through a contract and I didn't exactly add two roommates to the lease on my body...”

There was a pause on the other line, causing your heart to lurch a bit, but things soon went back to normal when he finally spoke up, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll email you something.”

You gave one final thanks (and an internal ‘yessss’) before making your way back to the bathroom, “Hey Deku, sorry it took me so long I was just--” you froze at the sight in front of you. The shirt that Izuku wore was completely drenched in liquid and your tub had a gigantic hole on the side.

Your lips fumbled over themselves as you gawked at the spectacle. Deku could only send you a nervous laugh,

“Uh, hahaaa… Can we be done now? This… this burns,” he rapidly blinked the liquid from his eyes as he glances back down to the lot of broken bottles in your tub before throwing your one more pleading glance.

You choked down a laugh, causing it to flee from you in the form of a snort, “Someone had some pent up aggression, huh?”

In response, his face delved into a deep shade of red, “I.. uh..” he had no idea how to answer you when you looked at him like that-- your lips curved into a stunning smirk of a smile. Izuku promptly cleared his throat, “C-can I take a shower?”

“Obviously not that one-- you're totally fixing that by the way Mr. Big Shot Hero,” with a laugh you swiftly made your way to him and carefully grabbed the hammer from his grasp, looking up to see his face dive even deeper into crismon. You flashed a smile at the display. He really was adorable as hell.

You took in his face bit by bit-- his soft, blushed skin, his freckles cheeks, his round eyes. As you digested his expression you swore you could see an entire forest within his stare. Suddenly your heart pinged.

“Uh, Y/N,” Izuku interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to throb for a different reason as you suddenly realized the proximity of the two of you. You stepped back so fast that your head spun. At least, you hoped that was why your head was spinning,

“You can use my shower.” you said very abruptly as you turned away from him,gesturing him to follow you to your bedroom.

Your bedroom. Your hear throbbed once more. Deep down, you hoped that you were about to have a heart attack or something; however, something  within you told you that that probably was not the case. You swallowed hard.

What the fuck was happening?

‘KNOCK kNOCK KNOCK’

The next morning you found yourself stirring awake to a loud succession of banging. Your eyes fluttered open for a moment only before they snapped back shut. The magnet drawing them together and you closer to sleep was much stronger than whatever noise was trying to wake you up, “Mhmfmfm…” you muttered as you rolled over on the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.

Izuku, however, was not one to ignore such an obvious noise and he found himself trudging off of the other sofa he slept on to answer whoever was banging on the door.

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!’

“Coming!” the green haired man tiredly called out as he launched himself toward the front door and swung it open.

The astounded face on the other side of the entrance soon mirrored his own.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed.

Bakugou’s shocked expression very quickly contorted into one of pure rage, “What the hell is going on here?!” He screamed causing you to jolt awake as you threw the blanket over your head. You found yourself fumbling up as Bakugou continued to scream pointed to Deku, “The fuck is he here for??”

You made your way over to the two men- one seemingly terrified, and the other obviously enraged. As your head began lifting from the daze of sleep, you crossed your arms and glared at Bakugou, “He spent the night helping me with something,” you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the oncoming headache, “Hey, better question: why are you here?”

Bakugou seemed to swallow his own tongue as his jaw clenched shut, “I wanted to… uh…” he glared at the ground as he tried to find his next words. Shit. why was this so fucking hard? He should have never listened to that Shitty Hair and come over here. Bakugou scoffed to himself before redirecting his stern gaze back toward you, “Come with me.”

You could only blink.

What kind of caveman talk…You tilted your head as you fleetingly threw a confused glance toward Deku, who only shrugged in response.

Bakugou quickly grew tired of yours and Dekus silent conversation, “You wanna hang out or not??” he growled before throwing another heated finger toward Deku,  “And he can’t come.”

“I was just heading out anyways. It’s no big deal really!” Izuku defensively threw his hands up as if to show Bakugou that he was no threat at all. He went to gather a few of his belongings from the sofa he slept on before throwing Bakugou one more gaze-- this one a lot more astute.

A majority of Midoriya’s mind told him that there was nothing to worry about at all, but there was still a small section of him that couldn't shake the memories of how Bakugou treated him as a quirkless child. Izuku knew that he would never hurt you! But… just in case…

“You take care of her Kacchan,” the tone came off pleadingly but the look in his eyes was a  bit stern. You had never seen this portion of Deku before and it almost instantly caused your chest to thud, harshly reminding you of last night’s sensations. Shit.

“Don't tell me what the fuck to do, Deku. Those are my kids in there. Not yours. You just remember that,” Bakugou scoffed, causing Izuku’s expression to falter ever so slightly before he fixed it again.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer bluntness of his statement, “Kacchan, what the f--”

“I guess you’re right, Kacchan,” Izuku began, “Sorry if  I crossed a boundary,” he smiled at Bakugou-- who only huffed in return-- and quickly turned to you, making the tightness in your chest worse, “Bye, Y/N!” Izuku smiled, almost too innocently, considering the raging war in your gut at the moment.

You smiled back-- a feeble attempt at masking the inner turmoil ravaging your insides. “Peace, bb,” you gave him a weak hug before gesturing him out of your home. You threw him one final smile before shutting the door. You instantly whipped your head back around the the blonde brat behind you, “What. The. Fuck!?”

“I already told you. I want to hang out.”

“Are you fucking allergic to texting or some shit??” you yelled, “You just waltz in like you own the damn place and demand me to ‘Ohhh ahhh wo-man! come with me, wo-man’,” you renacthed his prehistoric behavior. 

Bakugou felt his muscles tighten in response to your taunting. Your loud nature, mixed with the confrontational behavior was reminding him way too much of his own mother. He swore on his life that he would never end up with  a woman like her and yet, here he was standing in front of her fucking carbon copy. The thought made him sick as he groaned in frustration,

“Shitty hair was fucking wrong!” Bakugou spat, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion as he continued, “The last thing I want to do is hang out with a bitching hag like you!!”

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me??” You have heard pretty much every other insult in the book hurdled at you, but ‘hag’ was never one of them. You laughed, “I wasn’t a hag when you fucked me all night, huh?!”

“Yeah? I don't know what was wrong with me then. You are way different when I am not pumped full of alcohol, apparently.”

Your laughter immediately ceased, “Whatever. you came up to me and confessed your love like a raging SIMP, and now all of a sudden I’m a bitch?

“Fuck! Well, I got to know you past a pretty, stupid, fucking face!”

You blinked in shock. The unfamiliar feeling of your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach overwhelmed you as hurt surrounded your face. Practically your entire life, being beautiful has been a mask of sorts for your overwhelming failures. Still, here this man was-- practically a stranger-- seeing past your facade, looking directly into the steaming pile of shit that you truly were. Your eyes suddenly became warm as tears filled them,

“Then why the fuck are you even here, asshole?? TO PISS ME OFF?” you shouted, throwing your hands by your side and clenching them so tightly that your nails dug into your skin.

“BECAUSE  I WANTED TO KNOW ALL OF YOU!” he screamed back. The shocking words fled out from under his harsh tone and stunned you as your brain processed them. You felt your fist unfurl a bit as he continued, “I wanted to know you. Good and bad. Bitchy and not. You're carrying my children… I want to know them,” he finished, almost defeated. This tell of emotion was obviously the last thing he wanted to be doing, you could tell.

Still, it meant a  lot for some reason that he felt that he could do this with you “Oh,” you breath out, unable to articulate much else.

“Oh?!” he angrily repeated. Bakugou felt his face shrivel in disgust. He just poured out his being to you once more for you to trample on it like a fucking gymnast mat. However, as Bakugou formed his mouth to say something else, you halted him,

“Go… have a seat,” you gestured to the couch, blinking the accumulating liquid in your eyes away. The blond could only shoot a lone eyebrow up in response, causing you to sigh in exasperation,  “Well, Are you just gonna stand there looking like that, or what?” he gave you one final scoff before making his way to one of your couches and seating himself comfortably, propping one of his feet on your coffee table as he glared at the non functioning television.

“Welcome, I guess. I am sure you’ll have no issue making yourself comfortable,” you deadpanned, eyeing his propped up legs,  “I’ll go make us some… tea?” you suggested , but no answer came from him, “Tea it is.”

You rolled your eyes before trudging away. You always loved green tea, but for some reason the smell had been killing you lately, so you opted for peppermint tea instead. It was inferior by, far, but it matched the inferior, pathetic life that you had adopted recently.

Jeez. How much self deprecation can you fit into one week? Would this have any effect on the babies? If so, they’d probably come out singing RnB or some shit in the maternity ward. They’d have already stressed dyed hair and an entire Tumblr dedicated to sad aesthetics before they reached their first birthday, for god's sake.  

You vehemently shook your head to once again get rid of the oncoming headache that snuck in with these disgusting thoughts, “So Kacchan!” you called out as you walked back to the living room, “What do you wanna know?”

“Don’t call me that,” he simply barked.

“What?”

“Don’t call me that name. I fucking hate it.”

You snorted and took a seat next to his glaring figure. You tried not to notice how he shifted further away from you as you sat down, “I am sure Deku disliked being called worthless his whole life too,” you smirked up at him, “I bet he fucking hated it.”

The atmosphere seemed to once more shift into a much heavier tone after your statement and the room fell quiet for a few beats. Bakugou’s small glare morphed into a much more forced one. It was as if he was trying to use the glare to hide another feeling, you noticed.

Finally, he spoke, “How much do you know.”

You tilted your head into another shrug, “Enough to know that you probably hate the fact that I am quirkless.”

His face contorted into one of pure disgust as the glareful mask he wore faded away like yesterday’s lunch.  “I don’t give a fuck,” he argued, but the look you sent him showed no sign of believing it. Bakugou’s disgust deepened, but he made sure to control it enough to where you didn't know that it was directed towards himself.

“Oh really? Let’s see if you can keep that same energy when one of your kids pops out without that flashy quirk of yours,” Of course his face fell, just as you suspected it would. Just like it had for multiple other men you had told.

Most men’s pride utterly shrivels into dust as soon as the pretty girl in front of them-- the one that they fantasize about having a dream life with-- ends up telling them that they are quirkless. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, the men's dreamy gaze effectively shatters alongside their hopes and dreams concerning you.

Nobody wants to pass weakness onto their children.

“You know what? I think I’ll go first,” you snapped him out of the uncomfortable, uncharacteristic silence, and he gave you an irritated, questioning glance, “You wanted to play 20 questions with me, or whatever. No limitations, okay? And I have the first question for you,” you explained before sending him a challenging gaze, “How could someone so full of hate truly aspire to be a hero?”

You expected him to blow up at you-- to scream, and yell and argue that you were wrong.

Yet.

The slightly apologetic, yet stern look on his face threw you for an absolute loop, “I wanted to win.” he simply answered. Somehow his matter of a factness was worse for you than any furious defensive scenario you had conjured in your mind, but as you went to open your mouth with a roll of your eyes, he halted you,

“That was when I was younger, “ he sharply clarified, “I wanted to win more than anything. To be better than everyone else—and that hasn’t changed but there's more to it now. I have to protect the people I care about—like my idiot roommates—I want to make sure we all come home safe by the end of the night.”

Once again he had thrown you off with a surprisingly normal non-caveman response, “That was actually…”

“My turn,” Bakugou abruptly cut you off, “How many men the you fuck this past few months?”

Your jaw dropped. 

And back to Neanderthal you mother fucking guess! “Are you fucking kiddin—”

“You said no limitations,” he gruffly stated.

You bit your tongue and shot him a glare that could match his own before giving a sharp sigh, “Four during the last year. You were the last and the only one during the month I… conceived,” you swallowed as the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, “My turn. What about you?”

“What.”

“How many women the past year?”

“Why the hell does it matter?” Bakugou argued. Your eyes shot down to his body as it shifted around even further from you. From his body language you could tell that his answer was sure to be outrageously high.

He was an extremely attractive guy after all. Those rippling arms were nothing to fuck around with. His red hot eyes could melt steel beams with a passing glance. The chisel of his permanently hardened expression could slice through even the most secured of panties. 

Yes. and there was no denying that he was a sex god in his own right.

It also didn't help that his temperament sucked, so you doubted he had had many long term relationships. He had all of the ingredients of a man whore stirring within him.

“I’m just curious,” you shrugged.

Bakugou threw his glare away from you for a moment as he contemplated on whether or not to answer your stupid question. He had his own questions to ask you still so he guessed that he didn't really have a choice if he wanted his answers,“...One.”

Your jaw dropped, “Seriously?” as his face fell into a furious shade of red you were smacked with a sudden realization,

“Kacchan, did you... lose your virginity to m...?” He glared even further away from you, but you could still see his ears falling even deeper into red-- effectively giving you your answer, “Oh my…” he trailed off. No wonder he was so fucking head over heels for you! Through your discomfort a horribly timed joke flew past your lips, 

“You knocked her up on the first try huh? You’ve got some super swimmers,” you half laughed, but Bakugou obviously didn't find anything funny about it as he snarled angrily as you,

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a pillow at you, “My turn. What’s up with you and that shitty Deku?”

The pillow hit you, but it was really his question that had smacked you in the face. Your chest thudded, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he couldn't see the racing of your heart, “He’s just a friend! A really good friend to me. Probably my first actual friend ever,” you said this as a joke, but obviously forgot who you were talking to.

“You didn’t make any in high school?” Bakugou’s face twisted up disbelievingly.

“Never went. Couldn’t afford the tuition...” now it was you who was uncomfortably shifting from him. 

“Your parents didn’t help you out?”

“Slow down there, buckaroo,” you laughed, but his face remained as stern as ever as you continued, “That’s like three questions In a row for you. My turn.”

Luckily he caught the hint and didn't press upon the subject any further.

Through the night, you found out a lot of things about him. He was actually younger than you by a few years at twenty years old. His parents were both fashion designers (probably the biggest fucking shock to you considering his choice of black shirts and flannels) and that he was working on making his own hero agency since he had already climbed up the ranks in Japan.

Your game, however, was cut short by the growling of your stomach.

Bakugou almost immediately stood up, surprising you as he walked to your kitchen. Well, you did say ‘make yourself at home’ but this was a little upfront wasn't it? He soon yelled to you from the kitchen as you sat in shock still, “What do you have to eat in this shit hole?!”

Shit hole? You glance around at the decorations and clean atmosphere that you pride yourself on. That jerk. Your house was not a shit hole! “You can eat shit if you want. I’m not hungry.”

“The hell are you talking about? I just heard your stomach growling.”

You shrugged, “Just indigestion. I get a lot of stomach issues with these things inside of me,” the sudden clanging of pots and pan in your kitchen startled you,  “What the hell are you doing??” you called out before marching to your kitchen.

You found him rummaging through your cabinets, stopping momentarily to judgmentally eye your still plentiful liquor cabinet for a moment before moving on, “You can starve yourself all you fucking want, but you're not fucking starving my kids.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his accusation, “I’m not starving.”

“You think I’m fucking blind?”

“I have to stay in shape for work. Just like you I am sure,” you walked up to him and grabbed a bicep for demonstration, but he quickly threw your hand away from him as his face fell into a bout of shock. He quickly regained himself,

“Whatever,” he grunted before swinging open your refrigerator.

“What are y—Hey!” you yelped as he began haphazardly throwing food onto one of your counters.

“Is all you have in here rabbit food? Jesus fucking Christ,” he ignored your cries and began throwing certain items together and heating up a pot of water.

You couldn't help but blink at the display. He seemed pretty natural in the kitchen and that in itself was unnatural considering his caveman persona, “You... cook?” you felt uneasy.

“You don’t?”

Honestly, your diet consisted of salads and ramen since you were 15, so cooking wasn't a necessity. You reluctantly shook your head at him.

He looked completely disappointed and disgusted with you but, hey, what else is new? Bakugou scoffed, “Well you’re gonna have to learn how now. Pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes at him. If you wanted fucking Gordon Ramsey bitching you around in the kitchen you would have clicked on that stupid ad that always popped up on your Youtube. Then again, Bakugou was more of a Guy Fieri with that spiky hair of his.

Whatever.

You guessed learning how to cook one meal wouldn't be too terrible,  

“What are you stirring the water for if you didn’t put anything in it yet?”

“It helps it heat up faster, idiot.”

“Do you actually throw the noodles on the wall to see if they’re finished?”

Bakugou threw you a frown, “If you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said, moving you aside as he began stirring a saucer filled with vegetables. He completely disregarded your yelp as he moved you as a parade of thoughts bombarded his mind.

He would have to come over more and keep you and his kids fed if you truly didn’t know how to cook. He scoffed and his stirring hand more slightly more erratically with frustration. What kind of grown woman didn't know how to cook pasta?

His thoughts were halted by a loud squelch that sounded through the air. He immediately threw his gaze up to the wall in front of his face and his expression fell at the sight. He growled, snapping his gaze back toward you by the pot of pasta, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” his furious glare danced between you and the wet noodle that stuck to the wall.

“I wanted to see if it would actually stick! Don’t get your balls in a twist, it was one noodle!”

“So damn wasteful,” Bakugou ground his teeth as he frustratedly scrapped the starchy pasta off of your wall. He opened his mouth to tell you just this, but immediately snapped it back shut as he felt something being thrown at his head, “that better not be what I think it is…” he snarled through his teeth as he eyed food dangling from one of the spines of his hair.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. It’s not a worm,” you laughed, but your giddiness was soon cut off as a hot noodle was thrown back in your direction. You could only blink as it stuck itself on your nose.

“Hmph,” the corners of Bakugou’s lips slowly curled into a smirk, “It’s a good look on you, noodle face,” You laughed but once again was cut off. The brief sound of his laugh coinciding with your own shocked you.

His smile slowly died down as he caught wind of you gawking at him. He cleared his throat, “Are you done being a child? I’m ready to enjoy my good ass cooking.”

However, you didn't answer him as you once again found a smile creeping onto your face. He rolled his eyes and began making himself a plate of food, but he quickly grew tired of you smiling at him like some bimbo,

“What?!” He snapped, “You want another noodle to the face.”

You shook your head as you shuffled past him to serve yourself a plate, “No.. just you have a nice laugh.”

He scoffed, “That all you're eating?” he completely disregarded your comment but you decided to let it die too,

“I don’t see you with any food on your plate,” you shrugged, “I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you,” you winked at him before setting down at the table.

The night went pretty well after that. So well, in fact, that the two of you decided to have “parental meetings” every few days so that Bakugou could teach you how to cook. You ended up learning how to make 10 more dishes within the next three weeks.

Bakugou and you didn't exactly become close, but there were far less screaming matches than there had been in your first few meetings. You still didn't know him very well, but he wasn't necessarily a stranger anymore.

It was… nice.

The next check up came very quickly because of your lack of employment and your dates-- err um… “parental meetings” with Bakugou.

“Your twins should be about the size of avocados now! We’ll check again with a routine ultrasound. We do have the DNA tests in for you all so I’ll just go and run for those real quick.. well walk briskly. You don’t do an awful lot of running at my age.”

“I don’t do an awful lot of running now,” you joked, and Bakugou sent you a stern glare that screamed, ‘don’t encourage him.’ you shrugged as the doctor walked out of the room.

It was silent for what seemed like forever. You and Bakugou still weren't very good at sparking conversations, but eventually he spoke up as you laid back on the exam table, “You're really fucking showing now.”

You brows instantly came together, high fiving each other in your state of being roasted, “Thanks...” you deadpanned.

The look on your face sent a wave of hurt through the blond’s heart.

What the hell. It was like he felt your hurt. For the first time in a long time, Bakugou actually regretted his choice of words. He glared at the ground as he attempted to change the subject, “You’ve been eating, right?”

“How else Would I be sitting here, looking fat and talking to you, Kacchan.”

“I told you don’t call me that,” he paused, as if he were really considering his next statement, “Call me Katsuki,” he finally dragged out.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Kacchan.”

Just as Bakugou open his mouth the no doubt scream at you, Dr. Yamakawa entered the room, 

“Mama Bakugou! We have some really good news. Everything seems fine with the twins according to the DNA testing. One is a little small right now, but it’s completely normal for there to be a dominant twin so to speak. No genetic abnormalities or health concerns,” you saw Bakgou visibly stiffen at this before relaxing as the doctor continued, “’Cept for you.”

You shook your head, blinking heavily as if you’d just been punched in the brow, “Me?”

“You do have a concerning BMI—you tend to lean a little towards underweight. I understand you are in the profession of modeling correct,” he said very, curtly, “You need to add more calories to your daily intake. You wont need to ‘eat for three” as they say, but you do need to put on some substantial pounds or you will risk a premature birth..”

You had no fucking idea what to say to that. ‘Nice?’ ‘Cool beans.’ ‘fucking just give me the mother of the year award already!’ You felt your chest tighten and suddenly you realized you hadn't been breathing. You sucked in abruptly, causing the doctor to take a step towards you,

“You're looking a little flushed there, Mama Bakugou.”

“Well how else is she supposed to respond when you tell her like that, old man?!” Bakugou snapped, causing both you and the doctor to gawk at him. 

“Kacchan! What the fuck don’t talk to him like that, jerk!”

Bakugou scoffed, throwing his glare, much more pouty this time-- to the jar of cotton balls on the counter of the office.

“It wouldn't help either of you to sugar coat this, son,” the doctor sighed, “You have made it this far along in her pregnancy. Miscarriage is substantially less likely but if you want to give these babies a better chance, I’d suggest higher caloric intake.”

Needless to say, Bakugou did not leave the doctor's office that day a very pleasant man. He would angrily stalk ahead of you a for a few moments before pausing and grumbling about how ‘fucking slow’ you were as you caught up before the cycle would start all over again. You could only take this for so long, however,

“What!?” you yelled suddenly as the grumbling phase of his cycle began once more, “Will you stop fucking brooding already and speak your mind—”

He instantly snapped his face towards your own to stare into your eyes. You fumbled back a bit as the intense vermilion bore into you. You opened your mouth to speak but his serious expression exclaimed something before yours could,

“I wanna move in with you.”

You paused. You couldn't have fucking heard that right.

He… wants to...

“What…?” you mouthed.

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[junnie133]

Wind’s birthday!

Because it’s a new series apparently. I did Time’s too, if you want to check it out. I made this to relax from my week of finals and I admit it could be better, no beta we die like me i guess. Anyways, this is just fluff, so enjoy!!

{+}{+}{+}

“What’s snow?”

Wild blinked dumbly at Wind, slowly trying to register the younger hero’s words in his brain. Legend raised a brow, and Twilight tilted his head to the side like a lost puppy. 

The Sailor frowned at them. “What?”

Wild glanced at both of his friends before looking at Wind again. “You know, like frozen water that falls from the sky?” he made a motion with one of his hands, lowering it while wiggling his fingers in the air to make a (poor) demonstration of what he was talking about. Wind seemed to be more lost than before.

“You mean hail?” he asked.

Twilight shook his head. “No, no. Snow is… softer, it melts as soon as you touch it.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest gruffly. He wasn’t sure if they were genuinely confused or just pretending to mock him, it wouldn’t be the first time after all.

“C’mon kid, you serious?” asked Legend. “It’s like, one of the best things about having your birthday in winter!”

Today had been really nice for Wind. He woke up in a real bed for a change, Wild’s bed since they were in his house, and to the smell of cake flooding the second floor. He had fruit cake for breakfast and got some small gifts from the others (Sky craved him a Keaton mask just like Time’s and Wild gave him his opal earrings- and the invitation to pierce his ears whenever he wanted, among many other things from the rest). Also, Time determined they needed a rest, and so Wild was showing them the places around Hateno Village to entertain their youngest member for a while.

That’s when Legend asked Wild what was beyond those mountains in the distance, and the local hero only answered. “A spring. And snow. And Ice. And more snow.”

And Wind was a kid, of course he was curious what that word meant. So he asked, he just didn’t expect those answers.

“All I know about my birthday is that it’s chilly and we can’t swim so grandma makes some soup for me and Aryll.” he shrugged.

“Man, that’s fucked.” said Legend.

“Well, he does live on a tropical island.” remarked Twilight. 

“Right.” he nodded.

“Then we should show you!” said Wild suddenly with a big smile on his face. “Wait for me in my house, I’ll be right back.”

“What do you mean cub-?” Twilight’s words were interrupted by a flash of bright blue lights dematerializing his protégé. 

“Where…?” Legend rolled his eyes. “Right, whatever.”

“What was that?” asked Wind, as Twilight sighed and started walking towards the house over the bridge.

“I think I know what he’s planning.” 

And his suspicions were right. Wild returned with a big smile and three identical sets of snowquill Rito armor, the only difference being the size and color, finding his friends around the fire where Bolson and Karson used to hang out every day. Twilight’s was gray, Wind’s a bright shade of cyan and Legend’s the ugliest shade of pink he had ever seen in his life.

“This is bullshit.” he growled, clutching the soft clothes on his hands.

“What are you planning?” asked Time, who was taking care of one of Wild’s horses near them to entertain himself.

“Wind has never seen snow before so,” he tapped his slate a couple of times and dressed with winter clothes in a second. “We’re going to show him!”

“Wait, we’re?” asked Legend. “I didn’t agree to anything! And you should ask the birthday boy first”

Wind was already putting on the top piece of his suit. “It’s ok for me!”

Twilight shrugged. “It can’t hurt. We’re going to Mt. Lanayru right?”

Wild nodded. “We will be back soon, I promise.” he said to Time.

The Old Man opened his mouth with a worried look on his eye, but then Wind stared up at him, his expressive, huge dark eyes making contact with his as he smiled. “It will be an awesome birthday experience! It’s my birthday so I can have a birthday trip.” he said.

He avoided his begging look to search for some kind of support in Twilight, but his traitor of a protégé looked at him with a similar expression that begged him to not say nothing against this. He sighed then, nodding.

“Alright, but I want you all here for dinner.” he said.

“You are weak, Old Man.” Legend glared at him, as Time shrugged. He had a soft spot for those two.

The boys dressed up right where they were. throwing the warm clothes over their normal ones, and formed a circle as Wild told them. Linked by their arms, he tapped his slate once more and soon they were being warped Hylia knows where in a flash of blue lights.

“They’re getting in trouble.” said Warriors not far from there. 

“It’s Twilight’s problem now.” he said with a straight face. “I can relax for once without problem children around.”

As soon as he said that, without giving Warriors time to say anything back, Four arrived panting and talking at light’s speed.

“- I told Sky to not get near that thing but he didn’t listen to me and Hyrule is trying to find out what happened but they sent me back to get you or Wild and-”

Warriors looked at him with an amused expression, slightly worried by Four’s words but he still smiled sardonically. “You talked too fast.”

Time began walking towards the way Four came from. “Shut up.”

{+}{+}{+}

It was freezing.

But this was so fun!

But it was fucking freezing.

But he was having the best time of his life too!!

The weather was nice, it was a sunny day and everything was so bright the same way the sea sparkled so intensely at midday to the point that it almost left him blind. Twilight threw another snowball to him, but Wind dodged at last second and it ended hitting Legend, who squawked indignantly before smirking evilly, trying to hunt the older blond. He was trembling because of the cold and the adrenaline. Wild hit him with a ball in the head and he hated the cold feeling in his scalp, but also made something ignite inside his chest as he chased his long-haired friend with the biggest amount of snow he could carry in a spherical shape. 

“Come here you coward!” he shouted.

“Never!” Wild laughed.

Suddenly the ground disappeared from his feet, and he shrieked out loud when Twilight effortlessly tossed him into a pile of snow near them. 

“Watch your back buddy!” he said.

Wind emerged from the snow with a frown he couldn’t keep because he simply was too happy to be mad at Twilight. “That’s cheating!” he said, giggling.

“All is fair in love and war.” Legend cheekily said, leaning with his arm on Twilight’s shoulder.

Wild smiled at Wind’s pout, and then barked a laugh when the kid threw a snowball straight at Legend’s face. 

“Oh, you’re on!” 

Twilight and Wild laughed far from the warzone while their friends wrestled rolling in dirt and snow. Twilight patted his protegé’s shoulder with a tender expression on his face.

“This was a good idea cub, I’m proud.”

Wild pretended those words didn’t warm his chest in a way that almost made him cry, and smiled confidently to his mentor. Twilight didn’t compliment his decisions (in general) very often, as they mostly included explosions, fire and maybe the occasional infiltration to a monster camp while wearing a bokoblin’s makeshift head. 

“He was feeling homesick.” he said, getting a surprised look from Twi. “He told me yesterday he missed his Zelda and his family, so I wanted to make a little distraction for him.”

Wind won their improvised wrestling competition and sat over Legend’s back with crossed arms and a bright grin, as the veteran rolled his eyes with a fake disinterested expression on his face. 

“Who’s next?” he boasted.

Twilight raised his hand, and chuckled when he saw a flash of nervousness on the youngest’s face. “I can go easy on you if you want.”

“No! I’ll take you down fair and square.”

Wild was glad they were having a good time, and when they came back not even Sky being cursed by the old horned statue dampened his mood.

{+}{+}{+}

Here’s another birthday especial! A very rough idea but I wanted to post it since the las thing I posted about Wind was pure angst ;---; so my body demanded fluff. I hope you liked it!!!

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hi! As someone who’s literary opinion I really trust, I was surprised that you’re a twilight fan? I know almost nothing except commen knowledge things about that series, and I always assumed it was actually bad/un-feminist. What is it that you like so much that others seem to miss? I’m just genuinely curious about your take on the hate it always seems to get vs. it’s actual quality. I’m not gonna judge bc animorphs is also one of those books where you see it and assume it’s bad.

In over 14 years of loving this series, I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me why I enjoy it instead of simply trying to convince me that I’m wrong to do so.  So thank you for that.

First and foremost, I love the Twilight saga because of the vivid detail in Stephenie Meyer’s writing style.  The descriptions are so lush and dense with sensory information that you can practically bite down on them as you read.  Bella and Jacob aren’t just sitting on the beach; they’re sitting on a gnarled log of driftwood, worn smooth at the top from where so many Quileute teens have sat upon it during bonfires but still uneven enough to rock on its branches when Bella suddenly stands to rage at her own mortality.  Meyer describes that log in Twilight, so tangibly and with such economy of detail, that we recognize it immediately when Bella and Jacob return to that spot in Eclipse.  I’ve always disliked the movies, because I’ve always felt that the best part of Meyer’s writing simply did not translate well to the screen.

Secondly, I love the feminism.

Okay, let’s take a quick pause to let everyone gasp and clutch their pearls over me calling Twilight a feminist work.  I will address the criticisms later.  For now, please just hear me out.

Twilight strikes me as a premier example of what Hélène Cixous means when she calls for “women’s writing,” or writing for women, about women, by women, with a strong focus on the concerns and strengths and desires of womanhood.  This is a series about building and maintaining close relationships, both romantic and platonic.  It celebrates beauty, and love, and care.  Bella moves to Forks because she recognizes that her dad is lonely while her mom is quite the opposite, torn between family priorities.  She doesn’t simply subsume her interests to those of other people, but instead actively chooses how and when and where to express her love for her birth family and her found families.  Most of the other major decisions throughout the story — Alice “adopting” Bella, Carlisle moving the family to Alaska, Jacob becoming werewolf beta, the Cullens going up against the Volturi, etc. — are motivated by care and devotion for one’s family and friends.  Even the selfish or morally ambiguous character choices are shown to be motivated by love.  Rosalie tells Edward that Bella died because she genuinely thinks it’ll help him move on.  Victoria creates an army that nearly destroys Forks because she’s avenging James.  Alice abandons Bella and the others before the final battle because if she can’t save her entire family, then she’ll settle for saving her lover before letting him die in vain.

Not only is there a striking concern with love and care, but there’s also a strong commitment to avoiding violence.  Bella’s eventual vamp-superpower proves to be preventing violence and protecting others, an awesome character decision that I’d argue gets set up as early as the first book.  She lives in a violent world — this is a YA SF story, after all — but she has the power to suppress violence and create peace, both in herself and others.  I was already sick of “power = ability to inflict damage” in YA stories well before I knew the word “patriarchy.”  Twilight was one of the first books to convey to me that power could be refusing to do harm in spite of hunger or anger, that power could be shielding ones’ family, that power could be about building enough friendships and alliances to have an army at one’s back when facing an enemy too strong to take on alone.

Closely connected to all of that love and care, I love how much Twilight is about navigating teenage girlhood.  Is it empowering, intersectional, or all-inclusive?  Hell no.  Does it still dare to suggest that a completely ordinary teenage girl could have valid concerns about the world?  Yep.  The main conflict of the story, as Stephen King so derisively explained, is about the romantic entanglements of a teenage girl, and the book therefore has no literary merit.  (To quote my dad’s response: “Bold words from the guy who inflicted Firestarter on the world.”)

There is, indeed, a lot of romance in Twilight.  There are a lot of clothes.  Alice and Rosalie especially spend a lot of time on makeup, and hair, and choosing the prettiest cars and houses.  Twilight embraces all the stereotypically “girly” concerns of adolescence, and makes no effort to apologize for or condemn them.  Bella isn’t particularly good at performing them — she likes but doesn’t excel at shopping, fiercely defends her ugly car as ugly, hobbles through prom on crutches — but she can still enjoy the feeling of being pretty in a sparkly dress while dancing with her sparkly boyfriend.  And Twilight, like Animorphs with Cassie, takes the daring step of treating that feeling as valid.

Speaking of sparkles, I love the commitment to the fantasy concept in Twilight, including the myriad mundanities that Meyer brings with that commitment.  If you have super-speed, why not use it to play extreme baseball?  If you’re a mindreader with a clairvoyant sister, why wouldn’t you two play mental chess games?  I couldn’t tell you, after seven seasons of Buffy or eight of Vampire Diaries, what Spike or Damien or Angel or Stefan does all day when not brooding or lurking in the bushes to creep on human women.  I can tell you what the Cullens get up to.  Emmett and Rosalie work on their cars, usually by holding them overhead one-handed.  Carlisle and Alice read plays, and sometimes talk the whole family into home Shakespeare productions.  Edward and Carlisle debate theology, Emmett and Jasper have dumb athletic competitions, Edward and Esme play music, Alice manipulates stock markets, the twins go shopping online, etcetera.  The Cullens feel real, feel like the vampires next door, in a way that Louis and Lestat simply do not.

To get to the elephant in the room — I just described Twilight as a feminist text! — let’s talk about the other thing the Cullens do for fun: they have sex.  Weird sex.  Kinky furniture-breaking sex.  Sex that Emmett (who would know) compares to bear-wrestling.  These books suck with regards to queer representation, but they are sex-positive.  They feature an old-school Anglican protagonist offering his daughter-in-law a medical abortion.  They treat Edward’s desire for sex only within marriage and Alice’s desire for sex outside of marriage as both being valid.  Like I said, not groundbreaking, even by the standards of 2005, but still more than most teen novels do even today.

There’s a passage from Breaking Dawn that people love to pull out of context as “everything wrong with Twilight in two paragraphs” because it describes Bella waking up the morning after sex with bruises on her arms.  That moment is shocking out of context, to be sure — but in context, it’s the end result of an in-depth consent negotiation that lasts four books.  Bella says that she’d like to become a vampire.  Edward says okay, but only if she spends a few more years living as a human and considering that choice.  Bella says okay, but only if Edward, not Carlisle, becomes the one to turn her.  Edward says they can use his venom, but that Carlisle, who’s an MD, really needs to supervise the process.  Bella doesn’t love the idea of Edward’s stepdad cockblocking what’s supposed to be an intimate moment, and so agrees only on the grounds that she gets to have sex with Edward as a human first.  Edward’s hella Catholic, so he requests that they get married first.  Bella’s super horny, so she demands that the wedding happen within six months.  Edward says that he might hurt her during sex, and Bella says that she wants a little hurt during sex.  They marry.  They bang.  During the banging, Edward makes every effort to be controlled and courteous and gentile, while Bella goes wild and crazy.  The next morning, she has bruises and he does not.  Edward apologizes, but Bella’s actually really into it.  She spends a while admiring her sexy vamp-marked self in the mirror, touches the bruises many times, and reminds us yet again that Bella Swan’s whole M.O. is being a monsterfucker.  Her kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.

To be clear, I think there are other aspects of the romance that get criticized for good reason.  Edward does not negotiate with Bella before sneaking into her room to watch her sleep, and he does make unacceptable use of their power differences when he thinks she’s in danger of being mauled by werewolves.  The text condemns Jacob’s “don’t wanna die a virgin” ploy to manipulate a kiss out of Bella, but not the wider conceit of all the male characters as possessing uncontrollable urges.  Bella’s struggles to adjust to a new town feel very feminine and realistic; her amused tolerance of Jacob’s and Mike’s sexual harassment as the price for their friendship does not.  Werewolf imprinting might be mostly platonic, but that doesn’t make it okay for Meyer to depict it as a form of soulmate bonding that happens with child characters. Those are good points, all around.  I just wish that most of them didn’t come up in the context of post-hoc rationalizations for loathing the femininity of a feminine text.

I’m not calling Twilight an unproblematic series.  I’m saying that it gets (rightly!) criticized for appropriating Quileute culture, while Buffy’s total absence of main characters of color and blatant anti-Romani racism are (wrongly!) not remarked upon. I'm saying that I’ve been told I’m a misogynist for liking Twilight but not for liking James Bond.  I’m saying that there’s a reason people tend to go “oh, that makes so much sense!” when I let them in on the fact that reactive hatred for “Twitards” started and spread on 4Chan, later home of Gamergate and incel culture.  I’m saying that Twilight depicts problematic relationship dynamics as sexy — but then so do Vampire Academy, Blue Bloods, Supernatural, Vladimir Tod, and Vampire Diaries.  All of which take the time to stop and thumb their noses at Twilight, smug in the superiority of having vampires that fly rather than vampires that sparkle, and for thoroughly condemning teenage girls for being girly while continuing to show men inflicting violence on them.

After all, as Erin May Kelly puts it: “we live in a world taught to hate everything to do with little girls.  We hate the books they read and the bands they like.  Is there anything the world makes fun of more than One Direction and Twilight?”  No one has ever called me a misogynist for liking the MCU, in spite of less than a third of its movies even managing to clear the low-low bar of the Bechdel test.  Because people are still allowed to like Harry Potter in spite of its racism, or Lord of the Rings despite its imperialism.  Because hatred for Twilight was never about its very real sexism, or the genuinely silly sparkle-vampires, until it had to justify itself as something other than hate for everything that teenage girls have ever dared openly love.

I enjoy the novels, and I enjoy the fan fiction that tries to fix some of the problems with the novels.  I appreciate the extent to which Meyer has elevated fan culture, and made an effort to acknowledge her own past mistakes.  I would love to be able to talk about my love for the series as a flawed but beautiful work of literature, but for now I’ll settle for asking that the world just let me enjoy it in peace.

[greekowl87]

Fic: Watching in the Shadows

A/N: I’ve had difficulty bringing myself to write anything since October. I had some personal issues to work through regarding my anxiety and life. I’m still trying to work through it right now but I managed to cobble this together over the past month. This isn’t my best work and I’ve probably done something like this before (another fic that was a post-ep of FTF), but I at least managed to write something. Sorry. If you've gotten this far, thanks again for taking the time to look it over.

Also, no beta. Is AO3 more your thing, you can read this here

Tagging @today-in-fic @improlificinsarcasm @suitablyaggrieved @baronessblixen

The nightmares had started shortly after Mulder’s one-in-a-million successful rescue and their daring seascape from Antarctica. Somehow, they had made it with some minor scrapes, bruising, and some frostbite. They came back to D.C. and it was questionable whether they still had jobs or not. The x-files had been burnt in a flash of lost hopes and dreams. Only the ashes were left, smeared by the boots of the notorious Them.

After their latest jaunt in Arizona chasing more would be aliens exploding from human chests and poor Gibson Praise, Scully wondered if God was trying to take a cue from James Cameron. That ended roughly too. In addition to the nightmares she refused to acknowledge, the added insecurity of Diana Fowley was like a harbinger of the future.

Scully twisted in bed, her cotton sheets coiling around her like a python. It was suffocating. She was in that weird twilight of waking and still traipsing through a dream. Those that said you didn’t dream of color were wrong. She remembered flashes of being locked in that tube with that thing shoved down her throat. The cold that had eaten into her bones and down to her core, making her feel brittle. She remembered seeing those gelatinous bodies in Texas and remembered her fear. That would be her. That would be her fate.

Of course, she wouldn’t tell Mulder. Why would he believe her anyway? His thoughts were up in the clouds trying to get their work back. Scully finally woke up gasping. Her hand clutched her chest to feel her racing heart, mentally calming herself that nothing had exploded out of her chest. Her fingers touched the tiny gold cross and she squeezed it so hard so it would be indented in her finger pads.

“I’m alive,” she whispered to the shadows in the room. “I’m alive.”

The fragments of memory were still there, just like something you couldn’t see out from the corner of your eye but you knew it was there. She glanced at the alarm clock. 4:01 am. It was a Saturday so she would not have gone to work. She could afford to sleep. But was she going to?

During the past six years, she did not get nightmares. Not normally anyway. There were a few after Pfaster and then with her cancer. Without ignoring the science...damn her own words. She turned out the bedside lamp and got out of bed. Without really thinking (it was still night in her opinion), she went to her kitchen and filled her teapot. As she tried to decide what tea to drink, she heard a light knocking on her door.

There would only be one person who would knock on her door this early (or late).

Scully opened it without ceremony, replying, “The last time you came to my door, you were drunk and dragged me across the country. It’s Saturday and I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked tired, worse than usual. The bags under his eyes indicated something much worse. He read her unspoken question. “I haven’t slept in over 24 hours, Scully. I’m not planning on anything. I just didn’t know where else to go.”

He knew what just to say to pull at her heartstrings. She took his hand and pulled him into her apartment, locking the door behind her. “I can’t either.”

“Nightmares?”

The word was effortless, showing just how well he knew her. “Something like that. I was about to make tea. Do you want some?”

“Do you have anything stronger?”

“How about we settle in the middle? A hot toddy? You can stay here in the meantime.”

“What? You’re not going to kick out self-deprecating and self-pitying Spooky Mulder?”

“Of course not,” she said. “Is that even a question?”

She selected two bags of Chai tea with two mugs. She went to another cupboard and stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach a rarely used bottle. In three easy strides, Mulder was behind her. “The rum?”

She nodded and felt him press behind her, easily getting the bottle. “Grog?”

She chuckled. “Not quite. Hot toddy. I think it might be better for helping get us back to sleep.”

“A sleepover?”

“A sleepover,” she chuckled. This is how she liked her Mulder and she felt those insecure thoughts replaced with a warmth that she had come to know. “Maybe I’ll let you even play twister.”

“Scully,” he chuckled.

“Go make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there in a second.”

She heard him kick off his shoes and take off his leather jacket, indicating he had no plans to leave anytime soon. Scully was fine with this. He flipped on her television, keeping the volume low. She laughed when she saw James Cameron’s ‘Alien’ come on and Mulder looked at her funny. “What?”

“I...it’ll sound stupid…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Tell me,” he encouraged.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping since Antarctica.” She nodded towards the television. “My nightmares. I wonder if James Cameron is playing a role. I keep seeing myself back on that ship. And after...the face-hugger.” She motioned to her chest. “Bursting out in all the bloody glory.”

“But it didn’t, Scully. It didn’t.”

“Still doesn’t stop the nightmares.” She first added generous amounts of the spiced rum and then the Chai tea. “I was awake and aware when I was in that tube. Not all the time but I was awake. I remember. I remember the coldness...” She shook her head and her voice faded.

Mulder nodded gently. “I get the impression that you don’t want me to talk about the subject.”

“I don’t want to fight, Mulder. I don’t want to fight about the report, the work, or Fowley right now. I’m tired.” She rubbed her eyes. “Nor do I want to scold you on what happened in the Bermuda Triangle. We both know how stupid that was.”

Mulder was quiet. “I do trust your judgment, I do trust you. Without you...I probably would have been stuck in 1939 with no way home.”

“Mulder.”

“I do trust you,” he repeated, with more certainty. “More than anything.”

Scully nodded, satisfied with his response. She took the two mugs and walked them over. “So,” she said, “you had to pick Alien after I told you God is consulting with James Cameron?”

“Run of the luck. Do you want me to change it?”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

Mulder sipped the hot toddy, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “You didn’t go light.”

“No, but it works well together. Don’t you agree?”

“Very good.”

“So, Scully, since we’re having a sleepover, wanna play truth or dare?”

“Excuse me?”

“Truth or dare?” He smirked.

She was tired. Maybe her brain wasn’t working correctly. Maybe the lack of sleep had something to do with it. She decided to indulge him this time. “Truth.”

“Okay,” he paused. “What was your nightmare about?”

“Very smooth and not at all obvious.” He shrugged, sipped the hot beverage, and watched her. She sighed. “What could have been if you had not gotten to me in time when they took me.” She recognized that look and she hated it. “Stop profiling me.”

“I’m not.” He looked almost insulted. “I was just hoping to hear more. But it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Ask your question, Scully so we both can get it over it.”

The sharpness in his voice took her off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I asked you first.”

“Truth. No. Fact. I do love you.”

“I…” She felt panic rise in her chest. No. No, no, no. “Mulder…” He held his hand up and she grabbed it, shooing it away. This was getting out of hand. “Not like this. Quit messing with me, Mulder.”

She got up quickly and downed the scalding liquid. She winced. “I’m not.”

“It’s not funny,” she said again in warning. “Stop messing with me. This entire game is stupid. Why did I even let you talk me into this?”

Scully remembered how her mom used to force Melissa to include Scully in her sleepovers. Even though there were only two years between her and Missy, Scully always felt like the odd one out. Nerdy Dana who always had her nose buried in a science book. Why don’t you marry Einstein they would tease. As much as she loved her sister, that game left nothing but bitter memories for her.

Mulder frowned, surprised by her sudden reaction. He didn’t know why the words fumbled out of his mouth the way they did. But now that it had happened, he couldn’t see a reason why not. He watched her set the forgotten drink on the kitchen table and pace.

“Scully.”

“Why did you come here? Why did you come here, Mulder?” She wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe she was caught in the throes of another nightmare. “Answer me!”

“Do you want me to leave, Scully?” He asked. “If that’s what you want, I have no problem doing that.”

“I didn’t say that. Stop twisting my words.”

“Then come back here and sit down.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she bit her lip and nodded. She sat at the opposite end of the couch. Mulder suddenly felt the dynamic shift between them and it was like a game of chess. “For the record, I do not feel comfortable about this.”

“Noted. Now, what did you dream about?”

“The first time I was abducted, there was some trauma there. Bits and pieces. But this time was different. I dream that I die. You don’t come. That thing explodes out of me like those crime scene photos. I performed the autopsy on that body and saw what happened. That was going to become me.

“And I die to expect during all this, I am alive and I feel every sensation. I don’t know what is worse: knowing that I almost died from the virus or the chip in my neck.” Scully found herself confessing fears that she had managed to repress for the past year. “Ruskin Dam. Skyline Mountain. The cancer. And now this same Earth-based virus that we also found in Gibson Praise. What do you think it means, Mulder? It terrifies me.”

Mulder fumbled over her words in his mind. Where does he even begin? “I came here because I didn’t know where else to go. The bar…” He snorted with displeasure. “After what happened in Dallas, I was devastated. After almost losing you, well, let’s just say I got my priorities straight.”

“Priorities.”

What the hell was going on between them? “What are we doing here, Mulder?”

“What do you mean?”

“This. You come over at 4 am. Make me confess my soul.”

“It is Saturday so it’s not like we have to work.”

“We may not even have jobs.”

He held up a finger. “Prohibition period, remember? We do have jobs. We just to get to do background checks and chase shit around the country.”

“I don’t see what’s so great about it.”

“I have you. You’re still here with me. She wasn’t.”

“She?”

“Diana.”

Scully frowned at the mere mention of the name. “I still don’t see why you trust her or what you see.”

“She was there when I found the x-files. But who is here now, where she could still have a promising career in medicine despite the fact most of her patients are dead?”

“Except for one.”

Mulder smiled. “You’re still here. After all this, after all that we’ve been through. You’re the one I trust the most.” He sighed and sipped the hot toddy. “I still trust her because how could I not, Scully? But she’s not the one I went to at four am.”

She remembered going to him at the reflection pool at twilight, taking his hand, a wordless promise to each other. “Touché.” She relaxed. “Look, I’m sure you didn’t mean that…”

“I did.”

Shit. “Let’s put a pin in that thought,” she said quickly. Mulder sat his mug on her coffee table. “Coaster.”

He grabbed two and slid them across her oak coffee table. “Why is it so hard to wrap your mind around it?”

“Well,” she began, struggling to find her voice. “There’s different types of love. You love me like a friend, a sister, a comrade…”

“And then are is also the type between…”

He said this as she was trying to put her mug on the table but, uncharacteristically, the mug fumbled, spilling all over the table. “Shit.” The hot tea burned her hands and Mulder was already rushing back into her kitchen, grabbing towels and the ice pack. “Mulder…”

“I got it.”

He quickly cleaned up the mess and Scully took the extra towels. She wiped the mess off her hands and frowned at the red swelling starting on her knuckles. Mulder wrapped the ice pack in another towel and took her hands. “Mulder.”

“I gotcha, Scully.”

“Mulder, I’m fine.”

“Will you just let me?” The sharpness of his voice silenced her as he took her hands gently and held the ice pack against it. “I know you want to be this badass FBI agent…”

“Want to?”

“I know you are a big, badass FBI agent. Just let me for once?”

“Fine.”

They sat in silence as Mulder held the ice pack over the top of her hands. She cleared her throat. “I meant what I said, Scully. I do love you.”

She scoffed. “I’m sure.”

“You aren’t a replacement.”

Scully shook her head, refusing to believe him. “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Twist words.” She tried to pull her hands away from him without success. “Mulder, let me go.”

She felt Mulder squeeze her fingers tighter. “No.” He was staring at her. Those goddamn— “Look at me, Scully.”

Why did she feel tears in her eyes? Her eyes did feel dry from lack of sleep. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m sick of the lies.” She rested her chin on her chest. “I’m tired of the smoke and shadows. For once, I just want someone to tell me the truth and mean it.”

Mulder sighed. She winced hearing it. “What do you want me to do, Scully?”

“Tell me the truth.” She looked

“I am.” He removed the ice pack and kissed her knuckles. “I love you. You aren’t a replacement. Nothing could replace you.”

“Then what am I to you?”

“You’re Scully.” He looked at her as if that was even a question. “When it came to Samantha, I was able to live with it. I have for 27 years. But when I lost you on Skyline mountain…” Mulder put the ice pack back on her knuckles. “I couldn’t...I didn’t know what to do. I was filled with such rage. I almost killed Duane Barry. The months during your absence, I didn’t do so well.”

Scully watched him. “You rarely talk about it.”

“Because there isn’t too much to say. I took a couple of profiling cases. Coming back to the basement office—it didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the same.” He nodded to the small gold cross on her neck. “I wore your cross when you were gone.”

She remained quiet.

He snorted derision and looked down at their hands. “It’s stupid. There was a point, right after you came back, that X wanted me to just take a plane ticket and leave you and forget everything. You. The x-files. The shadowy men without names. Everything.” He adjusted the ice pack. “And maybe, at one time I would, but not when it came to you.”

“Do you know why seeing run off with Agent Fowley hurt me?”

“Why?”

“It’s our work,” she specified, emphasizing the word ‘our.’ “She comes out of the woodwork and, all of the sudden, I take the backseat on this. I thought it was my science that kept you honest, Mulder.”

“Your science does,” he quickly caught himself, “quit twisting my words.”

“I’m not. My hands are fine, Mulder.”

“I guess they are.” He pulled back the ice and Scully flexed her numb hands. “Do you want another cup of tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“I left you with Gibson because I know he would be safer with you rather than Diana.”

“Yet, I still lost him.”

“No. He was at the nuclear facility. I have a hunch he is safe.” Mulder looked over his shoulder. “How generous, Special Agent Doctor?”

“Shut up. Make it a generous one.”

Mulder smiled and called, “Did you know I was a bartender for a couple of months in Oxford?” Scully’s mind was trying to reel with everything that was happening. But she forced her insecurities into the backseat and let Mulder take the lead. He frowned “If I were just here for something else, we’d be halfway across the country right now.”

“I don’t know if that is a good or bad thing, Mulder.” Scully watched the tv, flinching at a particularly gory scene with a face hugger. “Do you have nightmares?”

“Hm?” Mulder shrugged with his back to her. “Sometimes. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t sleep.”

Scully was quiet as Mulder returned to her with a new mug of hot Chai tea. She took it and sipped the mug. “Good. Thank you.”

“And for the record, Scully, the nightmares aren’t just of Samantha. It’s you too.”

She closed her eyes, annoyed with this vein of conversation. “Is that why you decided to profess your undying love?”

“I thought it was a good moment. But that’s not all of it.” Mulder rejoined her on the couch. “Are you ready to talk about that?”

“I still think you’re full of shit.”

He laughed and sipped his hot toddy. “That’s why my eyes are brown.”

“Hazel.”

“I’m only half full of shit then.”

Scully snorted into her drink. “I honestly don’t know what to believe.”

“I want to believe,” Mulder teased in a fake E.T. voice. She snickered playfully and slapped his thighs. “See? Made you smile. Careful. It might stay that way, Scully.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” he said. He checked his watch. “It is almost 4:30 am, Agent Scully. Your guest is intoxicated. What are you going to do?”

“I thought we were having a sleepover?”

“Did I say that?”

“You’re words, not mine.”

“At least take off your shoes.”

She heard Mulder kick them off and he grabbed the remote. He changed the tv to the Sports Channel. After seeing raise a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged. “So, do you watch Sports Center or a movie to fall asleep to?”

“What happened to Truth or Dare?”

“Okay, truth, or dare?”

“Dare,” she said.

“I dare you to have a sleepover on your couch.” That eyebrow. “Just...whatever we are, Scully.”

After a few moments of hesitation, she nodded. Scully felt him squeeze her hands and smile. She stood still like a painting. He smiled at her and she forced herself to return it. Mulder unwound her like a knotted piece of string and lounged himself. Despite their height differences and oppositeness, they still were made for each other. Scully found herself curling up next to him as he grabbed the remote and changing it to a 4 am playing of ‘Mystery Science Theatre 3000.’ Mulder grabbed a knitted, over large Afghan from the back of her couch to tuck around them.

“What does this say to you, Agent Mulder?”

“I love you,” he whispered. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And I tell you without hesitation.”

Scully was quiet. “Why did you come here again?”

“There’s nowhere else where I would rather be.”

“Good enough for now.”

Scully quickly ran through possible scenarios. What did she have to lose? Everything. “This won’t change anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to lose us,” she replied cautiously.

“This will change nothing. If not, only for the better.”

She wisely chose not to say anything. She tried to relax but she shook her head. She pushed away towards the other end of the couch. There was a visible look of hurt on his face. “It’s not you,” she replied quickly.

“Yeah, I’ve heard it before. It’s me.”

“For once, it’s is me, Mulder. I can’t...I can’t get past my insecurities.”

“What insecurities?”

She ghosted him a smile. “The hallway? Either we have really bad timing or bees don’t like us.”

“Or?”

“You mentioned it earlier. I don’t want to be a replacement for Samantha or her…”

“Her?” It took a moment for Mulder to recognize what she was telling him. “Why do you say that?”

“I overheard what you said to Arizona. She’s staying on the x-files because it’s the best way to represent your interests. Before that, when we still had the office, I caught you all holding hands. She seemed so excited about something. That is when I called you. I told you I was driving back. I was just sitting in the car in the garage outside.”

“Watching in the shadows?” Mulder sighed. “Scully…”

“I feel like I’ve been on the outside a lot lately.” She sipped her hot toddy, the alcohol burning in the back of her throat. “So I can’t help but feel somewhat insecure. Just talking about it…” She snorted into her mug of tea. “It’s taking a lot.”

“I can understand that.”

“Do you?”

He hesitated. “I...like to think so.” Mulder leaned forward. “I know things have been tough. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still here.”

She titled her head in question. “What do you mean?”

“I thought that you have left. Maybe try to go back to Quantico or quit the FBI all together.”

“I almost did that night when they told me Salt Lake City. But you’re my partner, Mulder. It’s as simple as that.”

He took her free hand and entwined their fingers. “And for that, I am grateful for that of every moment of every day. Do you want to know the difference between you and her?”

“Our heights?”

Mulder snorted in muted laughter. “I guess, physically, but where it counts, you tower above her.”

She arched a skeptical eyebrow.

“She left me. No warning or note. Just up and left. I haven’t been in contact with her since she left. She wouldn’t have chased me like you have or been thrown in contempt of Congress for lying to save my ass.” Scully smiled as she looked down. “She wouldn’t have thrown everything out the window to deal with her crazy partner. You are so much more than she was, or is, Scully.” He brushed her hair out of her face. “And I have never loved anyone more than I love you. Truth. I meant what I said in that hospital. I love you.”

“You really overcomplicate things.”

Mulder shrugged and grinned. “So, Scully, where does this leave us?”

The insecurities raged inside her and she averted her gaze. “I’ve had nightmares about this too,” she said softly.

“Why does it always feel like we are watching from the shadows?” He asked her softly. “Especially in our nightmares? We feel like we don’t have control?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were supposed to be the psychologist?”

“It was rhetorical.”

“I know.” She sighed and looked at the tv for a distraction. “After all we’ve been through, Mulder…”

“What about it?”

“I do love you.” She said as quickly exhaled so it came out in a jumble of words. Scully doubted he had heard her. But his playful grin suggested otherwise. “You heard it?”

“Ears like a fox.”

Mulder bent forward again to kiss her again, forgoing all shyness. She felt him bring her closer, snaking his arms around her. He sighed audibly before she returned it with much gusto. Senses alight for both of them, Scully managed to be the level headed one between them both. “Mulder,” she breathed. “I hardly think this is the place?”

He pulled back and blinked in confusion. His senses were drunk off her that it was heard from him to make sense. “What?”

“I don’t think the couch Is the best place for this.”

“Why?”

He was only now capable of single-word answers and questions. She smiled. She felt lighter. The nightmares that had plagued the back of her mind for months now seemed like a distant memory. “Just because.”

It seemed like she was incapable of speaking too. She pushed the Afgan aside and got to her feet. The cups were forgotten and Mulder clicked off the television. Words failed them but their unspoken communication did otherwise. He took her hand and squeezed. “Are you certain?”

“No,” she admitted truthfully, “but I know what I feel. I’ve learned to trust my instincts.”

Mulder smiled. She led him to her bedroom. She kept the lamp near her bed on and he looked at her tossed sheets. He exhaled, letting out a heavy sigh. “I wish you would have told me sooner.”

“What would you have done, Mulder?”

“Acted sooner.”

“Well, you’re here now, right?”

“Of course. You haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“I’m not planning to.”

Scully took his hands and pulled him closer. She felt emboldened and the room felt hotter than it was. He smiled. “So…” She grabbed him by the scruff of his t-shirt and pulled him downwards. Mulder’s spine protested but he didn’t care. Let Scully take the lead. His arms reached downwards to bring her closer. Suddenly, she felt frozen. Just a second ago she had felt so confident. Now, she was unsure. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you certain about this?” Her voice was soft but the lingering hesitation could be heard. “About this thing between us?”

“Yes, I’m more certain than anything else.”

“Okay.” There was another pause. “So...how do we do this?”

“We just do,” he laughed.

She shook her head and said, “Isn’t this better than a stakeout, watching in the shadows for some would-be informant, and then finding out it was a waste of time.”

“Scully, are you proposing role-playing?”

“No. It’s just…” She laughed despite herself. “I never imagined this.”

“Are you certain you want to go through with this? You don’t have to if you’re…”

“No, I want this.”

Mulder kissed her softly at first but deepened it. He walked her backward to her bed until she bumped up against it. Mulder smiled as pushed her to sit down. “It’s, uh, been a while.”

“Same.”

He sat next to her and laughed. “I expected this to be different.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to do this, aren’t we? I expected it to be a bit more...fevered? And look at us, like two scared virgins.”

Scully laughed. “So, Mulder, do you want me to take the lead?”

He rolled his eyes. “Or we can just go back to watching TV. I’m sorry. I guess it’s the sleep deprivation talking.”

“We aren’t watching TV. I thought we were having a sleepover. At some point, we do have to sleep.” She got to her knees and pushed him onto his back. “Besides, Mulder, we’ve come this far. When have we ever done anything halfway?”

“What have you done with Dana Scully?”

“Invasion of the body snatchers?”

Scully felt her courage return. She swung her leg over his hip and straddled him. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t remember this being a part of a sleepover.”

“Well, it’s a thing between partners, right?”

She slid lower, squeezing her thighs in the process. He grunted in response. “Right. I’m not complaining by the way. I was just stating.”

She hummed. She was alight was all new sensations. Mulder let his hands drop to her waist. “I like those pajamas by the way. It’s not silk for once.”

“Cotton.”

“Huh.”

“My mom says…”

He couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t care what your mother said.”

His long arms twisted around her and pulled her down. She braced herself, sticking her hands out on either side of his head to brace the impact. She collided into an Earth-shattering kiss. Stranger thing how time and physics worked. She sighed happily as her tongue delved into his mouth. This was good. “This is wonderful,” she whispered between breaths.

“Do you know what makes this better?”

“What?”

“Give me some control?” She paused. “Do you trust me, Scully?

“Yes.”

He smiled. “You know that you’re the only one I trust, right?”

“Do you?”

Instead of answering her, he skillfully changed their positions so she was laying on her back and he was laying on her side. His left hand carefully undid the button down her pajama top. She breathed sharply at the first contact of his fingertips caressing the swell of her breast. “I do.” He watched her thoughtfully. “You see, before you...I had a few partners. They came and went. It was like they wanted nothing to do with me. But you...you challenged me, you made me better. I can’t place the exact moment but it may have been laughing with you in that graveyard in Oregon at five o’clock in the morning.”

She hissed at his touches. “That was nearly six years ago.”

“So, I like a slow burn. I have never felt this way about anyone except you.” She laughed but she bit her lips to keep herself from crying out. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Do your nightmares involve this, Scully?”

“I don’t let myself indulge in such fantasies.”

“Why not?”

He was growing bolder with his explorations. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Lately, with everything, I don’t know.”

“What do you say we change that?”

He bent down to kiss her again and pushed up on her top. He wasn’t rushing nor did she mean his slow advances. Soon, she found herself growing restless. “Mulder?”

“Hmmm?”

“Enough of this. Let’s finish this.”

This is not how neither one of them imagined things. Scully had it imagined it fast and quick after the turmoil from a case. Mulder, on the other hand, imagined it slow after one night of verbally sparing with one another. Who needed guidance when you had your better half?

The lamp remained on. There was no hiding from this. Six years of tension resolved.

The clothes were peeled artfully like it was nothing new. She laughed between their kisses. “At least I don’t have to save you this time.”

He suckled her hungrily. “You already did. A long time ago.”

Mulder reached to turn out the light on her nightstand and Scully grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “No, leave it on.”

The first time was always awkward. They both remembered being told that my friends when they were teenagers. “I expected this to be different,” he admitted.

“Mulder, shut up.”

“This has got to be a sleepover for the record books.”

At the clock turned 5:00 and the red numbers faded against the lamplight, Mulder continued. Clothes were shed, and they crawled beneath the covers. The fire ignited and fears were extinguished. Gone was the cold that plagued the nightmares and shadows that kept them in hiding. Their bodies entwined, just as their souls had been for years.

Their ecstasy came to a crescendo as Scully felt her last orgasm leave her and Mulder followed soon after. He was laughing as he rolled off to the side and she grinned like a fool. He started to laugh too and any tension that remained fade as she came down from her high.

“Well, I certainly don’t remember sleepovers being like that,” he remarked.

Scully could hear the fatigue in his voice, finally evident from someone who had not slept in over 24 hours. She smiled goofily and nodded toward the window. “The sun is coming up.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s summer and during that time, the sun comes through the window sometimes. It’s been so long. I can’t remember the last time I stayed in bed this late.”

“We haven’t been here that late.” He yawned and pulled her closer. “Where are you going?”

“Give me a sec.”

She reached to turn out the light and moved to get out of bed. “Where do you think you’re going? And why did you turn out the light?”

“Because, Mulder, this is supposed to be a sleepover,” she said, “and we need to sleep.”

“And based on what scientific evidence?”

“I’m a doctor.”

He watched her jog nude across the bedroom in the dark shadows to open up the blinds slightly to let in the morning light. She rushed back to bed. “Oh, your cold,” he complained.

“Knock it off.”

Scully reclaimed her spot next to him. They both turned beneath the covers to face the newly opened blinds as the early morning light began to shine through. “No more shadows, Scully.”

“No more shadows.”

[spnfanficpond]

June 2020 Angel Fish Awards

(New Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle @mrswhozeewhatsis or Mana @manawhaat to check and make sure we got your submission.

Be sure to read through this whole post as people who were nominated more than once only had one tag activated for tumblr tagging purposes!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE JUNE’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nonimated by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

I Thought You Were Going To Die (oneshot) by @fun-and-fandoms

My nominations for the month wouldn’t be complete without a little bit of angst. Though this one isn’t just that. If you’re easily triggered by mentions of depression and its symptoms, this one’s not for you. But it’s an important topic and I will always encourage any creator who uses their art to remind people it’s okay to talk about it. (Note from Kale, this was actually submitted in May but I missed it.) 

More to Me (oneshot) by @becs-bunker

No spoilers, but I’m so glad this ended the way it did. So sweet <3

Help  (oneshot) by @blushingjared

I came across this fic and was immediately intrigued. Then I started reading and I was captivated from the first sentence until the very last. The author did such a good job with setting the scene and painting the right picture.

Talking Bodies (oneshot) by @ne-gans

This AU-Sam is such a huge weakness of mine. That, in combination with this dangerously filthy masterpiece, is nothing short of perfection.

Nominated by @focusonspn

Into The Woods (series) by @amanda-teaches

So well written, interesting plot and great development. The chemistry between Y/N and Dean is also amazing, and I loved how this mini-series could be so easily part of the show. Totally worth reading.

Nominated by @thoughtslikeamindfield 

Stranger Than FanFiction (series) by @cherry3point14

The premise is similar to the film Stranger Than Fiction – a story about a story being written about you – and it’s just as hilarious. Also, Cherry Pie is still one of the funniest writers in this corner of SPN fandom.

“You’re not supposed to move your head if there’s someone trying to murder you, probably…”

No, I wouldn’t think so, but lollllll

“You’re being insane, out loud.”

Omgggg

“It tried, oh, how the door tried to divert her attention from the unknown men who could be terrible, rule-breaking influences on her. However the door was only wood and she was a stubborn woman made of free will and limbs—a woman who refused to be deceived.”

“Your hand is on the doorknob before the mention of your limbs has finished rattling around your head.  Realistically you don’t want to encourage the voice by doing what it says. After all, the voice’s ultimate goal seems to be killing you.”

BAHAHAHAH omfg you guys

I need to stop quoting from this bc I probably seem insane to those of you who haven’t read this, so stop being judgy buttheads and go read!

Nominated by @flamencodiva

The Choice (series) by @superfanficnatural

A couple of things. 1) this is an amazing fic that highlights Dean unwillingness to let himself go until it’s almost too late. and 2) the smut in this is hot hot hot hot! not for anyone under 18 years of age.

Mert has a way with words and can literally pluck you into one and make you see it as it comes to life in your head.

Mine (series) by @holylulusworld

Lulu has an abundance of different stories she tells and this one is my favorite of her ABO’s at the moment. (although I love all of them) I think this one deserved a mention. I am glad she joined to Pond so I could help nominate and spread her amazing work!

One Night at a Time (series) by @crashdevlin

Another great fic by Cassie! This one shot full of Angst, Smut, and if you squint just the right amount of Dean fluff. She has a way of capturing your attention and putting you in the world as you read.

What He Lost (oneshot) by @jensengirl83

This short story by Brandy is sure to rip your heart out. she leaves just a bit of hope where you think there is a chance only to crush it completely with the ending. This one is sure to bring you to tears if you are looking for the most delicious angsty story to read.

Nominated by @risingpheonix761

Down The Rabbit Hole (oneshot) by @dontshootmespence

So, this was hysterical. XD I love crack fics, and bad smut in particular, and this one hits the spot. (I’ve also learned several new horrible euphemisms lol). The ending, though? Golden!

Nominated by @myinconnelly1

The Affair (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

I love how well all the characters are portrayed I truly hate everyone except the reader! Well done!!  

Red Riding Hood - or how you ran into a wolf... (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

I have nothing to say about this. I will simply allow the puddle I have become to speak for me. 

Last Omega On Earth (oneshot) by @holylulusworld 

This was a great entry in the ABO world. and we need more of this and more like !!!!! Great work!

My Beta (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

I am a greedy little bitch with this fic.  I think I've read it 3-4 since i first read it this month!!!!!! READ THIS FIC!  

Third Period (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

Some truly inspiring smut.  Inspiring to change my panties. 

Gods of Twilight (series) by @thecleverdame​

I think i posted this fic in my rec before, but it is so amazing and intricate that i can't stop gushing about it.  Fucking awesome. 

Apple Pie (oneshot) by @bad268​ 

The amazingness of this is great, check this guppy out!

Deal (oneshot) by @bad268 

Comedy at some of its's finest!!! 

Confession (oneshot) by @idreamofplaid

THE FLUFFFFFFF!!!! I don't read straight fluff.  So get the tissues ready.

Fallen (series) by idreamofplaid

My therapist has told me i'm not longer allowed to talk about this fic during our sessions.  So instead i shall now talk about it here... *pulls out soapbox* ahem... *gets pulled away with hook*

Memory (oneshot) by @idreamofplaid

This fic is older, but i love it so much.  I recently went back and reread it, and the angst and reconciliation in this fic are heartwrenching.

Home (oneshot) by @emilyshurley

My dentist bill the month was higher than normal, due to the new cavities caused by this fic.

Imperfectly Yours (oneshot) by @emilyshurley

Cuteness overload as you get Dean's perspective of Home ^^

Second Hand News (oneshot) by @emilyshurley

Alright listen. I am a glutton for punishment.  And this fic, I asked for.  Also i had it set within one of the universes we now own.  That all being said, reading this was like a dose of my own medicine and it fucking hurt.

Honesty And Lies (oneshot) by @crashdevlin

This was super dirty, and great.  Totally recommend. 

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

The Classifieds (oneshot) by @talesmaniac89

This is rip your heart out and stomp on it angst right here. So well written, but so, so heartbreaking.

So Much More Than Perfect (oneshot) by @imagineteamfreewill

This fic is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever read. It made me tear up a bit, but who doesn’t love Dean being the most protective, most adorable dad ever?!

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

Dear Dean (series) by @smol-and-grumpy

It’s one of those series that makes you wants more after every chapter. It’s a brilliant story.

Left Behind (series) by @kittenofdoomage

It’s the only John Fic I can read over and over and over again. Its hot, the plot is awesome! And it makes me wants more each and every time I read it.

Not Much Left (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

I think Beka tries to kill her readers every time she writes smut… or she just tap into our mind what we want or what we fantasize about. Every single time I’m speechless by her talents!

Yes Professor (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer

It’s a Misha fic, there’s no one who write Misha the way Beka does!!!

Owe You One (series) by @supernatural-jackles

It’s such a great series! The friends with Benefit and Mechanic!Dean… I just love this so much and I don’t have words to describe how good this one is!!

Flirty In French (oneshot) by @fictionalabyss

This is brilliant, and I know its an old one, but from someone who finally decided to read more and from someone who is from Quebec, this is absolutely brilliant! The flirty french pick up line are so hilarious!

Nominated by @moosekateer13

Watching for Comets (series) by @holylulusworld

This fic beautifully captures the song that it was inspired by.

It also showcases things that when things are meant to be.

I’ll will all fall into place.

Please Trust Me (oneshot) by @holylulusworld

This fic beautifully emotionally captures what it’s like to have trust issues.

Nominated by @fictionalabyss

Last Call (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer 

It was everything we needed and wanted.

Culinary Exploits (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer  

Too utterly ridiculous not to get a mention.

His Omega (oneshot) by @iflostreturntosteverogers 

A sweet little comfort fic of Dean being utterly perfect caring for his Omega. Carrie also pulled off keeping this gender neutral, which isn’t something I see a lot of, and probably something I’d struggle with, so hats off to you, babe.

Poison (oneshot) by @supernatural-jackles 

YES omg i feel this on such a level. I’ve gone through that shit myself. A friend who lets you down so profoundly but then acts as if you’re the most toxic person in the world.  Nothing feels as good as letting go of that shit and moving on to better things. This was beautiful, and perfect, and TRUTH.

Amara (oneshot) by @impala-dreamer  

This one hurt. It really hurt, but it hurt so good that I’m left wanting more.

Take Me Now (oneshot) by @sorenmarie87  

If Dawn doesn’t continue this, I’ll riot.

Stuck On You (oneshot) by @kittenofdoomage  

I rarely read a fic this long (I just don’t usually have the time) but it looked too interesting for me to scroll past, and it had me completely captivated. I needed to know what would happen as if I needed air, even though I could guess how it ended, I needed to read the words. Phenomenal.

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

These are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

[axwalker]

Tears in Heaven 3: Again

Tears in Heaven 3: Again

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Liam x MC Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:  NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog. N*FW

This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

A/N: The story will go back and forth between three different periods of time (2009 / 2015 / 2019)

A/N: I  used Grey’s Anatomy prompt # 16 , requested by @burnsoslow (in bold in the story)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 4,957

Songs inspiration: Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton

THANKS TO:  @burnsoslow  Thanks for beta reading and correcting so patiently 🤣🤣    @pedudley your comments and encouragement are the best. LOVE YOU BOTH! ❤️

June 2015

Liam sat at the hospital bench with his heart still racing. He had barely made it on time. He didn’t want to think what would have happened if he had taken that last call in his office, or if he had come across more red lights on his way to her house.

The doctors had told him that with the number of pills she had ingested and how weak her body was, she wouldn’t have survived much longer.

When Liam had arrived at her apartment that night, he had knocked several times with no response. Something was not right. That morning, she had seemed different: more serene, more at peace. He thought about the expression on her face when she had said good-bye, and it all made sense.

He didn’t lose any more time knocking. He took three steps back and ran at the door, slamming against it with his shoulder. When it opened, he ran to her room, to find her unconscious on the bed. He didn’t think twice; he would be much faster than an ambulance, so he scooped her in his arms and took her to the emergency room in his car.

When he arrived at the hospital, a nurse laid her on a stretcher and took her away from him.

After waiting the longest two hours of his life, a doctor had come out to tell him that she was sleeping, but she was going to be fine. Mainly due to his fast reaction.

He had called Olivia and Maxwell, who had rushed to her side, and the three of them sat together waiting for her to wake up.

Liam couldn’t help but feel furious. She had been selfish and had forgotten about her friends. About Max and Liv. About him. Liam knew his death had been devastating, but she had no right to leave them like that. He couldn’t imagine his life without her friendship, without her.

When he was finally allowed to see her, his anger had faded. She seemed so fragile and small in the bed that all he felt was a deep sadness - for her and for everything that had happened. He sat next to her and took her hand, all his feelings for her rushing back.

She stirred in the bed and opened her eyes to see Liam smiling softly at her.

“Hi, Alexis.”

“I’m in the hospital.” It was more of an angry statement than a question.

“Yes. I came back to check up on you, and I barely found you in time.”

“I didn’t want you to save me, Liam. I just …” She sighed, unable to finish her sentence.

“What?” He stared at her, angry again.

Alexis refused to talk anymore, so she turned her back to him, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it so easily. He walked around the bed to face her.

Liam needed to confront her; maybe he had coddled her too much. “Say it. If you’re so determined to really give up, if you really think that’s what he would have wanted, then at least have the courage to say it. You wanted to die.”

“I would never know what he would have wanted or not.”  Her eyes filled with tears. Why couldn’t Liam understand that she was already dead? “Leave me alone, Liam. Please, I beg of you, just let me go, let me die. I’m just not strong enough.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “It doesn’t matter how tough we are. Trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home; it changes our lives. Trauma messes everybody up. But maybe that’s the point - all the pain and the fear. Maybe going through all that is what keeps us moving forward. It’s what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up before we can step up.” He rubbed her forehead softly. “I’ll never leave, Alexis. We’re going to fix this. I swear.”

He took his jacket off and hung it on the chair behind him. “You should sleep a little. I’ll stay here.”

She closed her eyes and fell asleep almost immediately. Liam pulled out his phone and started to look for the best clinic available. He was determined to save her.

September 2009

Drake and Alexis were excited to spend their first weekend together. The annual Derby in Portavira had been the perfect excuse. She had told her father that she was staying with Liv at Penelope’s house, but she was going with Drake to Portavira for the race, and after, they were going to escape to a little cabin on the beach for the night. Their first night together.

They had agreed to meet at Olivia’s house. When Drake parked in front of the estate, he saw her walking down the stairs towards him. She looked gorgeous in a simple white midi dress and a fedora.

“Hi, Drake.” She looped her arms around his neck.

He kissed her, grinning. Fuck, he was crazy about her. “Hi, O’Brien. I can see you’re not wearing a big feathered hat.”

She beamed. “Olivia tried to lend me several, including one with a dead bird on top of it, but it wasn’t really me.” She lifted her face coquettishly. “Do you like this one?”

He rubbed her cheek, smiling. “You look beautiful, Lexie.”

“Thank you. You look very handsome too. I like that white shirt.”

Drake blushed and smiled as a reply to her compliment. He put her bag in his trunk and they left for Portavira.

They arrived at the racetrack three hours later and easily accessed the infield where the nobles’ tents were located, thanks to the special pass Liam had given him.

Alexis shook her head at the swarm of reporters and photographers waiting for the celebrities and the nobles. “I would die if I had to spend my day thinking about my outfit and talking about Cordonian apples.”

Drake chuckled. “Come on, O’Brien. Let’s go to the tent.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the Rhys’ tent. “I’ll go get something to drink. A lager pint?”

“Yes, please.” She winked at him playfully before turning to enter the tent.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him for a kiss. “You look so cute when you wink at me like that; I couldn’t resist.”

She shook her head smiling sheepishly.

“I’ll be back in five minutes. Just go inside; Li is already there.”

When she entered, Liam was there alone in a high chair facing the racetrack. He was reading a horseracing magazine.

“Hi, Li!”

Liam’s heart skipped a beat when he saw her. “I didn’t see you there, Alexis.” He smiled kindly.

“Sorry, you seemed awfully focused.”

“Heh! I was trying to decide which horse to bet on. Drake has won two years in a row, but this year he’s going down,” he joked.

She laughed. “I should have guessed that you two liked to compete against each other.”

“I hardly call it a competition; Liam loses all the time.” Drake entered the tent holding their three beers.

“I don’t know, Drake,” she teased him as she took her cold drink. “Li has been researching, and he feels extremely confident.”

“Is that true?” He sat next to Alexis, his arms encircling her waist.

Liam nodded excitedly. “You better start warming up. I’m positive that Mirabelle will win.”

“It’s not a bad prediction, but this is Twilight’s year. You’ll see,” he said with a smug look in his eyes.

Liam extended his hand. “The usual?”

Drake shook his hand in agreement. “The usual.”

“What’s the usual?” Alexis asked, intrigued.

“Ever since Drake and I were kids, we bet each other with push-ups,” Liam explained, his eyes crinkling at the memory.

Drake raised his finger. “Well, they aren’t just any push-ups - they are push-ups using only one hand.”

“That’s so cute,” Alexis answered, smiling. She loved their friendship.  

Drake frowned. “It’s not cute;, it’s rugged and manly.”

Liam frowned too. “Yes, very tough, I’d say.”

“Sure, of course. My bad!” She giggled.

“Except that I think we should change the bet a little; it would be incredibly rude to leave Alexis out. She should bet against us, too,” Liam suggested.

Drake looked at his girlfriend. “What can you do instead of push-ups?”

“I don’t know.” She thought about it. “But I want to play, too. Maybe I can eat something really spicy, for instance.”

“Nice try, Lexie. You love spicy food.” Drake squinted at her, thinking for a few seconds. “But I do have something in mind.” He turned to Liam. “Can you believe she has never watched any Indiana Jones?”

Liam’s eyes widened; he and Drake had watched all the movies more than 20 times since they were kids.

“Alexis, how can you live like that? It’s like you had no childhood,” he said, horrified.

She shrugged.  “What can I say? I just wasn’t interested.”

Drake shook his head in disbelief. “Well, if the horse you choose doesn’t win, you have to watch all the movies with us. But better beware that we know all the dialogue.”

She laughed, picturing the two of them being excited about Harrison Ford.

Liam tried to ignore how much he liked her contagious laughter. He cleared his throat. “Just so we’re clear, there’s only one winner. The other two losers have to accept their punishment.”

Alexis clapped her hands. “There we have it, then.” She looked at the magazine with the horse’s information for a few minutes. “I choose Bolt.”

Loud trumpets announced the start of the race, and the three of them turned to look at the track. All three of them were leaning forward, absorbed. Alexis, especially, was rapt. Drake leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder; he loved the passion she put in everything she did.

“Twilight takes the lead,” Drake smirked. Twilight was being closely tailed by Marabelle’s Dream, Bolt, and another horse.

“Race isn’t over yet. Go, Marabelle!” Liam urged the horse.

The horses reached the point that was further from their tent, making it hard to distinguish much. They could, however, see a white horse still in the lead.

“They’re rounding the third bend …” Liam said quietly, almost to himself. It was a nervous habit he’d always had during the races.

“Come on, Bolt. You can do it!” Alexis was shouting with everything in her.

“Catch them in the final furlong.” Drake’s hands were balled into tight fists.

“They’re neck-and-neck!” shouted Alexis excitedly. Marabelle’s Dream had finally caught up to Twilight and Bolt and they galloped together, their jockeys' legs almost touching. They were coming around the bend and getting closer to where the three sat.

“Come on …” Liam pushed.

At the very last moment, a mere foot from the finish line, Marabelle’s jockey gave her one final push, and they broke the finish line seconds before the other two horses.

“And there goes Marabelle! Ha! I knew it!” Liam pumped his arms triumphantly and gave Drake a gloating smile. “Drake, I believe you’re up, and if you think I’m enjoying this too much,” he chuckled, “I totally am.”

“I must’ve done something very wrong at some point for you to be my best friend,” Drake replied.

He took off his shirt and crouched into the push-up position. “Well, here we go…”

Alexis couldn’t help but admire Drake’s ability to do the push-ups using only one hand. It seemed extremely difficult. And he looked extremely handsome.

When he finished, he put his shirt back on. “Never let it be said that I’ve ever backed out of a bet,” said Drake as he buttoned his shirt back up.

Liam laughed. “You better get used to it, Drake.” He checked his phone; he had a date but wasn’t very excited about it. “Are you going to the beach then?”

Drake nodded. “Yes, we’re leaving now. This was fun, Li.”

Alexis smiled at him too. “Very fun. I owe you two an Indiana Jones marathon.”

Liam grinned. “Don’t worry, Alexis, neither of us will let you forget it until you pay up.”

She laughed. “I’m sure of it.”

The ride to the cabin was silent. Alexis plugged her phone in the stereo and played the playlist she had prepared for the trip, lost in her thoughts. She was well aware that she wasn’t nearly half as experienced as Drake was, and that made her really nervous. They had been waiting for more than a month, so their makeout sessions, intense and passionate, always left them incredibly frustrated. Her heart raced just thinking about their night ahead. She shook her head, trying to focus on the road ahead of them.

Drake knew she was nervous even if she was too stubborn to confess it, and he had to admit that he was a bit nervous himself. He wanted to give her a perfect trip. A perfect night. He grabbed her hand for the rest of the ride.

The cottage was hidden in a corner of a sandy beach. It was a small, charming house made with grey bricks. It had red wooden doors and window frames, a chimney, and a small white hedge surrounding the property. It looked alive and welcoming. The sea was only a few meters away. Alexis smiled, completely captivated by the place. The inside was equally cozy: rustic furniture, fluffy yarn rugs, a small kitchen, and a large fireplace. It was perfect.

“Drake, this is lovely.” Her eyes were brightening the way they did when she was particularly happy.

Drake sat on the large couch and pulled her into his lap. “I’m glad you like it, O’Brien. Bastien bought it, and the three of us remodeled it when we came here during the summer. He was going to move here when he retired, but he met Andrea and moved to Spain instead. Now he rents this during the holidays.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.” She grinned again, locking eyes with him.

He cupped her face and kissed her hungrily; he was dying to be with her, but they had all the time in the world. He rubbed her face softly. “I was thinking that we could go to the beach and swim a little now; the water gets too cold later.”

They spent a few hours in the water swimming and snorkeling, and later on the sand, kissing and playing poker while they drank the bottle of wine. At 6:00, the temperature dropped several degrees, and they decided to go to the local market to get something to eat.

The market was colorful and filled with spices, fruits, vegetables, and lots of fish. Alexis had promised to cook, so she went from stand to stand asking questions and choosing ingredients for her mysterious dish. She had even found Mexican tortillas which, apparently, was a miracle in Cordonia, because she had almost kissed the man at the stand.

Back at the cottage, Alexis cooked as Drake started a fire, and set the table. “This smells incredible, Lexie.” He circled his arms around her while she poured a creamy red sauce over the chicken wraps.  He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent that drove him crazy. He needed more. He pushed her hair aside and gave her soft kisses on her neck. Alexis swallowed hard, thousands of goosebumps appearing on her arms. Her soft moans encouraged him; his kisses deepened. She threw her head back, lost in him, unable to keep doing whatever she was doing before him.

He turned her and searched for her mouth, desperate to kiss her lips again. “I can’t wait anymore, Alexis.”

She shook her head, speaking with a low, sultry voice. “Me either.”

“Fuck, Lexie, come here.”  She jumped into his arms, straddling him. He carried her over to their bed, leaning forward and easing her down onto it. He laid next to her and traced her jawline with his thumb softly. “Are you sure about this, Lexie?”

She was unable to speak, feeling his fingers wander around her face and neck, his warm breath so close to her. He took her chin, making her look at him “I need you to be sure about this, baby.”

She nodded.  “I’m more than sure, Drake.”

“You have no idea how much I want this, Lexie.” He could barely get the words out through the surge of desire that rushed through him.

Her mouth opened, and then her tongue was on his, and he was so far gone. His hands roamed her back before settling on her hips, which he gripped hard. She’d been running her hands through his hair, but now she moved them to his chest. She grabbed and bunched up the fabric of his shirt, trying to get him closer than physics would allow.

Drake broke the kiss, feeling like he had to come up for air. He was breathing as heavily as if he’d just run a marathon.

Then he kissed her ear, her cheeks, and slowly, softly, bit her neck. Alexis was dizzy and giddy; she felt a heat travelling from her chest to her core that made her feel like she was going to self-combust.

He knew he was torturing both of them with his slow movements, but it was their first time together. He wanted to take his time, make her enjoy every second of it.

He looked at her, letting his hands play with the front buttons of her dress. He undid one by one; kissing each portion of skin exposed to him, until she only had her lace underwear left.

“You’re a goddess, Alexis.” With the tips of his fingers, he made a path on her bare skin from her jawline to the hem of her underwear. “You deserve to be worshipped.” He put his hand on her back and unclasped her bra, carefully taking down one strap, then the other, while he kissed both shoulders, finally taking it off. He kissed her breasts, gently sucking her buds, rubbing them with his fingers. “Fuck, baby, I want to kiss - to feel - every single part of you.”

She tried to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers were shaking.  She was too nervous and excited and unable to function while he kissed her like that. He sensed her nervousness and moved to kiss her lips again.

“Look at me, Lexie.” She fixed her dark eyes with his. “Are you okay, baby?’

She nodded, smiling; her heart was beating too fast. He kissed her gently, cupping her face; he hadn’t told her yet how much he loved her, how lost he was for her, so he kissed her as deeply as he coul, to make her understand. She kissed him back hard, sure that he was going to drive her crazy.

He lowered himself to pepper her stomach with kisses, letting his tongue explore her. He caught the hem of her underwear with his teeth and pulled it down, painfully slowly. She was completely bare, exposed to him, and he allowed his gaze roam all over her exquisite body. He took his shirt, jeans and boxers off and lowered himself to kiss her again: first, her long legs that drove him mad, then her thighs and sensitive inner thighs and finally, the skin around her core. He felt her shiver underneath him and raised his face to look at her. She was completely lost, a pretty blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks, her lips parted, her hair a complete mess, her fists clenching the sheets. She drove him completely wild. He kissed her soft skin, letting his tongue enter her and tease her nub as she gasped and writhed underneath him. She had never felt anything remotely similar to the electric feelings he was producing in her.

While his tongue continued to discover her, he easily plunged two fingers inside her, pumping slowly at first and then mercilessly as she arched her body, moaning his name, oblivious to everything around her. She felt the wave of heat wash over her, catching her off guard. Her whole body convulsed, and a final cry left her throat. He removed his fingers, drenched in her juices, and licked them clean.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He ravaged her lips again. She groaned as she felt his weight settle down on top of her for the first time, his hips pressing into hers, his broad chest barely meeting her body. He’d propped himself up on his forearms, and she felt his hands moving through her hair even as his mouth kissed her repeatedly. It felt like she was covered in him almost head to toe. It was overwhelming.

He held her steady and moved his hips, feeling himself slide into her gradually, giving her time to adjust to him “You’re so beautiful, baby.” She moaned, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, thrusting his hips and leaning forward. “God, Lexie, you’re so fucking tight baby; you feel amazing.” Her hands desperately clenched the sheets again; she fought to keep her eyes open, but she could barely think. She could only feel him. He was inside of her, thrusting. He was ravaging her neck with his lips. He was holding her and caressing her lower back, her ass. He was talking to her, telling how beautiful she was. She arched her back when a jolt of pleasure invaded her. “Oh, my God, Drake … Drake,” she moaned endlessly.

He saw her writhing under him, her back arched, her eyelids shut, her full lips parted almost screaming. She’s mine; this gorgeous girl is mine.

“Say my name again, O’Brien,” he growled as he quickened the movement of his hips and she cried out, indiscernible sounds at first.

“Dr … Drake …”

He leaned into her. “Look at me, baby.” She seemed unable to do it. He pulled her back against him and whispered in her ear. “I want to see your beautiful eyes looking at me when you come.”

His words made her gasp, and she complied, locking eyes with him. He moved his hand, using the tip of his finger to circle over her core, as he pounded her faster without taking his eyes off of her. “Lexie you’re driving me insane.” He was about to explode.

She moaned his name over and over again until a wave of pleasure invaded her. “Drake … I’m … Fuck, Drake! I’m close.”

He felt his own release not far off, the pressure in his stomach growing as her movements sent pangs of heat shooting all over his body.  “Come with me, Lexie.”

“D-Drake …”

He crashed his lips against hers as she moaned against his mouth. He felt her stiffen against him, muffling her cries against his mouth.

“Drake!” She sobbed his name as her muscles clenched around him. The sensation of her around him and his name on her lips sent him over the edge with her, producing a grunt from him as he filled her completely.

He collapsed on the bed, pulling her against him as they floated down from their high.

He never wanted to move. Ever. He just wanted to stay here, with her, exactly like that, forever. He lazily trailed his hand up and down her back as she sighed contentedly, nuzzling his neck.

“That was …” She shook her head. “There are no words.”

He kissed her head. “For me either, Lexie.”

A few hours later, famished, they went to the kitchen to eat the dinner she had planned for them.

“I only have to put the dish in the oven for 30 minutes.”

Half an hour later, they sat in front of the fireplace with the cold wine.

“Lexie, the smell is incredible.”

“They’re called enchiladas. It’s a bit spicy. I really hope you like it.”

She was looking at him, biting her lip expectantly. She was so adorable that he couldn’t help but kiss her before tasting the dish. It was amazing.

The tomato sauce was a bit spicy and it mixed heavenly with the grated cheese and the chicken.  “Fuck, Lexie. This is delicious.”

She was eating, too, a pleased expression on her face. “I’d like to be polite enough to say it’s not. But I actually really liked it, too.”

He chuckled. “Love your modesty.” And I love you too.

When they finished their dinner, they drank and talked about their lives. Soon enough, their desire became impossible to ignore. They made love again in front of the fireplace for hours, consumed in each other. They fell asleep on the yarn rug until Drake’s phone alarm woke them at 6:00 in the morning.

Alexis took the phone angrily. “Do you have a death wish, Walker?”

He laughed. “So, not a morning person. Noted.” He kissed her bare back, making her moan again. “I would love to have time for that, baby, but I want to show you something.” He stood up, extending his arm to her. She took it and stood up as well, still drowsy.

He helped her down the stairs and told her to wear a thick jumper and her jeans. He took a couple of blankets and prepared a thermos with hot coffee.

They got out of the house and walked a short mile. When they arrived at the spot he was looking for, he spread one of the blankets on the sand, and they sat on it facing the sea.

“There’s not a better spot to see the sunrise in all Cordonia,” he stated, simply passing her the coffee thermos.

“Drake, it’s gorgeous.” She looked around, admiring the splendid pink lights.

He pulled out the other blanket and covered the two of them with it.

She cuddled against him, enjoying the incredible view.

“Bastien used to take me and Savvie here when we couldn’t sleep after my dad died,” he said, with a bit of nostalgia in his voice.

She raised her hand and stroked his cheek. Thinking about him, as a little boy sad and scared, broke her heart. She couldn’t believe how much she loved him after only a month.

He turned to look at her; her expression was serene, beautiful. He loved every single side of her, and he couldn’t think of a better moment to tell her than that one right then, with the sun rising.

He locked eyes with her, an earnest expression on them. “I know we only met a month ago, but I love you, Lexie. You have no idea how much.”

Her eyes watered, and she felt overwhelmed for a second before she could respond. “I love you too, Drake. I’m crazy about you.”  She knew they were meant to be together, she had never felt surer about anything in her life.

April 2019

Liam was waiting for Alexis in the living room with a glass of Scotch in his hand, lost in his thoughts about the past, about what he had done. It had seemed a logical thing to do back then, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He had betrayed his own values. She came down the stairs, still holding her phone. She put it on the table and sat on the couch next to him, twisting her engagement ring nervously.

“Did you speak with Rashad, love?”

“Yes, I did. I have to go there myself, Liam. It’s better.”  

He placed his glass on the table and leaned over to hold her in his arms. He hated the anxious look in her eyes, her sad expression.

“I’ll go with you. We’ll face it together, Alexis.”

She laid her head against his chest. “You know that I have to go by myself, Li. I’ll be fine, I promise.” She checked the time on her phone. “I better leave now; I don’t want to drive at night.”

Alexis kissed him and left the house, trying to show him a strong façade. Sometimes she felt that worrying about her was a full-time job for Liam, and she blamed herself.

She looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror of the car. Five years after his death, and she still could see the emotional scars in her face, in her eyes. The closer she got to the house, the antsier she felt. She was going to open old wounds, to stir the past, and it was too painful; it hurt too much.

Even after all those years, just thinking about her life before the accident brought her to tears. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. They fought, frequently; they were both incredibly stubborn. They struggled about money, they had had too many sleepless nights and worries, but their love had been so deep, so powerful, that nothing else had really mattered.

Or so she thought.

She parked her car with her heart racing. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing had quickened considerably. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but it was useless. After a few minutes of raising her hand to knock on the door and regretting coming there at all, she finally gathered some courage and did it.

When the door opened, she gasped. He had barely changed in almost five years. A few white hairs, more wrinkles, but he was still the same handsome man she had fallen crazily in love with.

He was preparing to go out when he heard the knock at his door. When he saw her standing at his doorstep in front of him, his heart stopped. He froze, completely unable to move or speak for a few minutes. Finally, his breathing steadied, and he was able to mutter her name.

“Alexis.”

“Hello, Drake. We need to talk.”

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 8

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta:  ilikaicalie

*Chapters 9-26 are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

You sit perched on the edge of the bed as he leans on a pillow, adjusting himself until his arm and shoulder are in a comfortable position. Wincing, his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he settles back, looking at you calmly.

“I may ask you whatever I wish?” you clarify, knowing you’ve already pushed him further than a woman should.

“Yes.” He bows his head. “This is your chance.”

“You-” you stop, trying to collect your thoughts. You have so many questions, so much you want to know in light of this new revelation. “How long have you been like this?”

“Ten years come winter,” he answers succinctly, watching you choose your next inquiry.

“And how did it happen? Did you want this?” Twisting your hands in your lap you attempt to remain composed.

“It was during the war. We’d been in the thick of it for nearly a year. Everything was cold and blood, all I can remember from that time is snow and death. Dean and I drank too much one evening, the wine was all we could do to stay warm in the night. I wandered off to take a piss and strayed too far from camp. I was attacked. The wolf that bit me meant to take my life, he was still a half-man when his teeth sunk into my neck. I laid there on the path, feeling life slip away.”

“When I awoke I was in the home of a man I later learned was their Alpha, Peter. He was a good man. He’d forbidden attacks on humans but one of his own had bitten me. Once he realized who I was he did his best to keep me alive, to turn me instead of letting me die.”

Sam pauses, looking toward the fire. He’s lost in his own memories, eyes glazing over as he recounts those first days.

“The change takes weeks and it’s brutal. I’ve been stabbed, shot with arrows, beaten, but this was pain like you could not imagine. It feels as if you’re being crushed from the inside, every bone in my body felt as if it was breaking. And I was so hot, my own blood boiling in my veins. I was sure I would die. But day after day I woke up to the torture. The transition is something I would never wish on my worst enemy.”

“You said the change took weeks,” you slide a bit closer and he's looking at you. “You were gone for years.”

“Becoming what I am was fast in comparison, it was learning to control my new nature that took time. The first few months all I wanted was blood and flesh. I was feral. Peter would chain me to the walls so that I couldn’t hurt anyone but was I stronger than those who came before me. I killed many people during that time.” His jaw stiffens, as his gaze turns away from you. “Men, women, and children. I had no control over the beast inside me. It took years to gain full control. For a long time, I thought I’d never be able to return home, but as time passed I found restraint, and then the urges began to fade. It took years but then I was finally able to come home.”

He stares at you waiting for a response but you’re too lost in thought to give him anything, trying to imagine what it must be like.

“There are others like you here...were there always shifters in Lebanon?”

“No,” he shakes his head, looking down his hands.

“You turned them?” You press for answers.

“No.” He looks up, eyes narrowing as he hesitates. “Dean turned the first of them.”

“Your brother?” You think back. “You turned him?”

“Dean knew that I was suffering. A wolf without a pack doesn’t thrive and neither did I. I was dying slowly. He begged me to turn him for a long time. When I refused, he sought out someone who would. It took me months to locate him and when I did he was just as wild as I was in the beginning, maybe worse. He killed or turned nearly a hundred souls before I was able to finally contain him in the crypts below the castle. It was during that time that our father died-”

He stops but you are already sorting out the rest, putting the pieces together.

“You took the throne because he was out of control,” you confirm and he nods.

“Dean could barely string two words together for the better part of a year. All he wanted to do was kill and fuck - excuse my crude language - there was no other choice.” Leaning to the side he grunts softly as his arm shifts.

“How fast will you heal?” You get up, grabbing a small pillow and kneeing your way across the bed to place it behind his shoulder, carefully wedging it in place.

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow evening. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You sit back on your heels, looking him over. “It’s amazing. I don’t mean to make light of everything you’ve been through, but the very fact that you exist is incredible.”

“That’s a word for it.” His eyebrows raise waiting for what’s next.

“You said that we can not conceive a child together.” You raise your chin, forcing a confidence. “Is it because you don't want to have a child with me?”

“Of course not.”

“You say that as if I'm bringing up some outlandish concept. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“Everything in me tells me to claim you. You are my wife, you’re beautiful beyond compare and you belong to me but I can’t lay a physical claim to you. There are times when it’s hard to hold back.”

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N,” he falters, snorting in a half laugh of amusement and hesitation. “I am not a normal man. There are parts of me that...I need to mate. To stake a claim and then…”

“What?” You shift closer, your knees pressing against the outside of his thigh. “For God’s sake just tell me! I don’t care, whatever is it I can handle it. Just tell me.”

“There are three kinds of wolves. Alpha, Omega and Beta. Men like Dean and I are Alphas, many other men are Betas. It is only women who are Omegas and few of them at that. Alpha and Omega belong together, like puzzles pieces. It’s a whole process-”

“Tell me.” You insist. “Tell me what would happen if I were an Omega.”

“You will never be like me, I’ll die before I let this happen to you.”

“Well, it’s good that we’re speaking hypothetically then. Please, go on.”

“I would claim you.” He shoots back without hesitation. His hand reaches out, two fingers pressing against the pulse point of your neck. “I would bite you here. Deep enough to leave a mark, a scar that would be my claim over you. I would mate you, knot you.”

You swallow, almost afraid to hear the answer to your next question.

“Knot me?” you whisper.

His lips press together and when he looks up his cheeks are flushed. You’re sure you must be seeing things. All of a sudden he’s shifting, reaching for his trousers and you go wide-eyed, watching in disbelief as he pulls his cock from his pants. He’s half hard as he holds himself in his hand.

“What are you doing?” you gasp as he reaches for your hand, taking it and wrapping your palm around his shaft. His manhood grows the moment you touch him, hardening as you watch, unable to look away.

“This.” He moves your fingers down to the base of his shaft where there’s a dark ring of skin that seems thicker than the rest of him. “When we’re together, it swells.”

You keep your hand on him, looking up. “How large?”

“The size of my fist.” He explains calmly.

“And you call that a…”

“Knot,” he confirms, jaw stiffening as he pushes your hand away and tucks himself back into his pants.

“And that would be...inside me?” you utter, scarcely able to imagine what something like that would feel like. Your whole face is burning, hot with the flush of embarrassment.

“Yes. I’ve been careful not to hurt you up until this point. But I don’t think it’s possible to conceive a child, not without knotting you. And even then it may not work.”

You sit in silence for a long time and he watches you.

“I want to try,” you blurt out. “I can scarcely stand the thought of my husband with another woman. We will keep trying, I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do to make it work.”

“I’m not sure you understand what you’re asking for.” He leans forward, eyes searching yours. “We can discuss this more at a later date. I’m tired and we have not yet discussed your punishment.”

“My punishment?” You sit back, suddenly wary of him. “Punishment for what?”

“Are you joking?” He eyebrows shoot up. “You were in the woods, alone at night. And it’s not the first time, you told me so yourself. Even if I hadn’t expressly forbidden you to go out alone, you had to know that it was unsafe. That I would never have allowed it.”

“I am not accustomed to asking for permission.” You’re slowly kneeing you way back off the bed because his demeanor has changed, jaw set. “And I have never been good at following rules.”

“You are not under your father’s protection here,” he counters, tilting his head. “It’s obvious that he was more lenient than he should have been.”

“What does that mean?” You’re standing as he gets off the bed.

“It means you need to be taught a lesson. I thought you were too shaken from the attack in the woods but it’s clear to me now that you’re much more resilient than I assumed.” His belt is hanging off the end of the table and he picks it up. “Come here.”

“I absolutely will not,” you sputter, backing up until you find yourself dangerously close to the fire.

“You will come here now, and lay over the side of the bed or I will have the guards come in and hold you down.”

“You would not…” you whisper, eyes flicking between his face and the belt in his hand.

“I certainly will. I’d do it myself but I only have one good arm. So you can either give the guards a look at your backside or do as I say,” he explains calmly, gesturing toward the bed.

Your breath picks up as you try to think of a way out of this, but there is none. And the truth is, you have disobeyed him. He told you never to go out alone and you assured him that you would not. Gulping, you stare at him, caught in an unyielding match with one another.

“You are a beast after all,” you sneer, mouth tightening into a grimace.

His eyes shift, expression growing darker and he takes a step forward.

“Make your choice. You have thirty seconds.” He’s sweating, clearly still in pain but that doesn’t keep him from looking like the powerful, giant of a man he is.

“If you do this I will never trust you again.” Fighting back tears you walk to the bed, hesitating before bending belly first.

“Given time, you will come to see everything I do is in your best interest. Pull up your dress.” He instructs and the humiliation continues. You refuse to make a sound. A tear slides down your cheek as you hike up your skirts until your naked buttocks are on display. “Don’t forget, you’ve done this to yourself.”

The first crack of the belt is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s a sharp, intense pain that hurts more than you honestly thought it would. You bury your face in the bed, mouth clamped shut, desperately trying to hold back the scream building your chest. Both hands curl into the fur underneath you and you prepare for the next strike.

The second snap is harder than the first and you grunt, lips trembling, sweat breaking out over your entire body. Your backside is on fire and he’s only given you two lashes.

The third is as stiff as the other two and well placed, overlapping the previous two welts. You howl, a desperate shriek as he places yet another strike over your buttocks. The pain is too great as you start to cry freely, letting out a high pitched scream as the belt comes down. For a moment you think you might pass out, the agony so great that you go silent, sucking in a frantic breath before you fall apart. You sob, chest heaving, preparing for the next but it doesn’t come.

“We will stop at five.” He speaks evenly from behind you. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson. You’re lucky I don’t keep going.”

You want to respond but you can’t. He’s just revealed to you that he is a creature of the night, a half man - half animal and you were only scared for a moment. But this, this is a real fear. While you’ve known that he could choose to do with you whatever he wished, it’s never been a true reality until now. What about the next time he loses his temper? Will you get twenty lashes? Thirty? He seems to think the five you’ve just endured was some kind of mercy.

“Y/N,” His voice is softer now and you feel the bed dip. He places a hand on your back and you flinch. “It is over now, you’ve taken your punishment, calm down.”

Rolling over, you cover yourself, looking at him through tear stained eyes. When he sees your face he has a physical reaction, his throat bobbing, lips falling open.

“May I get ready for bed now?” you ask, mouth trembling as you look at the floor.

“Look at me,” he commands.

You raise your head, looking him in the eyes, but there’s no connection as you stare through him.

“I do not enjoy inflicting pain,” he tries to explain.

“Of course not. I understand my king.” You bow your head, feeling foolish that you ever dared to hope you might come to truly know each other. “I will not disappoint you again.”

“Tell me what you are thinking at this moment.” He grabs your arm.

“Only that I am very sorry to have disobeyed you,” you offer quietly resuming control of yourself. Your bottom is throbbing, you can feel it with every heartbeat. Perhaps he’s stronger than he realizes or he indeed meant to leave you with a lasting reminder.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look him head-on.

“I don’t want to upset you,” you answer honestly and his face falls.

“Tell me,” he insists. “I understand that you’re mad at me.”

“I am not mad.” You place a hand at your mouth, collecting yourself. “I was thinking that I believed you to be a man of your word. An hour ago you insisted that you would never hurt me. And now you have done just that. You were right, this was my fault. I assumed many things, but I will not make that mistake a second time. Now, if you’re feeling well enough and your arm is not too sore, may I please call my handmaid. I am very tired and I wish to dress for bed. Unless of course, you would like to fuck me. In which case I can bend over again and you can admire your handiwork while you have at it.”

Sam just stares at you, blinking. He opens his mouth as if he’s going say something, but you can’t hold back. This night has been too much to bear. You accepted his wild secret, accepted him, only to be met with punishment.

“I forgot, my king. I do not satisfy you. Perhaps you would prefer the company of a woman who’s better suited to your requirements-”

“That’s enough!” he barks, standing up.

“Yes, it is,” you rumble as he gets up and leaves the room.

[abuttoncalledsmalls]

Take A Giant Step - Chapter 3

Warnings: Alcohol, Angst, Fluff, and Language

Word Count: 2.7K

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!OC

A/N: Here is Chapter 3! If you would like to be tagged in upcoming chapters, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Shout out to the AMAZINGLY LOVELY @yespolkadotkitty for beta-ing this. Please enjoy. <3

The skies had opened when I walked into the theater on Tuesday morning. It was normal for our area to get thunderstorms around this time of year, but not of that magnitude. A small ball of worry began to form in the pit of my stomach. What if the weather was too severe and Frankie wasn’t able to make it? Between my mild panic and the sound of the pounding rain, I missed hearing the front door open.

“Good morning, Maggie.” Frankie was standing at the entrance holding a faded red toolbox. As always, he was wearing his baseball cap. His ripped blue jeans and beat up beige shirt hinted that his project would involve him getting messy. As he gently smiled, his coffee colored eyes sparkled.

“Good morning, Frankie. Thanks for braving the weather and coming in.”

“No problem. Were you able to move the desk into your shop?”

I led him backstage and through the back hallway to our scenic shop. It wasn’t a very large space, but we were still able to build and store all of our sets in there. I flipped the light switch on to reveal the area. The remnants of the desk were in a sad heap on the floor, waiting for him. He walked over to the pile, knelt to the floor, and examined the task before him.

“Feel free to use anything we have in here, if you need it. Our tools are on the ancient side, but they get the job done. Can I get you a bottle of water?”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

I turned and headed to our lobby bar. As I opened the fridge, I grabbed two bottles of water. When I returned to the shop, Frankie was separating the broken pieces of wood.

“I brought you two bottles. Just in case you needed an extra one. Sometimes it can get a little warm in here. I left the bar fridge unlocked out there for you. If you need more water or even a soda, you can just grab one.” 

I paused slightly.

“Is there anything that I can help with at the moment?”

Frankie looked up. As he surveyed the room, he mentioned that he was good for the time being. I smiled, trying to hide my slight disappointment. Before I left him to his work, I let him know that I would be in my office down the hall if he needed me. He thanked me and went straight to work.

As I headed to my desk, I chastised myself. Why was I letting my hormones hijack my brain? Yes, he was very cute but that was it. We didn’t really know each other that well. Even if we did that still wouldn’t mean that he could be interested. This always happened. As soon as a man said or did something even remotely nice for me, I’d start seeing fireworks. Then my heart would inevitably break into a million little pieces when it was discovered that he didn’t feel the same way. No matter how many times the cycle would repeat itself or I recognized the same patterns, it played out the same way. It was like my brain couldn’t comprehend that a man showing me respect was not the same as him indicating affection. They were just being decent human beings.

To distract myself from myself, I began working on several projects. I went into my Gmail account to find an endless stream of emails from hopeful actors requesting audition slots for our summer theatre festival. With each confirmation notice I sent out, the more and more Frankie’s presence slipped from my mind. I became consumed with scheduling auditions, contacting designers, and texting Jeff about upcoming meetings. When I looked up at the clock on the wall, three hours had already flown by. It was a little after 1:00 PM.

I rose out of my chair and stretched. While heading to the scenic shop, I heard the bar fridge open. Frankie must have been thirsty. I changed my direction and headed to the bar. He was facing the front door, with his back to me and no idea that I had joined him. I was able to see that he was drinking a Coca Cola.

“So you’re a Coke fan?”

He jumped and then turned on his heels to face me. I thought I had really surprised him because his face went white and his eyes widened. He almost choked on his soft drink.

“It’s okay. I’m more of a Dr. Pepper girl myself.” He exhaled and what tension his body held left.

“So, it’s one o’clock and I do believe that I promised you lunch. Are you hungry? What are you in the mood for?”

“You know, I’ve haven’t had a really good BLT in a long time…”

“Perfect! There is this great sandwich shop three blocks over. I”ll call and have them deliver. Do you want something else to go with your BLT? Chips? A brownie? Their brownies are made from scratch every day and are to die for.”

“Sure - I’ll get a brownie. Thanks, Maggie.”

He shot me a grin. I pulled out my phone and placed our order. It would be about twenty minutes before the food would arrive.

“The desk is mostly done. I just need to reattach the legs and secure the top. Do you wanna check it out?”

I nodded and followed him into the shop. Sure enough, our sad little desk was mostly assembled. I was taken aback at the progress he made in three short hours. Turning to him, I asked how he was able to do all of that in such a little amount of time. He bashfully looked down at the floor while his prominent cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

“It’s nothing special. The damage looked worse than it really was. It just took some glue, screws, and a little patience.”

The building’s doorbell rang out loud. The food had finally arrived! We both walked to the entrance of the theater to meet the delivery driver. After taking the food, I fished my wallet out of my back pocket to give the driver a tip. Frankie raced to pull out his wallet.

“Let me take care of the tip.”

“No way. I said that I’m paying and that is precisely what is going to happen.”

“You said lunch was your treat. That doesn’t cover the tip.”

“Dude. No. I am paying and that’s that. Put your wallet away.”

Frankie sighed, but relented. He put his wallet back into his pants. I turned to face the poor confused driver. She thanked me as I handed her a ten dollar bill and then promptly left.

“Let’s eat on stage at the table. I’ll grab us each a beer. Just don’t tell Jeff if you see him. This’ll be our little secret.” I held my finger up to my lips. Frankie made a zipping motion over his. Grinning, I handed him the bag of food to set up. I flounced over to the fridge and grabbed a Budwiser, an Angry Orchard, and a bottle opener. I opened our drinks at the bar. When I returned to the stage, he was pulling up a second chair to the table. I hopped up onto the stage. We both sat down and began to eat our lunch.

“This is great,” he said with his mouth partially full.

“I told you. Sandwich Society is one of the best places to eat in the city. At least that’s how I feel.”

“This is as good as the BLTs I grew up with in Colorado.”

“You’re from Colorado?”

Frankie nodded his head as he swallowed a bit of sandwich.

“Yeah. Boulder. I lived with my grandparents there until I was 14. Then I moved in with my best friend’s family. Once Pope and I graduated high school, we joined the army and then left. That’s my best friend. His name really isn’t Pope, it’s Santiago. Pope is just a codename.”

“Do you have one?”

“A codename? Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not that important. The only people who refer to me by it are my army buddies and it’s really ridiculous -”

“Is it like Pinkie Pie or something along those lines?” He looked down at the table and softly chuckled. As he looked up, he blepped his tongue. I would have been a liar if I said that I didn’t find that adorable.

“No - it’s not Twilight Sparkle either. Uh, it’s Catfish.”

“Why Catfish?”

“Cause of the whiskers on my face. I know, it’s dumb.”

I didn’t think it was dumb. It was pretty clever - almost bordering on the line of cute. All I could do was grin like an idiot. To change the subject, I brought out my phone and opened Spotify.

“How about some tunes? The sound of the rain hitting the roof is driving me nuts. What kind of music are you into?”

“I’m more into classic rock. Sometimes old country, but mostly classic rock.”

“I can dig that.” I pulled up my classic rock playlist and tapped the large green play button on the screen. Kansas began playing the intro to “Carry On Wayward Son”. I returned to my veggie burger.

“You listen to classic rock,” Frankie asked, arching one of his eyebrows.

“Of course, I do. It’s great music and what I was raised on. Fleetwood Mac was practically a religion in my house. Why wouldn’t I listen to it?”

“I didn’t think that someone in their mid-twenties would know this stuff.” 

I laughed. “Mid-twenties? I hate to break it to you, but I’m thirty-one.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s okay, Frankie. I’ve always looked younger than I really am. I can’t count how many times in high school alone I had friends’ parents who thought I was a younger sister in elementary school. Especially since I had a penchant for wearing oversized hoodies. I’m pretty used to it by this point.”

As I gave him a reassuring look to know that I was not offended in any way, the next song on the playlist began to play. Just hearing that first guitar chord of “Go All the Way” by Raspberries caused a wave of dopamine to wash over me.

“I fucking love this song. When the tape player in my car worked, I would play it constantly. I’m almost convinced that the stereo died on purpose so it wouldn’t have to play this song again. But it’s such a good song - it hits all of my buttons. What I would give to have that stereo system work again. Just to listen to my music with the windows down and the wind playing with my hair on a warm summer night.”

“I’m not really a mechanic, but I do have experience with technical systems like that. If you’re comfortable, I don’t mind trying to see if I can fix your stereo.”

“Oh, Frankie. That’s so sweet of you, but you are already doing me a solid by fixing this desk. I can’t ask you to tackle that as well. It’s not fair. Anyway, I couldn’t even begin to afford a repair that big -” Frankie gently held his hand up to stop me where I was.

“I’m offering because I want to do this. I’m not asking or expecting anything in return. I only want to help a new friend. Especially since it seems like you really miss your music.” He looked at me with big brown puppy dog eyes.

“Okay. Just remember that Carly is an old lady. She’s set in her ways.”

“You named your car CARLY?”

“It seemed punny.” He rolled his eyes and suggested that he return to work. I nodded in agreement and volunteered to clean up while he finished. As “Don’t Fear the Reaper” began to play, he headed into the shop and I began to tidy up. I was utterly charmed by this man. This man who appeared out of thin air and dropped into my life. He was so sweet, generous, soft, and - No. He was just being friendly. His being friendly did not mean that he was interested in me like that. I needed to reign in my sense and feelings immediately. Leaving them to run wild would only result in me getting hurt.

“You should be fine for the show this weekend,” said Frankie as he reentered the space. “Just keep the clamps on until Friday morning. The glue should be dry by then. I can come by during the day and do it for you, if you want.”

“Thank you so much. You don’t have to do that. Unless you think it’s best that you remove the clamps yourself.”

“It’s not trouble. I’ll swing by on Friday. If something looks out of the ordinary over the next couple of days just call or text. I’m always just a text away.”

****

Over the next few days, Frankie and I were constantly texting each other. We were almost as bad as teenagers. One of us would send a hilarious meme and the other would have a smartass remark. We’d ask each other how their day was going and if they heard the latest stupid headline. It felt good to be able to check in on someone and to have them check in on me. Every time that my phone’s text alarm went off, I smiled to myself like I had a sweet secret. I knew that Frankie was just being polite with these conversations, but it made me feel so special.

Frankie sent me a message on Friday asking if he could come by then to take the clamps off of the desk and to look at Carly’s stereo. Within the hour, he was there inspecting his work. He said that everything looked good and he removed the clamps. The desk ended up looking like nothing had happened to it. As I looked at the repaired furniture with a sense of dumbstruck awe, he asked for my car keys. I handed them to him without even looking. When I snapped out of it and turned to thank him, he had already moved on to the car.

For the next few hours, I kept myself busy with administrative work and preparing for that evening’s show. As I was finalizing the evening’s will call list, I heard a quiet knock on my office door.

“Yes,” I said. My head was down, still going over seat assignments.

“Hey, Maggie. I’ve got something I think you should see. Could I pull you away for a few minutes?”

I looked up to see Frankie at my doorway. His brow was covered in beads of sweat that kept his curls matted down. He was clearly hot, but it didn’t detract fromthe enthusiasm in his face. I stood up and followed him outside. We walked over to Carly and he opened the driver’s side door for me. Thanking him, I slid onto the red cloth seat. 

“Turn the ignition and press the power on the radio.” His face radiated excitement. I did what he asked me. All of the sudden the sweet sound of guitars and asking to go all the way filled the car. I was shocked.

“I do have to ask this - are you some sort of warlock or part of the occult?” He laughed and adjusted his cap, bashful.

“No. I just had to replace the fuse and reconnect some things.” 

I turned to face him. “Frankie, this is incredible. You are so insanely talented with your hands. I know several people who need things done or fixed. They would be willing to pay good money for that. Would it be okay with you if I passed along your number so they could contact you?”

He looked taken aback at my suggestion. I automatically felt embarrassed. Had I overstepped my boundaries? He was a pilot. Maybe he didn’t want to do handyman work. Did I offend him? He began to speak again.

“Yes, please. Thank you so much. I’d really like that.”

“Fantastic! My sister has some things that need to be repaired. I will go ahead and text her right now.”

--------------------

TAGS: @absurdthirst​ @larakasser​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @wickedfrsgrl​

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

totally stealing @honeybabydichotomy‘s meme-adaptation concept re: i have a handful of things that could be described WIPs and nearly all of them i already can’t shut my mouth about, but here is a trip through the GOOGLE DOCS GRAVEYARD of abandoned fandoms past (mcu, trc, something too embarrassing to list above the cut so you’ll just have to CLICK and find out)

first up, the last fic i never actually wrote for, lmao, american idol season 8 RPF fandom, back in 2010... this was going to be a bigbang fic but in keeping with my terrible track record re: challenges etc. i did not finish it, although in my defense that had at least something to do with spilling coffee all over my laptop right around the time i started a very hours-intensive job with a huge commute. when i look at this now i’m like, this sure was me writing ten years ago, but i still love the emotional architecture of any story in which one deliberately shut-off and long-repressed individual is uncomfortably thawed by the miracle of someone else’s open-hearted joie de vivre; it’s the oldest story here but arguably the closest to an actual WIP in that the ghost of that idea is the seed for the divorced quentin AU i harbor hopes of one day writing; you can definitely see the Relevant Vibes in this exchange, i think, although i feel the need to clarify that adam lambert enjoying twilight is a thing he said on national television, i wouldn’t do that to someone on my own:

Veselka is crowded, but despite the bitter February cold, Kris doesn't mind waiting outside for twenty minutes, leaning against the glass display case of the expensive toy store next door, separated from Adam by little more than an inch. "So - okay, this is kind of terrible. Like, worse than the Twilight thing. But I feel like you should know who you're dealing with, so."

"It can't be that bad."

Adam just smiles knowingly. "Oh, can't it?"

"Hit me with your best shot," Kris says. Something twitches in his stomach as Adam raises his eyebrow to that.

Adam leans down to whisper in Kris's ear, sending inexplicable sparks down Kris's neck. "Sometimes, when I'm standing in the street or on the subway or something, I like to watch people go by and try to guess what they're like in bed."

Kris blushes. "Very mature," he says with a nervous laugh, embarrassed about his own embarrassment.

Adam holds up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Hey. We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars," he intones. "Oscar Wilde."

"Do you think that's true?"

"I think it is. At least - " Adam tilts his chin up, a mischievous glint in his eyes " - I identify with it."

Kris searches for something to say that won't make him seem hopelessly square. "What's the view like from down there?"

Adam gazes at the night sky, where Manhattan's perpetual glow blots out all but the brightest lights. "I like it. You see more of them this way."

Kris thinks he's spent six years priding himself himself on keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, avoiding the pull of the horizon or the distraction of the sun. "So. Mr. Gutter." He points to a thirty-something man getting out of a parked Ford across the street. "What's he like?"

next up: an unpublished MCU snippet! this was a peggy character study set at howard’s funeral, also an excuse for me to have feelings about tony stark; idiotically, i actually have a complete draft of this, and got a really brilliant beta job from @nimmieamee, but then never went back and revised it and also could not bring myself to post it when despite being passable as done i could tell in my bones it was simply Not Working, even though parts of it i really liked:

Howard had not taken to aging with grace. It, too, offended him: the body betraying the dream of perfectibility. Dodging it had taken up an increasing percentage of his time. He took up jogging, early among the public, too late in his life: a few months in and a busted knee earned him doctor's orders to abandon that pursuit. His bones were already too brittle to benefit. Howard himself had become brittle long ago. You could blame the war; but that was what happened to people with no give to them. They were like the driest branches waiting for a storm, only unlike branches they recognized on some level the precariousness of their structure, and consequently dedicated themselves to forgetting it.

Howard was undeterred. (Being deterred also went against his every principle.) He had swimming pools installed, outdoors in Los Angeles, adorned with artificial rocks arranged just so to give the impression of a hot spring, and indoors in West Hampton, heated, lit underwater with a yellow-green glow throwing tendrils of light on smooth white walls. Fitness gurus and nutrition consultants were put on retainer, a bicoastal platoon to prevent malfunctions; physical therapists were brought in to recalibrate around malfunctions. They quit with increasing frequency, as his temper frayed along with his body. He gave up, in sequence, smoking, alcohol, red meat, all meat, alcohol, sugar, processed grains, alcohol, salt, and direct sunlight--although by the time of this last pronouncement, it produced little noticeable effect.

Lately he had become obsessed with the idea of cryogenic freezing: the fantasy of going to sleep and waking up in a time when his intellectual heirs had figured out how to repair and replace his rusted pieces. Skin firmed and thickened; knees stitched back to mint condition; a whole new heart, perhaps, grown in a jar or assembled from compounds yet to be constructed. "Wouldn't you take the chance, if you had it?" he had murmured, eyes going dreamy as they did when he talked of his latest missiles.

Peggy pictured Steve in the Arctic, his hyperactive cells stilled by the indifferent cold. She shivered, like a child hearing a ghost story, and said no, she wouldn't.

finally, two stories from a fandom i actually never published any stories with, or engaged with in any meaningful way: the fuckin raven cycle. the dumbest books on god’s green earth. the first was a ronan story where gansey actually dies and stays the fuck dead, and ronan handles it by being a huge asshole, and then, unlike in these hideous godforsaken books, actually decides on purpose to be a better person.... i’m realizing revisiting this now that some of the itch of this story i’ve finally gotten out of my system via damage control, but the GENIUS IDEA of ronan giving matthew an actual soul by giving up the dream power and thus becoming an actual human, sadly, does not really transfer, even though it’s the best concept i’ve ever thought of in my life. anyway, whatever, i have a type:

He opened the door. Adam and Blue were looking at him with expressions he couldn't decipher. Noah was looking at the floor.

"Are you—" Adam started. Ronan watched the word okay die of its own irrelevance in Adam's mouth.

"None of you were invited," Ronan said.

Blue started, "We just—"

"Sorry," he said, loud enough to drown her out. "But this is a very exclusive party. That means no rednecks"—he pointed at Adam—"no bitches"—Blue—"and no pussies"—Noah. "So I'm going to need you all to leave."

He focused his eyes on Blue. She looked like she wanted to slap him. This was familiar. He wanted to go back to the time when his only interactions with Blue Sergeant involved saying something and watching her look at him like she wanted to slap him. Things had gotten complicated after that. Then Gansey had died. Ronan couldn't articulate the connection, but he felt strongly that it was there.

"Maybe I wasn't clear," he said. "What I mean is: get the fuck out of my house."

and last but not least, another TRC story, motivated initially by dreaminess and then sporadically continued after TRK came out (seriously like ever 18 months i dig this one out and write another 500 words and give up again) out of spite - a story where, because fuck stief, adam parrish gets a cell phone, ronan lynch gets a job, and no one assumes that finally having sex means you’re basically married forever without even talking about if you’re boyfriends. this one is like, so close to being “done” in that it almost goes beginning to end and has a lot of individual lines i actually like, but has always been very difficult to pull together because of the reality that maggie stiefvater wrote a series such that ronan lynch acting like a decent boyfriend or experiencing character growth or talking about his emotions is literally out of character, which makes it hard to write a dreamy summer hook-up story; i was actually thinking earlier this year of picking it back up YET AGAIN, but then damage control ate my brain... one day, perhaps, for the satisfaction of having finished... or i might just listen to “cruel summer” by taylor swift while meditating on it for a couple million more hours:

“Did you call me over just to give me the fucking silent treatment in person?” Ronan said. It sounded less vicious than it should have. Like he had been aiming for a growl and somehow landed on a mumble.

I didn’t call you over, Adam wanted to say, but it wasn’t actually true. He had. That seemed wrong, though. Ronan Lynch wasn’t someone to be called over. He was too wild and spiteful for that. Even Gansey couldn’t manage it. The rest of Ronan’s world had given up trying long ago.

But when Adam had called, Ronan had come.

He felt like he might throw up.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” he said instead. “I’m just—“ But he didn’t know what he was doing. So he switched tacks. “You just—“ But he didn’t know that, either. And asking Ronan what the fuck are you doing had never yielded helpful results.

So Adam stuck to the truest thing, what he had worked his whole life to make true. “I’m leaving in three months.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything,” Ronan spat. This time he was closer to the expected intensity, but there was still something strange under his voice. Maybe not. Maybe Adam was just having a nervous breakdown.

[enchanted-prose]

#15 Friar’s Lantern

number fifteen: burger king foot lettuce

yay! 200th post!

Word count: 5,705

Characters: Roden, Regar (Original character), the Faola (original character),  Ulspierre (stinky peter pan boy, original character), Merry (original character)

Notes: my beta and ffnet readers loved this chapter and i loved writing it :,)

Enjoy!

The constant drumming of horse hooves was enough of a warning; everyone cleared the streets at the sight of the king’s soldiers marching to lower Drylliad.

Jaron had survived worse than a kick to the leg, and he would survive this attack. Even if the Faola hadn’t intended to kill him, any attempt on the king’s life was considered an act of treason. It was Roden’s calling to see that the perpetrator was captured.

Doors rattled shut. Roden pulled his helmet visor over his eyes; the buildings were becoming less structured, and the alleys were crammed with people trying to stay out of the law’s way.

He didn’t blame the urchins quaking in fear.

Carthyan knights were a fearful sight.

“Lord Thomas Row dispatched members of his army,” said Lieutenant Alistair, his voice muffled by his helmet. “His orders were to sweep the city looking for Regar, just in case we fail to find him.”

Roden shook his head, “I know where Regar will be.”

He’d fought the Faola before, only to turn around and fight with the Faola deep in the Vaults. Roden was sure that he’d find Regar there. The Vaults made for an easy escape, and an easy trap if used correctly.

The Vaults was the Faola’s domain.

Drops of dark liquid stained the cobblestones, and pieces of rotting food had been thrown about. A cart lay on its side. Windows were shut against the cool, twilight air.

“Stay on your guard!” Roden barked as he dismounted.

No matter how many times he wore his full suit of armor, he’d never get used to the jarring sound his boots made when they hit stone.

It was even worse when followed by twelve other pairs of armored knights repeating the same motion.

The entrance to the Vaults gaped at him, eerily similar to how the gates to the Devils’ lair were painted. No messages were hammered to the wooden posts beside the door-less hallway. No words begging for the weary traveler to turn back and find shelter in a safer place.

Stairs descended into hazy blackness, and for a moment, Roden swore he saw movement. He’d been surrounded with night-dark rain the last time he’d come to the Vaults. It was strange to return with a band of his men and a series of torches.

Though there were no messages of certain death, there was a chipped saber discarded a few steps down.

With a wave of his hand, a pair of men rushed forwards, carrying torches larger than a man’s head. There were signs of a recent struggle; bloody trails left by clawing fingers, a series of dusty footprints.

Roden held up his fist as he descended into the first level of the Vaults.

“Captain,” called one of the torch bearers. “We won’t be alone.”

And he was right. The light from the torches were met with the bright beams from mining lamps. Whispers hissed through the air, growing louder and louder with each comment.

“Keep the torches,” Roden ordered. “Use them as weapons.”

“Yes, sir.”

The first room was packed with men and women, both masked and unmasked. They lounged in corners and hung from beams. The Faola were too relaxed. Barrels lined the far wall, and mining lamps hung from hooks in the ceiling. Stagnant puddles glimmered. A large man was wrestling a patched bandit. He was speaking in tones too soft to be heard.

Roden was the first to step into the room, he kept his sword extended.

A handful of Faola burst into motion, shoving themselves into a circle in the middle of the room. The others jumped to their feet, swords and daggers drawn. A figure swung down from the ceiling.

He recognized a boy with flaming red hair.

“We understand that there’s been a, ah, situation,” said the boy. He bowed. “We have no quarrel with you, captain, we’re simply peacefully gathering.”

“State your name and business,” Roden countered, stepping aside to let his fellow knights flood the chamber.

“Ulspierre, and my friends and I are here to stage an intervention for a mutual friend. You’re a decent man, Captain Harlowe. My sister speaks highly of you.”

“Cut it with the words, Ulspierre. This goes beyond you.”

Sister. Roden scowled, there’d been a few sisters in the past.

Red hair, hanging around the Vaults. Participating with the Faola.

Ah, Ulspierre was Ayvar’s brother.

A drop of water hit the stone floor, and several more Faola prepared for a fight. Roden tipped his visor up, staring Ulspierre down. It was a simple exchange, a fugitive for peace. Roden wanted the Faola who attacked Jaron, Ulspierre probably didn’t want to die.

It would’ve been easy if Ulspierre gave the Faola up.

“There was an attack on the king,” Roden boomed, taking pride as a few of the Faola flinched. “We know the culprit, and we know he’s involved with you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ulspierre scratched the back of his head.

“I didn’t come to-!”

“-Play games, I know. Quite rare, people typically come here to do just that. I know me an’ my Faola friends did.”

Roden kept a firm grip on his temper. There were more of the Faola than his knights, and he didn’t want to cause unnecessary endangerment. Ulspierre wanted to be recognized for helping catch Jaron’s attacker, he’d back down once he got what he wanted.

Or at least that’s what Roden hoped would happen.

A few more of the Faola jumped to a fighting stance, only to be met with the sounds of drawing swords. Ulspierre yawned, and sauntered over to one of the barrels. He spun around, revealing a plain chalice, and pried off a barrel lid. Roden grunted. The Faola hadn't moved, and neither had his soldiers. Ulspierre dipped the chalice in the barrel after he'd filled it with amber liquid.

The front room had been converted during the short time Roden had been away. There were shelves with boxes, shelves with bottles.

Though there weren't nearly as many Faola as he'd seen during the first attack on Feall, there was enough to make up a substantial gang. Roden wondered just how much he'd missed in ignoring the Faola's movements.

"Hand over the Faola," Roden ordered again. "I know you have him."

The sheer lack of respect Ulspierre demonstrated in sipping from his chalice plucked at Roden's fragile grip on his temper. Ulspierre shook his head, "Captain, dear captain, this is about networking. Have you heard the term 'pick your battles'? I'd be surprised if you didn't, you seem like the man who needs that tattooed on his arm."

There was only one mark on Roden's arm that served as a reminder of something.

It still stung him at times.

He said nothing as Ulspierre took another drink. The Faola in the middle shifted; somebody's foot hit somebody else's leg,  and the harsh sound of a fist hitting a face cracked through the room.

"I'm not an idiot, Ulspierre," Roden explained. "I'd rather not get my boots stained with blood."

"What a coincidence! Neither would I!"

However, he made no move to give up the Faola.

Roden's gaze flicked about the chamber, compiling as many details as he could. There was a large figure in the middle of the Faola. Each of the barrels were scuffed, as if they'd been moved recently. More than half of the Faola had been caught without their masks on.

Perhaps they truly hadn't been planning on a rogue gang member attacking the king.

Somebody shifted, and every blade started at the sound. A fight was brewing in the air.

It would need to be stopped before it began.

"Tell me-," Roden began again.

"Listen to me!" Ulspierre burst, tossing the chalice aside. "It is the same as it was before! We didn't give names before, we don't know who attacked your king. I do know that he's gotten my sister thrown into a tower, and he's almost gotten us killed by you. Right now."

"Give me the attacker!"

Ulspierre drew a short, crooked blade, "Release us and my sister! We take from those who have too much! We never intended to kill anyone!"

Too many times had he lost his temper and taken it out during a sparring session. But this was different, it wasn't a sparring session.

This would soon expand into a matter of life or death.

Roden had too many plans to die at the hand of a bandit.

He could try once again. He could try to mend things before blood spilled. "You won't be touched if you comply, Ulspierre, I promise you that. We’ll forgive your involvement in the attack.”

“Not true,” Ulspierre shrugged. “We had no idea about any attack, your king is good to us, we have no reason to kill him. We’ve been here shuffling barrels all afternoon.”

“Then tell me where your friend is, Ulspierre, and we won’t have any trouble.”

“See, my friend isn’t exactly my responsibility at the moment, he belongs to somebody else.”

“He’s not exactly your friend then, isn’t he?” Roden countered, taking a step towards Ulspierre and the circle of Faola.

Ulspierre’s gloved hands shot up, “It’s my life, sir knight, my choices.”

“No, not just your life. The king was attacked and if you won’t tell me where your patched acquaintance is-,”

The room went completely silent as Roden lunged forward, his blade less than an inch from Ulspierre’s neck.

“-I will have everyone in this room arrested on charges of high treason.”

He was close enough to Ulspierre to see the fear leaping from his eyes. Ulspierre cleared his throat, “Commander! Somebody would like to discuss your methods?”

Roden took a step back as the circle of Faola dispersed, revealing a scarlet haired bull of a man holding a patched Faola by the neck. The Faola weakly slapped at Regar’s grip before going limp.

Commander Regar nodded his head, “I appreciate that King Jaron sent help.”

“Seems you handled the situation on your own,” Roden lowered his sword to keep his arm from tiring, but took care to keep it in view.

He knew he should’ve been relieved that Regar was safe, but a nagging at the back of his mind couldn’t let him accept that this was right. Roden could justify leaving the Faola alone by claiming he couldn’t see them while they redistributed stolen wealth.

But to ignore an attack on the king was too much.

As Roden grew more involved with the Faola, he was realizing that there was an entire rogue kingdom under his nose.

“The attack was much more, ah, personal than you’d expect. My apologies.”

Personal? He didn’t mean to frown as he considered the weight of Regar’s words. The Faola’s attack was based out of revenge; Regar’s tone confirmed that.

And it seemed that Regar knew much more than he showed.

“This bandit is an enemy to the crown,” Roden explained, gesturing to the head locked Faola. “He will be taken and-“

Regar shook his head, “We do things differently in the streets, sir.”

“An act of treason is-“

“I caught the attacker, who swung a sword at me, and it’s my privilege to decide punishment. The rules are different, here. Had you caught the man first, you’d have the responsibility of choosing his fate. But you didn’t, and as one of the victims, I have a say in how this ends.”

Dozens of glittering bandits’ eyes turned to Roden and his men. He knew they wouldn’t hesitate to slit throats if Regar’s demands were challenged.

“The death penalty requires a unanimous vote,” Roden growled. “A vote from a respectable crowd, not a hoard of thieves.”

The Faola began squirming again at the mention of death, only to receive a hard shake from Regar as warning.

Ulspierre wiped away an imaginary tear, “Patchy here is a friend of mine, I’d hate to see his head severed from his body.”

“I had a completely different punishment in mind,” Regar snapped. He pointed a meaty finger at Roden, “You’re an honorable man, can you respect the ancient law?”

Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, blow for blow.

The knights all looked to Roden; they’d fight to the death if he ordered them to. The Faola all stared, and Regar’s patched prisoner stole a glance.

His eyes carried a graveyard’s color.

Roden stood a little straighter, “I hold rank here. The Faola landed a blow, but the punishment for treason can only be sanctioned by the king.”

“Take the bastard’s mask off,” Ulspierre perched on a barrel. “That would put a fat target on his back.”

Regar threw the patched Faola to the floor, and drew his sword. The other Faola slid into a ring. Each one kept a sharp eye on Roden’s men.

The Faola held his hands over the back of his head, curling up like a child. A pang of almost guilt punched through Roden’s ribs. He remembered being the lost thief at the end of a sword, just hoping somebody had the compassion to bring him to the good path.

He’d watch Regar’s every move.

Treason didn’t merit dying in the Vaults like an animal.

“If you’d be so kind as to step out of the circle, captain,” Regar bowed, and drew a dagger from his belt.

“I’ll be watching, Regar.”

Ulspierre stood on his barrel, chalice in hand again, “Take the mask off, commander! Turn him over to the crown when you’re done!”

The Faola curled even further around himself as Ulspierre’s demands to unmask him grew louder and louder. Roden’s knights kept a firm gaze on as many masked men as they could; Roden never stopped watching Regar.

A fit of laughter erupted from the circle as the Faola made one last attempt to escape. He threw himself at the feet of his fellow bandits, only to be dragged back into the circle.

Roden frowned.

“I am not who they say I am, but I cannot let this grievance pass,” Regar announced, reversing his dagger grip. He took the Faola by the collar of his tunic. “You best be grateful I’m dealing with you, and not the king.”

If it weren’t for Ulspierre’s childish laugh ringing through the room, Roden was certain the judgement would’ve been made in silence. The Faola began jostling Roden’s knights, calling to unmask their fallen friend.

However, Regar had a different plan. His words were lost on the jeering crowd; Roden strained to hear.

His attempts were futile.

A million thoughts crossed Roden’s mind. He instantly regretted allowing Regar to hold that much power over a bandit. A bandit who likely wasn’t much older than some of the pages running around the castle.

It would be too easy for Regar to slit the Faola’s throat.

Something wet splashed Roden’s nose. He didn’t have to feel it to know what it was and who it had been intended for. Those who weren’t wearing their masks had taken to spitting on Regar’s victim.

He didn’t need to see the Faola’s face to know what he felt. The mask saved him from further humiliation.

Regar sliced through both of the Faola’s sleeves, and pushed him to the ground.

It was a simple motion that carried the weight of the sky. Regar hadn’t unmasked the Faola.

He’d separated him from the group.

Those sleeves would forever bear the mark of a disowned bandit. The patched Faola could never return to his family of thieves. Not here in Drylliad.

Exile was always a cruel fate, but it was better than facing charges for treason.

“I’ve taken what’s due,” Regar roared over the crowd. “So help me Saints, I run into you running with bandits again, I’ll-!”

His threat was lost as Ulspierre shouted an order. “Chase him down! Treat a stray the way they’re meant to be treated!”

The Faola struggled to keep his sleeves up as he crawled away from the spitting bandits. Crawling, with the dignity of a drowned mouse. He rolled away from a boot, only to be met with another. A metallic ring cut through the musty air; Regar was shoving several masked bandits. Ulspierre stood atop his barrel, twitching his finger to an imaginary tune.

A knight threw back his hand, knocking over a member of the mob.

Roden glanced back to the fallen Faola, who’d curled up around himself again.

He thought of Brat, Beetle, and Roach. They’d be dead if not for the Faola. It was a favor to somebody who’d once saved his life when faced with the scum of the Vaults.

“Hold the line!” Roden barked, swinging his sword at anything soft as he stepped over the Faola.

A masked bandit slashed a knife across Roden’s armored shoulder. The teeth-grinding sound of metal sliding across metal was becoming all too common. Ulspierre threw his chalice at one of the knights, and then flung himself into the fight.

The patched Faola had drawn a dagger, and was swiping at the mob from his place on the ground. Roden reached down, picked the Faola up by the neck of his tunic, and shoved him in Regar’s direction.

Jaron wouldn’t be happy reading Roden’s report on this misadventure.

He should’ve taken the Faola into custody and played by the rulebook.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Roden forced his way forwards, calling for his men to follow suit. Their armor would hold up long enough for an escape. All they needed to do was race back up the Vaults’ stairs and into daylight; they’d have better reinforcements then.

Regar tossed the Faola over his back, grabbed an attacking bandit with his other hand, and hurled the bandit into the crowd.

“Up the stairs!” Regar bellowed, now using a captured bandit as a human shield.

Planting his feet at the base of the stairs, Roden stared down the fury before him. He shoved armored soldiers up the stairway and kicked at the masked Faola who were trying to follow.

Battle was chaos, but there was still order. There was still a requirement that needed to be met; somebody needed to win.

There was no order in the Vaults, only Ulspierre giving orders between drunken laughs.

It was too much like the pirates. Too much like Devlin selecting who lived and who died because he was bored. Regar ducked below the stairway entrance, allowing the patched Faola to slide down his back like an eel.

Blood thrummed in Roden’s ears, roaring over the sounds of fists hitting faces. His gauntlets pinched his skin as he tightened his grip on his sword.

He had the power to end it. To end the madness in this level of the Vaults.

He could slice his way down, taking as many mad bandits down with him as he could.

Roden braced himself to charge forward, reason fleeing from his mind. It was peaceful without that call to logic. Without that drive to continue.

All he knew was that he had the strength to-

A pair of gloved hands slipped below his breastplate, dragging him back. The Faola continued yanking him up the stairs, yelling something down to him. Roden turned on his heels, took the Faola by his skinny upper arm, and dashed out of the Vaults.

The Faola slapped at Roden’s hands as they burst out of the dark stairway. Knights, soldiers, and mercenaries surrounded the stairway entrance with weapons at the ready. The patched Faola froze.

“Commander Regar, Captain Harlowe,” Lord Row waved his hand. Beside him sat King Oberson, who looked like he was going to be sick.

Regar stole a glance at the Faola, who nodded.

Roden knew he was seeing a secret conversation. He moved to put his sword to the Faola’s throat, but at the same time, Regar stumbled forward and latched onto Roden’s shoulder.

“Let me go!” Roden shouted over the clatter of his armor. He wasn’t a fool, he knew- he-

“Apologies, Captain Harlowe!” Regar burst, almost pulling Roden to the ground as he reached for Roden’s hand.

All he saw were fragments of an image. Regar was a mountain of a man, and he’d dragged down several knights with him. The Faola had been hiding behind him. His patched cloak fluttered in the dusk breeze.

The Faola had vanished into the Vaults by the time Roden regained his footing, likely to never be seen again.

“What in the Devils’ name was that!?” Roden roared, red seeping at the corner of his vision. “How did you let him go!?”

Punishment had been served, yes, but letting go of a man who’d committed treason wasn’t an easy mistake to make up for.

Regar coughed, “Don’t yell at me, boy.”

Boy? Boy?

He’d heard it over and over. Older soldiers claiming they didn’t have to listen to Roden because sometimes he cut himself while shaving. Claiming they’d seen it all.

He’d lost a bandit who’d overpowered the king with a swift kick to the leg.

Roden had failed at protecting Jaron, and though he’d survive, future attackers wouldn’t be so kind.

Unfortunately for Regar, Roden had enough.

“Alistair!” Roden barked, his voice taking a sharp edge. “You will accompany Commander Regar to the dungeons on allegations of treason, his fate will be decided by the king.”

Row looked shocked, “Captain-!”

“You others, escort Lord Row and King Oberson to safety,” Roden continued over Row’s complaints. “There’s a dangerous man looking for blood.”

A group of knights on horses hit their fists over their hearts, and circled around Oberson and Row. Alistair and his men were almost a little too relaxed as they guided Regar through the crowd.

The rest of the soldiers were under strict orders to search for the Faola with torn sleeves.

However, Roden was no fool. He knew the bandit was long gone.

He was tired.

The goose chase would keep him free to find more pleasurable entanglements for a few hours.

Too much responsibility, not enough results.

--------------------------------------------------

The dancing crowd crammed into the Dragon’s Keep was too enticing. People piled in, and the brash sound of pipes and a lute careened through the air. A familiar dark coat pushed into the crowd.

So, Tobias wasn’t able to keep still either.

Roden watched him shove his way through the doors. A part of him knew he needed to stand beside Tobias and keep him from getting his teeth knocked out. A part of him knew he needed to return to the castle and explain how he’d lost the Faola.

But he didn’t move.

His armor, though abandoned at the nearest garrison, still weighed down his arms. Still clung to his shoulders. He’d failed at keeping Jaron safe, and now he was willingly letting Tobias walk into a tavern filled to the brim with all sorts of people.

No, no, Roden couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let Tobias try to blend in and end up crying over a limping frog.

There were too many things to worry about. He stepped forward, forcing himself to continue moving despite wanting to stay still. For Tobias, for Tobias.

Can’t let him get his eye blackened. Can’t-

Cool fingers tucked over the lip of his breastplate, freezing against his burning skin. Roden scowled at the immovable figure before him as best as he could. A splash of blue kept her curls off her neck; he’d cut that scarf himself.

“I didn’t realize my biting wit hurt you to the point of staying away from the Dragon’s Keep,” Merry wrinkled her nose. The left side of her face was covered in red welts.

“Merry, I didn’t-,” he began, freezing in his tracks.

She shook her head, and held up a basket, “It’s alright, I was actually coming to see you. You missed out on tarts the last few days. I, ah, I heard about what happened in the Vaults. Regar’s men are loud drunks.”

His ears burned. He hadn’t realized word of his failure escaped that quickly, “Tobias went in, I need to keep an eye on him.”

“Bad idea, you might be prepared for a battle, but Regar’s men won’t play fair,” Merry tucked her basket in the crook of her arm. “Come on, I had every intention of walking across the city, now you get to come with me.”

Her hand pressed against the small of his back.

“Stop pushing, I’m not your ward,” Roden grunted, and he draped his arm over her shoulders.

“Ah, but I am your friend,” she corrected.

Friend.

There was an unspoken agreement Roden shared with Merry. It came in the form of sharing tarts and poorly made scarves. It came in the form of stopping by every few days to make sure the other hadn’t gotten their head stuck between stair railing again.

In reality, the head sticking incident had been completely Merry’s fault, but if it happened once, it was all too likely that it would happen again.

“Who hit you?” asked Roden as he slipped the basket off of Merry’s arm and into his hand.

She cracked a smile, “So my face is still there, glad to hear that.”

Roden frowned, ready to ask again. He steered her out of the path of an older woman and her several escorts. “I’ll hold you down till you tell me.”

“Nobody hit me, I promise.”

“I’m not an idiot, Merry.”

“It’s embarrassing!” She threw her hands up. “I slept in this morning and today’s fish day, and the other barmaids got to run their errands, but I had to get the nasty crawfish from the river. They were trying to escape and I didn’t want them to pinch me, which made me run into a door frame. Is that what you want to know? Do you like embarrassing me?”

“Is the doorframe injured? I know how hard your head is.”

She stuck out her tongue, “I’d rather have a fat head than cabbage curls like you.”

Hold on, hold on. Roden tilted his head from side to side, unable to ignore the harsh reality of his shortcomings. He’d let the Faola get away because he’d foolishly trusted Regar, and now Regar was holed up in a dungeon for choosing to exile the Faola rather than slit his throat.

It was wrong to fight the smile swelling in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel at ease.

Ease was for those who didn’t have an obligation to put the lives of others in front of their own.

The hand at the base of his spine tightened. “Captain?”

“Yes, Murry?”

“It’s Merry,” her frown was too deep to be genuine.

“Murky?”

“Merry!”

“Mucky!?” Roden rolled his shoulders back. “I could’ve sworn it was Merry, why didn’t you tell me I was saying it wrong?”

“Roden! We’re not children!”

“You started it,” he countered. “Mucky.”

Her fist was too small to do any damage, but Roden appreciated that she’d thought her punch could overpower him. He hid his chuckle with a cough.

This was wrong. She was a friend, not a distraction. He was avoiding the inevitable. Avoiding telling Jaron that the Faola had been too slippery, and had gotten away. His head was throbbing.

Why did she have to look at him? Turn away Merry, nothing to see here!

He was a fool to have left his armor at the garrison. It wasn’t fair, he’d forgotten to bring his mask and helmet today. Roden scowled at the stray cat that dashed across the street. It slipped across the wet stones, and vanished from view.

The Saints cursed him in making him the size of a bear. Bears couldn’t run and hide.

“Did you know you’re much more likely to catch a friar’s lantern in Carthya than in any other place?” The warmth of Merry’s hand at his back vanished; she was beckoning to him, asking him to cross the street and look at the Roving River below.

Roden stared at her extended hand.

It was an invitation, not an order. He caught himself reaching forward and drew back into himself. “I don’t- I don’t know what that is.”

Her hand stayed, still inviting. “It’s a golden light, swinging in the wind. They’re elusive, some say they’re carried by Death himself. He loves his games, as you know, and takes the form of a friar.

“He calls you through a haze, promising your deepest desires. Ones you didn’t know you had yourself. If you can follow him and catch the lantern, you’ve won the game and won the reward. But nobody believes you. The friar’s lantern takes and takes, it’s hard to consider it ever giving.”

Take her hand. She’s a friend, not a hidden Faola hoping to cut off an arm. Roden reached out again.

Lights danced across the bridge’s wet stones, mimicking their partners glinting off of the Roving River’s bubbling surface.

Merry’s little tale hid too much; the friar’s lantern was an unreachable thing to those who couldn’t soldier through twisting games made of mist.

She twirled towards him the second their fingers brushed together. Roden set the basket of pastries down, and set his hand at her back. The moon would be their music.

“What’s your lantern, Lion Boy?”

“Is it wrong if I don’t know?” Roden felt his brows knit together. “I don’t know if I have a lantern. What’s yours?”

A wicked smile cut across her impish face, “I’d be drawn and quartered before anyone knew my lantern.”

“It’s that serious?”

“You wouldn’t quite understand.”

“Try me.”

Merry only shook her head, there’d be no answer tonight. Did he even want to know what her lantern was?

He watched her struggle to maintain eye contact. Merry’s hand in his was too tense, too afraid of being caged. She stepped forward as he stepped back. Step to the side, step forward. Side, back, side, forward. Squeeze in a cowardly turn.

“I don’t want to be held back,” Merry blurted. “I’m not anybody’s toy. I’m not a pawn.”

“You’re not a toy.”

Had the moment been wild and open, Roden would’ve called for Mott to watch. He’d seen Mott turn Jaron’s words around too many times, and now Roden was doing the same.

Silence hung on the summer air a little too long. Roden cracked a smug grin, “You’re my friend, Merry. I’d rather push you forward than hold you back.”

It was Merry’s fault that their timid dance ended. She threw her arms around Roden’s neck, nearly knocking him off balance. They were friends. There was nothing wrong with embracing her back.

“You’re a good person. Too good,” she wiped her nose. “But your ankles are too small and now I’m uncomfortable. Good people can’t have small ankles.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, and rocked from side to side. Avoiding the bear in the room was a skill Roden had perfected. He knew when other people used it too. Unfortunately, Merry wasn’t as subtle as she hoped.

“And I take it you have tree trunk ankles?” Roden leaned against the bridge wall, a little more aware of the night breeze than before.

“Do you want to see?”

Comparing ankles wasn’t exactly what Roden expected out of his night. He reached forward, and pinched Merry’s round cheek, “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to say no.”

“Is it because your ankles are too small?” Merry swatted at his hand.

“That’s too much of a secret to tell.”

“Ah, I figured out my lantern.”

“Don’t tell me it’s to see-“

“It’s to see your ankles.”

“By the Saints,” Roden snatched Merry’s elbows and pulled her closer to him. “You need to see a priest.”

Merry clasped her hands together and looked to the sky, “Holy ancestors, forgive my lust for Captain Roden Harlowe’s needle thin ankles.”

It was too hard not to crack a smile. Roden shook his head; he knew fully well that his ankles were at least twice the size of Merry’s. She held onto his forearms, and Roden wondered if she was seriously considering forcing both of them over the bridge’s edge.

His fool’s paradise shattered when Merry’s thumb brushed over the pirate brand on his arm. Though the fabric of his shirt hid it from view, it was impossible to miss when touched. Merry’s eyes went wide.

Was this the way he looked when he’d touched the scar on her shoulder?

Roden straightened, unsure of what to say. Fire burned across his face. The pirate brand served as a constant reminder of how far he’d fallen. It was a testament to the lengths he was willing to go when he cared enough.

“I think I was wrong about you,” Merry trailed her finger over the bridge of his nose. “Maybe you would understand the stories I have to tell.”

It was then that he realized just how old Merry’s eyes were when she wasn’t sparkling with laughter. A weary traveler, constantly fleeing an enemy.

Or perhaps constantly tracking a friar’s lantern.

“The scar on your shoulder,” Roden murmured.

She shrugged, “I didn’t lie when I said I earned that one from rock hopping.”

“You said there were others.”

He’d never seen such a bitter smile. Merry waved her hand, “It’s not important.”

Kind words weren’t something Roden knew well for a very long time. He’d known curses and cruelty for too long, but he’d been taught tenderness. Taught by Harlowe and Nila.

Roden tugged on one of Merry’s stray curls, “It’s important to me.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t speak to you?” He tilted his head. “I like you. Are you going to shove me off a bridge, Mucky?”

Merry pinched his chin, “No, I’ll do something much worse than that.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“But you should be.”

Roden lunged forward, catching Merry by the waist to toss her over his shoulder. She squealed in protest.

Carrying her on his shoulder was better than searching those travel-worn smiles and false laughing eyes for answers that would never be given freely. He didn’t want her to know that she held too much power over him.

He’d managed to let go of his failure with the Faola for just a moment.

A moment filled with ghostly lanterns and a moon dance.

[khdiscussions]

Huge Breakdown: Sleeping Realms Theory

 Tl:dr, I still don’t like the theory, and my rebuttal had almost zero points proven otherwise and you can read the whole thing below of my liveblogging.

The fact that they call Riku’s act an “Act of true love” first of all makes me believe this is meant to sell canon SoRiku and I’m already unimpressed. It shows biased phrasing and takes away from any credibility this theory could ever have with anybody who isn’t a SoRiku shipper because it is ultimately pushing that Sora and Riku are going to be romantically involved and as somebody who really needs to edit her ship list and remove SoRiku...no.

...Okay so the Ultimania already proved this wrong I don’t even have to go through the rest.

Before I go into it, I can see how from just reading their summary, you can fall into the trap, however, the Realm of Sleep and Dreaming Worlds are ultimately the same thing. You cannot enter the Realm of Sleep without Dreaming Worlds unless you are coming to the brink between it and death. As such, it would still require every world Sora visits to be a Dreaming World, and thus have fallen into darkness. Since we know this isn’t the case, my “Alpha Timeline” and “Beta Timeline” labels are fully and 100% accurate. Even the way they describe it “World Line” implies and Alpha and Beta Timeline. If we ignore that KHUx is confirmed to be taking place in data still, the world lines cannot be in the same timeline, as they’d be two separate universes. Meaning the events of Alpha Timeline and Beta Timeline are two separate entities and cannot be condensed into the same Realm.

Meaning even if this is Beta Timeline, Alpha Timeline and anything that happened in it are factually irrelevant, because when Sora and co. slip into the alternate Worldline, because essentially the events of it don’t come to pass or matter. If this was real parallel worlds split, then even if Sora is now inhabiting the mind of his Beta Timeline counterpart (which for the record, he should have his memories if he’s the one who brought them all back) there still needs to be a Beta Riku, a Beta Kairi, etc, otherwise there wouldn’t be Xehanort attacking and even then.

If this is a separate worldline then that still wouldn’t be counted as the same timeline, however. Which the Ultimania directly argues against in its pages when things occur in a single timeline, but I digress.

Other things I find directly wrong as conflicting with power is Sora directly states in KH3 that it was Kairi’s faith in him and her light (her powers alone) that helped him hold his form. Not the PoH’s.

“Riku’s strength comes from his love for Sora”

Actually, in that scene they’re talking about how Riku wants to rescue Aqua, and that’s his desire to “protect what matters.” This is a line that has been paralleled in several games from Riku (most notably in which is Kingdom Hearts 3D) and given the line makes him flashback to Terra, it’s likely that his strength is actually being explained as coming from protecting the people he cared about. Aqua, who gave him the chance to escape the RoD (who he’s trying to protect), Terra, who gave him the Keyblade in the first place, and Sora and Kairi, his two best friends.

When facing the same way, there are also several difference in KH3D’s and KH3′s hair that stand out. They aren’t the same and they point that out in the theory. In this case I don’t think it’s similar enough to be of note.

Second, this does not explain how and why Riku dropped and since he is still dropping a) In the Realm of Darkness into a different realm and different World Line and b) Into a completely separate World Line when he should still be alive in the first. At this point, Riku is alive in the Alpha Timeline and would have no idea of his impending death. A drop should not be necessary. So my Riku point questioning why is still valid.

Xigbar cutting out is also a direct easter egg to us, the viewers to keep us from understanding what’s happening, and not what actually occurs in the game. 

...I want to quit at the logo having bad graphics gradient being used as evidence but I’ll keep going but this kind of shady business practice would likely cause such an amount in distrust that sales after KH3 would plummet and anybody who buys what is the biggest release of the series to be told it’s only that in technicality has no standards. I’m sorry. If this is actually technically KHII.9 my trust in Square and Disney (especially Disney is important, because you should know I am Disney stan 69 and see them as good) is gone. Just poof, gone. No more. And I wouldn’t want to invest in the next big entry because what if it’s just another lie.

(Nitpick: Nomura said an early world in KH3 would be Twilight Town, not that it would be the very first world. Even then, had 0.2 been packaged with KH3 like initially planned, it’s highly likely it and Olympus would’ve been 2.9 anyways.)

(More nitpicks, the TWEWY explanation does not account for the fact that Joshua actually has power to bring people back to life so long as a shred of their soul exists. It sounds like Shibuya got destroyed and Josh saved what little was left of his friends to take to somewhere they could be safe, not necessarily that the Sleeping Realm in specific called out to him. This is again Nitpicking.)

Ansem Reports foreshadow an old plot twist that’s not even valid. Aqua’s magic is now the source that rescued Kairi, not Xehanort’s experiments sending her away. Kairi being flung out the door is also representative of the events of the Island falling and them losing their safety and shelter. It’s not Kairi herself, but Ansem’s arrival on the islands that Xehanort is talking about.

Everything about this seems like it’s trying to invalidate SoKai with the Paopu fruit scene. She eats the fruit. Maybe if you hadn’t opened with “Riku loves Sora and this is Riku’s act of true love” I’d buy that this is real but as it stands the authors come off as salty that SoKai got a Paopu sharing scene.

Kairi’s death is the release of her heart as Nomura called it directly in the Ultimania. I know this was written before the Ultimania’s release but moving on it’s not a death sequence. Even then her death resembles Xion’s so it’d be more inline with the Replica theory floating around, so not a Dream Eater.

“Kairi is the Darkside in the Dive” No.

Even if Kairi did die, her heart has no darkness, all that would happen is she’d fade into darkness. She cannot physically form any dark entity, let alone one that has always been connected to the darkness in Sora’s heart. And yes I read how they point out that it’s made of water but that’s because it’s literally made from the Final World itself. As for where Kairi’s heart is, canon answers this. It’s waiting for Sora, because the Heartless cannot kill or steal her heart through the Lich. Remember back to KH1? Kairi had lost her heart, but rather than form a Heartless, all we got is a body. 

More Ultimania tidbits disproving this, but the Dive to the Heart is meant to take place after the entirety of KH3. This means it’s after Sora leaves to rescue Kairi and has beaten Xehanort.

Kairi being a Chirithy theory my points are still valid on because it doesn’t work. Kairi cannot be a Chirithy because we see her after the drop point in her KH2 outfit. Therefore meaning the cat ears have nothing to do with her after the drop point.

Point on the Dream Portals is accurate and inaccurate. It says they’re ways to travel to other worlds, but everytime they’re used it’s in exactly that way in game. The two pink locations bring Sora closer to the Realm of Light after the Final World, and the second portal takes him into Scala ad Caelum, another world. It ain’t that deep.

More points, Dream Eaters don’t just exist in the Realm of Sleep. Summoning Meow Wow and friends does not matter if they can exist outside of the Realm of Sleep. Scala ad Caelum is implied to be a special world to begin with and I’ll be honest, the Caribbean is probably for ease of gameplay. If anything, I would be more curious in how water in the Realm of Sleep (and memories re:CoM) allows people to walk.

“Gayblade” Your SoRiku bias is showing. (Also Nomura violated a lot of things for rule of cool. You think a gameplay mechanic showing up means something?)

Comparing what happened to Sora and Aqua is very different. Aqua had darkness shoved into her (Nort lite) while Sora actively fell into the deep darkness he was surrounded by. Aqua could’ve emerged from the water, but did not. Sora chased darkness, and fell right in. As for how they saved Aqua in the Alpha Timeline, this wouldn’t have changed? It was Sora using his light to reach Aqua as she fell in the darkness similar to Mickey doing so for her in 0.2, now that she was free of the extra darkness Ansem shoved in her for some fun. It had nothing to do with darkness or sleep.

So we’re talking Toy Story here and his “Not this time” doesn’t add up because if Alpha Timeline is dead and Beta Timeline are a second chance then Xehanort should not have any recollection of the initial timeline/worldline because you still don’t explain why he bothered with following Sora down instead of leaving him to just stay trapped in the Realm of Darkness. There’s no strategic reason to it and Xehanort is a chess master.

“Hey let’s explain shit” Okay first of all the Goofy reference was a way to include the new arc words but without that, the others are all ways to catch up new players so they’d have an idea of what’s going on. There is no in universe reason for it. All of this was excuses for filling in new players. (As for the Unversed: Just because we only see Donald and Goofy at Yen Sid’s Tower does not mean we see what happened to them before they arrived there, jsing. Mickey may have also shown them things. Just because we don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.) Most of the other memory shenanigans are either just springboards for banter or, in Riku’s case, save your energy for the battle against Xehanort ahead.

The Station of Awakening line is pointless since Sora has visited his dive multiple times in the series. As Roxas and as himself in KH2 and KH1 respectively and a final time in 3D when his heart was taken in by Ven’s armor. The Station of Awakening after all, is essentially the stained glass hearts.

Heffalumps stopped only appearing in dreams when they showed up in Winnie the Pooh. Also the promotional material quotes Nomura admitted using because they sounded cool.

Yellow Kingdom Hearts is on KH1′s cover as well. It’s had more appearances. Stands to reason it’s the more official color. Could also be be based on who, what, and how it’s summoned. 

Keyholes: Both Scala Ad Caelum (born from Xehanort’s heart and Kingdom Hearts) and the final Keyhole are forged to deal with sleeping. It makes sense they’d be the same.

YMX’s warnings are referencing exactly what KH3D Sora did. No more complicated theory necessary.

Skipping the Disney world synopsis because I know these worlds far too well at this point for my own Disney sanity.

Pulling symbolism from KH1 when KH2 wasn’t even planned by this point is wrong and also Riku being true love and light reeks very much of that SoRiku bias I mentioned. Okay skipping all this it’s literally just SoRiku and I’m not here for that. I’m here for the theory, not “Why Riku is Sora’s true love.”

“Riku and Kairi both helped Sora hang around” Except Riku dies at this point in the timeline. You can’t make an argument he’s alive because his heart is guided over by the Lich. What’s helping Sora hold on has nothing to do with what it is, otherwise he would just be another shapeless star, like Namine, the Nameless Stars, or the rest. It’s Kairi’s life that gives him the form to come back to life. Saving his heart has nothing to do with it and it just reeks of that same ship bias that was why I skipped the whole section on sacrifice. These 70 pages are irrelevant because all they do is take importance away from Kairi completely in the story, meaning she’s fundamentally useless besides a dark force. Which means Kairi literally doesn’t matter and can be written out of the story.

Kairi’s heart being lost is a full stop. Her heart was released at the end of the game. Saying it’s lost in the Lich sequence makes no sense, especially when she’s the one who guides him back in what is, as noted by PhoenixDowner’s translations, one of the more romantically weighted scenes of the game.

Summary of the more recent pages “SoKai is noncanon and you’re just being mislead it’s actually SoRiku that’s canon” and I’m starting to see where that anon came from...you could’ve saved this theory a hundred pages if you ignored the shipper stuff.

Everything in this ending is literally saying “Kairi doesn’t matter” and “Sora doesn’t care about bringing Kairi back” what the actual fuck?

Okay so I see a lot of talk about Sora and Riku being in the Sleeping Realms (which for the record that secret ending does not tease that but okay) but it still doesn’t explain how the events actually happened. The events of the Sleeping Realms are not the true reality. They’re Beta Timeline but if they never leave the Beta Timeline then the Alpha Timeline is still lost and legitimately none of this matters because at some point they have to leave the Sleeping Worlds, because at the end of the day the Realm of Sleep is still a dream. It still doesn’t happen?

Rage Form is Sora harnessing his darkness.

Rikunort is KH1′s Riku’s heart after he fell to darkness traveling to the awaiting vessel in the future. He’s not Data Riku, and the scene cited from Re:coded is actually a Riku memory held within the Journal’s data, not something happening to Data Riku at all.

In conclusion: I don’t think it’s all a garbage SoRiku fanfiction.

But I think way too much effort went into proving SoRiku was canon.

And also most of the holes I poked in the theory are still pretty valid. 

And now I also know it’s contradicted by several Ultimania interviews whether the original writers acknowledge it or not.

But whatever, it’s not my cup of tea, you guys can still like it.