#nothing is set in stone yet but there's some ideas floating around...

[spire-of-ink]

Canard IX

Canard IX – It passed my lips like a bird learning to fly.

Lorelei turned the glass door’s silver knob and stepped into a grand ring. It circled the central pillar of the Library, looking in on it with vast swathes of dark stone lit by glittering blue crystal chandeliers; patrons and goers milled around, talking, some made of crystal, some with several arms, some of imposing stature and tusks and horns, and yet others with a serpentine body that glimmered in the lights, draped in dyed glass silks, and some others looked to be no more than ghosts, shadows coalescing into the shapes of people that perused shelves lining the walls.

Lorelei took it all in at once and asserted herself—she put herself forth and marched towards the nearest column. It had set in it a cavalcade of bodies, it seemed; porcelain figures, dolls, they appeared to be, sculpted into extravagant forms, feminine and voluptuous, shimmering in the Library’s blued light. They nestled around a delicate crystal screen, which on it displayed in bright color: the Library’s search catalogue, a gray-and-white formatted page dryly containing links to every file available and its place within the system. A bar for input sat empty, the keyboard below extending like crystalline mushroom stalks under Lorelei’s hands to meet her fingertips.

As she typed—the words came alive. She tapped out a search, “Witch of the—” and the computer before her, the dolls wrapped around it came alive, to see the screen, to see Lorelei, now all peering down with their marble hair and jet-black pearl eyes; they hungered with curiosity for her input. And they whispered. “—Of the Wind? --Of the Heart? --Of the Gray?”

She swept those away, physically as much as mentally, jabbing a finger at a doll that had come too close to touching a key. No, Lorelei shook her head and focused on the search: “Witch of…”

Then she sees it. Inside. It subtly taps at the glass.

Lorelei backs away, shooting back just a second before recollecting herself. Right, this was nothing new to her. A living search engine would only make sense for the Library. She steadied at the panel of melded dollish bodies and focused her eyes to the screen.

There it is. The doll. Unbidden by her, the doll is there, in the screen, a figure with brilliant rose-quartz hair, porcelain frame and amber eyes, foxen ears and tail swaying—but all digitally. All on the screen before her. “Hi!”

The voice comes from the dolls lining the panel, but is clearly belonging to the kitsune inside the machine. Lorelei responds, “Um, oh, hello,” and gives a slight wave.

“Hello, Lorelei,” the image of a doll waves from the console, “This one is Cynder Nevara Cybil, and it shall be your guide to the search you seek.”

“And my search is for my Witch’s title, yes.”

“Then you’ll have to follow this one,” the Quill beckoned from within the monitor.

And so she did—in a way she didn’t expect. She felt her soul—no, she felt her Heart, her very being tugged at, pulled upon, and then yanked—but not with a jerking motion, but an elegance, as if she’d longed for this path, this way into the Nether. She saw a sea of streams, doors opening by and by, as if she were a ghost floating across the rivers of data. Her physical form dissipated across a refraction from the screen, a trick of the light leading her forward.

Vast coils of weft weaved in and amongst it; great dragons prowled the stardust skies, the shimmering seas, for they were both at once, dust and ocean, fragments of ideas whittled down to the granular specks of ash there are now; death eternal, always here, preserved, within the chaos of negative space.

There she met Cybil, alighting on a raft in the pitch-black tides. It was a scanty thing, and yet, it felt so vastly heavy beneath her.

Lorelei washed ashore of the data sea unto this raft of seeming dark metal and crystal board, and Cybil hauled her up with a hand, but—it wasn’t as if they were drenched, then, suddenly, as she crested onto mental seascape, it was as if they been on a manse afloat, everything clear and clean and dark.

Cybil, pink hair swaying in the nightly breeze, asked, “What are you the Witch of?”

“Nothing,” she said, a tear falling from her eye.

Cybil nodded. “Nothing is everything.”

“And this itself?”

“Will also be recorded.”

“And?”

“Broadcasted. To the worldline receiving it.

“Good. I remember now.”

“Remember?”

“Why I’m here.”

[theresidenteccentric-writes]

May Writing Challenge, Day 1

⚙️

1 May 2025: Will-o'-the-Wisp

Goal: 200 words Result: 572 words

This work contains: nothing triggering (unless you don't like fantasy)

Please read at your own discretion!

⚙️

It was there only for a second—a flicker of light I saw out of the corner of my eye. I had been walking home that night under the orange glow of streetlamps when I saw that small, unnatural flash of blue.

Naturally I turned around, but was met with nothing but the empty lane. Rubbing my eyes, I started to turn back to the path, but stopped. There it was again. It had come back, this time right in my line of sight.

A floating, humanoid flame that seemed to whisper as it burned, hovering just above the ground not more than three steps in front of me. My words tumbled out in an awed breath:

“A will-o’-the-wisp…”

I felt somewhat silly, talking for an audience that wasn’t there. But at the same time, I was witnessing something unusual. Wisps rarely, if ever, were spotted this early into the night. Most stories in my town spoke of them only appearing after midnight. The sun had set not more than an hour ago, yet there was the mysterious ghostly flame, as blue as a piece of the sky.

I had heard many tales about them, of course. Some said they were malevolent spirits. Others insisted they were helpful guiding lights. Standing here in the soft glow of the wisp, I couldn’t tell its intentions. I had no way of knowing, either way, unless…

My curiosity got the better of my conscience. Reaching a hand out, I stepped toward the flame. It moved backwards, almost playfully. With wide eyes and a quiet laugh, I started walking, speeding up as the wisp led me away from the streets and into the forest. Long shadows danced across the grassy floor as I ran. The rustling of leaves mixed with the excited whispers coming from the wisp as it flew on forward, deeper into the forest than I had ever been…

And that’s when I reached the stones.

Tall, imposing, and riddled with ancient writing, they formed a circle around the little wisp. I slowed to a walk as I approached, staring up in awe. This place felt sacred, mystical, magical. The blue glow was brighter here, and the darkness of the night seemed to stay outside the circle of stones, less oppressive than before. 

The hushed, whispering voices grew louder, more present as I moved toward the wisp, hand outstretched. It was nearly maddening, the noise quiet yet so persistent it felt as though there were bees in my brain. But as soon as my fingers were about to touch it, the wisp disappeared in a blinding flash of light, leaving me disappointed. I was hoping something might have happened. Perhaps it could have granted me a wish, or given me magic of my own, or opened a gateway to another land…

I rubbed my eyes again, feeling tired, but something caught my eye. The stones looked different now. The writing had changed.

What? 

The more I looked around, the less I recognized my surroundings. My heart began to pound. What happened? How could this have happened?

I got up and sprinted through the forest, unfamiliar trees and paths making my head spin. The lights of a town soon came into view—but as I neared it, I felt my stomach twist. 

This was not home. 

I knew it for certain. The wisp had taken me somewhere else, somewhere different. 

But then… where on earth was I?

⚙️

Ooh, I left myself on a cliffhanger! Will I ever get around to continuing this? Will we ever know what happens? Maaaaaaaybe...

Anyhow. I wound up on a roll while writing and accidentally-on-purpose exceeded the 200 words. But do I care? Nahhh. I've had this idea in my head for weeks now, and it's about time I did something with it.

For me, this challenge is just something to keep me motivated enough to write. It also keeps my mental health from going outta control, so there's the added benefit of that too. Either way, I'm just happy to be writing again.

[muspellssynir]

ADWD little snippet made for my kitty because. Well.

She gave me the material how could I not?

NSFW

You took the words not like an invitation but a recommendation. You did need to destress and hot springs sounded absolutely ideal.

He must have been around of course. People die all the time everywhere, and they do seen to enjoy hot water. You think he must know that too. Reapers have baths right?

If he doesn't he should.

That'd be...

The thought of his hair floating in the water, his pale skin almost glistening with droplets, his knees up because he's too tall for the tub, legs spread...

You gotta stop yourself. The heat is starting to rise up and you don't know if you'll be able to put it back down in time. There's only one train left today to take you there and you cannot miss it.

You pick something breezy, cute and beach like as an outfit. It feels almost like you're going on holiday even if it's just one afternoon. It's thrilling.

You're still using caspers software to communicate when he's away: he seems to refuse to just call You on the phone. Still he at least nerded out again and got you a phone app. You message him telling him you'll be going and hope he sees it. Maybe you could send him a Pic or two over there, get his own imagination going.

The thought of his blushy pout when he refuses to acknowledge he's been looking will never not be funny.

But there's nothing hotter than the way he looks at you when he does, confident and full of fire and aching to touch you.

You taunt him and tease him but he doesn't answer. You can't even tell if he's read the messages: he didn't allow that function for you. Silly little reaper keeps thinking you don't know he's always on top of everything you do.

Still an answer would be nice.

You turn up the music and the commute gets so short; the train stops barely a couple of blocks away from the place he mentioned. There are several hotels around there but the inn was more akin to an old Japanese castle: you almost feel like you have to bow when you get in.

However its people are immensely nice and inviting.

You get yourself some nice food and a room with a view to the open meadows behind; it is surprisingly cheaper than you expect. Not cheap per se but they offered so many accommodations for afixed price you didn't wanna leave before exploring every inch of the place.

After lunch and setting up it's finally time. You shoot him a last text before going. _this is all you're missing_ you write while posing very casually in you bathing suit. You cover it with a tiny sundress and get ready to go downstairs.

You're already chuckling at the idea of him losing his mind, convincing himself he does not want to touch and taste every bit of you and failing miserably at it when you open the door to the hot spring you reserved. These are individual separated pools by fences of reeds and stone. They're also meant to be enjoyed without a bathing suit.

But see. You don't expect him to be the one to tell you.

"You're a bit too dressed to be standing there,aren't you sunshine?"

Your heart shoots up to your throat and the entirely of your body to your cheeks. Well, almost.

He knows. Which must mean that under the water that goes up to his chest, slim shoulders and surprisingly toned arms learned on the Stones at the edge of the pool there was also only bare skin.

You swallow hard but there's still not much room for your voice to come out.

"When did you-"

"I invited you here didn't I?" He says ignoring the fact you paid for your own room but that seems to be such an unimportant detail in lieu of watching his silver strands floating like moonlight onto the water.

You try to be enticing, letting your sundress fall around you but your eyes can't stop staring.he smiles, or better yet, smirks, licking the edge of his teeth as if he was about to sink them into you. The blushy shy little boy had left to give room to this suave feral man that looked he could only be satisfied by every bit of you all at once.

You untie your top,let your bottoms falls and you can see him staring, exploring, swallowing hard. He doesn't even notice the groan coming out of him, the way his hand almost tried to reach. He needs to take a minute before finding that confident smugness and gets up to offer a hand to you.

It's. Impressive is saying so little. And that is not little. Your eyes trail down his abs, the v line of his hips, the way the water covers half his thighs and still isn't low enough to show him off.

You swallow hard again for different reasons. Your mouth suddenly water as you look at his crotch and hear him chuckle.

"What happened? Cat got your tongue?" He tries to tease you

"The reaper will get to, actually" you taunt back as you walk to him almost hypnotized, only one idea in your mind.

Is his cock as cold as the rest of his skin?

Will it taste as Pristine as he does?

There's only one way to find out

[loominggaia]

How this divine oc, the divine of smiths! He’s an ancient dworf divine and basically your stereotypical dwarven master smith. Immensely talented with metal and stone able to create masterworks of unparalleled quality and magical power, but also a stubborn/ staunchly conservative and isolationist asshole. 

He’s originally from Zareen and lived their most of his immortal life, but has moved to an isolated forge temple under the shrieking mountains of Folkvar in the past millennium’s. He’s a huge metallurgy nerd with an encyclopedic knowledge on all manor of metal facts and ancient forging techniques, having traveled the world and studied all he could on metal working in his younger divinity years. He used to be a lot friendlier and more social, running massive ancient forges and refineries where he taught not just the dworf mastersmiths of old, but literally anyone who was willing to learn, no matter their species/ nationality/ gender/ etc… . He’s responsible for creating many powerful magical artifacts and weapons, the likes of which no living mage has yet to replicate.

He used to support his people and their industrialism in his early days, seeing it as nothing but good for his fellow dworfs back then. However after millieneia of witnessing his peoples sacred metalcrafts erode away and be replaced by cheap mass produced junk/ the destruction of Gaia at the hands of runaway technology and capitalism/ as well what he considers the most horrifying, his masterworks be misused to cause mass destruction and death soured him away. He abandoned his empire in disgust and left, moving and shutting himself away as to avoid everyone.

With the exemption of a clan of oreads who bring him materials and keep him company he’s mostly a hermit, shunning modern Soceity while he tends his forges and crafts masterworks to pass the time. He’s difficult to contact, rarley ever accepting students or commissions anymore. All prospective students must completely swear to avoid modern technology and submit to learning “the old ways”, and endure his tough regiments as a now harsh master. Getting a hold of one of his works being even more difficult! Basically submitting you to harsh testing to see if your worthy of one of his works and won’t misuse them, having curses attached to his current master works as punishment for their misuse.

I love this kind of story, it's right up my alley! I imagine some really wild weapon and armor sets floating around the world because of this guy.

Maybe a sword that can kill anything with one cut, but cursed so that once you pick it up you can never let it go. That sort of thing.

Really cool character idea, thank you so much for sharing this!

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[divtanver]

Some random AU idea what appeared in my head while working

Part One: Homecoming

The flash from the explosion of the collapsing structure brought Tails back to his senses, getting up from the iron floor, he rushed to the exit where Sonic was already waiting for him. On tired legs, he approached him and stopped, something prevented him from moving on. Strange pressure from the inside. Looking down, Tails saw a hand plunging into his chest. Light from the pre-exit lamp intensified and reflected the shadow spreading out in a contented grimace.

"I'm sorry, little buddy, but our paths diverge here" Reached clouded by shock mind

Something crunched inside. Vision went dark. The legs gave way and the limp body fell down like a stone. But the expected slap did not reach his ears. Tails continued to fall from the seemingly ledge that appeared under his feet straight into the abyss, accompanied by mocking laughter and a crazy smile. Soon, figure with the heart clenched in his hand went behind the disappearing horizon, taking with him the last dim rays of light.

Betrayed and terrified, Tails was heading into the oldest of the layers of reality. To a place beyond the domain of time and space, where is nothing but emptiness that hides its secrets behind a black canvas, where new visitors have been waiting for so long. However, he was not the only one who was honored to feel the local hospitality, and soon hundreds of souls joined him, some of whom he could even recognize. Their distorted faces begged him for help, but he could do nothing but watch their minds slide into madness. Many eons he spend in this place, knowing its cruel nature, the methods of sadistic enjoyment of its inhabitants. Unbearable torment and despair under the pressure of endless pain turned into hatred and hope that one day he would be able to give the prisoners of this place the long-awaited freedom, become a sword that would slay the creator of this place. Tails needed only one chance, just one cog that would set the whole mechanism in motion...

.

.

.

A lonely wind wandered through the ruined city, with its cold blows it dispersed yellowed news leaflets from time to time through the deserted streets, one of which crashed into a pole stuck to it exposing the text.

TRAGEDY AT EGGPERIAL CITY

Collapse of the Eggman tower takes 63 lives, including recovery member Miles "Tails" Prower and evil genius Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik. Investigation into the causes of this incident is still underway, however, some detectives claim that there is indirect evidence of sabotage, but this has not yet been officially confirmed.

From a slight shaking, a small hole appeared on the road and a newspaper sheet detached from its support and drifted further along the air waves. Meanwhile, barely noticeable cracks began to spread in the asphalt, which eventually grew into one pit from which a black hand, shackled with a broken chain, climbed out of it and grabbed a lamppost and pulled the rest of the body, which red hands grabbed from the hole. From this touch, the lamp began to flicker, revealing a creature coming out of the darkness, woven of smoking stone and small lights instead of eyes. After leaving the crevice, it turned around and tried to pull out a few more, but the wormhole quickly chartered itself by cutting off the half-emerged arm without leaving a trace on the road. Cursing, the creature let go of a stump and began to look around.

It stood at an intersection barely illuminated by the rare rays of the sun, clouds stained with the blood of victims of a new era floated overhead, somewhere behind the dilapidated buildings, an unnaturally blue lightning struck with a bright flash. Lowering its gaze down again, the creature looked at the back of the palm on which the mark of the fugitive was slowly emerging, the fingers were cooling down, which made it increasingly difficult to move them.

"This body won't last long, I need to find a replacement," It thought to itself, closed eyes and pressed finger to temple.

Darkness engulfed everything around, but some time later a broken newspaper vending machine appeared in its borders. Opening eyes, the creature headed towards and began to move his palm over a pile of crumpled papers. The sent signal returned and the hand instantly grabbed the fragment of the sheet that came across.

FAREWELL TO THE HERO

This morning, accompanying procession brought the body of Miles "Tails" Prower to the Alley of Fame for burial, a queue formed at the entrance of those wishing to see the fallen legend for the last time, but several close friends of the deceased were not among them. Conspiracy theorists are speculating about the connection between the incident in the tower and this case.

The path was marked, now reunion is only a matter of time that going away with the warmth.

.

.

.

Among the many tombstones with familiar names, the sight of which evoked unpleasant memories, one marble with a smiling face reflected the figure of an uninvited guest.

Rest in peace Miles "Tails" Prower.

The letters were gray with ash. Without wasting time in vain, the creature began to dig up the grave with its bare paws and, having scribbled on the wooden lid, stopped. Behind the half-open door of the coffin lay the creature's native body. Having thrown the corpse behind its back, it jumped out of the dug hole in one leap and laid the remains on the ground and began to examine them. The body was quite well preserved, only a tear sewn with barely noticeable threads was visible on the chest - a painful reminder of the reason for his rebirth. Kneeling down and putting its hand on the face of the corpse, it closed eyes and, uttering unintelligible words, plunging fingers into the eye sockets. A faded glow began to emanate from the creature, which, swirling in the limbs, passed into the fingers and penetrated into the trembling body. A few minutes later, the light disappeared into the depths of the corpse, the stone creature fully petrified and began to crumble into dust from another puff of wind.

.

.

.

Gloomy stars appeared under Tails' slowly opened eyes, the body resisted rigor mortis and moved its limbs with a crunch in an attempt to stand up, the seams slightly parted and broken ribs could barely be traced through them. The living corpse rose from the frozen ground and, spilling out the loose soil accumulated in its mouth, moved deeper into the dead city towards the answer to its question: "So who you really are, Sonic?".

[memento-morianon]

Life and Death: Origins. A short story setting up some important lore for the world within Memento Mori.

Dark

Silent

Cold

Hot

Chaotic

Bright

Abyssal void gave way to rumbling fire, stone and metal crashing together in a cacophony so great it sent ripples through the emptiness. It would have deafened any creature that heard it. 

If any creature yet existed to hear it. 

But there were none.

Burning heat and bright light bathed the rocky sphere as it traveled through the abyss, circling a fiery mass at a distance. The perfect distance, in fact. This fiery mass was a sun, this rocky sphere a planet. Molten stone and metal continually broke the surface, building up the lumpy uneven surface. Minuscule particles were drawn in by the gravity of it, surrounding it in gasses that mixed and condensed. Air. Water. Steam hissed into existence, erosion began its steady work. Stone, fire, water, mud, steam. Sky. Ocean. Earth.

It emerged almost by accident. In the rumbling and bubbling and hissing chaos of the planet, already so old but still so new, the sounds of Life were imperceptible. Tiny. Insignificant. It was practically formless, nothing but microscopic blobs floating in the water. Life did not yet comprehend itself, only vaguely aware that it existed. It shifted and changed, it remade itself continually. Tiny. Insignificant. No. 

Thriving. Everywhere. Changing the atmosphere and the very world around it. 

Life was excited. It danced in the primal ocean, testing new forms, new skills, new strategies. 

Life didn’t know any better.

A shuffling shadow, slow and silent. Things seemed to stick to it, tangled in its tendrils. Life kept up its chaotic dance, unaware of the casualties. Unaware of Death trailing its every motion.

Death was not cruel. It did not strike out, it was no hunter. It waited. It followed.

Life was hunter and prey alike. Never ending hunger. Death merely picked up the remains, keeping record of all living things within the deep shadows of its empty form. 

How the world changed! Life never ran out of ideas. Soft bodies, shells, bones and scales. Teeth! It creeped out of the ocean and spread itself over the whole world. Forests, fish, fungi. Life even found a way to exist in the sky. 

Death shuffled along behind.

Life’s form was ever shifting, unstable, bright.

Death’s form merely grew, gathering up the remains Life left behind, drawing them into its shadows. 

Sometimes, so many things died in such quick succession, Death thought perhaps its job would end. Somehow, Life pulled through every catastrophe. It threw fits, it weeped, it wailed. More and more, it was becoming aware of the reality around it. It began to recognize Death, though it didn’t quite understand. 

Death found itself astonished by Life’s new creatures. Death remembered the first living things, the tiny, insignificant blobs. Not so insignificant now. Creatures as tall as trees, so heavy the ground shook beneath them. Death had seen massive creatures before, in the deep waters of the ocean, but now Life had found a way to grow so large on land as well. 

Death recorded every one of them. 

Death watched the massive rock burn through the sky.

Death watched Life wail and thrash as the air became choked with ash and dust, scorching the forests and suffocating every creature that was caught in it. 

There had been other extinctions. Bigger ones. Life hadn’t been so aware, though, back then. It knew a little better now. It knew Death. It screamed at Death, stubborn and defiant. Distressed and angry. Sad. 

Death could not comfort Life. It could not give back the dead. But it opened itself, and showed Life how it had kept record of all its creations. Death was vast, infinite, eternal. It was never empty, it was never full. All living things found a place within it. 

Death pointed out to Life how so many of its creations were reliant on the deaths of other things. Decay fed the forests. The forests fed the herbivores. Meat and blood fed the carnivores. 

“I am not your enemy,” Death murmured,

“But I fear you all the same,” Life replied. 

Death shuffled on. Life tried to avoid it, but inevitability cannot be avoided forever. Death marveled over the new creations. Warm and furry. They had been there before the meteor, but they thrived now. They grew into many forms, filing every emptied niche. 

Death saw Life’s creations everywhere, but it had lost track of Life itself. Itpaid this no mind. Life never stood still. But Death would catch up to it eventually. 

But Death was not expecting this new sight. 

Life’s newest creations. Primates, but different from other primates Death had already seen. 

They walked on two feet. They used tools. They found a way to create fire on purpose, and control it. 

And they were stubborn.

Death was baffled. It had never seen a creature that would not move along after dying. All creatures were easily drawn into Death’s shadows, like rain fell to the ground, like a stone rolled down the mountains. 

What was wrong with these ones? Death could collect their bones, but their souls were not so simple. Some went easily, even willingly, into those shadowy depths. Others defiantly stood their ground. They pulled against the gravity of Death’s ever-growing form. They seemed to recognize it. Stared it down. Ran away from it, though their bodies were destroyed and gone. 

Their souls wandered, untethered. Death watched. Death waited. 

The wandering souls became unstable, restless, fractured. Death was uncertain. This was new. 

The fractured, unstable souls fixated on specific members of their own kind. Some seemed to be fretful, worrying over their living relations. Others seemed angry, pestering those they left behind. The living creatures even seemed to take notice. 

Unusual. Strange. New. Concerning. 

Death did not know what would happen if these souls continued to cling to the living this way. 

Life, it needed to find Life. What had it done? How were these souls so stubborn?

“You are not Life.”

“I am! They gave me their title.”

“What does that mean? Where is Life?”

“Oh, wandering somewhere I suppose. I think they’ve made others like me.”

“What are you?”

“I’m immortal now! I was a mortal. Life asked me to take some of their power and their title, and aid them in the work of creation.”

“How? Why?”

“I don’t know. There was a ritual. I have power now.”

“Why do your kind not move on when they die?”

“I suppose we just like being alive too much.”

Death grumbled as it wandered. The old Life was nowhere to be found. It had left a remnant of its power in several mortals, scattered around the world. Death watched wandering souls become fractured and dangerous. Ghosts. A new and terrible form of existence, trapped between living and dying. Death did not know how to convince wandering souls to settle down and drift into its shadows. 

But watching the new immortals, Death had a thought. Perhaps Life had been smart. The world was so different than it used to be. 

Death drifted, keeping an eye out. Most mortals could not see it, until they died themselves. But Death needed a solution to its unusual problem. 

Walking through a field, a mortal smiled as it watched a dog bound through the grass. Even without the power and title of Life, mortals had managed to create new creatures. 

Above, the sky suddenly darkened. The dog barked and backed away. Startled, the mortal pulled their deer-skin cloak tighter, clung to the carved branch in their hand as wind whirled around them.

A massive figure emerged. Darkness and decay, bones and rot. Skulls bigger than those of any creature the mortal knew. The stench was unbearably nauseating, the sight was horrific. The mortal cowered, they wanted to run. They could not bring themself to move. 

“You, Mortal,” a voice so ancient and primal it could only be heard echoing in the mind.

“What are you?” The mortal asked, voice caught in their throat.

“I am Death. I have been here longer than you can comprehend. I have collected the memory of creatures you cannot imagine. And I find myself stumped by your kind.”

“What?”

“How can I get your mortal souls to come into my rest? Why do they wander until they fracture and lose themselves? It is not the natural way of things.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I cannot change. I only grow. I collect memory, I record all things within myself. But I cannot handle the souls of your kind. Perhaps you will have better ideas. Will you take my power and my title and assist me?”

The mortal blinked. Their dog growled and crouched behind them. 

But when a terrible god-thing asks for your help, what can you say? Perhaps a more defiant mortal would have refused. Perhaps. 

This was not that kind of mortal.

“I’ll do whatever you ask,” they said quickly, “but please don’t hurt my dog.”

[team-mythic-beasts]

Seven Years of TMB, Part 4: The Iridescent Rover and the Angelic Author

By Lucas Revefjellet (feat. Aluros)

(Read series introduction here!)

Trying to outsmart a god, let alone a life deity, at what is basically hide-and-seek with extra steps… is totally impossible. Still, I thought Aluros deserved a little treat for winning— a book about him, written by yours truly. Well… I was going to give it to him eventually, considering I’ve been working on it for a few years already.

As expected, I found him taking the Princesses out for a walk in the woods outside Alphica, happily singing an old song he transcribed for his scholar friends; Clementine trotting around his feet, Lorelei on his head, Domino floating next to him, and Minerva being carried around in his arms, sleeping.

To be honest, I didn’t expect that he’d be here in his god form and not some other guise like… Bengt the Bard or that blue goblin whose name I can’t quite recall. But again, with practically no one in Phantasmia knowing who he really is (other than me), I guess he has nothing to worry about as long as he’s here.

Still, I’m not letting him tag along with me to Mikel’s place unless he changes into his elf form. I’d rather have my partner call Aluros “Mr. Reynard” rather than try to wrap his head around the idea of an “entirely new” deity.

Whoops, I’m getting off topic here… Anyways, back to my story.

“Oh, Lukey! Nice to see you again. The girls have been wondering when you’d…”

Aluros and his familiars were quick to spot me, but quicker did their attention turn towards the purple rectangular object I held in my arms. It’s the God of Colors’ favorite hue, and every author before me who’s ever written about him made that very clear.

Before I could fully explain as to why I got him this present, a collaborative effort from the two older Princesses swiftly removed the book from my grasp, then into their maker’s.

“All About Aluros: The God of Colors… You wrote this for me?”

And so he gently sat himself down, laid sleepy little Minerva onto his lap, and began to go through the pages, each word and picture, as the other Princesses gathered around him. His grin, which started off small yet soft, grew wider with every detail that amused him.

I wasn’t expecting much of a reaction from Aluros since it’s not really an elaborate gift, but looking back at it now… I probably should have. Unlike the stone-faced goddess that is my mother, he’s always been an emotional deity, and this time too was he moved to tears.

“I’m so honored,” ��This is everything,” “Thank you so much…”

He kept repeating those words as he wept all over his new book and melted into a puddle, both his hair and the skies slowly morphing into a sweet, euphoric mix of purple, pink, and all those pleasant hues. The Princesses, Minerva included, meowed in harmony at the clouds, as they did every previous “purple sky.”

Like how the air turns golden to anyone who donates to a Moon Goddess statue, Aluros’ joy has the power to free anyone lucky enough to get to bask in it of their worries and all other negative sentiments. For all that my friends and I have endured these past few years, I admit this “purple sky” was much needed.

“Oh, I almost forgot… We got you a present too! Happy Birthday, Lukey!”

Well, I was so distracted from the joy of making Aluros happy that I forgot about my own birthday. Being the artist he is, obviously he’d have made me a portrait— marked with paw prints from all four Princesses.

Today, that portrait has its very own place in my study, framed in elegant wood and set right next to my table lamp. Whenever I’m a bit tired from writing, I’d put all my work aside and stare at it for minutes, even hours on end…

He’s gotten better at capturing my likeness yet again. 💕

Previous: Finny + Photia

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Friendship Masterlist

Always In Spring (ao3) - loveliketheweather luke/calum, background michael/ashton M, 17k

Summary: Luke and Calum’s friendship has gone through many highs and lows, and it’s so full of parallels and full-circle moments that it’s almost like the universe is set to make sure they grow, love and stay together.

And Action - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias) luke/calum, michael/ashton E, 24k

Summary: Calum won’t lie about it. His Best Friend’s Boyfriend’s Ex-Boyfriend is super cute.

Goodnight Kisses? (ao3) - heart_is_gonna_flatline luke/calum N/R, 8k

Summary: Calum is invited to spend the weekend at Michael's house, and maybe his feelings for Luke get a bit out of hand.

hello, hello (ao3) - bellawritess luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 30k

Summary: For one long, blinking minute, Luke stares at Ashton and wonders if he’s hallucinating. Because that’s definitely Ashton. That’s Ashton Irwin, his former best friend from Sunny Days, the show they co-starred on as children.

But it’s also definitely Ashton Fletcher, professional film actor worth many millions, possibly hundreds of millions, of dollars, standing on his doorstep, wind ruffling his hair.

oh nostalgia (be your own spotlight) (ao3) - nightskeletons calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 142k

Summary: Born and raised New Yorker Calum Hood is temporarily reassigned to a job site in the middle of nowhere New Jersey for six months. After accepting his fate of being miserable the entire time, he ends up meeting a group of three boys who quickly become some of his closet friends and help him to see all the things he's been missing by never leaving his own backyard.

Cue a playlist of early-2000s emo music, unexpected farm animals, summer nights under the stars, discovering who you are, falling in love, and a whole lotta nostalgia.

Pick You Up If You Fall To Pieces (ao3) - heart_is_gonna_flatline michael/luke N/R, 19k

Summary: Luke's stepfather is cruel and abusive, his life is a mess, and Michael just wants to be friends with this shy boy who sometimes hangs out with Calum.

Post-You Blues - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahl) calum/ashton T, 6k

Summary: Calum and Ashton fix each other when someone else breaks them. They’re the only ones who know how to, after all.

Promises are meant to be kept (But its so hard) (ao3) - notgonnamessthisup N/R, 2k

Summary: Calum’s eyes raked up and down his body and Ashton felt like he had gotten caught doing something he shouldn’t. “You’re stone-cold sober” He simply stated before turning around and walking towards the table

or

The story about how Ashton chooses sobriety but is incapable of being vulnerable so he tries to keep it a secret. His friends find out

Somebody To Love (ao3) - heart_is_gonna_flatline luke/ashton, luke/calum, michael/luke T, 8k

Summary: Or, Luke needs someone to love but can't seem to find the right person. He always turns to his roommate and best friend Ashton for comfort. He meets Calum. Will he be the one for him?

Superbloom - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 3k

Summary: Ashton brings Calum a CD.

the surprise ending i’m depending on (ao3) - diets0dasociety michael/calum, luke/ashton T, 15k

Summary: It seems the most obvious escape route: that he’s panicking over nothing and three years has a peculiar way of tweaking certain memories and it’s completely understandable that he’d see a similar phrase and make a connection in his head. It’s probably nothing, probably just another high-profile event he’ll get pleasantly tipsy whilst attending and forget about within a few weeks, once the hangover’s disappeared and unwanted texts from random numbers he’s obtained throughout the night stop filtering in.

And yet.

or, Calum receives an invitation that opens up a window to his past.

tie me to your fingertip (don’t let me float away) (ao3) - diets0dasociety michael/calum, luke/ashton T, 22k

Summary: Soulmate.

The world alone is enough to make Calum wretch. It’s a fine enough idea, sure – that somewhere out there is a person, just as oblivious as you, who’s destined to waltz into your life and make you happy forever – but it’s just an idea. A theory. Nobody knows how it works; nobody understands the tattoos. It’s just fate.

And, well, fate and Calum Hood aren’t exactly on good terms.

or, the malum soulmate fic nobody was waiting for in which Calum and Ashton are sort of brothers and Luke and Michael keep popping up.

Tour Mishaps (ao3) -��JessJ7890 G, 4k

Summary: Somewhere through their South America tour, Ashton falls victim to a stomach bug and has to deal not only with protective bandmates, but with a chronic illness that makes an unexpected reappearance.

wedding vows (ao3) - allsassnoclass (brightblackholes) roy/calum, michael/crystal T, 5k

Summary: Oh. It’s January 11. Michael is getting married today.

[conallblackbar]

her words had him lapsing into silence. he did not doubt that she felt them to be truth, but they had him thinking of the way his own life had panned out, the trials that had come his way that he had yet to overcome. "perhaps for some," he conceded, more to make her feel as though her beliefs rang true than anything else. because if he believed that, then he must also believe the gods must have abandoned him long ago.

his brows raised, seemingly as surprised by her acceptance of his offer as she was that he had offered in the first place. but offered he had, and accepted she had, and so conall turned to the sept once more, walking in pace with lucrezia, allowing her to decide the exact moment the pair of them entered the doors once more. she seemed inclined to take her time, and he did not seek to rush her.

and lucrezia sought to take her time, hand resting delicately on stone pillar. her grief was very different to the sort of grief conall had known, the kind that saw permanent dark circles ringing his eyes, a scruff on his chin. in grief, lucrezia still managed to pull herself together, retain the grace and poise and dignity that conall did not think he had ever possessed. she took it, and tucked it away, so that those who did not know what had befell her cousin and her aunt may not even recognise it, rather than allowing it to be the hammer that shattered her apart. conall admired that ; wished he could be more like that.

he hummed, busying himself with the lighting of candles, his hands slow and clumsy, soft hisses escaping him as he burned himself more than a few times. his hands seemed to shake permanently these days, more so when recovering from a heavy night. "i'll not tell you a lie," his voice was hushed, as befitting being in a holy building. the sanctity of such places weighed on him heavily, as though his presence was an affront to the gods that dwelled there. "i did not come to say my goodbyes to garland. but for gael." gael, who had always staunchly supported him. gael, who conall regarded as a brother just as much as he did kieran. "and for gael, it was not a burden."

he turned to look at her then, not noticing the way the candle wax dripped on to his skin and hardened as it cooled, finding a home on the rough callouses of hands that once wielded war hammers. a light smile graced his face. "i saw dragons clash in the skies during the dance. i imagine seeing the two of them butt heads was a similar spectacle." it seemed she wanted to lighten the sombreness of the occasion, her comments dancing close to jests, and so he offered his own, as though to let her know that it was all right.

his head shook quickly, and he set the candle back in it's place. "nothing to forgive, my lady. it was just for a moment, i thought i'd let you down." relief had flooded him at the confirmation that this was not the case. sailing was one of the few joys left to him - upon the seas, he could forget that life on land kept turning. he could forget what people saw when they looked at him, a murderer who had cut short the life of his own wife. "but i would be happy to share whatever knowledge i have on the matter - and to gain any insight from you."

he stood back, the sept now bathed in warm candlelight. it had not been a poor idea. the tiny flames flickered gently, the light catching the stained glass of the windows and sending spots of colour floating around the room. it did indeed seem a warmer place. would that provide comfort to lucrezia redwyne, to leave her kin to rest amongst the glow of the candles and dancing rainbows?

"the older amongst us have wisdom to share," unsure what to do with himself now, his hands found a home in his pockets, though he kept his back straight, weary of showing too much casualness in a holy place. "but we must forge our own path and add to it wisdom of our own." it was interesting, he thought, how she seemed so certain in some manners, and so unsure in others. was that truly the case, or was he seeing things that weren't there, things that appeared only in grief?

"does it matter to you?" the question was quiet, one he wasn't sure he should have even asked.

∞

"i do believe it. things will be okay." her words echoed from the cloisters, and she stepped forward now, letting some distance close between them. "not because they have to be, but rather because the gods do not burden a soul with more than it can bare. i can only trust in their plan and their knowing...it makes it better." she paused. "to me, at least."

the offer to head back into the sept made kohl lined hazel orbs blink, almost as though she were unsure of what she had heard. whether she were hearing things. no, he did had offered such a thing. she had been intending on doing so alone, but…would she be opposed to company? one could visually see her thinking, before she gave him a small nod, resting her hands against her bodice. "okay. i would really appreciate that." did he mean now? well, she looked toward the main sept doors, where the bodies still remained - with shrouds over them. but still remained.

a delicate hand seemed to rest upon a stone pillar as they walked in, not for steadying her physical body, but rather because the feeling of the stone beneath her hands seemed to do something to bring her some sense of relief. knowing not why, or how, she only felt as though she wanted her hand to remain on the column. he assured her that it had not been a burden to attend the funeral of garland hightower, and she only offered him a small look; not entirely of knowing, but rather of, are you sure?

"that's a first…most in the crowd consider it a burden. very much a, very well if i must, sort of funeral." there was a strange tone to her voice, almost as though she were trying to make some semblance of light about the situation - only, it uncharacteristically made her voice much smaller than it normally was. soft, yes. but small? hardly. she lit the candles, hardly realising how quickly they burned and nearly got her finger before she extinguished it.

"between me and you, i'm surprised lord tirius rowan turned up at all. they were always at one another's throats in the most vicious of ways…you should have heard the things they'd say whilst the others were discussing borders and coin." how she had hated having to hear it then, and now, she wished she could only hear it again. one more time. she was fiddling with a piece of thread that she had somehow managed to tug from her sleeve, a small thread of black from a gown of black; she knew not why she was talking so much. was she talking so much?

she was not usually a rambler. if anything, she retreated further into herself. "oh." she stopped at his question, half realising that her question may have sounded as though she sought to monitor him. or monitor his ability. "forgive me, my lord - i honestly didn't mean in that way. i'd like someone to speak to about the technical aspects…the parts most find boring. and, two minds are better than one." she trailed off slightly, lighting another candle as she ensured her veil did not catch in it.

did conall blackbar notice the way her pupils increased ever so slightly in size at the sight of the flame she sparked?

"i've only ever had the people of my father's generation to speak with. you know how the elders can remain so staunch in their ways." she glanced around, noticing how many candles she had lit - was she truly moving so fast? why was she moving so fast? the sight of the candles were beautiful, and brought some sense of illumination to her mind; understanding of a reality, a thought process, which made something all too clear. it was too late for him now. it was known what would happen to him; the gods and their messengers had laid out the words clearly for their followers to take heed.

"it's all so beautiful for it not really matter anymore." not really? not matter. she knew. she would say it if it were anyone. why was it any different because it was him?

[anime-is-godlike]

Twisted wonderland dorms x esmeralda reader

One day the dorm leaders (jamil instead of kalim for this one) finds a magical stone with the power to show parts of the past of someone close to them they choose not to use it to respect there privacy of that person but shenanigans ensue and the stone is used and there shown there dear SO’s past

This is the Disney version of the hunchback of notre dame

Heartslabyul-savanaclaw-octavinelle-scarabia - pomefiore-ignihyde-diasomnia

scarabia

It was a very hectic day for the poor snake boy as the dorm leader had yet another banquet in the works which left jamil stuck in the kitchen slaving away over a hot stove as the day seemed to drag his mind often wonders to yuu

“I wonder what’s she’s doing?” He was cutting up some vegetables and humming a small song in his head he heard from you and preying that this day would just end so he could meet up with you

‘Thunk’

Just then he heard the sound of something dropping he looked around to see nothing on the table and fallen he looked around again suspicious he shook it of and went back to cooking

Once he was done and everything was set for tomorrow he went to check on kalim he entered into the main part of the dorm

“Hey-” as he enters he kick something and he bent down and picks up a stone it looks odd but something about it captivated jamil in a way he can’t describe

“Jamil what’s that” kalim was up close to jamil his eyes widen slightly but shakes it of a puts it in his pocket

“You stay here I need to go to the headmaster for a minute” kalim nods his head but something occurred to jamil and he sighs

“You’ll have to come along” at this kalim eyes widen with a sparkle

“Well let’s get going” kalim run in front of jamil who sighs, he was right about it being a absurdly long day

Once they got to the headmaster office and jamil shows him the stone he then goes on to explain that it’s a memory stone who shows the person holding the stone the memory of the person in their heart jamil immediately thinks of you

“Wow so we could see yuu past!?” Kalim said as they walked back to the dorm what they didn’t know was that a certain cat was listening in he heard the word stone and thought they meant the black stone

Jamil is definitely tempted your past is a mystery they only thing he know is that your something called a gypsy and that you and him dance A lot together but yuu didn’t pry him about his past so he pocket the stone

“Yes but they didn’t look into mine so I won’t with them” sadly fate had another idea….well more like a hungry cat had another idea

“Nyaaaaa!!” Grim suddenly jumped from a bush and on to jamil sadly for grim jamil spotted him as they left the office

“Not so fast grim” jamil slides to the left and avoids grim who flew right past him

“Nyyyyaaaa I want the stone!!!” Grim yelled and jumped up again this time Kalimantan joining in

“Kalim what are you doing” kalim eyes sparkled

“This seems like fun” he chuckles jamil is not 1000% done and wants to go find you sadly with having to look out for two people now he failed to notice a certain paw reaching into his pocket finally when he did see it

“Hey!!” Jamil runs up just a grim was about to eat the stone jamil grabs it and kalim grabs grim suddenly a blinding flash of light surrounded them then darkness

…………..

Jamil wakes up first and is on hight alert he immediately goes over the kalim and shakes him awake

“Mmmg five more minutes” kalim mumbled to which jamil sighed

“He okay” he then looked over to grim

“Mind explaining yourself?” Jamil crosses his arms and looks at the poor cat

“I thought it was a black rock” grim mumbles and pouts great just great he stuck here jamil looks around

There was a huge building with a round stain glass window and snow everywhere with a distance sound of low singing

“Where are we” kalim finally wakes up and is stood next to jamil looking at the building along with grim suddenly everything around them goes dark and a blue orb floats down every so gracefully

“Good evening” it said in a high pitched voice

“Who are you” jamil says getting straight to the point to which it hummed

“I’m the keeper of this stone here to show you yuu’s past now please be quiet while I explain the rules” it floats down towards the three just then three items appeared suspended in mid air it was a small wooden doll which looked like yuu the second one was a golden headpiece which looked like a dancers and the finale item was a necklace with a cross in the middle it looked like it was made of string

“Each one of these items holds a key peace of her personality” the orb flew over to the necklace

“Her kindness” then it flew over to the crown

“Her passion” then flew over to the doll

“And a darkness” jamil narrows his eyes at the last one what darkness

“Pick one item and you can see into her memory but be warned once you’ve chosen a item you can only see memories connected to her personality so what shall it be her kindness her passion or darkness” the orb giggled and flew up in the air and the the three turn to each other

Jamil has one hand on his hip and hand dance between his thin and indexed finger and has a ponder he can’t exactly get out of this situation so which should he chois honestly in this moment he wished you were here your presence alone calms him

“Sorry but times up” the orb says and fly up this shocked him he then grumble should have know there was a time limit kalim and grim look around in wonder just then the crown descends towards then and spins around a red dust surrounded then and now it was day time

“Woooow” kalim says looking around at the place

“So this is yuu’s home I’d definitely like to come here” jamil looks around for any signs of danger

“Kalim keep close” grim grumbles about wanting something to eat they then hear music and look to see yuu dancing with a instrument and jolly dancing around a hat

A little girl was about to run over when her mother stops her

“Stay away child they’re gypsies they’ll steal us blind” she grays her daughter away saying this

“But yuu would never do that” kalim says jamil sighed a shakes his head

“True kamil that’s very true” he keeps quiet and continues to watch the scene

Yuu continued to dance to the beat of the tambourine then a man approached with a horse and gave out a coin in the hat he looked at yuu with a smile and was just about to walk of when a whistle made yuu and the others start to pack up and run

Jamil and kalim looked confused as did grim

“Why are they running that looked like a lot of fun” kalim said with a sad smile jamil looked around wondering what made you so on edge

Jolly grabbed the hat with the coins in it but some fell out as he was running the goat stopped and called out to yuu, she stopped and ran back picking up some of the coins and putting them in the hat when two guards approached her

“That doesn’t look good” grim said with worry and kalim nod jamil looks at the scene when there from its not illegal to dance and play music in the streets so why are you in trouble

“All right gypsy” the guard grabs yuu hat

“Where’d ya get the money?” He asked accusatorially

“For your informationI earned it” yuu said snatching the hat back

“Gypsies don’t earn money” one said to yuu the other came up behind her and grabbed her by the shoulders

“They steal it” he said

Jamil clenched his fist at the man how dare they accuse you with no evidence and just on the fact your a gypsy

“Jamil what are they doing has yuu done something wrong?” Kalim asked worried for yuu

“She hasn’t done anything wrong those filth are judging her without any” kalim eyes widen then narrow grim watched the whole scene confused

“You’d know a lot about stealing” yuu said to the guards

“I thought they where supposed to help and protect people?” Kalim said and jamil fist tightened how dare they grim senses the tension and keeps his mouth shunt for once

“Troublemaker eh?” The guard grabs the hat from your hands

Jamil stomped forward only to phase through them Damn it he was so caught up in his anger he forgot this is a memory this….has already happened….but why does that piss him of more

Yuu grabs the hat back from him and the other guard from behind her holds her back yuu lifts her leg up and kicks the man in front

“Maybe a day in the stocks will cool ya down” one guard grabs yuu arm and other other grabs the other arm jolly sprang into action and head butted one guard then jumps back and kicks the other

“Have I ever said how much I like the goat?” Jamil said to himself right now he was giving the goat thanks which was rare as him and jolly didn’t get along well

Yuu then takes off running down the street and everything freezes and the scene changes to a stage and a man with blue purple and yellow yelled

“Dance La yuu” he throws something on the ground which turned into red smoke and yuu appeared

“Hey that’s like the stuff that surrounded us” kalim said but jamil was a little…..let’s just say…distracted

There yuu was in a red and purple dress which hugged every part of her body with a golden…crown?!

“Hey that’s the same crown the orb showed us?!” Grim said and jamil finally looked at your head to see that grim was indeed right

Yuu was dancing around kicking her legs up and spinning to music to what looked like a festival of people just then the noise was turned down and a voice clear as dat rang threw and the three look up

“Look at that disgusting display” a old man said looking at yuu with disgust and…something else which made jamil suspicious and creeped out next to the old man in purple was the man from the beginning of the flashback with a stern look on his face which didn’t reach his eyes

Yuu then skips to the old man and wraps and piece of fabric around his neck then shove his hat down his face she then skips off and the man looked enraged and tore the fabric of his neck in a huff

Yuu then spins around and does a front flip which lands in a spilt the she then hopes up and grabs and man spear sticks it into the ground and spins around it with her legs and and does one final bow and the scene freezes again and changes

Jamil gulped with red cheeks yeah you and him dance a number of time but definitely not like that kalim looks at jamil

“You okay?” Jamil snaps his head over to kalim

“I’m fine” just then the scene starts again

It’s the same place yuu was dancing in but this time yuu is in front of a man with a hunchback you voice booms out

“Ewww” grim said only to get hit in the forehead by jamil

“JUSTICE!!” Yuu said with a hand in the air and helps the boy up

“Mark my words gypsy you will pay for this indolence” the old man in purple said pointing at yuu

“Then it appears we’ve crowned the wrong fool” yuu said bowing and picking up a ‘crown’

“The only fool I see is you!” Yuu throws the ‘crown’ to the old man’s feet

“Captain Phoebus arrest her” the old man barks at the other man who clicks is fingers and points to yuu

The threes eyes went wide what exactly is going on in your world

Soon you where surrounded

“Now let’s see one two three four five six seven eight nine so there’s ten of you and one of me what’s a poor girl to do” yuu take out a handkerchief from your shirt you pretend cry and blow your nose and boom red smoke and your gone

“Yuu has to teach me that!!” Kamil said excitedly

“Noo!!” Jamil yells out if kamil could do that it would cause nothing but problems

“Witchcraft?!” The old man said and everything goes back to normal jamil looks around and sees he’s back where they disappeared from he walks kalim back to the dorm

by the time he gets back grim had disappeared probably to get food so he heads to your dorm he sees your outside dancing away with jolly at your feet he sneaks behind you and grabs you by the waist pulling you close you yelp but soon nothing it’s your boyfriend you chuckle

“Did ya miss me that much” yuu say slowly patting his head

“You have no idea” he said later on he explained what had happened

“I guess maybe Nows a good a time as any to explain” and so you did and to say the man was mad would be a understatement he nearly went as red as riddle when you told him about what that old man did he hugged you close after you finished telling him only the get head butted by good old jolly

“I take back what I said about you” he said to jolly which you looked at him confused then chuckled

——————-

Hope everyone is enjoying everything sorry it took so long this time also for the next one hope you like music

Not proofread



[nix-writes-mcyt]

Tango x reader fluff always up to your choice :D

I really enjoyed this one. It's based off of my pure excitement for one big future game one TangoTek will be creating later in the season. I can't wait!

Surprise Date

Oneshot Contains: Creepy Tunnels, Fluff, Food Mention -----------------------------------------

The darkness of the underground maze Tango created setting this place up has always creeped you out. You've asked for him to light it up, be he has refused.

The tunnels stayed dark, his excuse being that he needed to be able to see the redstone lines light up to know how far the signal transmitted.

But the redstone didn't extend this far out, you knew that. His project was a secret, but you'd been down here a few times. Although you'd always been afraid to come down alone.

He reassured you it was safe, easy to navigate and no mobs would spawn as the light level, even as dark as it is, is high enough for his system to stay peaceful.

You follow the maze around, Soul lanterns leading you deeper and deeper into the tunnels. Why couldn't he have just met you on the surface? Or even better, at home?

But no, the creepy dark endless halls were where he was. Where he asked you to meet him.

Looking around you sigh, you've come to a cross road. Every option looks exactly the same. You groan, choosing to go straight ahead.

Is it the right option? You have no idea.

The further you go the more confused you become. The worse you feel about your choice in direction.

Soul lanterns become glow lichen, the tunnel getting darker and darker as you progress. Until you're in total darkness.

You continue anyway, the cold stone on your fingertips the only indicator that you're still in the tunnel. Every now and then there is a hint of light, a glimpse of hope causing you to press on further.

Yet it leads nowhere. Literally nowhere.

On three sides there is stone blocks. You've reached a dead end. You're lost, and you have no idea how to get back out.

You lean against the stone wall at the end, pulling out your communicator. You should have done this earlier. - I'm lost

You wait patiently for a response but none come. With a sigh you slide down the wall to be in a seated position.

The dim light from the communicator fades as the interface times out from a lack of use. Once again you're in total darkness.

You stare ahead of you, if you had been stood up and away from walls you would have no sense of direction. The visibility isn't low, it's non existent. The silence is terrifying, as is the thought any sounds would appear without warning.

You lean against the wall that supports you from behind, bringing your knees up and resting your arms on your legs. You let your head rest on the stone, waiting for any word from Tango on your communicator.

You have no idea how long you've been sat in the dark, the tunnels provide no sense of time nor space. It's just darkness and silence. It's lonely.

You don't dare move, you're already lost, you don't want to make it harder for Tango to track where you've been.  Still nothing has come through on your communicator, you wonder if he's even seen your message.

You close your eyes, just.. waiting.

The silence remains, as does the darkness, although eyes closed or not it doesn't make a difference. The dark is still just darkness, empty black space. Nothing else.

That's what you expect when you open your eyes. But it's not what you see.

Two floating glowing red orbs. And the small amount of area they light up around them.

The eyes that used to creep you out when they were all you could see. The eyes that you came to love for their glow, their colour. The man they belong to.

"Tango?" You ask aloud, just to be sure you're not hallucinating. You've been down here alone in the darkness for a long time. You didn't hear anyone approach. It may very well be some sick trick your brain is playing on you.

Suddenly the dead end you're in is illuminated. The light is dim, it's not a regular torch but a redstone one, but it does the job of lighting the space well enough you can see it is in fact Tango.

"I'm so happy to see you." You whisper, words loud and clear in the otherwise silent tunnels. Tango smiles softly, extending his hand. "Well I couldn't leave you here, could I?" His tone, while playful, holds a deep sense of care.

You take his hand in yours, being sure to grab your communicator and stuff it in your pocket before allowing Tango to pull you up from your seated position. He helps you to your feet, pulling you into him.

He wraps his free hand around your waist, holding you against him while keeping you out of the way of the redstone torch. While it's not the open flame of a regular one it would still burn if it touched your skin.

"I'm not even sure how you got lost down here. The project may be secret but the path to get to it isn't." You shoot him a blank stare, Tango looking confused as he begins to guide you out of his maze. "You might know your way around but I don't." You feel him shrug.

"You should come visit more often then." You say nothing in response, ready to be out of the darkness at long last. You've been down here so long you forgot why you even came.

Soon enough, with Tango's expert knowledge of the area, you're back in the light of the soul lanterns. They're not as bright as regular ones but you're happy for any extra light at this point.

Tango shows you the way you were supposed to go, not letting go of you the entire way there. He doesn't let go once you're in the large space either.

He flips a switch on the wall, fully illuminating the room. You squint, eyes taking time to adjust to all the lamps he just turned on.

Once they do you can see why he needed darkness, redstone lines everywhere. They cover a large room, which you're on the outside of. It's redstone you recognise.

"Here we are Y/n." He grins proudly, "welcome to Decked Out Two!" He squeezes you slightly, doing some grand gesture with the hand that's not around you. "Or it will be anyway."

You chuckle at his little addition, the first rendition took him a long time, there's no way he completed the second this quickly. Either way, he's adorable.

"It's come a long way since you were last here and I wanted you to be the first, well second technically if I count myself, person to see it." He smiles down at you, pulling you toward the door.

He opens it up, the room inside dimly lit but absolutely breathtaking. Candles and glowberries are the main source of light, dotted around the room.

It's a beautifully created version of the outside world, a small pond with a water feature, stone path winding around. There's also a small table set up in the middle, which in the outside world wouldn't be out of place, but in here it stands out.

"Ahh, I see you've spotted another little surprise." Tango lets go of you for the first time since he pulled you to your feet, leaving part of you cold. He walks over to the table, pulling out one of the two chairs.

"If you wouldn't mind." He smiles. You walk over, taking a seat. You watch as Tango walks over to a small opening on the wall to the right, disappearing for a second before returning with plates in his hand.

"Oh Tango, you didn't have to do this." You say, realising that he has in fact set up a date. It makes sense now why he couldn't meet you up on the surface or at home.

"I wanted to. I've spent so long down here recently, can you blame me for wanting to spend some quality time with you?" He smiles, placing down the plates and sitting across from you.

"No. I can't say I was expecting this though." He shrugs. "It's my surprise for you, you deserve it. I will say sorry if the foods cold though."

You shake your head, "that's on me for taking multiple wrong turns." You and Tango both laugh at the situation before starting your food.

It's wonderful and everything is as perfect as it can be. You and Tango enjoy your time together, eating, talking, he even pulls out a couple of music discs and the two of you dance together.

It's a nice time, and while you can't say you're grateful for the maze he built to get down here you're grateful for everything else.

[blooming-violets]

Imminent: Part Three || TASM

Finale || TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

[A Completed Three Part Story]: [Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: Every time you close your eyes to sleep, you’re tormented by visions of future deaths. Sometimes it’s of people close to you and sometimes it’s of strangers. Yet, each time, you know it’s inevitable. There’s nothing you can do to stop death from finding their victims. But when a beautiful, sad, brown eyed man keeps pushing his way into your visions, you can’t help but try.

Warnings: violence, blood, use of knives and guns, mention of a needle 

A/N: Thanks for coming along on this weird, little ride with me. It feels nice to have an idea, write it in snippets (the lore in my head goes deep but I just did not have the time or energy to fully bring it to conception), and get it out into the world. I had fun. I hope you did too. -xoKatie

You blinked at him with disbelief, your mouth agape in shock, “You’re Spider-Man?!”

Peter’s eyes widened in shock and an impressed grin grew across his lips, “Holy shit...You really do see stuff in your dreams.” 

You sat up, your head suddenly spinning as your body tried to shake off the effects of the Ambien, and you punched his shoulder in frustration, “I thought I was the weird one! You’re Spider-Man! You’re more of a freak than me.” 

Peter held up his hands in defense, “Alright, alright. Don’t go screaming it. That defeats the purpose of secret identities.”

It was no wonder he accepted your visions so easily. He'd probably seen much crazier things than you in the past. You had about a million and ten questions buzzing around in your head for him. 

“How do you make the webs? How do you stick to walls? What’s it like to swing through the city? Who made your costume? What’s the craziest thing you ever fought? Do you really have Spidey Senses like the media says you do? How many people have you killed? Are you-”

Peter cupped his hands over you mouth to silence you, “We’re getting off track. You’re supposed to tell me how I die, remember? Do you understand why it’s so important now? If I die, Spider-Man dies. I can’t let that happen.” 

You swatted his hand away from your mouth and flopped onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. You held Spider-Man’s fate in the palm of your hands. You suddenly felt a lot more pressure than you had before. Maybe your visions weren’t such a burden after all? 

He crawled into bed beside you and stifled a yawn. The moon was high in the sky and Peter must have turned on your bedside lamp while you were dreaming for some soft light. A good few hours had passed since you had fallen asleep. You still felt tired and drugged. It was hard to formulate full thoughts. All you knew was that you had a new found desire to save Peter from his fate. 

“Do you know any shadow men?” You asked him. 

He shook his head ‘no’ and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t think so but, this past month, I’ve felt like I’m being watched. It’s always by different people. The other day, when you said if felt like his appearance wasn’t set in stone, it got me thinking. I keep running into these weird people. The pizza man who showed up at my house, the lady I get coffee from, random people on the subway, even a cop I spoke to after catching a petty thief. I get a weird feeling when I look at them like there’s something wrong. Like they’re not who they claim to be.”

The memory of watching your own body transform into the black shadow floated through your vision. “Like they’re wearing someone else’s skin?” 

Peter shifted his head to stare across the mattress at you, “Exactly.”

“I think that’s the shadow man! That’s who kills you. In the vision, I saw myself. I stabbed you. Then I turned into the shadowy thing. It was as if he had camouflaged himself as me. Do you think he can morph into other people?” It was a strange idea but after finding out your new friend is New York’s famous hero, not much surprised you anymore. “On any other day, I’d say that sounds absolutely absurd, but I can see the future and you’re Spider-Man...so, having someone be able to disguise themselves as another person doesn’t seem that crazy of an idea at this point.”

“He can camouflage himself...like a chameleon,” Peter whispered. He suddenly sat up and looked at you with excitement. “Maybe that’s why you can’t see what he actually looks like? Because he can be anything! If he can take the shape of whoever he wants then he can be anyone when he finally kills me.” The excitement faded from his face and his smile fell as he realized what he had just said. A heavy silence fell over the room. You could see Peter’s mind working a mile a minute behind the hollow, uneasy look in his eye. He swallowed. “...Am I going to die?” His voice was nothing more a heartbroken whisper. 

The burdensome feeling of guilt settled in your stomach as you watched him finally realize the reality of his situation. This was why your grandfather didn’t want to know about his death before it happened. The knowledge carried too much weight. 

You sat up, afraid to give him false hope, but wanting to soothe his worries, “I’ve predicted a lot of death before but I’ve never predicted Spider-Man’s. If anyone can change the future, it’s you. You’re a real superhero, Peter. I’m just some recluse who drinks too much and desperately needs to sleep. Just because I never successfully saved anyone, doesn’t mean it can never happen.” You paused and let out a quiet sight, “I think after I watched my parents die, I sort of gave up. I tried to save them and I failed. Maybe I just took that at face value and assumed no one was able to be saved. Maybe I was afraid to keep failing so I just never tried.” 

How many lives had been lost because you refused to do anything? What if your visions weren’t a curse? What if they were gift and you were the one who was wasting them? Peter had been given powers and look what he used them to do. He became a hero. You became a scared, little nobody. 

Peter chewed on the inside of his lip while he got lost in his thoughts. He had gone quiet. You could tell he was building walls up around him with each passing second. The air around your bed felt thick with unsaid emotions. The finality of death and one’s own mortality hung like a cloud over your heads. 

“If I die, I need you to do something for me.” His voice cut through the silence and made you jump as you were pulled away from your own spiraling thoughts.  He reached into the back pocket of his dark, ripped jeans and handed you a folded piece of paper. “This is the name and address of my Aunt May. After I die, I need you to go to her house and tell her to look under my bed. There’s a shoe box under there. I wrote her a letter. It should be in there. I need you to make sure that she reads it.” 

You started to shake your head, trying to tell him that he wasn’t going to die, but Peter interrupted you, “No! I need you to promise me that you’ll do this. You’re the only person who will know.” He was starting to sound desperate. “She’ll be confused as to why you’re there but, promise me, that you’ll make her look under my bed. I can’t leave her in the dark. She needs to know the truth. She needs to understand. I can’t leave her alone with no answers. She doesn’t deserve that.” His voice cracked and he quickly got off the bed, turning his back to you. You could hear him try to hide a sniffle, his shoulders tensing, and he leaned against your window to stare up at the night sky. 

Tenderly, you slipped off the bed and quietly padded after him. You weren’t very good at comforting people. Taking care of others certainly wasn’t your strong suit but Peter made you push aside your own uncomfortable emotions. In five years, he was the first person you actually felt like you could trust. He was the first person you wanted to keep around. 

And soon he might be dead. 

You patted a stiff hand awkwardly against his back and cleared your throat, “I promise I’ll tell her.” You knew it wasn’t much but it was the best you could think of the help ease his pain. 

Peter looked down at you, a few tears had escaped the confines of his eyes and were rolling down his cheek, “Thank you.” He gave you a somber smile and let out a morbid, dark laugh. “I’ve been around a lot death. I thought when my time came, I’d be more content to meet it head on. Apparently I was wrong. I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “We can think of a plan. Let me tell you all about my vision. You can be prepared when the time comes.” 

You carefully took his hand and pulled him back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress pressed close against his side, his hand still gripped in yours. 

“It’s starts off in a nightclub lounge...” 

Two days had past and Peter was still very much alive. 

Every evening, he’d stop by your window to check in, let you know all was well, then be off again. It felt like you were doing nothing but sitting around and waiting for a bomb to drop. Peter had been searching for the man he had dubbed The Chameleon but was coming up empty handed. It was hard to search for someone who had the ability to change their form at will. He knew to be wary of any messages depicting you captured which lured him to a nightclub. The plan was, if he received anything of the sort, he would immediately call you. If you didn’t answer your phone then he would swing by your apartment to check you were okay. If someone was posing as you, chances are, the real you would be hanging out at home without any knowledge of the impostor. Once he saw you were safe, he would enter the nightclub having the upper hand and with a new plan of attack.

Your dreams of him had stopped and had gone back to random folks in other parts of the world. You took that as a sign maybe you had already changed the future. As long as Peter knew how his death occurred, he wouldn’t do those things, and thus a change would happen. A simple butterfly effect. A small change and the entire future gets rewritten. 

“Do you think it’ll be like Final Destination?” Peter had asked one night while he devoured deli meat straight out of your fridge. “If I don’t die this time, I’ll end up fried inside of a tanning bed later on?”

You had laughed at his absurdity. You were fairly certain that wasn’t how this worked. Your mindset was changing the more you hung around him. The future wasn’t always prewritten. You alone had the power to change it. It was because of Peter you could feel a new found confidence settling in thanks to your power.

“That depends, how often do you go tanning?” 

You were beginning to have hope that maybe you could have a real future with Peter. Even if it was just as friends, you’d love to keep him your life. He was extremely intelligent and resourceful. He had spent hours one morning eagerly explaining the ins and outs of his Spider-Man costume to you. He had notebooks full of science equations you couldn’t even begin to understand and mentioned that he access to some of the top scientists while he was studying to get a doctorate in biochemistry. Peter promised that once The Chameleon was dealt with, he would do everything he could to help you learn about your powers. Even claiming that he already had a series of experiments lined up to watch your brain waves while you slept. With his presence in your life, you were starting to feel less like an outcast and more like someone with a particular gift. Maybe you and Spider-Man could even team up some day. You could tell him who needed saving and he could be the hero. 

Having a friend felt warm and hopeful. 

The familiar buzz rang out through your apartment indicating someone was waiting down at the front door for you. You hadn’t ordered any food recently and it wasn’t like you had many friends besides Peter who sprung by for unannounced visits. There had been times people had buzzed your room by mistake. You wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of those times. 

You hit the button to talk, “If you’re looking for Mrs. Gratey, she’s the button above mine.”

Peter’s voice echoed through the speaker, “Hey! It’s me. Can I come in?” 

“Oh...yeah, sure.” You pressed the button to unlock to front door. You had gotten so used to him showing up at the window that you hadn’t expected him to use the door like a civilized human. He was also a few hours earlier than he normally showed up. Peter usually liked to time his arrival right as the sun was beginning to set. 

You waited until you heard the knock on your apartment door before opening it with a smile, “Hi, you’re early. Did you get sick of window hopping and finally decide to try the elevator?” 

Peter stepped inside and smiled back with a shrug, “There were too many people around. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by climbing up the side of a wall today.” 

“Well, I’m glad you got the elevator experience then. I was just finishing up the laundry. Mind if I fold clothes while you’re here?” You wandered into your bedroom where a pile of half folded clothes lay scattered over your bed. He followed behind you, clearly opting to skip his typical fridge raid this afternoon. 

“I won’t be here for long. I have a favor to ask,” he leaned against the end of your bed and bounced on the balls of his feet like he was anxious about something. 

You picked up some leggings and started to fold them, giving him an expecting look. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his smashed phone. The screen was completely unusable as it was filled with a spider web of thick, white cracks. You let out a low whistle, “Damn. What, did you throw it off the Empire State Building?”

Peter chuckled, “Something like that. It slipped out of my pocket about 50 stories up. Do you think I could borrow yours? Just for tonight! I’ll swing it back before sunrise.” 

“What does Spider-Man need a phone for?” You asked him. You placed the folded leggings down and picked up a shirt. Something in your stomach flipped and you carefully studied his face while you mindlessly worked. 

He chucked again, his smile not quite reaching not eyes, “I’ve almost figured this case out. I need the gps and to make a few calls. I promise I won’t drop yours. Please. Just for a few hours.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. Anxiety stirred in your stomach as you looked over his face. Something seemed off. His eyes were different. Darker. They lacked the warmth and safety you usually felt when you looked in them. If you gave him your phone, you’d be left without a means of communication. You didn’t think Peter would ask that of you especially with what he knew was coming. 

“Yeah, sure, of course.” You muttered. You shuffled over to your bedside table, keeping him in your sights, and grabbed it from the charger. Alarm bells were ringing in your ears, yelling at you to not hand over your phone. Peter never used the front door...

He smiled. It was a little too wide, a little too toothy. You held your phone tighter in your hand and cleared your throat. 

“Hey, remember the night we met?” You asked him, trying to keep your voice light. “I was coming out of the bookstore and you bumped into me? You said you were interested in that book I had bought. I finished it if you’d like to give it a go.” You subtly ran your thumb across the lock screen to your phone and tried to search for Peter’s name without shifting your eyes downwards too draw attention to the act. 

Peter raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Oh? Yeah, that’s right. That’d be awesome. After this is over, I’d love to read it. I’m really busy tonight though. Can I just have your phone and I’ll be out of your hair?”

This was not Peter Parker. 

Despite trying to keep your face neutral, both you and the impostor Peter realized the truth at the same time. He dove for your phone just as you leap onto the bed to escape his reach. 

He grabbed at your ankle, pulling you back towards him, “You bitch!” His voice shifted between Peter’s cool tones and that deepness of the shadow man.  

“Peter and I met at a bar, you fucker!” You rolled onto your back, your freshly folded clothes flying to the ground, and aimed a kick directly at your friends face. The moment your foot made contact, Peter’s face disappeared into a puff of black smoke and congealed as a white, skull-like, nearly featureless face. You recoiled back in disgust. “Get away from me, you Voldemort looking freak!” You had the sudden realization that if this man actually captured you, Peter was not going to believe it was the real you. He was going to think you were the fake. 

You had to warn him.

You aimed another kick at Chameleon and rolled off the other side of the bed, sinking to the ground and hitting Peter’s contact. As you heard your intruder stomp around the edge of the bed, you quickly flattened yourself and shuffled underneath it, holding the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” Peter answered. 

“Peter!” You screamed. “My vision! I think it’s changing! He’s in my apartment. He disguised himself like you. He’s trying to-” You’re cut shot as an arm reached under the bed and pulled you out. “It’s not going to be a fake! It’s me! It’s really me, Peter!” 

Chameleon kicked the phone out of your hand and crunched it under his foot. He leaned down to sneer at you with a lipless grin, “Nighty night, sweetheart.” He pulled a needle from his pocket and injected it into your squirming body. 

Almost immediately, you felt the blackness take you. 

The thick smell of cigars and alcohol filled your nose. 

You forced your heavy eyes to open. You had been here before. You recognized the smell but it wasn’t the familiar, open room you had been in previously. It was dark and small. Probably a closet. 

Hefty ropes tangled around your body. The more you tried to struggle against them, the tighter they felt. You were trapped. 

Except that you weren’t really here. 

No. No, this wasn’t happening. Not yet. 

This was a vision. You could feel it. If it was vision, you weren’t really trapped. The ropes weren’t real. This is a dream. You’re dreaming. You were in control. You tried to focus your breathing.

Slowly, you lifted your arm away from your side. Then the other. You shook out your legs. The ropes no longer existed to restrain you. You pushed yourself to your feet and felt around the dark room for the door. The second your hand collided with the handle, you pushed open the door and stumbled into the room with the neon purple lights. 

It was quiet except for the two men standing in front of the bar. One of them was the round, red faced man you saw die in a vision previously and, the other, was Chameleon. His bald, skull-like head contrasted against his nicely tailored blue suit. He was tapping his pale white fingers against the bar while his sidekick spoke.

“But Spider-Man is so strong. How are you going to overpower him? I’ve seen him dodge bullets easily. I think you might be underestimating his abilities, sir. He’s got-”

“Shut up, Harold.” Chameleon commanded. “I told you. I have a plan.”

The last time you witnessed this, he had put a bullet through Harold’s skull right then. Peter’s death wasn’t the only thing that was changing. 

Chameleon pointed towards the closet you had come out of, “We have the girl. Spider-Man is going to come save his damsel in distress and we’ll kill him.” 

The small man, who was apparently named Harold, took a nervous breath, “Yes but, sir? I still don’t see how this will help. Who’s to say he won’t save her and kill us in the process?” 

Chameleon took a deep, annoyed breath. Harold had no idea how close to death he was skirting right now. “I told you. The girl is knocked out and hidden away. She already called him. He knows about me and what I can do. He’s not going to believe that it was really her at first. I bet, he’ll swing his way over to her apartment to double check that she’s alright. When he gets there, he’s going to see the struggle that went down. I made sure to leave him a nice pool of her blood for good measure. He’ll realize it was actually her in trouble and run his sorry, little ass over here to come rescue her.” 

He tapped his knuckles against the bar and gave a wicked smile. “When he gets here, I’ll transform myself into her. He’ll crawl in, expecting me to be the real her, come to my rescue instead...and bam! I stab him with the paralyzing agent. Once he’s lost control of his extremities. He’ll be easy to overtake. Harry Osborn’s theory is that his famous Spidey Senses are dulled when he’s around people he trusts. He won’t expect the knife coming from her.” 

Harold wrung his hands together and glanced towards the closet your body was supposed to be hidden behind, “What if she gets out?” 

“You tied her down and gagged her, didn’t you? She shouldn’t make any noise. When we’re done with Spider-Man, we can kill her too. He should be here any minute now. Get upstairs before you fuck up my plans and keep a low profile.” Chameleon watched Harold with a look of utter disdain as he scampered out of the room and up the stairs. 

He walked over to the closet and pulled it open. Inside, your unconscious body lay slumped against the wall. A large cut ran over your eyebrow and drying blood caked the right half of your face. He tilted your chin to study your appearance. When he turned back around, he now resembled an exact replica of you, down to the bleeding wound on your forehead. He closed the closet door, patted at the knife hidden in his back pocket, walked over to the front of the bar and draped himself over the floor. He stayed perfectly motionless as if he had been hastily dumped there. 

Just a few moments later, Spider-Man came crawling across the ceiling towards, what he presumed to be, your unconscious body. 

No, no, no, no. In trying to help Peter, you had effectively put him straight back into danger. The future might have changed slightly but the result was still going to be the same. 

“That’s not me!” You screamed at him as he crawled closer to Chameleon. “I’m in the closet! That’s not the real me!” 

Peter paused. His masked head turned towards your cries just as he had in visions previously. It was like he could still sense you there. Yet, just like before, he shook his head and ignored whatever he thought he heard. 

He called out your name once he had crawled directly over the fake you. Chameleon moaned and rolled onto his back, “...Peter?” He sounded weak and shockingly like you. It was uncanny to see someone else wearing you skin and stealing your voice. “Peter...he showed up at my window. He was disguised at you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He forced himself to sit up, placing a hand limply over the cut on his forehead as if it was causing him great pain. Tears even brimmed behind his, well your, eyes. “He’s going to come back soon. Please. Help me.”

You had to give it to him. He was good at what he did. If you hadn’t witnessed everything prior, you might even be convinced that it was actually you. Peter didn’t leave his spot on the ceiling. 

“Prove it,” he growled. 

You silently cursed yourself that you and Peter hadn’t thought of a code word before all this to help recognize each other. It would have saved you both a lot of trouble. 

Chameleon frowned, “Don’t you recognize me, Peter?” 

He shook his masked head, “Prove it!”

“Okay, okay!” His voice had gone shrill exactly like yours did when you were getting too stressed. “We met a bar, remember? You always use my window to get inside. You never use the elevator even though I told you that you should. You like to come over later in the evening after the sun has set.” 

You took an inhale of breath. He had managed to pick all that up in the few seconds you were alone together. He was smart. Observant. 

But Peter was smarter, “Shut up for a second.” 

His held tilted like he was picking up something only he could hear. He turned to stare directly at the closet your body was inside of. Your heart skipped a beat. 

Yes, yes go to the closet. That’s where I am.

You watched Chameleon’s eye twitch in rage and he staggered to his feet, still keeping up the pained, hopeless tone in your voice, “Peter? We should get going. Quickly. He’s coming back soon.”

Peter ignored him, crawling quickly over to the closet. He dropped to his feet and pulled open the door. You heard his breath catch in his throat when he saw your bloody face and ropes tied around your unconscious body. He ripped his mask off to get a better look at you, bent forward, and easily loosened he ropes from around you. He called out your name as he gently tried to shake you awake. 

He wasn’t paying attention. 

He was distracted. 

Chameleon had shifted back into his normal form. He was quietly stalking over to Peter, the knife raised in his hand, the purple glow of the lights reflecting off the shiny blade. 

“No!” You screamed. 

He turned around at the last second but it was too late. The knife buried into the front of his shoulder. 

Chameleon laughed. 

You watched in horror as the paralyzing agent quickly flowed through his blood stream. His body twitched and jerked, desperately trying to move and fight through the drugs, but ultimately he slumped to the floor in front of your unconscious body tucked away inside the closet. 

“Bet you weren’t expecting that, Spidey,” he boasted.

Chameleon descended over the hero. His large, white hand grabbing at his chest and tossing his across the room with an unfound feat of strength. 

“I can be anyone!” He yelled. “I can be the strongest man alive. I can pick you up with ease and toss you around like a rag doll.” The muscles in his arm grew, ripping through his suit, and he grabbed Peter by the neck. He lifted him into the air so his toes were scarcely scraping against the ground. Peter’s warm, velvet eyes bulged out of his head as he gasped for air. His arms twitched at his sides in a rash attempt to reach for his tormentor but remained useless to him. 

The little spasms of his limbs didn’t phase Chameleon as he continued to taunt your friend, “I can be anyone.” He threw Peter across the room, his body crashing into the back wall of alcohol behind the bar. The glass shattered, cutting his skin, and he let out a pained yell as the alcohol seeped into the fresh wounds. “Anyone! Should I be your dead mother?” 

Chameleon’s form shifted into a brown haired, kind looking woman. She sauntered over to Peter as he stared up at her in horror. “What about your sweet, old aunt?” He changed again into a frail, tired, but charming woman. “Or how about your dead Uncle Ben?” He shifted once more into a gentle, white haired man. 

Peter let out an angry scream. He struggled against the paralysis. You could see his arms start to move. His legs gave out a little kick. His anger was fueling him to overpower the drugs in his system. 

Chameleon hardly noticed. He was too busy enjoying the torment. The foot of Peter’s uncle reared back and kicked him hard in the face. Over and over. Blood spurted from Peter’s mouth as he tried to roll away. The second he moved, Chameleon resorted to kicking him in the chest until he was curled up into the fetal position surrounded by a growing pool of his own blood. 

“How about the big finale?” His form shifted once more into a young, beautiful, blonde hair woman. “Mr. Osborne told me this would be the real kicker. To be killed by the one you let die. What was her name again? Future scientist, Ms. Gwen Stacey?” 

A pained whimper fell from his lips. You watched as Peter’s eye filled with tears at the woman standing above him. He slumped onto his back, the tears rolling freely down his temple and soaking into his sweaty hair. 

His body was beaten and broken. All his fight had left him at the sight of this woman...Gwen. His bottom lip quivered. 

He was giving up. 

His slashed open face leaked a waterfall of thick, ruby blood down over his skin. His mouth agape. Gasping. Desperately inhaling for any air to soothe his shriveled lungs. Tears reflect the purple neon lights casting an eerie glow over his paling skin. His body slumped to a rest. There was no more fight left him. His head lolled to the side. His eyes met with yours. Pleading. He was fading fast and somehow he was able to see you standing there watching him about to die just as you had done many times before. 

“Help me,” he mouthed as the blonde woman stepped over him. 

A gun pressed against Peter’s forehead. His spirit broken. He didn’t move to stop it.

This was it.

This was his end.

“No!” The scream ripped out of you. 

Your eyes flung open. 

The pile of ropes lay pooled around your waist. The closet door was open. You could hear the fight going on outside. 

You struggled to your side, shimmying your way out of the ropes, and fell out the open door into the main lounge. You rolled onto your back and pushed yourself up to your shaky feet. 

Your eyesight was spinning as you tried to fight the drugs Chameleon had injected you with to knock you out. You stumbled forward. 

The blonde woman, Gwen, was standing over Peter. She had a gun in her hand. You had just seen this exact scene mere seconds ago. This was all so familiar like terrible deja vu. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. It was hard to distinguish between reality and your dreams. For almost two weeks, you had seen this play out. Two weeks you had watched different variations of Peter’s death. 

Now was the time. This was real. 

It was happening. 

You had to change Peter’s future. 

As the barrel of the gun rested against his head, you charged forward. You threw the entire weight of your body against Chameleon. He was disguised as the young, teen girl. She was skinny and small. Easy to overtake. The two of you toppled to the ground just as the gun went off. The bullet ricocheting off the hardwood floor and shattering into a light bulb. 

Chameleon let out an angry yell, his body changing back into his featureless white skull, “You little shit!” He wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you hard onto your back. The back of your head bounced against the floor and blurry stars burst into your vision. “I’m going to fucking kill you for that!”

He fell on top of you, big, cold hands wrapping around your neck, his thumbs pressing hard into your throat. You tried to grab at his suit, punch him, hit him, anything in an attempt to get your off but he was too strong. 

Suddenly, he froze. His hands loosened around your neck and you gasped for air.

“Get off of her,” a deadly voice filled the room. 

Chameleon gave a low laugh of defeat as the barrel of his own gun was pressed against the back of his head, “I see the Spider-Man is stronger than he looks.”

“Back up slowly,” Peter commanded. 

Chameleon did as he was told, raising his hands in surrender, and backing away from you. You stayed still on the ground, not sure if you could even move if wanted to while you tried to catch your breath, and watched Peter keep the gun pointed at his foe. “Stand against the wall. I called the cops before I came here. They should be arriving soon to take you away.” 

Chameleon pressed his back to the wall and Peter proceeded to shower him with flurry of webs until he was completely satisfied there was no way for him to escape. Once he was sure the man was secure, Peter dropped the gun. He stumbled backwards into the edge of bar and crumpled to the ground. A quiet groan fell from his bloody, split lips. 

You struggled to roll over and crawled to him. His eyes were closed but a fraction of a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You brushed back his hair and rested your hands on either side of his face to turn his attention to you. 

“Peter?” You whispered. 

He smiled, his eyes half open, “You did it. You saved me.” 

The linger effects of paralysis were still coursing through his blood stream. Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, it was becoming harder for him to move again. His overpowering will to fight it was no longer needed now that you were both safe. He slumped his body against your chest and you cradled his head protectively to your shoulder.

“You should go.” He muttered. “The police will be here soon. They’ll want to bring you in. Question you. I don’t want that. You should leave before they get here. I’ll keep an eye on this asshole.”  

“What about you?” You asked.

He lifted his heavy head and rested his forehead to yours, “I’m Spider-Man. They see me all the time. Don’t worry about me. If you could put my mask on before you leave, thought, that would be a big help.” 

You closed your eyes at his closeness and nodded, “I think we make me pretty good team.” It felt so right having him in your arms like he was destined to be there all along. 

He gave a breathy, tired laugh, “The best team. If I could move my arms, I think I’d pull you in for a kiss right about now.”

Your stomach exploded with butterflies. You cupped his bloody cheeks in your hands and placed a soft kiss to his lips, afraid to cause him any more pain than he was already in. 

“Mm,” he hummed against your mouth. “That was nice. Now go get my mask mask and get out of here. I’ll come find you once I’m able to move my limbs again and see that this jerk is placed behind bars.” 

You did as he said, grabbing his mask and carefully placing it over his broken face. He nodded a thanks and you felt his watchful, protective eyes stay on you until you had disappeared up the stairs. 

Peter was safe. 

You had saved him. 

You had changed his future. 

Spider-Man was no longer the only hero New York City had to offer. 

Reread from the start: [Part One] [Part Two]

Tag List: @ongreenergrasses  @captaindanvxrs @liz-allyn @coolchick333 @mrshipsmcgee  @holyheadharpies99 @aphrodites-perfume @agnesamarantheastwood​ @todaywasafairytale07 @edgycatx @kdatthecastle @aestheticpisces @malar-region @saltedcoffeescotch​ @magnitude101999​

[Chapter Index]

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Paper Rings

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Summary: On his first ride to Hogwarts, James befriended the girl who was obsessed with shiny things. Over their schooling together, their friendship turned into so much more.

A/N: lmao I suck at summaries. Also I’m back sorry for the random hiatus (and sorry that posting will almost definitely not be consistent after this either). I had this idea months ago, inspired by Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings, and I only just got around to writing it asdfghjkl. Still obsessed with James though rip me I just want someone to love me like this.

Warnings: Mentions of eating (briefly), otherwise just a lot of fluff.

Wordcount: 4k (wow)

...

Little James Potter waved goodbye to his parents as the train took off from the platform, nervous about his first journey to the infamous Hogwarts, but excited to discover all the great things his parents had told him for himself. First though: finding a carriage.

Trying not to show his nerves, he wandered along the corridor, peeping into the carriages to see if there was one he could join. For the most part, he found them all too full, too loud to juggle his nerves, or the students too old and intimidating. The days would come where James would rule the corridors of the castle, but the eleven year old boy on the train was just hoping to make a friend he could share this new adventure with.

As fate would have it, he found just that and so much more. In a carriage to herself sat a young girl, his age, her face turned away from him looking out the window. The only thing he could see was a petite sparkling bow, sitting neatly in her (y/h/c) hair.

Without thinking about it, he knocked gently on the compartment door, sliding it open as she turned to look at him inquisitively. Her (y/e/c) eye’s glittered as her lips pulled into a smile, creating a complete sense of comfort for James to ask. “Do you mind if I sit?” She nodded eagerly, gathering up a few books she had dumped on the opposite seat and dropping them into her lap. “I’m James.” He smiled.

“(y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a short while, listening to the laughs of older students, friends reuniting after a summer apart, and watching the landscape whip by them out the window.

“I like your bow, by the way.” James spoke up, feeling glad he did when an excited smile broke across her face, looking as if he’d told her she’d won the lottery.

“Thank you! I love the way it sparkles.” She said, gently pulling it from her hair and twisting it in the sunlight, showing how rainbows danced in the glitter and were thrown across their compartment. Satisfied, she used it to clip back the hair that was now falling into her face, and their conversation moved on, following each and every thought they were having, becoming fast friends. James didn’t think the journey could get any better until two boys showed up at their door and asked if they could join them, setting everlasting friendships in stone.

As the train pulled up to Hogwarts, any nervousness James had been feeling was gone. Instead, the only thought he had was that he couldn’t be more glad he sat in the compartment of the girl with the sparkling bow.

…

Their first year passed in a blur, and the Marauders spent the majority of it in each other’s company, laughing their days away.

Now, summer had come and gone, and their second year at Hogwarts was in full swing. They walked into their charms class together, laughing about a joke Sirius had made at James’ expense. (y/n) sat next to the curly-haired boy at their desk, as Remus Sirius and Peter sat at the one adjacent to them.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I didn’t make the team last year! No first year has made a house team in like 80 years! I’m telling you though, I’ll make it on this year, and I’ll be the best chaser this school has ever seen.” James protested, huffing as he put his textbook in the middle of the table for him and (y/n) to share. She laughed at him softly, hand patting his shoulder as the other boys got lost in their own conversation.

“I know you will, Jamie. And I’ll be there cheering you on every step of the way.” His cheeks redenned at her words, but luckily their attention was turned away by Professor Flitwick.

“Now students, the charm I’ll be teaching you today is more of a fun one to start off the year than anything you’ll likely need in your everyday lives. As always, I don’t expect you to create chaos by using these charms” – he turned his gaze to a particular group of students at this point who were all busily looking elsewhere – “but simply to enlighten yourselves and to show you what magic can do. So, the charm we’ll be learning today is how to make things glitter.”

James heard an almost inaudible gasp next to him, and he could feel the excitement radiating off (y/n). He chuckled, expecting nothing less; he’d known her for a year now, and if it wasn’t the bow in her hair there was always something shiny on her at any given time.

Flitwick talked about the details of the charm, how it could be applied subtly, only giving a faint sheen, or how it could be made much more obvious. Finally, he gave them the charm and told everyone to repeat after him. “Now, like I said, just because this is a fun charm doesn’t mean it’s an easy one, and I don’t expect you to get it on your first attempt. Just keep repeating the charm and-oh!” He broke off suddenly, just as James’ vision went hazy. Once he’d focused, he saw he was surrounded by a cloud of individual glitter specs floating around them, almost as if they were in their own galaxy. His gaze shifted to its centre, shining most brilliantly of all as her proud and excited smile dazzled him, making him forget entirely they were still in their charms classroom.

“Well done Miss (y/n)!” Flitwick’s voice broke through their bubble, and slowly each star seemed to fade out of existence, until they were back in their regular old classroom, thirty pairs of eyes trained on them. “You certainly felt the spirit of the charm and went above and beyond. 10 points to (y/h). Now, if you could help Mr Potter whilst we all get back to it!”

Chatter burst out the classroom almost immediately, partners working together trying to enchant an object of theirs to take on the glittery effect. Sirius turned to her, rolling his eyes half-heartedly.

“Becoming a teachers pet now are we, (y/l/n)?” She rolled her eyes back, waving her wand to produce a cloud of glitter that settled in Sirius’ hair, contrasting sharply against its darkness.

“It’s sparklesSirius, what did you expect? Now c’mon, this is the one lesson I won’t let you not do the work in. Make some glittery greatness and I’ll bake you all some cookies when I next steal James’ cloak to go to the kitchens.” With those words, the three boys turned their entire focus to the task at hand, while James still seemed slightly awestruck next to her. “You alright, J?”

“That was amazing (y/n/n). I had no idea you could do that.”

“Well I guess you can’t know until you try.” She shrugged, picking up her quill and placing it in front of him. “Charm my quill.”

“Why me? You could just do it yourself.” James asked, confused why she didn’t do it herself since she was clearly more than capable. Once again, she shrugged, looking into his eyes as she uttered the words so nonchalantly that would stick with him for years to come.

“Well, Flitwick said you needed to practise. Plus, it’ll mean more to me if every time I look at my quill I know that you’re the reason it’s shining.”

Within a heartbeat, James had uttered the incantation and a subtle shimmer had settled over the feather, imperceptible until it was moved and caught the light. The smile he saw when he looked over at (y/n) made him vow to himself that as long as he was around, she would never have an ordinary quill again.

True to his word, every time she brought out a new quill, he was quick to snatch it from her and place the simple charm on it. It became an unspoken promise between the two of them, and every time James saw that sparkle from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

. . .

True to her word, (y/n) was there for all of James’ games, cheering him on from the side of the pitch, always the first to reach him when the game was over. High or low, win or lose, she was always there to remind him that he had played amazingly, and that she was proud of him.

After one such game in their fourth year, Gryffindor narrowly losing to Slytherin, she was at his side so quickly that he would have thought she had apparated if he knew this wasn’t possible. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, feeling the slight shaking of his shoulders. “Oh, James.” She quickly ushered him off the pitch before he attracted eyes, assuring him that Sirius and Remus would collect his things from the changing room and bring them back to his dorm. Once they reached his dorm, she sent him to shower, promising that she would be there for him once he was back.

Sure enough, he came out of the shower in fresh clothes and damp hair, and she was still on his bed, patiently waiting for him. She held her hand out to him, a silent invitation, and as soon as he took it she pulled him to her side and once again enveloped him in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Jamie.” She whispered, squeezing him momentarily before drawing back and looking into his glassy eyes.

“Shouldn’t be.” He murmured, avoiding her gaze. “We lost.”

“And yet you scored more goals than anyone else the entire game.” She pointed out, sincerity lacing her voice. “It’s just because the snitch is worth a stupid amount of points, honestly the game has a lot of flaws.” James smiled weakly, they often had these debates about Quidditch and it always ended in some silly way.

“I did hit Malfoy in the head with a Quaffle.” He admitted, and (y/n) could see the weight falling off his shoulders.

“The highlight of all our years.” She laughed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a little box. “I got you something.” She handed it to him, and he pushed it back to her, head shaking, doubt returned.

“No I didn’t do anything to deserve it. Keep it.”

“We already had this argument and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She shoved the box into his hands and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to open it.

Reluctantly, he pulled the lid off the box to reveal a snitch, the snitch he normally kept on his person at all times, now shining with a slight iridescence. James looked up at her, thankful but a little confused at the present.

“I’ve actually been saving it for when you lose a game. Which has been hard because that’s hardly ever.” She broke off to give him a playful glare along with her words, quickly broken by her soft smile. “I know you play with the snitch when you have a lot on your mind, and when you start to doubt yourself. I wanted to remind you that you’re incredible and you should believe that yourself. So, when you see the snitch and you see it sparkle, you’ll think of me, and you’ll remember how great you are.” He was speechless, and in the silent air, she did what the two of them did best, and started to nervously babble. “Well, that’s assuming you think of me when you see sparkles, and quite frankly after all this time I’d be slightly offended if you didn’t-oof” her rambling stopped when James tackled her into a hug, knocking them both back onto the bed.

“Thank you.” Was all he said, but she could hear the emotion behind each word, everything he was trying to communicate. All she did was hold him tighter.

It was then that Sirius and Remus walked into the dorm, carrying all of James’ equipment from the game, causing James and (y/n) to jump away from each other. Blushes arose on both their faces, not that the other would have noticed, each too busy looking at opposite walls of the dorm. Sirius and Remus exchanged a knowing look, but decided to let it slide, knowing there was an inevitability to it anyway.

…

Once again, (y/n) was boarding the Hogwarts express for another year of school. She knew this year would be a stressful one, with their OWL exams coming up, but she also knew that as long as she had her boys by her side, she would be absolutely fine.

Speaking of her friends, she was currently walking along the train trying to find them. She knew that Lily and Remus were prefects now so they’d be at the front of the train, but she was struggling to find anyone else. Eventually, she found James, sitting in a carriage by himself, absentmindedly watching the view. She chuckled to herself at the situation, the reverse of their meeting all those years ago.

She slid the door open, catching his attention and his ever-so-addictive smile. “Got room for an old pal?” She asked, sitting next to him when he patted the seat, his hand enveloping hers as soon as she had, a silent communication. I missed you.

“I was starting to think you’d gotten cool and forgotten about me.” He joked, nudging her playfully.

“Piss off Potter, I was always cooler than you.” She teased back, glad to see that nothing had changed despite their time apart. It never did, they were always James and (y/n), inseparable no matter how hard anyone tried. “Where is everyone?”

“Lils and Moony are doing prefect duties, and Sirius enlisted Peter’s help to try and sneak into their carriage and get the insider information.” He rolled his eyes light-heartedly, forming air quotes around Sirius’ words as (y/n) laughed, eyes closing in amusement. “What’s that on your eyes?” James suddenly asked, stopping her laughter short as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“Oh!” She remembered. “I went to see Lils in the holidays and she was showing me this glitter eyeliner that muggles wear! Why, do you not like it?” She suddenly felt self-conscious, wondering if it really was too much despite Lily’s reassurances. It was a subtle white, but still, it was glitter on her face.

“The opposite!” James was quick to answer, rushing so much to not hurt her feelings that he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying. “I think you look really beautiful (y/n/n), with or without the makeup. Besides, the glitter brings out your eyes.”

At this point, they were both blushing furiously, and James was still holding her hand, neither of them willing to let go. (y/n) couldn’t help but smile to herself, and remembered to thank Lily for the recommendation the second they were in the dorm together that evening.

…

James climbed the last step into the astronomy tower, seeing (y/n) leaning against the railing already, gazing into the night sky, a blanket and an array of snacks out on the floor behind her.

It was a ritual they’d started who knows when, a chance to wind down and escape the chaos of everyday life, to enjoy each other’s company and to feast away on whatever snacks they had managed to stow away for these evenings. Tonight’s selection looked to consist mostly of cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs, with the occasional sugar quill hidden amongst the rest. “Heavy on the sugar tonight, I see.” He broke the silence teasingly, settling himself so that he was sat at (y/n)’s feet, still able to see the clear night sky above them.

“If I don’t consume my own bodyweight in sugar I think I’ll pass out I’m that exhausted.” She commented back, sinking down next to him. Automatically, his arm wound around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on top of her head. There weren’t words to describe the feeling of pure content as she melted into him, completely at ease.

She reached out and grabbed a chocolate frog, unwrapping it and handing the card to James with a sigh upon seeing it was one already in her collection. She bit into the chocolate, her gaze on the night sky as his was unable to break away from her, the way she settled so peacefully against him.

“The stars sparkle too, you know.” She broke the silence, voice quiet but still holding its signature melodic tone. James finally broke away from looking at her, joining her eyeline and looking at the constellations above them. Even though he wasn’t taking astronomy as a NEWT, spending so much time in the tower with (y/n) as she mapped the sky meant he knew precisely what he was looking at, and traced the constellations with his eyes.

“You know, six years of friendship and I don’t think I ever asked you why you like shiny things so much. I always just accepted it as a part of who you are.” A smile graced her face as she unconsciously twiddled her fingers.

“Don’t laugh.” She warned, and he solemnly shook his head. “I think there’s something so entrancing, so beautiful about them. I think it serves as a reminder that even the most seemingly dull thing,” she picked up another chocolate frog box at this point, waving her wand to create a light sparkle over it, “is wonderfully brilliant if you just remember to look at it in the right way. It’s a lesson we should all carry with us, and I try to remember it whenever I can. Everything is beautiful if you give it a chance.” The sparkles on the box faded in the moonlight, as (y/n) finally looked up at James, only to find him already staring back at her.

Body thinking quicker than brain, seeing her (y/e/c) eyes glimmering up at him, James leant down and pressed his lips to hers. She stifled a gasp, quickly moving her lips back against his as her hand wound gently around the back of his neck. He poured all of his admiration into the kiss, everything he had been feeling for her since he didn’t even know when, feeling his heart soar to be here with her in that moment.

Eventually, they broke away for air, and a breathy laugh fell from (y/n)’s lips, blush rising on her cheeks as she turned her face away. James reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers and gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ve been drawn to you since the day I saw you in that train carriage. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, your soul. I didn’t even realise the outside matched until we came back from that summer you spent with Lily. But god, every day since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I like you, (y/n/n). I really like you.”

Around them, a shimmering cloud exploded simultaneous to a wide grin spreading across (y/n)’s face. It was their own galaxy, just like all that time ago in the charms lesson, but she was still in the centre, still giddy with excitement. “I like you too, Jamie.” Her smile turned a little sheepish. “And sorry, I think my emotions got a little out of control.” The star-like sparkles slowly dissipated around them until there was nothing left, and this time it was (y/n) who leaned up to James, connecting their lips one more time.

“You taste like chocolate.”

“I’m sure that must be awful for you, Potter”. Nothing had changed, and yet nothing would be the same either.

…

James was sat on the floor of his dorm, textbooks open in front of him, although this late in the day he was struggling to pay any attention to them. What he was focused on instead was his girlfriend, tucked into the alcove of the windowsill, absentmindedly writing away on a piece of parchment.

Her (y/h/c) hair was in plaits down her back, and in the candlelight the silver threads that James had helped her braid in this morning were casting light across the room that shifted with every little shake of her head or shrug of her shoulders.

“You’re staring again, Jamie.” She chastised, although the humour was clear in her voice. He pushed himself up from the floor with an exaggerated groan, making his way over to her and pulling her gently into his chest, pressing a soft kiss into her hair.

“Can’t help it love, you’re an actual angel.” He didn’t see it but he knew she’d be rolling her eyes as she buried her face in his chest to hide the blush that was forming on her cheeks.

“Stop being so cheesy.”

“As if you don’t love it.” She pressed a kiss into his chest, resting her head against him as she went back to her writing. He tried not to pry, but he couldn’t help but catch notice of his name and his interest piqued. “Who are you writing to?”

“Euphemia.” She replied nonchalantly, not pausing her actions as he took a step away, face scrunched in confusion.

“My mother?” she paused at this, looking up at him with false exasperation.

“Do you know many other Euphemias?” She deadpanned. He shrugged, admitting her fair point, moving back to her side where she immediately snuggled back into his warmth.

“How long have you been writing to my mum?” She paused for a second, contemplating.

“Since the start of term I think. She sent an owl, I responded, we haven’t really stopped talking since. Oh, I’m coming over for Christmas by the way, she invited me. Said it wouldn’t be Christmas without the whole family there” (y/n) looked up at him, flashing a mischievous grin, expecting him to whine childishly like he normally would, complaining that he was supposed to ask her. Instead, looking more solemn than she’d seen him in a long time, he crushed her against him, holding her so tightly before he leant down and connected their lips. The kiss was bruising, but it was packed with adoration, and it left (y/n) slightly breathless. He broke away, leaning his forehead against hers as she tried to catch her breath back. “What was that for?”

“I love you. So much. You’re absolutely perfect, and I swear, I can’t wait until the day I can put a ring on that finger and make it official, make you a Potter for real. I promise, it’s going to be the most sparkling, dazzling gem you’ve ever seen. It’ll shine just as brightly as you, and it’ll always remind you that you’re beautiful, in every way, and just how much I love you.” Her hand had come to rest on his cheek, smiling throughout his little speech, parchment cast aside and forgotten about at this point.

“Don’t be silly, James.” She laughed, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I love shiny things, yes, but I don’t need one to be reminded of how amazing you are, or how much I love you. Hell, you could ask me to marry you with a paper ring and I’d still say yes in a heartbeat. I’m saying yes to you, to a life. You don’t need to win me over with some ridiculously expensive piece of jewellery.” He nodded slightly, pecking her lips before moving back to where he had been sat on the floor.

(y/n) picked her parchment back up, continuing on to the letter she had been writing to Euphemia Potter, unable to help themselves from planning the Christmas festivities despite it being early November.

Deep in concentration, she startled slightly as she noticed movement coming from the corner of her eye. She looked to the side to see her boyfriend once again, although this time he was knelt before her, holding up a piece of parchment that he had hastily fashioned into a ring, coupled with a sheepish smile.

Laughing merrily, she hopped down from the windowsill, pulling him up by his jumper and kissing him passionately as she slid the piece of paper onto her finger, looking forward to the day when they were older, when they could promise this for real, knowing that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them to love each other unconditionally.

When James first stepped on that Hogwarts train, he was hoping to find a friend he could share every moment with for the next seven years. He had found that in her, a best friend, now a lover, for seven years but for so much longer. The girl with the sparkling bow turned out to be his soulmate, and he sent a prayer of thanks to the stars every day.

[eriisaam]

And walking back here separately so it doesn't get lost from the above I was working on leading up...

---

In terms of OC guy I'm thinking about? Besides the above (I won't count it, this is bonus lore on top), on and off I think of Enoli and rotate them in my thoughts, and feel super bad every time I side-eye back to him after doing something major with the summoners while trying to do something with him likewise, only to end up dropping the ball, or losing confidence, or some other circumstance otherwise (up to and including just plain brainfog) ends up ruining the chance to get much of anywhere with him. To be fair in defense of the summoners, the original idea of why I tend to focus and prioritize them a lot is that they navigate and pioneer a lot of first-time pitfalls they can have an easier time to navigate around learning new stuff for them (since I've had years to get used to and familiarize with them, whereas Enoli's problem is other than lore and story, I only had vague directions but no concrete set-to-stone designs of him and the others yet), but then stuff ended up taking longer than planned, things related or otherwise pile up, and given Enoli's premise started off as “Magical boys (non parody!) in the same mood and feel of Sailor Moon, but it's also a BL dating sim VN story/project”, you can guess where my confidence went to die with a premise like that (nothing wrong with that, it might entirely be my nerves being it's usual overbearingly-anxious-scared self. orz)

So. Enoli! Let's talk about him. Why not. (I didn't even start yet and it's already 260 words, gdi. orz)

The last time I talked about Enoli in depth, it was basically the very first few info you get in his project (so not even really scratching the surface of him). He is a bit older this time around (compared to Usagi who started the series still in school), just moved in to his own home with his friend/roommate Hiroto, is the proud and utterly devoted cat-dad of a fat ball of soft and love and fish-breath in his orange-cat son Melpy, and even right from the get-go, things go immediately to shit.

Hiroto is sick, Enoli went out shopping a supposed-to-be-uneventful errand run of buying medicine and (over-)buying more 'just in case I forget' cat food, and he immediately gets attacked by a monster, risked life and limb for a bag of stuff he literally just bought and honestly nobody would fault him to re-buy again over die for his goods, and met with the Tuxedo Mask equivalent in the form of a shadow-engulfed demon-knight who saved him and his bag of worth-the-risk-apparently goods while telling him to go the hell home and stay the hell out of any more messes cuz seriously, bruh, you nearly died, get the hell out of here, you honestly should've been out of here to begin with.

But there's a reason for his priorities being mixed. I mentioned wanting to float ideas of some gameplay elements I wanted even from the beginning: Enoli's house and upgrades. Throughout the hypothetical game, you would be able to take a room in Enoli's house, spend resources to upgrade them, and they'll add to various perks.

However, even from the very start, while many of the rooms are unimpressive, bare, and out of focus at the moment, two rooms stick out:

Melpy's room is already fully-furnished, completely and carefully decked out in all his necessities, furniture, and cat toys, and the spoiled bundle of baby is having the time of his life.

Hiroto's room, on the otherhand, is also packed with his belongings, but they're haphazardly and packed in a rushed heat of the moment, and many of which are broken, utterly destroyed and left in parts, or unusable. His belongings are a mess, on top of his terrible health.

And for a good chunk of the first half of the game, it takes a while for Hiroto to become well enough to eventually catch up and be able to do things like many of the other guys Enoli will come and meet over the course of the story. Enoli can upgrade, furnish, and add to the other rooms as their purposes become clear and their abilities and effects are outlined, but for Hiroto? The emphasis is more on repairing and replacing what was already there.

Over time, Enoli and Hiroto both agree to have a roommate, and said roommate is a determinant of letting you decide which of an assortment of guys you want to meet first (although you'll gradually meet them all eventually anyways). Much like his thematically-big-sister he's following the footsteps of in spirit (Usagi I mean), Enoli eventually becomes a magical boy, and is taken under the wing of another magical boy in Rhoswen, who is much more aware of and eased into how it all works and feels.

From then on, Enoli has to juggle the work-life balance between maintaining his home, gathering resources, juggling relationships, and of course trying to fight monsters with as few casualties/colateral damage (unless you desire chaos and want to deliberately go the opposite direction) all throughout.

And instead of 100 words, I blew it up to 837. Damn. 😭

can u write 100 words about an OC?

(if it sounds fun & not like torture surprise!)

The easy part is the 100+ words, but the hard part is if you mean "100 maximum". I can and will absolutely talk 100 words worth, but whether or not it stays "100 at most" is the torture part. 😆I yap. A lot.

I can also absolutely talk 100+ words about one OC or multiples, but if there's any particular OC and/or subject specifically you wanna hear, I'm game. (And if it's "any/all of them" ("all of them" at the moment being summoner OCs, OCs adjacent to the summoner OCs (but aren't summoners themselves) or project OCs like Enoli at the moment,) whoo boy, that'll be a lot of words. Very 'ask and ye shall receive'.)

[laurfilijames]

Desired Effect

———

Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 2,718

Warnings: rated E. M/F unprotected intercourse. Fili is a cheeky bastard

Summary: Fili buys you a scandalous dress to wear to an event, and effectively teases you until you can’t take it any more, dragging him home for some fun.

Requested by @lilith15000, I hope this is everything you were hoping for, love! It was a pleasure to write for you, thank you for always supporting my work. Enjoy!

Weaving through the corridors on your way back to your chambers, you took in the decor around you. Tapestries hung from the ceiling, many more than normal, and all the dwarrow around you were bustling about more than usual. You smiled to yourself, excited for the reason for all of this commotion; a party.

It wasn’t going to be anything huge and extravagant, but you always looked forward to an event like this, an excuse to dress up, to have Fili standing proudly beside you the whole night with his arm locked around yours, his attention always focused on you.

Thinking about what gown you would wear as you walked through your chambers to the bathing room to run a bath, something on your bed caught your eye, making you pause and turn to look.

To your surprise, a stunning gown was laid out on the bed before you. Deep red in colour with gold details adorning it, a perfect match to Fili’s red robes he wore often to events such as tonight’s.

The closer you got to it, the more you realized it looked more like a nightgown as opposed to a formal dress. It couldn’t be for tonight, you thought, the material was thin and silky, and surely would reveal every part of you, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Fili must have intended for you to wear it around your chambers, in the comfort of your husband's company alone. You held it up in front of you and turned to look in the mirror. The neckline plunged extremely deep and there were even cut outs along the sides, acting as windows to display your skin.

You placed the dress back on the bed and began to remove your current outfit, curious to see how it would look on your body.

The feel of it against your bare skin made you feel like a Queen as soon as the hem hit the floor, the material floating over your features and accentuating every curve of you.

You tucked your lip in your teeth as you admired your reflection, thinking how Fili would no doubt have this torn off of you in an instant.

“I see you found my gift…” Fili’s voice appeared suddenly, causing you to turn in his direction to see him leaning casually against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest as he admired you.

“Fili, it’s beautiful! Thank you! I’ll wear it while I get ready for tonight.” You twisted your body back to face the mirror, a smile unable to be erased from your lips due to his sweet gesture.

“No, amralime,” he said with a playful tone, taking a step toward you. “You’ll be wearing it all night.”

You turned to him again, shocked at his statement. Barely stringing the words together, you gawked at him, “There’s no way! It’s hardly containing me!”

Now his hands were on your hips, gliding over your sides where the dress left you exposed and you heard him hum in satisfaction.

Fili gave you that look; the one where his eyes darkened, his eyebrows rose higher on his head and his lips pulled into a sly smirk, the very one that made fire pull deep within you.

“That’s exactly the point. I want everyone to see you. To see that you’re mine. You’re too beautiful to keep hidden.”

“But Fili—” you began to protest but he stopped you, his index finger landing on your lips to stop your words.

“Trust me.”

A sigh left your lungs, and suddenly you didn’t feel the need to argue anymore. Fili removed his finger from your lips and replaced it with his, his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth that you easily allowed. Trust was something you always had with Fili, so why should this be any different? Only it was the mischievous look that lingered on his face that told you he might have something else up his sleeve.

The night had been wonderful so far and it wasn’t near being over. You felt excited and exhilarated, but it wasn’t the party that had you feeling this way.

As usual, Fili couldn’t keep his hands off of you, always clutching your own or wrapping his arm around your waist while in conversation with someone, his heavy hand resting on your thigh when you were at your place at the table. Although this was a normal occurrence for the two of you, everything between you felt more charged than it typically was. It probably had everything to do with the things Fili kept whispering in your ear, or sometimes even out loud, but quiet and subtle enough that only you were able to hear. Those around you were likely thinking you were having nothing other than a warm exchange between lovers based on the smile that crossed your lips and the way Fili chuckled at your reactions.

Little did they know Fili was quickly placing you under a spell with every word that passed his lips. Things like; “See everyone watching you? They’re all thinking about the things they want to do to you. Too bad for them I’m the only one who gets to.”

Or he would discreetly trail his fingers up your thigh where your dress parted in a high cut slit, briefly touching you at the apex of your legs, his eyes dark with lust as they bore into you, saying in a low voice, “The best part about seeing you in this dress is knowing I’ll get to see you out of it soon.”

Every one of these promises made you shiver, finding yourself pressing your thighs together in an attempt to restrain yourself from spreading them apart for him right there.

You were a mess.

You even went so far as to avoid your own husband, putting distance between you any time he came near again, but it was no use. Even from across the room he knew how to make you squirm, looking you up and down like he would take you in front of everyone in the room.

It took everything in you to focus on the conversations around you, but Fili was unrelenting, determined and persistent in making you break.

Nodding along to a story you wouldn’t be able to recall the subject of even if you tried, told to you by a dwarf whose name you had long forgotten, you felt Fili brush his hand over the opening on your waist, the action making you swallow harshly and close your eyes. Curse him!

The dwarf before you continued his story, and thankfully there was a group surrounding you so he didn’t take notice of your rude behaviour.

“Did you have some dessert, amralime?” Fili asked beside you, having set his plate down on the table nearest to where you both stood before placing his hand on his hip and looking at you curiously.

“No, Fili, I did not. I’ve been slightly distracted…” you said with a playful warning.

He chuckled and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, you watching it happen like it was in slow motion.

“That’s too bad, it was delicious,” his lips turned upwards and his dimples made a more prominent appearance, making you weak once more. Choosing to ignore the effect he had on you, you turned back toward the story-teller, vowing not to succumb to the hunger that lingered in your stomach that wasn’t because you wanted dessert.

Fili leaned closer to you, his mouth beside your ear, his breath hot and sweet like the berries he’d just consumed and goosebumps erupted on your skin instantly. “It was good, but you’re going to taste better…”

That was your breaking point. You politely excused yourself from the group and gripped Fili’s arm with your hand, turning him to follow you and practically dragging him through the crowd to the doors. The cheeky dwarf dared to laugh as he struggled to keep up with you which only fueled your fire. You were going to wipe that smug grin off of his face.

As soon as you were both through the doors you moved to press him against the wall, hastily attaching your lips to his, your mouths immediately opening in your breathlessness to allow your tongues to tangle together. His hand flew up to hold your cheek, moving off the wall to replace his body with yours, your back slamming against the stone with a thud. His knee drove between your legs to part them, his hands moving down your sides tantalizingly slow. He took your hands in his and reached them up over your head at the same time he ground his hard bulge against your mound, the material gliding over the wet that had accumulated in your folds.

He pulled away from you slightly, watching your chest heave, his eyes dancing over every area of your body that the dress revealed.

“Mahal, you are a sight to behold,” Fili praised you. “This dress was the best money I’ve ever spent,” he continued, laughing before diving down to kiss your throat, pulling a drawn out moan from you.

“Although I can’t decide if I want to take you while you’re still wearing it, or rip it off of you.” His words mumbled against your skin as he explored you further, making you forget you weren’t yet in the privacy of your chambers. Then he stopped, his hands now braced on either side of your head, his pupils completely dilated as he looked at you menacingly.

“Probably both.”

You gasped when he latched onto your taught nipple through the thin fabric of the dress and quite frankly you didn’t care what happened to the dress, you simply needed him to end this ceaseless torture he’d put you through all night.

“Fìli!” you pleaded, “Take me home this instant, I’ve suffered enough!”

He grinned at you again, clearly amused by your frustrations and pulled you from the wall, making his way down the corridor toward your chambers with your hand in his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“This is exactly what you wanted to happen, wasn’t it?” you accused him as you realized his intention for buying you such a scandalous gown, your mouth hanging open, mockingly aghast.

“I had to make it so it was your idea to leave! I didn’t want to go in the first place.”

“You’re terrible, Fili.”

Giving you a sideways glance, you all but combusted on the spot when you heard his next words.

“I’m about to show you how terrible I can be.”

Fili’s robes were being torn off and discarded on the floor, the hem of your dress hiked up to your hips even before your door was unlatched, both of you frantic to access the other. As soon as you were completely through the threshold Fili kicked the door shut with his boot, managing to push it off his foot in the process.

Buttons fell to the floor as you tore open his tunic, revealing his bare torso to you.

“Easy, now, my love. We can’t go ruining all of our best clothes.” He dared to laugh again but it was cut off, changing to a hiss when you reached forward and pulled at the laces on his trousers, his cock hanging out heavily in the cool air.

“I’m not letting you ruin this dress, Fili. I quite like the effect it had on you.” You watched him melt to your touch as you stroked his length, his head tipping back in ecstasy. His head returned to its normal position and his eyes opened to look at you when you suddenly stopped touching him, moving away to sit on the small desk that occupied the space beside the door.

Fili strode over to you, closing the short distance quickly with a ferocity that worried you slightly. His hands roughly covered your knees and pushed them apart, making room for him to stand between your legs. He pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers now roaming up the backs of your thighs to cue you to wrap your legs around his thick waist.

“I’ll do my best to refrain from ruining the gown, amralime,” he whispered in a husky voice, his lips brushing yours. He lifted it further up your body, the silky skirt pooling at your hips, exposing your abundant arousal to him. “I can’t make the same promise for you though.” The tips of his fingers grazed over you and Fili growled at how ready you were, and before he could waste another moment gripped his throbbing cock and lined it up to push through your tight entrance.

You both cried out at finally getting what you both had desired all night, your hips pushing forward to meet his already intense thrusts.

The sound of the desk banging against the wall echoed throughout your chambers, the feral tempo you worked to set revealed with every clap of wood on stone.

Teeth crashed together with every desperate kiss, nothing of what your hands and mouths were doing made any sense other than that it was as if you were trying to grasp onto each other for dear life with every touch. Curses spilled from Fili’s wet lips, making you question whether it was to prolong this session and prevent his nearing climax, when all it was doing was spurring yours on. He roared in your ear as you began your ascent, your walls closing around him, squeezing and coaxing out all he had to offer you. In your blind passion you sensed his hands grip your side, groping and clawing at you in his own frantic pursuit. His fingers slipped through one of the cutouts on the side of your gown, the sound of material ripping registering on you just as you shouted through your high.

There was no time to care, still focused on riding out the shuddering bliss that rattled through you while Fili pounded into you in search of his own. His mouth covered yours, sloppy and clumsy, and with a growl that reverberated through you, you felt him coat your insides with his hot spend.

After a few moments of panting and kissing, Fili pulled out of you and took a step back, running his fingers through his sweaty hair that you’d efficiently messed up during your activities. He stumbled slightly, moving his hands from his hair to run over his beard like he was trying to catch his bearings again. His body was coated in a layer of sweat from his exertion, and despite your very small annoyance that your dress was ruined you couldn’t help but admire the masterpiece that was your husband standing before you in all his glory.

You cleared your throat to regain his attention, fiddling with the tattered piece of dress between your fingers to draw his gaze there.

A sigh left him and he placed his hands on his hips, shrugging slightly as a sated smile pulled at his dimples. “I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said vaguely, his attempt at an apology weak.

Unconvinced, you gave him a pointed look but then squirmed where you remained when he took a step toward you again, gathering the edge of your dress in his hands, his expression hungry once more.

“Seeing as it is now torn,” he looked from your exposed midsection up to your eyes with renewed spirit, “I’m going to have to take it off of you and take you for a second time without any part of you hidden from me.”

A yelp escaped you when Fili gripped your bottom and slid you off the desk, dragging you down to the floor with him. Both of you erupted in laughter, the thin and scratchy rug not softening the landing whatsoever, but your discomfort was soon forgotten when you were slowly guided to lay on your back, your dress slipped up and over your head, the silky garment now used as your blanket.

Fili settled himself between your legs, slowly kissing you while gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, an indication that this next round would be unhurried and measured, a stark contrast to the rush you both found yourselves in earlier.

———

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit

[voiddemon]

Morning! This is the first time I'm making an account on Tumblr and using it to assk something, so… Let's ask a lot of things! (if that's ok)

What is your favourite Kirby ship? (i feel like this one is a bit difficult) Do you think Prince Fluff is some kind of Kirby counterpart? Do you think there are worlds who generate Kirby-like beings, to fight any dengerous creatures? Like Shadow Kirby from the MirrorWorld? Maybe that's why Sahdow Kirby is not evil?????

Sorry this is complete nonsense, I came up with all of that while I was writing. bye!

it's cool, i like being asked things a lot actually (so do a lot of other people). I've seen you float around in my notes so it's kinda cool to get a message from you and like, idk. make contact? it's cool

putting everything under the cut bc the post will get long, just know almost ALLLL of this is just shit i made up

What is your favourite Kirby ship?

i try to avoid talking about them even though i post a tonnn of doodles of them. they're on the mind 24/7. (If you mean ship with Kirby I choose none of the above. Idk, i just don't think it's his thing. There's three I actively dislike but :shrug: wont get into that)

Do you think Prince Fluff is some kind of Kirby counterpart?

I don't think Prince Fluff is a 'Kirby counterpart' or even like. Kirby-adjacent. I have ideas as to what he is, but it's based on basically nothing. The only thing I have on them being very different beings is Kirby gains the abilities that Fluff has after he eats a metamato. My headcanon is that he's a construct made by the ancients, and that his appearance was based on beings like Galacta Knight. They did this for various reasons but tldr the ancients suck and he was essentially a social experiment.

Do you think there are worlds who generate Kirby-like beings, to fight any dengerous creatures?

I think Kirby-like beings are made by the universe to balance out the emotional forces in it. Basically they just kind of spawn with a purpose and go where they need to go. If there's too much hate and sadness, a being will be created to try and balance it out. It works the other way round and it's awful. I believe the ancients tried to exploit this natural process, which ultimately lead to their downfall.

...Like Shadow Kirby from the MirrorWorld?

The mirror world is a can of ancient WORMS but my answer is yes, that was the reason the ancients pursued the creation of the dimensional mirror in the first place. It's original purpose was not to create warriors, but a version of reality where everyone acted almost perfectly. Basically to show others a more perfect world. However the main way this was possible to actually make was by using the wishes of others about other people to guide the mirror world. For example if you wished someone was hard-working, they'd become hard-working in the mirror world. The ancients wanted to use this to attempt to pull perfect, unquestioning warriors out of the mirror to use for their own purposes.

The dimensional mirror was placed above Dream Land thousands of years ago as a sort of 'test run' on an otherwise innocuous planet. The problem is the ancients fucking died so they could never go back to collect it. The dimensional mirror is only fucked up because of Dark Mind distorting the dreams and wishes of others for their own uses- and by extension twisting the mirror from the inside. These changes were set in stone when MK and Kirby entered the mirror.

TLDR: Yeah

Maybe that's why Shadow Kirby is not evil?????

My not-so-baby boy is not evil because. why would he be. Mirror worlders aren't inherently evil, they're warped reflections of the originals. Meta Knight has done evil things, so has Dark Meta Knight. Kirby hasn't really done anything that evil yet, neither has Shadow Kirby. Canonically he's good, ish. He didn't take any real action during KATAM (other than tossing the master sword back to Kirby if he drops it during the final boss fight), and afterward it's stated that he will remain on guard and protect the mirror world. Which is implied to be a good action. From what little info we've have about him in the modern day nothing points toward him being evil. Mischievous, yes, but nothing more.

so uh yeah. sorry for throwing my headcanons at you but you asked for them pretty much