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samekoblogs · 1 year

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Haunted

Written for Amorra Week 2023 @amorraweek2023 for Day 1: Scars.

Rating: T for discussions of some heavy topics ahead.

Tags: Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Relationship, Korra-centric, Introspection, Description-heavy, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Angst.

Summary: She presses her knuckles against her forehead, out of tiredness and anxiety.

“I can’t escape you, can I?” she whispers.

In one way or another, it seems he’ll always find a way to haunt her.

Notes: Fic is also under the cut if you're more comfortable reading on Tumblr! Also it's my first time posting here, please have patience 🤧.

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Her parents used to tell her all kinds of bedtime stories when she lived with them. Stories about the southern spirits, made of flesh like humans, of energy and life from beyond another plane of existence; stories about benders of the past, about the many strife and victories her nation faced over the centuries. She remembers only a couple of those from her infancy days, and not with many details. One of those narrated the troubled story of a water princess forced to be locked away and hidden inside a palace of ice, her powers too violent for the world to witness, her emotions too strong even for her family to bear. She was a prisoner in a home that was no longer hers.

Later, she found out that it was common for women in the Northern Tribe to be made to stay in their houses and barely leave them, excluded from taking part in traditions that in the Southern Tribe are shared equally. That people losing control of their bending could be dangerous. Terrifying. A gift turned into a curse. That emotions can be sometimes too much to bear, they come out inadvertently and you can’t force them down. And they become an inconvenience to the people around you. Cages are everywhere, inside or outside everyone, they’re cold to the touch, or scalding as fiery-hot steel.

Perhaps, that’s why she feels cold on her skin and heat in her stomach, as she climbs up the stairs of one of the towers of the Air Temple. The wood creaks under her boots, as she makes her way up to reach the garret atop it. Korra doesn’t know what this tower was used for before; she does know its purpose now.

It was the report of a stolen motorboat that alerted Tenzin and former Chief Beifong. Amid the chaos following Amon’s escape and Tarrlok’s disappearance, it has been rather fortuitous that they didn’t overlook this report.

When they found him, the man without the mask in raggedy clothes, wounds open and bloody, and the unrecognizable body of his brother amidst the wreckage of the ship, they opted to keep the news of his arrest a secret until things would be remotely settled down in Republic City, to prevent further Equalist’s action. Korra doesn’t know when things will settle down. Once again, she’s faced with issues she can’t even begin to untangle. She’s too young. Her prowess alone can’t take her far. She’s powerless, even with her bending returned to her thanks to Aang. She can’t punch away her problems, she can’t kick away this uselessness she feels inside knowing Tenzin and the Council are working relentlessly to maintain order in the disarrayed city. The one thing she’s good at is useless in helping her deal with the aftermath of this mess. So she’s stuck. Irremediably stuck. And does whatever she can to make herself useful, just as to not feel the fear and the pressure and the inadequacy. Unbearable, every single one of them, she isn’t supposed to feel like this, not after all the training she did since she was five.

At the end of the winding staircase there’s a trapdoor. Korra pushes it open and puts the medical supplies she was carrying on the floor. Then, she hauls herself up in the garret.

Amon’s “chambers” are a box comprised of metal and wood, constructed by the inhabitants of the island with the help of Chief Beifong’s most loyal colleagues. She didn’t entrust anyone else with the knowledge of the dangerous prisoner they were dealing with. Although, troublesome isn’t a word that’s appliable to Amon anymore: he’s weak, severely wounded to the point bending doesn’t come to him, and he’s constantly drugged so he can be kept tame. The cage, at this point, is just an overkill measure to ensure he won’t get away this time. Not that Korra will complain about it anytime soon – or ever.

In between the reticle of the bars, Amon’s form peeks out. He’s sitting on the cot, cross-legged. His hands are resting on his stomach. It’s as if he’s deep in a relaxation technique of sorts, his shoulders under the simple tunic are rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His abdomen is pushing lightly against his palms until compelled to compress itself by the pressure of his hands.

Korra doesn’t furrow so much at the activity itself, but more at the fact that he’s up and alert enough to do so. Amon being alert makes the hair behind her neck stand up – the ghost of his fingers pressing against her forehead and taking away all her work, all her achievements in bending, her role and pride, everything—

His icy eyes slide open and rest on her.

Korra pushes down the saliva stagnating in her mouth.

“I’m here to change your bandages. Same as usual,” she announces, forcing herself to step forward. She won’t concede herself even a second of hesitance. He’s more alert, yes, but he’s still too weak for bending, too weak to be a threat and steal away anything from her again. He’ll be a little more loquacious than usual perhaps, but that isn’t a matter she can’t take in her hands either. She could have conversations with literal rocks with the right amount of stubbornness. She can push down the unease once again in the presence of the Equalist Leader and hide the lingering fear from him. She can face anything if she gets it into her head: she has a pretty long line of reincarnations proving this.

Korra retrieves the medical supplies from the floor. All the while, she feels his eyes on her, as if she’s doing anything remotely of interest. Maybe he’s just that bored.

He slowly tears his stare away from her the moment she gets back on both her feet and approaches the… cage. His cage.

“Proceed to do so,” Amon says. As if she had been asking for permission in the first place – not that she would do anything he doesn’t like or makes him uncomfortable. She is neither evil, nor cruel. Perhaps he just had nothing else to say and he naturally fell back on speaking in a rather commanding tone. Korra has still a hard time reading him, although she must admit she’s getting better at it. Whether that’s a good thing or not. She decides it’s a good thing, if it can aid her through this task she had been entrusted with. She pestered Tenzin to death to let her do this. Not only because they needed someone trusted to heal Amon’s injuries, but because she needed to prove she could succeed. Tame her fear and be the Korra she once was.

She fishes a key out of her pocket and opens the door to the cage. She trained her body enough not to jump at the sound of the lock mechanism. She used to leave the door open when Amon was still barely conscious, a hazard for sure, but she couldn’t bear to be alone in close spaces with him, even when accompanied by at least one of her friends every time. As soon as Amon regained some strength, she started closing the door and working on keeping her nerves at bay. It became easier with each visit dictated by a reinforced, ritualistic series of actions.

Amon is already tugging at the tunic to try and take it off on his own. She helped him with it from time to time prior, so she does it this time too, even if the coordination of his movements seems to have improved. Amon lets her help him. He didn’t protest against it when he had been conscious enough to take notice of his clothes being removed, but with his back and torso bared she had noticed the tensity a piece of garments would have otherwise concealed. She found a strange kind of comfort in the fact he had been, apparently, unsure in doing that. They were both in a similar boat, which back then reassured Korra he wouldn’t try anything funny. Not something she could prevent or counterattack at least.

She leaves the tunic on his lap before sitting down behind him, the cot sinking under her added weight. It takes a little patience to unroll the bandages and, in general, do any medical intervention without bending. But it's wiser to make him believe she's still the almost powerless girl that, against all odds, managed to defenestrate him and unmask his lies for the city to see. She's a little smug about it even weeks after. However, her smugness soon disappears when she sees the goosebumps flourish on his uncovered flesh. He’s cold. That’s such a basic thing for a human to experience, yet it still clashes with the image of the looming figure tormenting her sleep. She shouldn’t be so surprised, she had always known there was a human under that mask, but a part of her couldn’t associate a human visage with such a menacing – terrifying – character. She still has difficulty humanizing him, despite tending to his wounds almost daily.

“I’ll make it quick,” she says, spontaneously. He doesn’t need reassurance, he’s Amon. It just feels like the right thing to say and so she does. The wintry weather isn’t getting any better. Pema and the kids downstairs are keeping the stove working day and night. Maybe the room temperature is too low, despite him being of Water Tribe heritage.

Amon’s head slightly turns back to her, his eyes not quite looking at her. Instead, it’s as if he’s acknowledging her speaking. His hair is still short, leaving his head almost bare. They had to cut it to clean the wounds and facilitate the healing of his burns there. Whatever accident involved him and Tarrlok, he took the blow of the explosion from behind. He's lucky he survived at all.

The stitches are keeping the wounds closed, but they still have such an angry-looking red color. The burns must hurt all the same and hinder his movements. They’ll all scar. And they’re not the first scars he’ll receive in his life. There are far older ones marrying his body and small patches of discolored skin as well. They’re so randomly positioned that Korra can’t put her finger on what caused them. She has been speculating ever since seeing them for the first time.

“I’ll…” she starts, breaking the silence. She doesn’t like this man’s silence, gelid and unpleasant. Like a blow of wind cooling the tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’ll bring some extra blankets for you. It’s snowing nonstop outside.”

“I can tell,” he replies.

“It’s the smell, right?” she asks, not truly needing an answer. “Snow has such a distinct smell.”

Even here at Republic City, where its odor has an unsavory quality to it, due to the fumes and pollution of the city.

“Yes,” he says, bordering on a mumble. Far from the authoritative voice she heard him speak with on the radio or during his speeches.

Korra hums at him. They’re from the Water Tribe. Both of them. They have so many words for snow in their native language. A word for when it’s soft and granular. A word for when it’s hard and old. A word for when it’s freshly fallen. At some point in life, he must have used these words to talk to his father, his mother. His brother. She doesn’t want him to indulge in the thought of ever seeing the light of day. He never will, for everyone’s sake and her well-being. Thus, she drops the subject and continues with her work, applying lotion to the burns.

She should be happy the man that tried to ruin her is in such a state that even conversation comes hard to him. She used to be relieved, more at the idea that he couldn’t hurt her future anymore. But happy? No. Laughing at someone else’s misery isn’t like her, even if said misery benefits her.

“Your wounds will heal,” she says, with a bit of a soft tone, leaning on cheery. “It’ll take some time, sure. But you’ll feel better.”

“You should remove my bending, Avatar. As your predecessor did with Yakone,” Amon suddenly says.

Korra stops.

“To… him?” she murmurs. Tentatively. Perhaps threading over dangerous waters. She doesn’t refer to Yakone as his father. She fears it would be crossing a line that unburies yet more pain other than the physical one and the grief haunting his mourning eyes. She shouldn’t care, yet she does. Because she’s not a cruel, horrible person, and she cares enough to not add salt to already infected wounds.

“Yes,” Amon says. “A non-bender is treated more humanly than a bender in prison. They wouldn’t have to use coercive methods to ensure I don’t escape.” Amon’s stare becomes vacant in the brief pause that follows. “It would prevent me from ever taking away bending again. Like I did with you.”

Korra narrows her eyes. Is he trying to remind her of that to instill anger in her? To prompt an impulsive action? Little does he know that she retrieved her bending.

“I’ll think about it,” she says. “And not because I’m swayed by your manipulations.”

“You agree that it would be the safer thing to do,” he affirms.

Yes. It would be.

She sighs. And it would be mercy for him, because before he could return in shape enough to practice any bending, he would be transported to the nearest max security prison and locked away. Bending would be impossible for him anyway.

“I…” she trails off, not knowing where she wants to go with her words. Instead, she takes the syringe filled with the narcotic drug from the box.

“I spared you once, for my own motives,” he reminds her while offering his arm, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She tightens the tourniquet around his biceps to suppress it. “Now, you could spare me for your own motives too.”

Korra moves her lips nervously. She stills her hand before plunging the needle and emptying the syringe. His reasoning is sound, unfortunately. Yet there’s something amiss, something she can’t place that feels weird in his voice. It’s like, through his apathetic tone, something had threatened to break through the surface. She looks at the back of his neck and diverted face, a sliver of blue in his eye glinting with something raw. Primal.

He’s… he’s desperate. For her help.

Somehow, that terrifies her more than if he looked at her with fury, or hate. Does he think himself incapable of escaping his bonds once restrained in a prison? A remarkable bender like him should have more confidence in his abilities. Not that she would offer words of encouragement to fuel said confidence. Are the restraints worrying him this much? Is it the lack of human interaction? The isolation? He did lose his brother, in unknown circumstances. She guesses he must feel isolated right now, lonely. One thing is being alive knowing you have people you care about still living. One thing is being alive and everyone you know is dead, or has turned their back on you.

Perhaps that’s the issue. The fact he survived and, by all accounts, he shouldn’t have.

“You plan to take your own life?” she asks. Silence. Korra can’t help the trembling she feels in her chest. “W-why?”

To her, any concept of terminating your own life is inconceivable. It’s horrible, it fills her with a cold sensation of dread.

“I don’t plan to take my own life, Avatar.” He uses that appellative as if he wants to distance himself from her. But that’s a lie, the one he spoke. She didn’t imagine the vulnerability from before.

“You want me to take away your bending because, if I don’t, you won’t be able to go through it under strict surveillance,” she explains, embers in her throat. “Worse, if I snitch on you, you won’t have a moment in which you’re alone and unsupervised. It’d be impossible.”

Amon exhales through his nose. Slowly.

“You are not an unmerciful person, Avatar. Nor uncaring. Granting death isn’t an immoral act to do. Your previous lives learned this. My brother, he thought too this would be best for both of us,” he says, soft-spoken as she never heard him before. “You have the chance to undo what wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I don’t want to send anyone to their death. I’m not a murderer.”

She clenches a fist while her whole body rejects the idea of taking life. A human life.

“My death won’t be on you, Avatar. Only on myself. You are young, but… you are not without reasoning.”

Korra twists her head, as if to smack away from her ears his voice. Her heart is pounding so hard in her chest.

“No. I can’t. I couldn’t,” she says, to him and herself. She can’t. She would feel responsible despite him telling her it wouldn’t be her fault. He’s just saying that because he didn’t get through to her and he’s grasping at straws at this point. Maybe it’s the drug that’s making him less cautious, clumsy with what he’s letting transpire. “You need to lie down,” she suggests, forcing down the lump in her throat. Him not moving to obey prompts her to her feet.

When she retrieves the tunic from his lap, she sees Amon’s vacant eyes following her with difficulty. They’re glassy and lost. She can’t look at them while she helps him put the tunic back on.

She places a hand on his back and one on his arm, to guide him down on the cot.

“Avatar…”

“Lie down,” she commands this time, moving her hand from his arm to his wrist to firmly take it. “Just, lie down. You aren’t lucid.”

If he was, she would know nothing of this. He’s unreadable to her under normal circumstances. It feels wrong, to be able to read a man like him so promptly. It is so, so wrong. She doesn’t feel like leaving him alone after what she heard. It scares her, that he might try something and she would return the next day only to find a dead body. And it would be her fault, for leaving him alone and ignoring the signals.

She presses her knuckles against her forehead, out of tiredness and anxiety.

“I can’t escape you, can I?” she whispers.

In one way or another, it seems he’ll always find a way to haunt her.

She turns to him. He’s observing her through half-lidded, heavy eyes. He’s close to drifting off, the frown on his face ever so slowly relaxing.

Korra lets her hand fall between her thighs.

“Sleep, please,” she murmurs. It’ll be better if she doesn’t have to meet his stare anymore.

It takes one minute for Amon to fall asleep.

It takes longer for his blue eyes weakly looking up at her to blur into her mind and disappear, while she listens to the sounds of creaking wood and the whistling of the wind outside, soft breathing next to her.

She opens her palm, a small flame dances on her fingertips. It’ll be a cold night. She can do well with the cold. But she’s not alone. So, she fuels the flame as darkness descends. A lifeline in the void of the night.

A light, for when there’s no more light left.

#amorra #korra #amon #amorra week #noarra

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whenimgoodandready · 2 years

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With what little of what we saw of The Ox Miraculous, it was still a pretty effective power of making one immune to others powers against them. We all assumed it’d be super strength cuz it’s, well, an ox! But that’d be too obvious. All miraculouses give you enhanced strength, speed, agility, endurance and all that jazz, but a new look on this power for the ox makes a good point. Ivan, the burliest and toughest of the class was afraid of hurting others in sports due to him unable to control his strength (“Penalteam”). Luckily, his sole appearance as Minotaurox, helped him overcome that and win the soccer/football game. This is gonna be bad for whoever Monarch bestows that power to for evil purposes! Who? Let’s see:

*Determination-Adrien is starting to see Marinette in a new light (he saw her with the pink background and bubbles! By anime logic, it’s a sign of ღloveღ!) and his ex-girlfriend, Kagami, notices and pushes him to ask out Marinette. Problem is Marinette is trying her best to stay clear of Adrien since she’s quit cold turkey on him on romance, but her ex-boyfriend, Luka (who knows both their identities in secret), also pushes her to try to make things work with him by seeing him as a person and not a Heaven sent God Boy. Their “date”, which awkwardly included their exes, is at the wax museum and it gets even more awkward when Adrien brings up the “kissing statue” incident (“The Puppeteer 2”) and Marinette tries to deny that it didn’t happen. Yeah, way to break the ice there Mr.Agreste😒 and Marinette, yeah, it didn’t happen, but you’re making it worse🤦‍♀️.

While that fiasco was goin’ on, Veronique, the museum manager, from where we first saw the “incident” happen (“The Puppeteer 2”) and helping Ladybug with her elaborate plan to ambush Monarch (“Destruction”), was gonna unleash all of Team Miraculous as wax statues for a new exhibit, but Mayor Bourgeois forbid it thinking it’ll upset people that Team Miraculous isn’t around anymore (though it was an excuse cuz the real reason was Chloe’s alter ego, Queen Bee, wasn’t a part of it and instead it was Vesperia whom she’s still pissy about being forced to retire and replace), so she gets akumatized as Manipula.

This was her first akumatization and I liked that she tried to resist her brainwashing transformation, but Monarch convinced her to accept by explaining he’ll stop villainy if she does. Her look resembled her profession what with her looking waxy with a dripping look dressed in a gold suit, but what I hated was her poofy pants look. Not a big fan of that. Oh well, Her power was bringing her wax statues to life! What? A rehash of Puppeteer’s power? Lame! Sure in this case, they talk, but that didn’t really impress me much. Despite Team Miraculous fighting against the duo with their powers included, they were easy to defeat cuz one hit and they fall to pieces. Whomp! Whomp! Whomp! Although, Manipula was harder to defeat cuz she was given Stompps power of resistance! Don! Don! Don! Yeah! See! That’s what I’m talking about! That power, in the hands of evil, is real bad! Not even cataclysm works on her!😱 In the end, the duo defeated her Phantom of the Opera style! (Phantom of the Opera theme music plays).

It’s happened at long last fellow miraculors! After over 4 seasons, we finally got what we’ve been praying for! ✨The Reverse Love Square!✨(triumphant music plays). Honestly though, what’s there to be excited about? It’s just the same two people in love again! But at least now the other likes the others alter egos now, what would be better is if they accepted both halves then we’d all be happy! Oh if only they knew. Adrien realizes his feelings for Marinette are more than just platonic and now wants to win her over, but Marinette doesn’t want anything to do with Adrien anymore cuz every time they’re together, disaster happens *cough*Season4Finale*cough*. She’s too guilt ridden about her blind love for him leading to Monarch obtaining almost all the miraculouses and wants to keep a safe distance which is why she wanted Luka and Kagami around to not end up alone together with him. Ladybug has now suddenly fallen for Cat Noir! (whispers) There was that pink background with the bubbles again! She was actually being flirty and complimentive towards him. Wonder what made her see him in a romantic light? However, now that he’s moved on (after 4 seasons of finally understanding and quitting his “not taking no for an answer” approach), he thinks she’s talking about their partnership. How will this new format go for the season? Or the show!? We’ll have to watch and see.

#miraculous ladybug #determination

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selfawarejester · 3 years

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Hey can u please do a teen wolf imagine set in season 2 where she is either Scott or stiles sister and she is sneaking around with isaac (they kinda had a thing before he got the bite and after isaac got more confident so he made a move)and isaac sneaks into her room at night and instead of Allison it’s is y/n that Matt was stalking and taking pictures of and obsessed with and he had pictures of her and isaac kissing and stuff and maybe he leaves the pictures in her locker and it freaks her out and you decide the rest. (Sorry it’s a bit dark)

Oh, I love me some Isaac!!! Forgive me if I get some details wrong, it’s been a while since I saw s2. And I’m gonna make you Scotty boi’s sister, because Melissa 🥰

You weren’t the dating type, much to the relief of your mother and your brother - and for some reason, Stiles, but you preferred to pretend that you didn’t know that. - which is why it was such a shock when you drag Isaac Lahey of all people to sit with them during lunch one day.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N-“ Isaac tires to say, shooting the boys a wary look, but you just shush him and shove him into a seat. You brightly grin at the shocked faces Scott and Stiles before confessing that you’d been dating Isaac for a while now.

Scott freezes for a full thirty seconds.

Stiles chokes on his hashbrowns, and almost dies in that same time period.

“Da- you’re dating him?” He splutters, pointing at a smirking Isaac. “You’re dating him? Oh my god, what the- Scott, say something.”

Stiles gives you a look that says ‘you’re gonna get it now’ which slowly slides off when Scott just keeps quiet, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Wha- Scott, say something.” He grits out, and you roll your eyes, tired of their dramatics.

“All right, enough! Seriously, people are staring.”

That gets Scott moving again, as he looks around to find that people are, indeed, staring. He’s still shocked because when did you start dating?? But now he’s asking questions like when did you two start dating? Why did you keep it a secret so long?

He always knew you kind of had a thing for him: all the flirty banter, and the lovelorn glances…

You and Isaac started up two months ago, you explain, but it’s been pretty low-key so that he can hide it from his dad. (You don’t outwardly say this, exchanging a specific look, but both you and Scott have been pretty sure something was going very wrong in the Lahey household — Scott had smelt blood and fear wafting off of Isaac way too often for it not to be.) So he kinda just?? Accepts it??

He’s concerned, duh, but you’re so happy and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. But he sternly tells Isaac he’ll kick his ass if he hurts you. Isaac, to his credit, stifles his laughter and genuinely tells him that he’d rather die than hurt you; and that’s good enough for Scotty.

Of course, all of this changes when Isaac becomes a beta.

He does it for you. He wants to be able to protect you, to love you without fear of losing you or getting you in trouble. Derek’s assured him that your protection is a priority of the pack, because even in his slightly power-greedy Alpha state, Derek wouldn’t let what happened to him and Paige happen to his beta.

Stiles and Scott hover around you throughout the whole time Isaac is suspected of murdering his father. Sheriff Stilinski tried to kick them out during your questioning, but they squeezed onto the small couch in his office and just stared at him the whole time. You were shocked and scared and obviously didn’t know anything, so he sent you home pretty quick.

Melissa’s freaked out because 1) you lied to her?? 2) you’re dating now 3) and it’s a boy suspected of murder. So, yeah, maybe she’s questioning her parenting a bit, but she’s really trying to be supportive.

Scott corners Isaac at school (Stiles is there too, naturally) after the whole ice rink thing, without Erica or Derek, and he swears he’d never hurt you. Unfortunately, you walk in right at that moment.

You know when both of them are lying, so you force the truth of them, then and there. You get thrown off guard, of course — they thought you’d react like Stiles, or just like most of the people in those movies react: with a lot of surprise but general and immediate acceptance.

You do immediately do something: leave and avoid both of them for the next couple of days. Your mom’s curious as to why you’re so distant, and why Scott keeps begging you to talk to him, and why you’re avoiding him -- but ultimately, she lets sleeping dogs lie, because she hopes you’ll come to her with something really important.

You hang out with Lydia and Allison a lot more, Allison backing up for Scott by keeping you safe — she tries to defend him for you, but you make it clear you need a lot of time before you can think about that stuff. She also tries to turn you against Isaac, but you’re even more closed off to that.

Lydia is a fresh breath of air, because she is just as confused about this (even if it’s only possibilities and vague stuff) and she doesn’t wanna know more either. She keeps things light between you and Allison, and keeps your mind off of things. But it doesn’t work when Allison and the others drag you guys to your house for a weird “study session” that gets crashed by a giant lizard thing- god, this was your life now.

Isaac grabbed you, and locked you in a bathroom before the whole thing really started. You scream at him to stop, scream for Scott, and beat on his chest, but he just screws his eyes shut and forces you in there — he knows you’ll hate him afterwards, but he also knows you might run straight at the Kanima if it came for him or Scott.

You do hate him afterwards. A little part of you understands why he did it, and it’s unfortunately the same part that still loves him. But you’re still hugely pissed off, especially after Scott and Stiles tell you that he tried to kill Lydia. So the next day, when he tries to talk to you at school, you glare at him until he goes away.

In swoops Matt, all “charming” smiles and “funny” jokes. He sees his chance: months of watching you and Isaac be all cutesy had paid off. He knew what kind of humor you liked — unfortunately, all it did was remind you of your boyfriend and keep you guys at a distance.

God, he hated it. Bad enough that someone was keeping you from him, but that it was Lahey. The brother of the guy that drowned him, the son of the guy that screamed in his face about how it was his fault- no. He had to break you up.

So he consolidated all the pictures that he’d taken of you: candids of you at school, at home, at the coffee place you liked. He slips them into your locker, and watches you squirm and look around. It’s working. Then, it’s those pictures of you and Isaac, kissing at your secret spot, necking in your bedroom, smiling at each other — labels it “Remember the good times?”

You’re trying to talk about it to Scott, Allison and Stiles, but they’re busy with the Kanima. Lydia tries to help, but she’s so out of it and she has been for a while and you’re starting to get worried.

It gets to a point where you run to Isaac, tears in your eyes, and photographs in your hands. “Is this you?” You sob, and he just pulls you into his arms shushing you - “No! No, babe, I’d never do that!” - and promises to keep you safe. You stay glued to his side after that. Boyd is nice and calm, a contrast to Derek who creeps you out a little.

Through his first full moon, you stay with him and keep him grounded. Your voice keeps his father’s out of his head, keeps him in control.

You’re standing off in a corner, watching with a smirk as Erica - who you’ve gotten weirdly close to in the past few weeks - and Isaac double team Jackson (it’s actually… kinda hot? Especially because damn Isaac keeps looking at you); but your view gets obstructed by Matt. He’s trying to talk to you but you barely listen, keeping eye contact with Isaac over his shoulder. Then they leave with Jackson, and Matt makes a move on you. You flinch away so hard, you hit the counter and get the bartender’s attention.

You confront him about the pictures and he splutters for an excuse. The bartender kicks out Matt, seeing your distress, who’s now more desperate for your attention than ever.

Matt - or the Kanima- kidnaps you during Lydia’s party and keeps you in his basement. You’re scared out of your mind, begging for him to let you go, but he promises you that there won’t be anyone in your ways from now on. While everyone’s dealing with the fiasco at the police station, Isaac, Boyd and Erica come get you.

He’s trying not to cry when he sees your busted lip, the bruises around your wrists where you were tied down.

Boyd and Erica decided to leave, but Isaac didn’t want to leave you behind. So he goes to Scott and Deaton, and becomes a good guy, helps out with Jackson and everything!

He also starts living with you guys, which you’re very excited about ;) But Melissa is very careful about leaving you two alone. And Scott’s stupid senses screw you over in that he interrupts every time you get to more than kissing.

But you find ways. 😉😏😏

Hope you liked it! I think I changed a few things, and I tried to keep the canon timelines for everything, but yeah!

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #scott mccall x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagines #isaac lahey imagines #gabiwrites

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kozzax · 3 years

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so recently the folks over at @petrichormeraki have been working on a silent tommy au because of a few asks talking about mute!tommy. and one of the things that’s canon in that au is the fact that xisuma is the only mortal hermit. i took this as free reign to work out why each of the other hermits is immortal. some of them are gods, some of them are demigods, some of them are supernatural beings, but none of them (except xisuma) can be killed through feasible means.

because of the sheer amount of immortal hermits there just to live out immortality in peace, i like to think hermitcraft is sometimes referred to jokingly as ‘the retirement zone’ by other immortal beings. most mortals outside of hermitcraft wouldn’t know the hermits are all like... gods and shit.

hermits + their immortality under the cut because oh god this was supposed to be a fast post but i accidentally wrote... a lot. whoops!

Grian is a watcher. He was a watcher before he joined hermitcraft. That’s... just. Canon Grian Lore TM. Not much to explain with him.

Cleo and Joe are both immortal by virtue of no longer being capable of being mortal. As both of hem are undead beings (cleo a zombie and joe a ghost), killing them again isn’t... possible. In addition to this, at some point during their afterlife, they managed to gather enough power between the two of them to be labelled as the “Twin Gods of Life and Death”. Which one is life and which one is death? That depends on the day.

Cub and Scar are definitely not gods. But the deals the two made with the Vex are almost more of an insurance on their immortality. The Vex protect their ConVex as a dragon protects its hoard. Not only can the two of them hold their own in a fight, but their respawn is insured by the fact that even if they were to permadie, the Vex would bring them back anyways.

False is the Queen of Hearts, Heads, and Body Parts. She’s also a vampire. In a similar vein, Ren is a werewolf. Both of them can only be killed through very specific means, and neither can die of old age. Throughout their many years in the worlds, they’ve gathered tons of skills and allies. Although now they’ve both stepped down, content to enjoy their peaceful lives and chill out in Hermitcraft, each of them was once a ruler of their respective factions. The ‘queen’ part of False’s title was never just a title.

Etho was granted immortality by a council of gods, after they took a liking to his interesting antics and kept an eye on his longstanding worlds.

Doc, BDubs, Beef, and Etho (again) were all brought to Hermitcraft as the last ‘mortal’ members to join. The general idea was that maybe they could give Xisuma some company and relief from the antics of his immortal and godly friends. This did not happen. Instead, the universe decided it was going to give all of them godly powers in their own right. Etho himself may have been immortal, but he and the rest of the NHO all grew infinitely more powerful after leaving the jungle of season 5.

Stress is a dryad. She can control and warp the nature around her in strange and beautiful ways. In addition to this, were her body to ever get fully destroyed in a way that would prevent her from respawning, a new body would instead form for her out of the nature wherever she died. This is how ice queen stress came about in season 6.

Impulse actually bullshitted his own way into immortality. Where most of the other hermits were either brought into it by someone else or born into it, Impulse actually discovered the secret of immortality while he was trying to figure out how totems of undying were made. He now knows how to create totems and how to become immortal, though he won’t tell anyone else if they ask. Part of the process of creating totems involved...

...Tango, who is a demon. As a demon, his powerset includes but is not limited to both pyrokinesis and an affinity for very very large and very very deadly animals. He doesn’t use those abilities on Hermitcraft often, but they’re in his skillset for sure.

As a byproduct of the immortality, Zedaph showed up in the current timeline. His immortality is... strange, because it’s not technically immortality. Zedaph, as a person, is mortal and can die. Zedaph, as a being, though, is one of billions of Zedaphs in the universe; each of whom is nearly identical to the others; and whenever one Zedaph dies, he is replaced instantly with a new Zedaph; a functionally identical Zedaph to the one who died. Nobody’s quite sure how this process works, but Zed claims it’s through “time travel”.

Jevin, as a slime, can actually inhabit any portion of his slime that he wants; no matter how small the amount. Even if he were limited to one singular molecule of slime, he could still exist around that molecule and regenerate slime until he was fully present again, though it might take a little while for him to complete that process. The only way to kill Jevin is by fundamentally altering the chemical makeup of every single molecule of slime he’s ever had anywhere. It simply won’t happen. He does use his abilities to get out of conversations, if he’s feeling particularly annoyed at the time.

TFC is potentially one of the most interesting hermits, in his prior responsibilities. It’s easy to forget that he’s not mortal, considering how frighteningly average he acts in his day to day life. One peek into any of his bunkers, though, and you’re hit right in the face with a bold reminder. TFC used to be one of the gods responsible for shaping the very worlds players would walk on; more specifically, he was in charge of cave systems and mineshafts for a long time. He’s retired from that life and is having a lovely time in Hermitcraft, just vibing.

Wels gained his immortality through a deal with the patron god of the kingdom he grew up serving. He made this deal as a young knight and watched for decades as the kingdom grew and prospered, Wels himself known far and wide as quite probably the best warrior of them all. After being dismissed honorably by the kingdom, as he’d been protecting them for many decades now and the rulers honestly felt he deserved a break, the god he’d made a deal with finalized this immortality. He joined Hermitcraft not long after, and has taken up a spot doing his part to protect the hermits.

Iskall was somewhat of an enforcer, for the gods. Were a god to be acting particularly out of line, Iskall would be called in to bring them to the council for trial. Sometimes his targets came peacefully, sometimes he’d have to use force to bring them in. No matter what he had to do, there wasn’t a single target he missed. He both can and will kill a god if he must. Technically, Iskall’s still on call, but generally councils don’t call on him unless absolutely necessary anymore.

Hypno made a deal with a god many years ago, trading his mortality for the ability to see hundreds of thousands of alternate paths for the future. He wanted to chronicle them, and he still spends one or two days a week writing out winding paths of the future. When he’s not working, he wears his bandana to cover up the third eye that allows him this insight. This helps him focus on the now, rather than the futures that may or may not be.

Xb is an eldritch being with reality warping abilities. He has them under fairly good control, most of the time. They really only become an issue when he gets too much pent-up magical energy at once; examples of this being things like season changes. His season 7 base is built around what happens when he needs to release. It’s a post apocalypse world, and the apocalypse was him.

Mumbo is definitely both magical and immortal, but the specifics of his powers are incredibly unclear. The hermits know it has something to do with redstone, maybe, and that the unpredictability of Hermit Challenges are a reflection of his strange and confusing powerset, but nobody’s really sure where his immortality stems from. Every time you ask him he gives you a different answer. The mumbonis are all different joking theories as to where his powers came from.

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dingoat · 3 years

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[So, @cinlat has been dabbling in a Sith au for her Fynta, with cameo slots available for various other characters to come hang out. And just the little bit of contemplation we had about where Ahuska might slot into this particular version of events, I wound up inspired enough to dabble with a scene! So welcome to an Ahuska who still wound up adopted into Mandalorian life, but has not forgotten/repressed her early years. Rather than their usual easy friendship, she and Fynta wind up butting heads more often than not and bumping into one another more than either would like. Apologies if I’ve gotten Fynta totally wrong, I will put up a disclaimer that I’m throwing this out here without any sort of proofing from Cinlat so she gets the final call as to the authenticity of this scene! I’ve also borrowed @askshivanulegacy’s Blakk for the ride, I think I needed a little cathartic fluff to counterbalance all the fluff-gone-wrong happening elsewhere hahahaha.]

‘Not on My Watch’

“I don’t know why you won’t just let me take a speeder…”

Ahuska lifted a hand to cut him off, raising a finger and shaking her head with a smile. It was no secret that the young bothan was soft for this particular Imperial Agent, even if her clanmates were quick to remind her that no self respecting human Kaas citizen would pursue anything more than a functional work relationship with her, a rudderless, stable-working alien.

She chose not to listen to what her clanmates had to say.

“Because a speeder won’t pull back when it feels the ice getting too thin or warn you when you cross a wampa’s path, that’s why.”

Cipher Blakk rolled his eyes and pulled the zipper of his insulated parka higher, but it still wasn’t enough to keep his face properly protected from the frankly absurd level of chill. “It’s not as though I plan to park on an ice sheet…”

“Uh huh, and you’ll know exactly what’s under the two inch layer of snow that’s just fallen…”

He huffed, and she laughed, opening the stall door against which she was leaning to lead out the young tauntaun buck she already had saddled and haltered. “Quit fretting. Thunder here is a solid ride and a soft touch, he won’t give you any problems, and I’d trust him over any autopilot to get you safely back to base if something goes wrong.” Blakk felt some unexpected warmth rise in his cheeks, and while he wondered for the thousandth time why she cared so much that he got back safely, the buck lowered his head to snuffle through Ahuska’s hair. She raised a hand to give the tauntaun a firm rub on the cheek and horn. “Yeah, you’re a good boy aren’t you? You’ll be good for the Empire’s elite, won’t you? Won’t you my good soft woolly buddy…”

Ahuska’s ears flicked at the same moment as Thunder’s twitched, and a heartbeat later Blakk’s head turned as well, hearing the heavy rasp of an iron gate lifting.

Ahuska had been stationed on the remote Hoth outpost for the last month and a half, more than enough time to get to know the sound of every latch and door in the stables, and the animals that spent their lives here knew them even better. Her sky blue eyes turned to ice as she squinted, staring down into the lower level. “Who… oh.”

Her lips turned to a tight, flat line as she recognised the figure down below, and the coolness in her expression was enough to prompt Blakk to lift a brow. “Ahh, is something the matter…?”

“We’ll see. What is she… oh, oh no, no no no…”

The Cipher suddenly found himself with a set of reins thrust into his hands, with Ahuska taking the liberty of closing his fingers around them and squeezing tight. “What… what are you…?”

“Hold him. Hold him tight and don’t let go for a second, distract him with this if you can…” She shoved a pinkish rock of some sort toward him, and with his hands full he was forced to stoop and hold it under his chin, expression nothing short of bewildered.

“I don’t… oh, gods no,” Blakk had the profound discomfort of realising then that it was a block of salt, as Thunder pressed forward with an eager little warble and began to lick at it. He made a tiny sound of dismay. “Ahuska…!”

But she was already gone, not even sticking around to have a snigger at his predicament, darting down the stairwell rather than waiting on one of the stocklifts. “Oi! Oi, di’kut, what’n Kad’s name do you think you’re doing---!!”

The object of Ahuska’s anger turned, unnaturally blue eyes flashing with irritation, and then immediately turned back to the stall door she’d been about to open.

“Don’t you dare touch that! Who the hell authorized you to be down here and what the shab d’you think you’re doing opening straight up into the yards?” Rather than heading straight toward the Sith, Ahuska veered to the far wall where a harsh wind blustered through the now gaping entry to the outdoor paddocks, and slammed her fist against a set of controls.

“This animal is… Shen-Four-Seven, isn’t it?” Fynta Wolfe, Assassin for Sith Intelligence and Infiltration, glared at the Bothan stablekeep who stood firm in the gateway, as though she could somehow block her passage while the heavy gate groaned back shut. She cut a strong silhouette against the glaring white world outside, framed with reflected light and fluttering snowflakes.

“Star, yeah, that’s her.” Ahuska’s tone was curt. She didn’t enjoy dealing with Fynta any more than she explicitly had to. Never mind that the Sith knew far more about her than Ahuska was comfortable with, but the fact that Fynta thought she could just slip on some beskar and mingle amongst the clans as though she weren’t an out-and-out Sith grated at her terribly. The nerves struck were just… a little too close to home.

“Then she’s the one I’ve been assigned while I’m on duty here. And since I’m not here to take riding lessons, I don’t see why I need to answer to you of all people, stablekeep.”

Ahuska bristled as the steel gate locked shut behind her, putting an abrupt halt to the chill wind. “Maybe ‘cause every last one of these animals has been assigned to me while I’m on duty here, and I don’t give a damn if you’re the Emperor himself, you don’t take one outside without my say-so. Not a taun, not a vulp, not a gods-damned arctic womp-weasel! So you can take your fingers off that latch and let me do my job, or you can deal with the shab’la stampede you’re about to let loose. It’s stable master, by the way.”

Fynta knew Ahuska wasn’t the type to lie for the sake of a power trip. The bothan’s conviction and ferocity at this moment was enough to give her pause and slowly arch a brow, though her tone was flat and unconvinced. “Stampede. You mean the whole three out in the main yard.”

“Mmm.” Ahuska’s tone was equally flat, but there was something smug about the way she lifted her chin and stared down the bridge of her muzzle toward the Sith. “Those three first, if Thunder up on the balcony doesn’t fling himself over to beat them to it.” She gestured upward and over her shoulder with a thumb, toward where Blakk diligently kept a firm but wary hold of the tauntaun buck Ahuska had left in his care. The agent swiftly averted his gaze when he realised attention had momentarily turned his way. “Then the seven in the exercise yards ‘cause let’s face it, those fences aren’t gonna stop a buck in rut, and maybe the dozen in the outer…”

“Excuse me?”

“Excuse what?”

“A buck in rut?”

“I said what I said. I know it doesn’t look much like the seasons change here on Hoth, but believe me, there are seasons, and we’re in the thick of one right now. Your little Star there…” Ahuska dipped her head toward the stall door that Fynta remained precariously close to opening, though to her credit her fingers were looser on the handle than they had been moments before. “Is a very, very appealing little lady at the moment. She gets lead out through the back to be worked in the yards on the south ridge or not at all, and when she’s being groomed and treated in here this gate…” She slapped the metal surface behind her with the back of her hand. “Stays shut! I wouldn’t even recommend her for a mission today or tomorrow unless you were absolutely certain of no wild herds en route and let’s face it, you can never be certain of that…”

Fynta hadn’t exactly paled, but she was definitely looking less confident about taking her assigned mount out onto the slopes. She found herself feeling unwittingly grateful that the blasted bothan had been here to intercept her, and then an equal measure of furious at herself for feeling grateful at all. “Alright, alright, fierfek, just get me a more suitable animal ready as soon as you can, I’ve wasted enough time here already…”

“Of course, my Lord,” Ahuska’s grin was far too toothy, her flourished salute and bow far too exaggerated to be genuine. She enjoyed watching Fynta bite back her seething a little too much. “And let me know what shebs-for-brains gave you Star to begin with so I can have some words.”

“I’ll try to find out,” Fynta lied. No way in hell was she going to let Ahuska know that, in a bid to get herself in and out of Hoth as swiftly as possible, she might have forged a signature or two on a requisition document here and there, and arbitrarily assigned the tauntaun to herself. She straightened, stepping away from the stall, and stared Ahuska squarely in the eye. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

She didn’t give Ahuska the opportunity to respond, making her way smartly off down a corridor. The bothan might come across as meek as a runt nerf calf most of the time, but Force be damned if she didn’t find a spine and a half where her animals were concerned. Fynta couldn’t decide whether she was impressed or irritated, and just found herself hoping that Ahuska would be able to find the same amount of backbone if anyone ever pressed her about matters that remained better left unspoken.

She really didn’t want to see another decent Mandalorian having their arm twisted into Imperial service.

Ahuska, meanwhile, had every intention of keeping Fynta waiting; she had another Agent of the Empire to finish dealing with first, and she wasn’t going to rush seeing Blakk and Thunder off soundly for the sake of a single agitated Sith. Her hackles were already smooth and the set of her ears fully relaxed by the time she made it back to the upper level, though the way Blakk’s wide-eyed gaze settled on her when she flashed him a grin threatened to dishevel her all over again.

“Didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”

“No, you were great- I mean he, he was great. Thunder was… great. Perfect. No trouble.”

Ahuska might have plenty of backbone when it mattered, but that didn’t stop certain moments making her utterly weak. She coughed into her hand, glancing aside as she took back the reins and returned the remains of the salt lick to her pocket. “Ahh, uh, right, good. Good! Where have you got your gear then? Better get him all loaded up for you.”

---

[And now a bonus for everyone who got this far, hahaha, have some zipped up Hoth geared little Imperials. Ahuska thinks they’re both ridiculous for complaining so much about the cold.]

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quazartranslates · 3 years

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH43

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 43: Star Death Reality Show (XXVI)

Just like watching a poor lamb trapped in a hunter's snare, wailing would not arouse the compassion of a seasoned hunter. On the contrary, the hunter would only be excited about the delicious food dying.

Looking at Qi Leren who had been struck by lightning, Su He said faintly, "I know many ways to avoid contracts, but it’s not easy to do. Most of the methods are one-off skills or items, or there is an extremely long cooldown time. Even if you don't have one… It’s best to be careful."

Qi Leren gawked at Su He, as if he had been drained of all his strength. He didn't say a word for a long time, and his lowered head did not show anger. Only his eyelashes were shaking, as if he was almost unable to bear such a failure, and he was crying.

This long silence was not ridiculous, but sad.

It was like watching a gambler at the end of his rope, piling up all the chips on the gambling table and then losing everything.

Everything that followed seemed to be a mechanical repetition. Qi Leren once again signed his name on the parchment with no facial expression, and the signed letters were distorted by his shaking. At the moment when he put down his pen, his spine seemed to be knocked out section by section, slumping on his chair and silently watching the sunrise.

A rising sun that would never rise.

"Can I leave now?" Qi Leren asked softly, looking deeply tired.

"Anytime, but I suggest you stay a little longer or even get some sleep. Anyway, I have adjusted the time flow rate in this area for you, so you won’t be delayed too long." Su He, like a considerate friend who fully thought of him, gave him friendly advice.

But Qi Leren didn't want to stay any longer. He was willing to face the monster in the institute, and didn't want to face Su He. So he stood up, and the chair rudely dragged a harsh sound across the ground.

"I'm leaving," Qi Leren said stubbornly, his tone carrying the anger of being deceived.

"If you insist, go ahead." Su He wasn’t reluctant, anyway. His purpose had been achieved.

The Witch of Lust looked at Qi Leren curiously, because his attitude was disrespectful. As a native devil accustomed to the hierarchical atmosphere of the underworld, she didn't quite understand the relationships between human beings. Sometimes a worm could say "no" to an elephant, which was really interesting in her eyes.

To be fair, Su He was not a strict leader. If the object of comparison was the Devil of Power who had a strong desire to control, then he was an easygoing boss. If you wanted to compare him with the Devil of Slaughter, then he was a perfect boss—at least he wouldn't go crazy and dare to kill anyone, leaving him in his current state of lying half-dead under lava. The Devil of Fraud was quite tolerant of his subordinates, sometimes even almost deliberately indulgent towards them. He seldom pointed out your mistakes, but every time you made a mistake, he would remember it, but he would not show it. This attitude made people feel that he didn't care about them. This slightly malicious indulgence contributed to the weakness and self-deception in human nature, and he watched and waited with great interest until you finally crossed the boundaries he set for you...

Then you would find that you had lost everything. Even if you knelt at his feet and kissed the tips of his shoes and begged him to give you another chance, he wouldn't look at you again.

This extreme gentleness and extreme coldness combined to form a contradictory and complicated person. The witches favored him and feared him. Even the Witch of Lust, who was famous for her debauchery, was much more disciplined in front of him. At least when she appeared in front of Su He, she would pick clothes from her closet that didn’t show her off. When Su He told her to dress properly to entertain guests, she would always find a dress that wrapped her from head to foot. However, in order to express her dissatisfaction, she didn't mind expressing her protest in a small way by means of excessive obedience. Her boss didn't care about this level of protest.

He was really unpredictable sometimes.

She had thought that trying to deceive the Devil of Fraud would make people lose his favor and even irritate him, but Su He's reaction was just the opposite. It seemed that he had added ten points in his heart to this audacious human being.

The Witch of Lust yawned a little and watched the poor man hesitate by the chair. She looked at Su He's face and asked politely, "Shall I take you out, baby?"

"Thank you," Qi Leren, who was worried about how to leave, said quickly.

Su He’s left hand on the armrest of the chair supported his cheek. He asked without warning, "Who gave you the necklace around your neck?"

Qi Leren's cold sweat came back again. In these past few minutes in the field, he had experienced great ups and downs, and his nerves were over-stressed. He had become a frightened bird. He was just glad that he had successfully crossed the border, and he was ready to keep this state and leave quickly. Who knew that Su He would come out with something else?

Fortunately, Su He hadn't found it.

He hadn't found that when he signed his name for the first time, he hadn't used any skill cards at all.

No, he hadn't.

He had made a wonderful deduction—he had successfully deceived Su He once, using an item of unknown origin as the laptop. So this time, under almost the same precondition, would Su He still fall for it? Would he believe that he had honestly signed the contract and was ready to fulfill it? He was not an obedient man in Su He’s eyes.

The best way to dispel Su He's doubts was to make him feel that he had seen through him, expose him personally, watch him suffer, despair, and collapse, and then watch him give in.

So he had had a bold plan, and he had decided to take a gamble. Then he had succeeded.

He was so ecstatic that he had to lower his head to hide his inner secret and fanatical joy and let that passion explode as fireworks in his heart.

However, he also had to consider that this decision would bring him great risks in the future—when he was really raised to a half-field, how should he explain it to Su He?

This concern slightly diluted the excited mood, and even the last resort was shattered by Su He’s sudden question, which made Qi Leren tremble with fear.

"This aura... It’s the Prophet’s?" Su He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Qi Leren did not say yes, nor did he say no. He asked, "Do you know the Prophet?"　　

As if they could never talk well, Su He also threw out a rhetorical question: "Don't you think that the Village of Dawn is too similar to the Village of Dusk?"

Qi Leren was stupefied. So, it turned out that this field was not a "field that imitates the scenery of the Village of Dawn" as Su He had once said, but was the real Village of Dawn.

But if the Village of Dawn was a field, then the Village of Dusk...

Qi Leren suddenly understood. The Prophet who slept beneath the Courthouse and spent most of his time in the cold ice pool, it turned out that he had been silently supporting the Village of Dawn that sheltered mankind. As a player, he did not know how to escape the sanctions of time. He had even spent more than 20 years completing compulsory tasks, and had survived to this day.

"A naive idealist inherited Maria's will, created a box of time with the belief of protecting, and fixed the newly established refuge under dusk forever. His original force was 'time'. Originally, he was the one most likely to evade mission sanctions, if he had not lost to the box." Su He's expression was full of compassion and tenderness.

The Prophet’s original force? Qi Leren seemed to understand. He knew that some of the higher demons had original forces, such as jealousy, lust, despair... They were getting stronger and stronger while approaching the original force. At the level of the three Devil Kings, they had almost merged with the original force.

But did the Prophet, a field-level human being, also have his own original force?

His force, was it time?

Qi Leren's heart was full of curiosity and doubt, but Su He had no intention to solve his doubts: "Go, don't challenge your limits with your life, you’ll never know what kind of miracle you will create. Although 99.9% of people end up dead through this process, I sincerely hope that you are the exception, because I have some expectations for you.

"Qi Leren, today's adventure is only the first step. I am waiting for the day when you complete the transformation," Su He said.

The beautiful Village of Dawn began to become blurred, and even Su He's voice gradually drifted away, as if separated by a dream.

When Qi Leren came to his senses, he still stood in the corridor on the lowest level of the institute, and only a few seconds had passed.

It was the fourth day of the game... No, the zero hour had passed, and it was the fifth day. He didn't know if the army’s ship could arrive. He had reason to suspect that it wouldn't come too quickly. After all, the rescue was always late after all the problems were solved.

Su He said that he had released the octopus in the underground glacier, which was definitely more difficult than the ones he had encountered before. He needed to upgrade his equipment, such as finding a rocket launcher like what Mark had used against him.

This was in the institute’s armoury, but Qi Leren hadn’t taken it since he hadn’t expected to use it. He decided to double back and look for it. In addition, we should find a NPC that was still alive, and take them to the instrument that could detect whether they had become a host, and he hoped to meet Dr. Lu and Du Yue along the way...

Qi Leren returned to the stairs and began to go up. When he passed the power room, he went in again, restarted the power supply, and restored power to the whole underground research institute.

With the light, he was feeling much better. Qi Leren finally recovered from the frightening meeting just now, stopped thinking about Su He, and absorbed himself in preparing for the next challenge. According to game logic, there must be a restock of supplies before the war. Unfortunately, the copy world did not necessarily come according to game logic, so he had to rely on himself. He didn't want to rush unprepared into that horrible boss battle.

Suddenly there was a noise in the corner of the power distribution room. Qi Leren suddenly looked towards it and raised the gun in his hand, shouting, "Who?"

"...It's me." He Yi stood up. His condition looked worse than before. He was emaciated and almost withered. "Mark came in, I met him!"

Qi Leren was taken aback and realized that what he said was in reference to when Qi Leren had wanted to leave the institute through the laser corridor before, but He Yi, who had made an agreement with him to cut off the power supply, did not cut off the power in time—because at that time, Mark had moved the debris in Annie's basement and had entered the institute to attack He Yi.

"I’ve taken care of him, and Annie, Xue Jiahui, and Francis; all four of them were parasitized," Qi Leren said calmly.

He Yi looked at him in astonishment: "How did you do it?"

If it weren't for the enemy at present, Qi Leren would still use the rhetoric of "an apostle of God" to fool him. Unfortunately, now that his Prophet's Heart skill was cooling down, he didn't need to continue acting. He simply said: "It's a long story. Let's talk about it when we have time. Right now we’re in danger..."

"I know." He Yi leaned wearily against the wall and smiled bitterly. "It’s come out."

"What?" Qi Leren became nervous.

"That monster..." He Yi looked desperately at the ceiling above his head, as if he were an outlaw being chased by troops behind the cliff ahead, and murmured in a low voice, "We can't escape."

"Do you... Do you know something?" Qi Leren finally asked the question that lingered in his mind.

For a long time, He Yi's attitude had been a bit strange. Qi Leren hadn't thought much at first, but with the discovery of the plot, he had to face up to this problem—He Yi, he was an insider.

"Why is there an amphioctopus here? Why did I happen to find a basement when I was kidnapped by Mark? Why am I able to blow up the access to the research institute accurately but I am safe and sound? Why can this institute’s power supply, which has been off for many years, still be used? Why do I know where there are weapons and how to use the equipment? Have you thought about these questions?" He Yi asked, one question after another.

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Editor’s Notes: To clarify, the “forces” mentioned in this chapter are along the line of forces of nature but on a more human scale, ie. the “forces” the witches and demons have as their titles. A closer translation would have been to use “power”, but I wanted to make sure it was distinct since “power” is already used in several other contexts in this novel.

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carelessannie · 3 years

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maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 8)

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory

Word count: 10.1K

Starker, WinterSpider, SpiderShield, Peter x Clint x OFC

Peter’s POV -> it’s been a rough semester, and pack related stress isn’t making anything easier. Maybe a packmate (or the whole pack) can help him out?

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, explicit d/s abo smut, femdom, edging, face-sitting, come eating, uhhh light CBT and hair pulling, light bondage, subdrop, and non-apologetic long discussions of sex-ed

---

Maybe it goes like this:

There’s only a few weeks until finals, and of course this is when the pack has decided to move forward with officially mating and bonding. It’s not like Peter wants to postpone it, per se— it’s just, there’s so many steps involved with combining packs, and Peter can’t deal with dividing his attention between home and school.

And the lab. Dammit.

Until the end of their lease, his pack is living at their apartment during the week and at Tony’s place over the weekend. The whole upstairs of their house was built with bedroom suites, so each of them not only get a room of their own, but they have also built a makeshift nest upstairs that’s separate from Bucky’s nest downstairs. It’s been an easy transition this way— taking claim of a part of Tony’s home before a more intimate bond takes place— but Peter feels more and more stressed out as the weeks pass.

Currently, he’s staring at a screen in the lab, failing to comprehend any of the information in front of him. Over winter break, Peter was moved to a permanent position in a lab away from Tony. Pepper had insisted on it since they started getting serious, and Peter agreed. It was unprofessional to do that much cuddling at work.

The one downside now is that work has become mind-numbingly boring for most of the day. After this semester, Peter can transfer back to working in chemical engineering, or mechanics. Or even robotics. And after spending the last few months in software development and computer science, Peter is so ready for the change.

He checks the clock for the third time in the last five minutes. Still four o’clock. Still the same information in front of him.

If he squints hard enough, the code on his computer looks like Hieroglyphics.

“To- neeeey,” he whines, turning fully to face the Beta, “thank god, I’m dying. I can’t go on.”

There are a few snickers from other scientists in the lab, but Peter could care less as he watches Tony’s face crumble, “Oh sweet baby, come here,” and he opens his arms, pulling Peter in for a hug.

It only lasts a few moments, but Peter absorbs as much of Tony’s scent as he can while the Beta rocks him back and forth, stroking down his back and kissing whispered reassurances into his hair. He holds onto Tony’s tie, using it as leverage to stand up and nose around his collarbone.

Tony laughs and murmurs, “That tickles, Pete,” but Peter ignores him, dotting small kisses up the side up his neck until he can smell HappyArousedCalm coming off of his Beta.

There’s a hitch in Tony’s breath after Peter nibbles on his pulse point, “Need something from me, Omega?”

Peter hums, even as Tony pulls away slightly, “Yes, Beta,” he pauses as Tony tilts his head expectantly, “I need you to take me home.”

He watches Tony laugh, stepping back and looping an arm over Peter’s shoulders, before calling out to the room, vaguely, “Whoever’s in charge here, I’m taking him home. Because I’m actually in charge here. Okay— have a good weekend, goodbye.”

He’s towed away, barely sparing a second to grab his phone and shut down his station. They practically run out of the building— holding hands and laughing wildly as they throw their jackets into the back of Tony’s car and jump in the front seats.

“So— what are we doing with the long weekend, Tony?”

Tony starts the car, pulling out into the city, “I thought we’d go out for dinner and spend the evening in with our pack— how does that sound?”

“ Ooo,” Peter claps his hands, “that sounds perfect, Tony, oh my goodness. What do you have in mind?”

“How does seafood sound? I have a place I’ve been dying to take you.”

Peter turns, grabbing his boyfriend’s arm, “Where? Tony, where are we going?”

“Nope, not this time,” Tony shakes his head, weak, “it’s gonna be a surprise, dammit.”

“I’ll get it out of you— no secret is safe around me, Tony Stark.”

He winks and blows a kiss when Tony looks over, and the man looks terrified. Peter laughs, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of the center console and reclining back in the seat. It’s a little chilly still in early April, but the change of season means more sun, and the Omega is happy to roll up his dress shirt sleeves and bask in it like a pampered cat.

The drive passes comfortably and Peter adores sitting next to his handsome Beta— the whole world seeing that Tony is spoken for and claimed by the young Omega on his arm. Peter never thought he’d want to be a trophy Omega— and, technically, he isn’t— but something about being pampered and loved by the most powerful man in New York City has him preening where he sits.

He’s thankful the windows are down, or Tony would be able to smell it on him.

They pull around 59th and up to the curb across from Central Park. Tony exits the driver’s side, throws his keys to a waiting driver, and rounds the car to open Peter’s door. He steps out and grabs their jackets from the back seat, handing over Tony’s as the two of them link arms and hop onto the sidewalk.

“Where to, Tony?” he blinks up at his date, smiling innocently.

Tony hums, distracted, “Marea, just through the—”

“— Aha! —”

“— dammit! No! That doesn’t count!”

“Yes it does! I win,” Peter skips forward, doing a little dance in victory.

He feels Tony catch him around the waist, nuzzling into his neck, and knows the Beta is enjoying his HappyOmega scent. The two of them joke and tease for the rest of the walk into the restaurant, but Peter notices something as they walk through the door to be seated.

“Uh, Tony?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Where is everyone?” he asks, gesturing around the empty room.

Tony looks around and gives him a suspiciously innocent face, “Well... they may not be open, officially, for another hour.”

He tries to pull them further into the room, but Peter is frozen— speechless.

“Don’t give me that look, baby, I made some calls today and everything’s set, I’m paying for the extra hour, the service and the meals—”

“Tony,”

“— and even extra for the inconvenience, okay? I just wanted to treat you—”

Peter grabs his shirt collar, shutting him up with a kiss. Tony inhales against Peter’s lips and immediately takes control, snaking his hands up into Peter’s hair and pulling gently, tipping his head back to deepen the kiss. Their lips move together, perfectly synchronized, and Peter opens his mouth in an invitation. Tony just chuckles— briefly licking underneath his upper lip before pulling away and looking at Peter with a mixture of awe and amusement.

“You never have to justify treating me, Tony. I feel so special when you do,” Peter reaches up to brush his fingers through Tony’s short hair, feeling safe and warm in his hold.

The older man just grins, eyes bright, and leads them to their seats. Right in the center of the Ravello Room, their table has been set and lit with candles— a bottle of wine is chilling in an ice bath, and the maître d' stands nearby, greeting them and explaining the menu for the afternoon.

When she walks away, Tony reaches over and grabs Peter’s hand. They sit like this through the first two courses, and Peter’s content to share each of them with Tony, even if that means being basically hand fed by his boyfriend.

And it’s pretty hard to hand feed someone oysters.

The food is incredible, though, and their conversation is even better. Peter tries not to complain about work and school, but even when he inevitably does, Tony is patient and listens. He asks questions when necessary, and they even work through a few solutions to tougher problems together.

“I guess... I wish a few of the things with our pack were more definite,” Peter picks at his meal, separating the shrimp from the pasta.

“What do you mean, baby?” Tony asks, reaching over to steal a piece of shrimp.

Peter tries to defend his plate, jabbing at Tony’s hand with his fork, but misses. His pout deepens, “I dunno. I wish it wasn’t still up in the air who’s going to bond. I wish I knew how synchronizing goes, with our heats. I wish there was more communication about sex, and scenes, and who’s comfortable with what. I wish I knew the timeline,” he shakes his head, finally putting his fork down, “I don’t know, Tony, it just feels so out of control most of the time, I don’t know how to handle it.”

“I don’t think you can control it, sweetheart. There are six different people in this pack, and fifteen different individual relationships. Plus, two unique pack dynamics that need to merge. It’s uncomfortable, Petey, and it’s gonna take time.”

“I know that, Tony, it’s just… I’m supposed to be the center of this pack, and some days I don’t even know if you want to bond with me, so how—”

“I do.”

“— am I… what?”

“I do want to bond with you. God, I want nothing more in the world,” Tony reaches up to cup his cheek, “I can’t believe you doubted that, Peter. You know I love you, right?”

“I… I don’t…”

Tony’s eyes start to tear up, and he looks absolutely devastated, “I’m so sorry, baby. Dammit— I love you. I am completely gone on you. Every day I have to stop myself from keeping you all to myself; running away and starting a familial pack, just the two of us. There are so many steps: mating and bonding and collaring and marrying, and Peter— I want them all with you.”

Peter’s vision is blurry, tears falling freely as he frantically tries to wipe them away, “Tony, I— I had no idea. You never… we didn’t… I just assumed that we were getting there, you know? I’ve never been in love before, Tony—”

“It’s okay, Peter, you don’t have to—”

“— but I am in love with you. God, we’re stupid, aren’t we?” both of them laugh, wet and joyful, “everything’s just so confusing right now.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Tony coos, pulling on Peter’s wrist until he’s up, out of his seat, and moving to sit across Tony’s lap. He loves that when he sits like this and curls up, his head fits perfectly under Tony’s chin, and his mate’s arms wrap soundly around his waist.

“Da— Tony,” Peter whines, barely catching the slip up— not time for that conversation yet, Pete— as Tony holds him tighter.

“Need me to help you, baby?” Tony murmurs right next to his ear, making him shiver, “you know, you don’t have to do it all alone.”

“I know— Steve is supposed to help—”

“Not just Steve,” Tony grips his arms, looking him in the eye, “all of us. Especially me. I want to help you. Will you let me?”

It’s a heavy question, Peter knows. He knows that he needs help— but trusting someone else to do the work and do it right… only Clint, Annie and May are close enough for that. And barely so. It takes a lot for Peter to trust, it’s uncomfortable. But if he claims to love Tony—

“Yes, Beta. I need— I need your help.”

The restaurant around them is forgotten as Tony whispers, “Good boy,” and Peter starts to float, only tethered down by the warmth of his mate’s arms, the scent of Cinnamon and smoky Bonfires holding him together.

“Eat this, baby,” and he opens his mouth, biting down obediently. It’s chocolatey and creamy and crunchy— he has to focus on chewing, and Tony’s fingers around his mouth and on his arms are helping to pull him back up. “Stay up for me, Peter. I’m gonna talk and then we’ll have a conversation, baby.”

Peter finds himself switching focus between eating the dessert and following Tony’s story about… his mom? And a secret hideout?

“— mom could never find me, but, I don’t know, I don’t think she ever tried, you know? It wasn’t that hard to find.”

“She probably knew and just wanted you to have a place to yourself,” Peter mumbles into Tony’s neck.

Tony pulls him away, holding him at arm’s length and looking into his eyes for a long moment.

“You up, Pete? Ready to talk?” he asks, and Peter nods, moving to get off Tony’s lap. The older Beta lets him, and Tony stands up to move their chairs closer together. When Peter sits down, Tony immediately takes his hand and continues eating like nothing happened.

“Okay— I’m gonna start. First, we need to talk about your pack Pete. I know Bucky’s gonna want to bond with everyone, he’s told me as much, but especially you and Annie need to decide who you’re bonding with. Have you talked to Steve at all about it?”

“Yes, we’ve been going on dates, and... everything is so natural with Steve, which I guess makes sense since we’re so compatible,” he pauses, thoughtful, “I think I want to bond with everyone, too. I can’t speak for Annie, but I think you and Steve are the only ones who she’s hesitant about.”

“I get that. Have the three of you talked about going to the O clinic?”

Peter gives an affirmative hum, “Yes, but Tony… I don’t think Bucky’s ever been. I mentioned going together, and he looked so confused.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Tony chuckles to himself, eating the last bit of his mousse and wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I’ve never seen him go to an Omega doctor… I think he’s had a semi-permanent suppressant implant since he presented.”

“Well, yes. I do, too, but hasn’t he been sexually active with multiple partners for like… years? You’re saying he’s never had a pregnancy scare? Never had an internal exam or pap—”

“Uh… I don’t—”

“What about an STD test, Tony? Have any of you guys ever been tested? I swear, what on earth were you doing before us—”

“Okay, okay— to be fair, it’s worked so far. And Steve makes us all go to our primary care and the dentist once a year. It’s like… hell week. When all of us have appointments.”

Peter buries his face in his arms, groaning at the utter idiocy of his future bondmates, “Thank god I met you, Tony. You guys are worse than Clint,” he laughs a little bit, picking up his head and glancing over at his properly chastised boyfriend.

Reaching out, he gives Tony a boop on the nose, startling him out of his sad expression, “I’ll talk to Bucky, okay? Annie and I are going to the O clinic next week, and we’ll help him make an appointment. They’re flexible about pack stuff, I think. And… I guess we’ll talk to the doctor about the steps we need to take to bond.”

Tony makes a flicking motion with his hand, and Peter sees the maître d' walk across the room and silently collect the black card Tony hands her.

“Sounds good. Let’s talk about the rest on the way back, okay? I’m gonna call Steve and see if he wants us to pick them up anything to eat.”

While Tony makes the call, Peter thinks through a few of the questions he has. He’s thankful for their overall dynamic and compatibility, but there are so many variables and unspoken limits—

“Tony?” Peter tries to interrupt, tapping on his arm, “hey, Tony? Can I talk to Steve?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Tony responds, turning back to the call, “yeah, Steve? Peter wants to talk to you… okay, okay here he is,” Tony hands over the phone with a brief, “here ya go, baby.”

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hi sweetheart! What’s going on?” Steve sounds like he’s in the car, probably heading home from work.

Peter glances at Tony’s questioning expression before answering Steve, “Nothing bad, Alpha, no worries,” he ducks his head, a little embarrassed at his small smile. The low rumbly voice hasn’t failed to affect him yet, “I’m wondering if we could have a talk tonight. You know, as a pack.”

“Of course, Peter. What do you want to talk about?”

“I think we need to discuss sex,” Peter says, bluntly, and has to keep himself from laughing as Tony’s eyes almost pop out of his head, “specifically, we need to talk about scenes and dynamics— especially before everyone bonds this summer.”

He hears Steve clear his throat before responding, “O— okay, sweetheart. We can do that. Do you feel comfortable leading this conversation tonight?”

“Yes, Alpha, I’d like that.”

“Okay, thank you for bringing this up, Peter. Bucky mentioned something similar this week, but I just haven’t thought too much about it. You’re stepping into this role so beautifully, Peter, and I’m constantly awed by you.”

“Oh— well...” Peter feels his face flame red, and he puts a hand up to hide from Tony, “th— thank you, Alpha.”

Steve laughs— a low, rumbling sound even over the phone, “You deserve it, sweet Omega. Let me talk to Tony, and I’ll see you tonight.”

Peter mumbles his goodbye and basically throws the phone back to Tony, who takes it with a curious look, “What did you say to him, Alpha? He smells so sweet… oh, really? Mhm… I know he is, he’s my soulmate, Steve…”

After that, Peter tunes out the conversation and hides his face in his hands. These doms are really trying to kill him with the constant praise. They haven’t even had a proper scene together— he hasn’t even kissed Steve, for goodness sake— and they are already onto the things that make him tick. Is he really that transparent?

On the way back home, Tony stops briefly to pick up a take-out order of Chinese food. They don’t talk about the pack again— but it’s okay. Peter feels like everything that needs to be said will be brought up tonight.

---

One of his favorite things about their combined pack is spending evenings together. All six packmates sit in the living room, eating take-out and sharing quiet conversation. Every so often, an innocent argument will break out— usually between Tony and Clint— and the volume level will raise. But for the most part, all of them are content to touch, and eat, and snuggle in close stillness.

“Did Bucky pick out these couches?” Annie asks, sitting on the loveseat with Steve while the other four packmates squish together on the larger couch. She keeps grabbing his muscles, and Peter can tell their Alpha loves showing off for the pretty Omega.

Bucky is sitting on the floor, leaning back in between Tony’s legs. Both Betas have an arm around Peter, and he sits in the middle of them on the couch, reaching over every so often to play with Bucky’s hair.

The question makes Bucky look up, jostling the couch behind him and almost overturning Clint’s bowl.

Tony answers first, “Kind of. We all picked out the furniture together, but Bucky did have the final say.”

“Damn right I did,” Bucky says around a mouthful of noodles, “gotta be comfy for the whole pack. Tony wanted these ugly leather things,”

“Hey! They were tasteful—”

“— I’d rather sit on a concrete slab, Tony, they were so bad—”

“Steve, you liked the leather couches, right?” Tony tries to get the Alpha’s support,

“Uh,” Steve looks between his packmates, “I liked them until Bucky vetoed.”

Bucky lets out a whoop! in victory, and both Clint and Annie dissolve into laughter as Tony sinks back into the couch, pulling Peter in close for comfort.

Tony turns to Peter, “You like my couches, don’t you, baby?”

Shifting to face the Beta, Peter makes a small cooing noise while reaching up to stroke his hair, “I love you, Tony— but I’m on Bucky’s side. I like these ones.”

With a gasp, Tony practically dumps Peter off the couch, “Betrayal! My own mate betrays me!”

Bucky finishes pulling him off the couch, hauling the smaller Omega into his lap with a greasy kiss on the cheek. Peter can’t help but giggle as his Beta pouts and lets Clint pull him in for a hug, whispering to Tony that no, leather couches actually sound fuckin’ awesome.

Peter turns sideways, looping his arms around Bucky’s waist and tangling their legs together as Bucky continues to eat. He feels a familiar hand in his hair and hums, happy to have Tony’s touch back, even if it’s reluctant.

After another half an hour, Annie and Steve get up to clear the dishes, talking softly and spending a few extra minutes in the kitchen cleaning up. Peter takes this as his cue to start their conversation. He moves to a large, chaise barrel chair, facing the couches, and waits for everyone to grab their drinks and settle down.

When Steve walks back in the room, Peter extends his hand— an invitation that the Alpha takes and gently rearranges them to sit together on the sofa. He watches as Clint opens his arms and Annie runs to join the rest of the pack on the long couch.

The room gradually quiets down, and Steve clears his throat, getting their attention. Peter gives him a quick peck on the cheek and addresses their pack, “So I realized today, while I was talking to Tony, that we should probably have a serious talk about sex before moving in together and bonding, uh... forever.”

A few of them chuckle, but the room feels uncomfortable. Peter looks to Steve for help,

“Yeah, so it’s gonna be important that we have open communication about this,” Steve continues, “especially ‘cause our separate packs already have established dynamics and such. Uh,” he looks at Peter, shrugging, “maybe it would be easiest to talk now about personal preferences for scenes, and later we can share official limits? I have paperwork!”

Both Bucky and Clint groan— causing Steve to roll his eyes— but Tony interjects, giving Peter a secret wink, “Should we update our existing papers, Steve, or just use the old ones?”

“Probably update them. I assume you guys have your own contracts, right?” he asks, turning to Peter.

“Yes, but it’s mostly non-intimate stuff. We only scene if I really need to go down, and we rarely do intimate scenes,” both Clint and Annie nod in agreement, “Oh! Plus we’ll need to talk about heats, too.”

“Have y’all hadda heat together yet?” Bucky asks, motioning toward Annie and Peter.

Annie answers, “No, we’ve both been on suppressants since before we met. I only had three heats before I went on them.”

“I only had one— I presented late,” Peter adds,

Bucky nods, “Okay, yeah I only had one in high school.”

“And none of you have shared a heat with someone before?” Tony asks, giving Bucky’s shoulders a squeeze.

There’s a resounding no from all the Omegas, and Steve lets out a long exhale, “Are you guys plannin’ on goin’ to the Omega clinic?”

“Yeah,” Annie confirms, “we have an appointment on Monday.”

Peter looks over at Bucky who’s looking back at him with wide, uncertain eyes, “Can you come with us, Bucky? That way we can talk to the doctor together.”

“Yeah, I’ve just… I’ve never—”

“It’s okay,” Peter stops him, “we’ll do it together.”

Tony reaches down and pulls Bucky up by the armpits, earning a squawk of surprise as he’s wrestled into Tony’s lap. Everyone laughs a bit as Bucky struggles and eventually submits to Tony’s hold on his waist, relaxing with a sigh.

The rest of the conversation is awkward, but easy. Each of them talk a little bit about their orientation and what they prefer in their current pack dynamics. For Peter, it’s interesting to hear from his Versatile packmates about their experiences swinging dominant and submissive. Bucky has spent almost six years being Steve’s submissive and three years submitting to both his Alpha and Beta, so it’s uncomfortable and different for him to be dominant in a relationship, since he’s never had to dominante a partner before.

In contrast, both Annie and Clint have experiences swinging both ways in their relationship with each other and with Peter. Clint has reservations about permanently swinging dominant, because of his past with abusive dominants, and similarly doesn’t want to swing permanently submissive. Annie feels comfortable both ways, which is something Peter already knew. She is very vocal about her preferences.

Peter shares about what it’s like to be a SubOmega, and his preferences during a scene— which, at this point, are very few. He lost his virginity to Clint and Annie, and has never taken a knot before. He smells SmugHornyAlpha coming off of Steve after this confession, and giggles slightly as Steve shamefully apologizes.

Steve and Tony both keep their time short. Peter knows a bit about Tony’s past, and knows he’s been in an intimate and unique familial pack before. Steve and Bucky have both been in other relationships, but only Steve was sexually active before they officially got together.

Possibly the most interesting part of the conversation is learning about how Steve and Tony balance being Dominant over the same Submissive.

“I think the most important part is to realize that Dominant, Submissive, or Versatile, the purpose of our orientation is all the same: service to others,” Steve explains, holding Peter tight around the waist, “so whether it’s five Doms and one Sub in a room, or a balanced pairing— Tony, Bucky, and I have all decided to love and serve each other. To put one another first. And because of this, our scenes are always fun and satisfying.”

“Ya soun’ like ‘n infomercial, Stevie,” Bucky mumbles, eyes blinking slowly— dangerously close to sleep.

“Shaddup, jerk— you know it’s true. Our scenes always build trust and support between us. And that’s what I want for our intimate pack.”

A few voices hum their agreement, but with a glance around the room, Peter realizes most of them are falling asleep. He yawns and pulls on Steve’s sleeve, getting his attention.

“Alpha, can we finish this later?”

Steve hums, distracted, and then suddenly focuses, his hum shifting— changing to a deep, rumbling growl. It startles Peter into looking up, and the Alpha’s eyes are half-lidded, dark and intense. Peter’s breath picks up. He watches as Steve moves closer, reeling him in, and leans to press his nose against the base of Peter’s throat.

Peter keens, and lets his body go limp in the strong, safe arms of his Alpha. He feels each of their breaths align, he feels their hearts beat together. He’s not sure what he smells like right now, but assumes it compliments Steve’s ProudContentStrongAlpha scent pretty well.

It doesn’t matter, though, because there’s a cloud at his back.

Gentle fingers run through his hair.

He feels the shuffle of clothes against his skin.

Floating, weightless.

---

It’s light when he wakes up again, surrounded by warmth and the sound of gentle snoring. He knows who he wishes were next to him, breathing into his neck. Drooling down his neck.

“Clint, my god,” Peter pushes at the big Beta, trying to get him to roll over, but only gets a loud snore in response.

He flops back down and tries to scoot the other way, happy to burrow into Annie’s soft curves, trailing his freezing fingertips up her hips and underneath her t-shirt—

She gasps awake, “Peter! Dammit!” and tries to squirm away from him as he cackles, waking Clint up with a snort.

“Wha— what,” Clint flails around, aimless, as Annie shoves Peter his way. One of his arms catches Peter across the back of the head, and the small Omega yelps in pain.

“Ouch, Clint. The hell?”

“Aw, poor baby,” Annie coos, pulling Peter into an octopus embrace and incidentally shoving his face right in between her breasts, “I’ll make it better.”

Mngh mmngh mngghh, Peter tries to beg Annie, and she finally releases him to heave a deep breath of relief, “You trying to kill me, woman?”

“No, Petey, just suffocate you a little bit.” Annie gives him a shark’s grin and starts to crawl towards him on her knees. He retreats, scrambling backwards until his back hits Clint’s chest and the Beta pulls his arms behind his back, holding him still.

Peter struggles, grunting, “Hey! What is this? Let me go, Clint,” but there’s no mercy as Annie finally reaches him, kneeling between his legs and leaning forward to kiss his nose.

“Wanna play, bunny?” she purrs, trailing a finger down his chest, clothed in a loose t-shirt, down to the waistband of his tight, black briefs. He can’t take his eyes off her face, and finds himself nodding in a daze, entranced by her wicked smile.

She looks over his shoulder and tilts her head at Clint, and he stutters, “P— please, Omega,” the desperation in his tone making Peter tremble.

“Good boy, birdy,” Annie mocks him, reaching around Peter to run a hand up Clint’s thigh and settling over his boxers, in between where he’s pressed up against Peter’s ass. She crawls a little closer, grabbing Peter’s chin and tipping his head up to look at her, “gimme a color, little bunny. Want me to make you both feel good— use his body to make you come?”

Peter struggles to blink, and his sight goes crossed for a second as he mewls, “Green, Omega.”

She keeps eye contact with Peter and asks Clint, “How about you, baby bird? Gonna keep you on edge, share your body with our sweet bunny, and control your pleasure. Color?”

Clint is physically shaking behind him, and he barely whispers, “Green, Omega, please,” before Annie is encouraging him to lean back against the headboard, shifting to hold Peter’s arms even further behind his back.

His Omega grabs him around the hips, and uses her knees to keep his legs spread.

“Strip him, birdy.”

The command is sharp and has Clint moving instantly, yanking Peter’s shirt up over his chest, and effortlessly moving his arms and legs to pull the shirt and his briefs off completely. Peter doesn’t have a moment to shy away from his Omega’s stare, because his arms are restrained again and she’s spreading his legs wide.

Clint’s breathing heavy on the back of his neck, and he can feel the Beta’s hardness pressed up against his back through the thin layer of boxer shorts, rutting against him lightly.

It seems that his Omega knows this, because she orders Clint’s clothes off next. Once they’re naked and rearranged to her liking, she runs a finger down Peter’s waist, scratching gently through the sparse hair above his cock, and feels underneath his balls, humming thoughtfully at the mess of slick she finds there.

He squirms as her small fingers trace around his rim, panting and throwing his head back at the tease. He hears her laugh and tries to hide his face in Clint’s neck, instead getting a whiff of HornyDesperateBeta scent from his mate.

His Omega dips the tip of one finger into his hole, up to the first knuckle.

“Play with his little titties, birdy,” she instructs, and immediately Clint readjusts his grip on Peter’s arms so that he can pinch and tug on the smaller man’s nipples.

“Oh, dammit, Omega more, please,” he begs, bucking into the torture across his sensitive chest and grinding down onto the finger inside of him.

“Patient, sweet bunny,” she shushes, pulling her finger out and swiping three of them through the slick leaking out of him. She lifts up her hand, acting surprised, “wow, feeling needy, little bunny rabbit? How about a taste?”

He nods his head yes, opening his mouth wide, but his Omega just shakes her head with a fake, sad pout, “Aw, baby— not for you,” and he watches as she reaches over, and—

— and feeds his slick, finger by finger, into Clint’s open mouth.

“That’s my good baby bird,” she coos, pushing her fingers in and slowly fucking his face with her hand. His eyes close in pleasure as he sucks desperately, eager to get all of Peter’s taste off of her fingers.

Peter whines as Clint pinches his nipple a little too hard, and his Omega turns her attention back to him.

“Hungry, baby bunny? Need something in your mouth?”

“Yes, Omega, please— anything, ‘m so empty—” he begs, and his Omega shushes him.

“Put your fingers in his mouth, birdy. I’m gonna put him on your cock.”

Both of them groan at her words, and he can feel Clint twitch against his back. The Beta reaches up and hooks two fingers into the side of his mouth, pulling slightly and forcing his head to tip backwards. He releases Peter’s arms and uses his left hand to flick across his nipples. Peter grabs at his thighs, desperate for control.

His Omega uses the distraction to work a second finger back into his hole, twisting and scissoring until Peter is grinding down, rhythmically, against her hand. His tiny, Omega cock is rock hard, and Clint has started alternating between flicking his nipples and his cockhead, making him cry out in torment.

She adds a third, and he begs around Clint’s fingers, “Oh— Omega, I can’t, please. Please, I need. I need—”

“Hush, baby bunny,” she shushes him, and Clint pushes his fingers deeper into Peter’s mouth, giving his cock a pinch with his other hand. Their Omega wipes away a few of his tears and pulls her fingers free, “why don’t you lift up, bunny?”

It’s torture. He can barely move, and his arms are trembling where they hold onto Clint’s thighs. After trying twice and failing to pick himself up, tears are flowing freely from his eyes and he looks to his Omega, blubbering, “I— I can’t,” sobs, “O— omega, please, I can’t!”

“Help him, birdy,” she instructs, leaning back to watch as Clint moves his hands down, cups under his ass, and effortlessly lifts him up. He cries harder, humiliated, as he feels Clint’s cock line up with his fluttering, empty hole.

There’s a soft hand on his cheek, and he realizes his Omega is waiting for something. He blinks through his tears, opening and closing his mouth— unsure of what she wants.

He must make a sad noise, because she’s quick to repeat, “It’s ok, Peter. Can you give me a color?”

Oh, okay. “Green, ‘mega,” he slurs, trying to give her a reassuring smile, and hears Clint whisper his agreement.

“Good boys, so good for me. Alright, birdy— you can lower him. Slowly.”

Peter lets his body go limp, helpless, as he’s worked slowly onto Clint’s cock. He feels every inch as his body is split in half for his Omega’s pleasure. For his pleasure.

Clint is shaking and panting, whimpering cries of please, Omega and holy fuck.

After a few long, agonizing moments, Peter is fully settled into Clint’s lap. The Beta is still cursing, and moves his hands from Peter’s hips to underneath his knees, pulling his legs back and exposing him wide.

“Fuck, Petey, how are you so fuckin’ tight, my god,” Clint breaths into his neck, and Peter rests his head back against the larger man’s shoulder, relaxing in his arms.

He feels a hand stroke up his tummy, and across his chest. His arms are moved again and settled onto the top of the headboard with a command of, “hold on tight, bunny.”

All of his focus is on obeying the command, so he almost misses his Omega’s next instructions—

“Baby bunny— you can come as many times as you’d like—”

— Peter whines in relief—

“— and baby bird, you can fuck him now,” Clint sighs, “but don’t you dare come, do you understand me?”

“Fuck, holy shit—” Clint curses, “green, Omega. Green, oh my god.”

The first thrust takes him by surprise. It’s almost like a levee breaks, something that was holding Clint’s hips back, and he pulls Peter up by his knees— like a fucking cocksleeve— and slams him back down on his cock with a howl.

All Peter can do is hold on as Clint begins an unforgiving pace, chasing his own pleasure. He feels the hands on his skin, the praises rolling over him, and he tries to say something but can’t, buried under pleasure and praise and—

— and he almost loses his grip on the headboard as his orgasm shakes through him. His lips open and close in a wordless plea as he clenches down on the thick cock still hammering into his hole, slapping wet against his ass.

His Omega moans her encouragement, “Fuck, baby, so good for me. Come for me baby bunny, so pretty, so good,” and he faintly feels her lips, her tongue, tracing around his cock and cleaning up the clear cum pouring out.

“Shit, Omega, I’m— I’m close, fuck,” Clint curses, still moving inside Peter even as he starts to shake from overstimulation.

“Absolutely not,” their Omega commands, standing up on the bed to move them. Clint drops Peter with a heave, both of them groaning as he bottoms out, and their Omega carefully moves his hands off the headboard, setting them back on Clint’s hips. She looks down into Peter’s eyes and then into Clint’s, “two more orgasms, birdy. Two more times— either me or him— and I’ll let you come.”

She kicks a leg over, stradling Clint’s face, and Peter realizes that at some point she took her panties off but left her shirt on. She’s beautiful, and he tries to say as much. Sadly, it just comes out as a choked gasp.

Clint’s pleas turn into moans as their Omega settles on his face, grinding down against his mouth with a firm grip in his hair. Using him. Clint flails, grabbing at Peter’s knees, and picks up where he left off, lifting him up and dropping him fully onto his cock, over and over.

Peter struggles to keep his eyes open, staring up at the vision of Clint licking, hungry into his Omega, but spiraling quickly, floating higher as he feels his orgasm build again.

Knock, knock.

“Fuck!” his Omega curses, and slaps Clint’s shoulder when he slows his pace, “keep going, they’ll go away.”

Clint hums and picks up his pace when—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Dammit,” their Omega jumps off of Clint’s face and looks into his eyes, “keep fucking him. There’s a reward in it for you if he comes before I get back,” and she jumps off the bed, grabbing a pair of their boxers on the way.

Clint resumes his pace, gathering both of Peter’s legs together in one of his long arms and using his free hand to turn Peter’s face, capturing his lips in a wet, sloppy kiss. Peter can taste their Omega on his lips, and suddenly his orgasm is right there.

“Clin’ oh, uh, uh, ‘m gonna,” he tries to warn, but it more or less comes out as a high pitched squeal.

“Yeah, pretty Omega, come on. Come for me. Come on Peter, give it to me, fuck, you feel so damn good, baby—”

His eyes roll back as the second orgasm overtakes him, shaking through his legs and bursting out of his chest in a desperate wail. Clint’s thrusts slow back down, but he barely feels them. He opens and closes his fingers, trying to hold on, and fails, floating high above his body. Below his body.

There’s a release of pressure.

Warmth shifts from his back to his side.

Small wet noises and low rumbles of begging.

His eyes blink open, soft and slow. He feels light. He feels empty.

As his vision starts to swim into focus, he realizes his Omega has moved him to the side. She’s now riding Clint into the mattress. Hard.

A flash of Clint’s face— it looks like he’s seeing heaven open— and Peter smiles, curling into the Beta’s side and clinging to one of his arms as he floats away again.

---

An hour later, Peter is up and cuddling with his pack. It took awhile to bring him back, but his pack let him float— content to relax in his submission and forget about the hundred other things going wrong outside their bedroom.

Turns out the interruption was Bucky, coming to check on them after hearing a “horrific dying animal noise.”

“Was it the noise I made or the noise Clint made?” Peter asks.

Clint rolls his eyes, and Annie answers, “Clint howled like a fucking Alpha when he dropped you on his cock.”

“Oh my— Annie!” Peter yelps, hiding his face in Clint’s arm as his mate cackles.

“You’re just too delicious, Petey. Couldn’t help myself.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but still nestles closer, “Did you float, Clint?”

“For a bit— definitely not like you did, Pete.”

“Hey,” Annie buts in, “drink this, Peter,” and she presses a bottle against his lips.

He takes a few moments to down the whole thing— he is exceedingly thirsty— before asking, “Did Bucky say anything?”

“No, he brought us water, though. And snacks. And then he ran away.”

Peter yawns and pulls Annie’s arm around him, “I wish he’d stayed to cuddle.”

His packmates snuggle in closer and pull up the blanket, cocooning themselves and drifting off for a nap before starting the day officially. When they wake up around noon, the first thing Annie does is call the Omega clinic to book Bucky an adjoining appointment with theirs.

Monday comes sooner than they expect, and all three Omegas pile into the small clinic for their appointments.

Peter keeps looking up at Bucky. The older Omega has been quiet since they left the house, and it’s starting to get concerning. Annie went into her appointment a few minutes ago, so the two of them are alone in the waiting room. He threads their fingers together, placing a small kiss on the back of his hand.

“Bucky?”

No response.

“Bucky? Buck? James? Jamie?”

At the last one, Bucky blinks a few times and shakes his head.

“Wha… what did you call me?”

“I— I don’t know, I was just trying to get your attention—”

“Only my parents ever called me Jamie,” Bucky says, looking down at Peter with wide eyes.

Peter tries to apologize, stuttering, “I’m so so sorry, Bucky, I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Pete,” Bucky squeezes his hand, “it’s okay, darlin’. I… I enjoyed it, is all.”

“... what?”

Bucky sighs, “Stevie called me Bucky for the first time when we were in middle school, ya know? I’d always been James or Jamie, but hated it when I was little. After that day, I only went by Bucky— I guess that was his claim on me, even back then. But now, it sounds good to be called Jamie by someone I consider home, alright?”

Peter scrubs at the tears forming in his eyes, looking up at Bucky as he asks, “I feel like home?”

“Yeah, Pete, you do. You don’t have to, but I’d love for you to call me Jamie. Damn... okay maybe that’s actually a bad idea, you know what, forget—”

“No, no,” Peter interrupts, “I’d love to call you Jamie. Really. We should… we should spend some time together. Like, alone together.”

Jamie finally smiles at this, nodding along, “I’d love that, Pete. Wanna go away for a weekend, or just spend a few days in my nest and kick everyone else out?”

“Either, but I’d like to do it before… before we have sex together. Or share a heat. I’d like to know you a bit more.”

“So no sex on our weekend away?” Jamie asks, and Peter looks up in surprise— and he’s laughing. Oh.

Peter gives him a light push, “I swear, you’re no better than Clint.”

Both of them end up laughing, leaning against each other and getting dirty looks from a few other patients that they ignore.

Within a few minutes, the nurses call their names and they go back for their appointments. Separately. Everything goes normally for Peter, but he can’t stop worrying about Jamie the whole time. He knows his scent must reek, but the doctor, thankfully, doesn’t comment on it. Once he’s given a clean bill of health, plus a negative pregnancy test, the nurses usher him into a larger exam room where Annie and Jamie sit waiting for him.

They take a few moments to scent each other, holding on tight, before specifically checking in on Jamie. They’re relieved to hear that his STD and pregnancy tests are negative, and all of them share details about their own exams, ultrasounds, and other blood work they had to do.

After a minute, there’s a knock on the door, and an older, female doctor enters the room.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Michaels,” she says sitting in the chair across from where they’re piled on the large exam couch, “I’m told you would like to talk about pack bonding today, correct?”

All of them exchange a look, but stay relatively silent. Great. Perfect time for them to swing submissive.

Doctor Michaels is patient, and Jamie finally speaks up.

“Yeah, Doc. We need’ta know how to bond. We’ve got an Alpha and two Betas at home who we want to bond with, but none of us have any idea what to do.”

She laughs lightly, politely, and Peter gets a whiff of sweet Omega scent from her.

“Here, all three of you take these booklets,” she passes them out, and Peter almost scoffs at the title: How to Make Your Forever, Last.

She continues on, “I’m sure you’ve had conversations with your whole pack about bonding, so the only reminder I’ll give is that a bond, when formed correctly between two consenting parties, will last indefinitely. If any of your bonded pack members were to leave and start a separate, familial pack, the bond you share will still remain and that member would be unable to rebond with another person. Understand?”

All three of them nod their heads affirmative.

“Good, now— are you all living together yet?”

“Yeah,” Jamie answers again, “we have a home and by the summer we’ll be livin' together permanently.”

“Okay, that’s imperative for testing compatibility and establishing territory. You will also need to set rules and guidelines for sexual intimacy, especially regarding gender dynamics and orientations. Speaking of which, do you have designated spaces for nesting and scenes?”

“We do. Right now, we have two nests, two dens, and two separate scene rooms. I think Stevie— that’s our DomAlpha— is plannin’ to build out a main den and the Omegas will rebuild one nest together durin’ a heat or somethin’.”

She hums in acknowledgement and makes a note, “Let’s talk about heats. I see here on your charts that none of you have shared a heat with a partner, is this correct?” they all nod, yes, “The only way a pack can bond is when an Omega mate is in heat. If all six of you are to share a bond, it will be strongest if the Omegas are synched. Have you heard this term before?”

Annie speaks up, “Once or twice. My mom used to talk about it— where Omegas off their suppressants and intimate together will get on the same heat cycle.”

“Right,” the doctor agrees, “you’ll need to go off your suppressants and wait two or three cycles before your bodies officially synch together. I’m going to suggest that each of those heats you spend with each other and try to keep other packmates from interacting unless absolutely necessary. It’s best that your hormones aren’t affected by other mates during this time.”

Jamie makes a small displeased noise, but quickly clears his throat, motioning for her to continue.

The doctor smiles again, “I know, it’ll be hard spending a few heats without your full pack, but truly, it will be for the best if you want to form a strong bond.”

“So,” Peter asks, “what about during the heat that we all have together? When we’re ready to bond— what happens then?”

“Well, it depends. I have to ask— will your bonded pack have a Dominant Alpha and Submissive Omega present?”

Peter nods, “Yes, me and Steve.”

“Okay, that will help the process significantly. You’ve probably already talked about your role as the cornerstone of the pack, but during the bonding process, it is essential that the two of you bond and knot first. It’s going to be hard for the other pack members to refrain from mating during that time, but it will help to establish an order of bonding before the occasion to curb any confusion during the hormone-fueled heats.”

“So, we have to… Steve and I have to bond before anyone else can?” Peter asks, avoiding his packmates’ attention.

“Yes,” the doctor agrees, “the whole pack can be with you, if you desire, but he will have to knot you and both of you exchange a secure bite on the neck before other packmates can join the process.”

The three Omegas shift uncomfortably at the description, and Peter slips his hand into Jamie’s, holding on tight.

“After this, just make sure all of the desired bonds are completed before the end of your shared heat. I assume your Betas know of their ability to satisfy an Omega during heat?”

“Uh…” Peter pauses, looking to Annie and Jamie, but both of them seem confused, “probably not?”

“It’s okay, it’s all in the booklet, too. Betas have the ability to help Omegas in their heats and Alphas in their ruts by simulating biological responses necessary for satisfaction in their partners. For instance— when the three of you enter heat together, your Beta packmates will both be able to knot you temporarily. It’s a shorter duration than an Alpha’s knot and only happens for the heat, but their semen still has calming properties, and under the right circumstances, can help an Omega conceive.”

At this, Jamie makes a sad noise that has both of them turning to him.

“Doc,” he starts, head down and body language tense, “is it true that only the Dominant Alpha and Submissive Omega can pup?”

Peter spins to look at him in surprise. What?

“Yes, after bonding, the cornerstone pair in the pack will undergo a hormonal shift in their reproductive system, creating a symbiosis and making it so that only their systems are compatible. The Alpha’s semen only works on the Omega’s uterus, basically.”

“How… wait, so— my body… what about Steve and Jamie? What about Tony?”

“I can only assume those are your other mates. It will still be possible for the two of you, James and Annie, to be impregnated by either of your Betas should the desire arise. Because of this,” she transitions, ignoring the ShockedDevestatedUpsetOmega scent overtaking the room, “I will still keep all of you on contraceptives unless you are wanting to conceive during your first heat. Is this okay?”

They nod, wordless and still shocked.

“Perfect. And lastly, what is the general timeline for bonding? I need to know in order to schedule appointments to retract the semi-permanent suppressants.”

“It’s,” Jamie clears his throat, “it’s as soon as possible, I think. We wanna be bonded this summer.”

“Great, then we can remove the suppressants today before you leave. Are there any other questions you may have for me?”

They shake their heads, no, and she excuses herself from the room, promising to send a nurse to complete the procedures.

When the door shuts, the three of them crowd together, hooking their chins over shoulders and shifting into each other’s laps. Peter feels Jamie grip him tight, and looks into his eyes, which are glazed over and blown wide.

He’s dropping, Peter thinks to himself, and he’s dropping dominant.

Because of this, it isn’t surprising that Jamie growls when the nurse enters the room. Peter shushes him, lacing their fingers together, and the nurse waits for their permission before approaching the chair where they sit.

The nurse pulls out a few of the tools, and asks them, “Alright, who wants to go first?”

Jamie growls again, but answers, “I will,” before lifting his shirt, giving her access to his suppressant site.

They watch as she squeezes around his stomach, feeling for the insertion. His face is screwed up in discomfort, breathing heavily.

She finds the site, a small bump underneath his skin that feeds directly into his endocrine system, and squeezes it towards the surface of his skin. Grabbing the syringe, she warns him about the sharp pain and quickly inserts the needle, puncturing the suppressant site, and injecting a clear liquid. Jamie hisses through his teeth, clamping down hard on Peter’s arm, as the nurse changes out her tool and attaches a suction to his stomach, turning on the corresponding machine that starts to massage his skin.

“It’s going to break apart the remaining parts of the suppressant site, and it will be absorbed into your system with little side effects,” she says, turning off the machine and starting to sanitize it again.

“Alright,” she turns back with a new syringe, “who’s next?”

---

“I’m never goin’ back to that damn clinic ever again.”

After their procedures, Jamie had towed both Omegas out of the clinic and back to the car, throwing them in the backseat, buckling their seat belts, and taking off towards their house.

Annie tries to get his attention, “Bucky, we should probably call—”

A deep, feral growl cuts her off, and both Omegas remain silent for the rest of the ride. Peter pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Steve, letting him know about Jamie’s drop. He also texts Tony and Clint, asking both of them to be ready to help when they get home.

Jamie isn’t driving fast— honestly, he’s probably going under the speed limit— but Peter and Annie are still holding on tight to each other, struggling to keep themselves from dropping submissive as Jamie pumps AggressiveUpsetDistressedOmega scent into the car.

When they pull up, Jamie is immediately around the side of the car, hauling both of them out of the back seat and stalking towards the front door with a low, persistent growl.

Before they even reach the door, Steve steps out with Tony and Clint not too far behind him. Jamie lets out a louder growl, straightening up, shoving both Omegas behind him— facing the Alpha head on. Steve steps closer, meeting his challenge,

“Stand down, Bucky.”

The command washes over all of them, and Peter feels his knees give in, crumpling to the ground. He can’t tear his eyes away from his Alpha— standing in front of Jamie with an expectant look on his face and ordering him to his knees in submission.

He sees Jamie finally collapse, sinking to his knees in front of their Alpha, and then there’s suddenly a set of hands on his shoulders.

“Peter, come with me, baby,” Tony croons into his ear, and he nods his head, letting his Beta scoop him up and carry him away, far away, into the house. They settle onto the nesting couch, and Tony starts to wrap him in blankets, whispering sweet encouragements into his ear that make Peter feel safe and warm.

Distantly, he hears sniffling and crying. Tony takes a moment to help him drink water, and he hums his appreciation.

“Tony?” he whispers, cursing himself quietly for how weak he sounds,

It surprises his boyfriend, though, and he’s immediately shifted to stare deep into his Beta’s eyes, “Yes, baby? Are you okay? What happened?”

He ignores the question for now, “Where’s Annie? And Jamie? Are they okay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, they’re fine. Steve’s got Bucky in the den and Clint has Annie up in your nest.”

“Oh, okay,” he closes his eyes, “I’m fine, Beta. We had a rough time at the clinic— they gave us a lot of information and then we had a painful procedure to get our suppressants removed— and I think that caused all of us to drop.”

“I can tell, Pete. I’ve never seen Bucky challenge Steve like that before— it was quite a sight.”

Peter sighs, “I think he felt like we were in trouble. I should be with him.”

“No, not right now,” Tony’s tone is firm, “we can talk tonight, but right now he needs to spend time with our Alpha.”

“Beta, I need to talk to you about something,” he whispers, ducking his head to avoid eye contact. Tony grabs his chin, not letting him get away, while motioning for him to continue, “the doctor said… she said I can’t have your pups, Tony.”

His tears start to gather in his eyes, and Tony wipes them away tenderly,

“I know.”

“... you know?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but we figured it out a few years ago when the boys were courting me.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t— no, I’m really sorry, I really am Peter. I would have told you before we bonded if the doctor hadn’t mentioned it today. Bucky is devastated that he can’t have Steve’s pups—”

“I know—”

“And— oh, okay. So I can assume that’s one of the things that set him off?”

Peter rolls his eyes, “You think, Tony?”

“Damn, okay, I’m really fucking this up,” Tony scrubs his face, “Peter. I’m… you gotta know, baby, that I love you regardless. So does Steve. None of us expect pups from you, and you know that you don’t have to bond with Steve, right?”

“Stop it, Tony. I heard the news and then got my suppressant removed. I made this choice. I’m just pissed that we got so far without anyone bringing it up. I mean— we’re already living here! Dammit Tony, you asked me to trust you and I’m trying.”

“And I know that, sweetheart,” Tony says, caressing a thumb across Peter’s cheek, “I didn’t mean to keep anything from you, Peter. I respect you— you know that, right?”

Peter mirrors his touch, putting his smaller hand on Tony’s cheek, “I know, Tony.”

Tony looks relieved and leans closer. Peter closes his eyes, ready for the kiss—

“Hey— oh, sorry—”

They whip around to see Steve waiting next to their chair, shifting awkwardly where he stands and holding one of his hands behind his back. Peter scans the room, and sees Bucky curled up with Annie and Clint on a nearby couch, watching them intently.

“It’s okay, Alpha, what’s going on?” Peter untangles from Tony’s arms, sitting up straighter to look Steve in the face. Tony rubs his back encouragingly.

Steve looks to Tony, looks behind him towards their pack— all of whom give him a thumbs up— and then slowly gets to both knees, pulling a red, velvet box from behind his back, and opening it to reveal a sparkling, diamond ring.

“I— what?”

“Peter, I realized that I shouldn’t wait to ask you this. You’ve stepped so gracefully into the role we’ve required of you, and it happens to come with a lifelong bond to an Alpha you barely know. I want you to know— I’m falling in love with you. I don’t want our bond to be built out of necessity, I want it to be built out of affection and commitment to each other. I don’t just want forever with this pack— I want forever with you,”

At this, Steve bares his neck in submission and holds out the ring, “Peter Parker: will you be mine? In love, in bond, and in marriage?”

Peter feels Tony’s thumb on his cheek and realizes he’s crying again.

“Y— yes, Steve. I’ll be yours. I’m—” he takes a deep breath, “— I’m falling in love with you, too, Alpha.”

He slides off the couch, joining his Alpha on the floor, and melts into his arms as the room erupts in excited cheers.

With Steve’s ring on his finger and nose in his neck, his problems start to melt away. They’re strong together, they’re right together. And even though his pack won’t make his worries disappear— with all six of them celebrating around him and embracing each other— it seems as though they can face anything, together.

#peter parker #MiGLT #starker #spidershield #winterspider #clint barton #tony stark #d/s fic #smut #fluff #pack dynamics #mcu #ao3 #mood board #might wanna just read this on ao3 tbh #omegaverse

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of-elves-and-mad-hatters · 2 years

Text

“The Azure Sky” - Chapter 9

Shadows to the Brightest Flame: Series

- The legacy of Lumia’s influence is scarred eternally into the lands of Elvendale. Burdened by a prophecy foretelling her demise and need for a successor, she watches for one capable of such power. Yet her enemies are working steadily to undo all she’s labored so long for, and it is millenia too late to make peace.

Emily Jones, heir to Eimileen, is a bold girl dedicated to protecting Elvendale, but the world she has grown so fond of is not so black and white as it seems, and the titles of Guardian of Portal and Guardian of Light may hold darker legacies some ancient elves have worked tirelessly to hide.

In conjunction with the extended version of the Guardian of Light prophecy I wrote previously

Basically a rewrite of all of the Lego Elves & Secrets of Elvendale storylines with an additional arc beyond the Season 4: Into the Shadows. There will be a varying degree of deviation from canon.

Technically a crossover with Lord of the Rings/Hobbit/Silmarillion in terms of worldbuidling, as I set Elvendale as being north of Middle-Earth, cause this is fanfic and I can. So there will be mentions of the Noldor, Sindar, Silvan, and some Tolkien characters, but they will be mostly background. Definitely not an issue if you aren’t familiar with the Middle-Earth fandom; everything will still be easy to understand.

Book 1: The Azure Sky

Grieving over the unexpected death of her grandmother, Emily Jones is accidentally trapped in another world. Befriending a few young elves in an attempt to find her way home, Emily discovers many secrets about her grandmother’s past, but for every truth she learns two more questions take its place, leaving her vulnerable to darker force inhabiting this realm.

A rewrite of Unite the Magic

_____________________

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

_________________________

Chapter 9

Emily brings a hand to her neck, feeling the deep impressions left by the chain. Whatever presence they felt back in the hollow didn’t simply create the illusion of her amulet feeling heavier, they actually did make it heavier.

The human isn’t sure what to make of that. Naida said it was probably just some other elf doing their own thing, but if that were true, then why was there a connection to her amulet at all?

“Here we are!” Azari anounces, pulling the human from her thougts. Her jaw drops open in awe. The clearing they’ve entered opens up to the back of an active volcano. A waterfall of lava spills into a fiery pool below, igneous stones glowing across the surface. A two-story building stands next to the spectacle. It is constructed of stone, moss and ivy growing up the sides, with elegant metalwork ordaining the windows and balcony. The lower floor is set up as a bakery, and giving the remote location, Emily presumes the upper floor is where the owner lives.

“Hey, Azari!” a voice calls out. A light-auburn haired elf emerges from the doorway. He carries a tray of pastries in his hand. “Just iced a dozen cinnamon buns. Perfected my new recipe. A little bit of dragon root to add some more spice, balanced out with onasdera juice…”

“Sorry, Johnny, don’t have time to eat today,” Azari briskly interrupts. “We’re on a quest.”

“Well, if that involves blowing something up, then stay away from my bakery. I refuse to have to rebuild it a third time.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. “You blew up his bakery twice?”

“Technically, I only blew up his bakery once. The second time I blew up something adjacent to his bakery that caused it to catch fire and burn down before we could get it under control.”

The human shakes her head. “I’m not sure that’s any better.”

“It’s not,” Johnny concurs.

“Well, it’s good to see you again, Johnny, but we do have to be going,” Naida intervenes, trying to diffuse the argument.

“Actually,” Emily asks, her stomach growling, “Could we stay and eat a minute? I’m kinda burnt out. I don’t think humans have as much stamina as elves.”

“Alright,” Naida concedes. “We’ll stay.”

______________________________________________

Emily curls up in the wooden chair, content. An empty mug of hot chocolate and the remaining crumbs of a cinnamon roll lay on the table. She smiles, closing her eyes, feeling the gentle heat of the woodfire oven on her face and hands.

She closes her eyes, allowing her drowsiness to envelope her in a gentle sleep. The voices of the elves fade. Behind her eyelids she can still make out the glow of the fire. It dances, enchanting in the way all flames are, the golden warmth turning redder and darker, bleeding its light until its shape is only a deep black shadow…

“Hey Em! I think we’ve figured out the riddle!”

Emily jolts awake, accidentally tipping the chair chair over. She lands in a heap on the floor, face turning red from embarrassment. “Could you maybe be a little less abrupt next time?” she asks the fire elf as Aira offers a hand and lifts the human to her feet.

Azari shrugs. “I do it to Farran all the time and he doesn’t mind.”

Farran scowls.

“Given the context of the clue, the falling curtain of gold likely refers to the lava falls,” Naida explains smoothly.

“Okay,” Emily turns to look out the window at the phenomenon. “How on earth are we going to get it?”

“With me of course,” Azari anounces, standing up. She grins. “I am a fire elf, the most talented fire elf in our age group, in fact.”

“Wait, you can really walk across the lake and to the falls without getting burned?” the human asks.

“Absolutely.”

Emily frowns regardless.

“Well, you better get on with it then,” Aira cheerily interjects.

“Yeah, if we’re wrong we’ll need time to regroup,” Farran adds.

Azari rolls her eyes. “We’re not wrong.” She strides briskly out of the bakery, the other elves scrambling to catch up. Emily follows up the rear, worried. Naida and Farran had already risked so much gaining their keys, what if this next challenge proved to be too difficult for Azari?

The fire elf stands at the edge of the burning lake. Her eyes are closed and the goldenrod highlights in her hair begin to glow.

“This is it,” she declares, “I can feel it.”

Azari steps out onto the lava, her feet neither sinking or burning. Emily holds her breath, and is suddenly startled by the feeling of something bump into her leg. She looks down to see an oddly colored fox sit itself by her feet, watching Azari cross the lake.

Azari reaches the falls, taking a deep breath and parting the lava with her hands. She grimaces. “I can see the key,” she explains through gritted teeth, “But I can’t reach it and hold up the curtain at the same time.”

Aira turns to Johnny, “Could you…”

“No,” Johnny cuts off, blushing. “My magic is not nearly strong enough.”

“What about the fox?” Farran suggests. “He’s small enough to slip past Azari without her having to move.”

“That’s actually a good idea.” Azari admits. “Flami, Flami come here,” she calls. The little burdgundy fox trots towards her direction. “That’s a good boy, now go fetch that key.” The fox cocks his head, then steps past her into the nook behind the falls. He reappears holding a bronzy gold key in his mouth. “Well done!” Azari praises, scooping the fox into her arms and letting the lava fall back down. She jogs quickly to meet the others on the shore.

“That was amazing!” Emily finds herself exclaiming, reaching out a hand to pet Flami.

“No, wait Em! He still needs to cool off.”

Embarassed, the human quickly sticks her hands back in her pockets. “Sorry.” She watches as Azari takes the glimmering key from the fox’s mouth, the ruby affixed to the handle reflecting the light of the fiery pool beside them.

Emily sighs. “Only one more key to find.”

#the azure sky #chapter 9 #emily jones #azari firedancer #johnny baker #farran leafshade #aira windwhistler #naida riverheart #unite the magic #lego elves #elvendale fandom #fanfiction #background lotr crossover

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gravelyhumerus · 3 years

Text

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Thirteen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away” Relationship: Jemily

Rating: Explicit Summary: Foxes, lattes, churches and resolutions.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

The first thing she noticed was the snow. It was falling down on her, hitting her skin with pinpricks of ice cold. She wandered through the bookshelves, searching for something. She wasn’t sure what for.

It didn’t normally snow inside the library, but that didn’t seem to matter to her.

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she turned down another row of books, past the history section and stepping over a stack of books on the floor that was left there by some other student. To her left was a row of empty desks. It was just Emily and the books.

But, Emily didn’t feel peaceful. Something inside of her told her that she couldn’t wait around, she needed to do something, find something.

Emily trudged through the snow. Was she searching for a spot to sit and study? Was she searching for a book? When she found it, she would know.

She turned down a corridor, looking up and down the tall bookcases, her eyes skimming along the spines. They were old leather bound tomes, in rich oranges, blues and reds. They looked as if they hadn’t been read in decades. She searched for something she recognized, but nothing made sense to her as she couldn’t make out the titles or authors.

Out of frustration, she turned away to stomp back down the row, but something stopped her in her tracks.

Emily blinked at the image in front of her. It was a fox standing in the middle of the fiction section, looking at her expectantly. It was as if he had climbed out of one of the books and materialized before her eyes.

“Bonjour,” Emily said, kneeling down before the animal.

“Bonjour,” said the fox.

Emily looked around, confused at the appearance of the animal. What was a fox doing in a library? When she looked back, he was gone.

She looked around.

“Je suis là,” came the voice, from between two books, announcing his presence on the adjacent shelf.

“Qui es-tu?” Emily asked, wondering who he was—or what he was—and what on earth he was doing here in her college’s library.

“Je suis un renard,” said the fox. He was a fox. No shit.

She blinked at him, trying to figure out what she was remembering. The fox was familiar. She had seen him before… or read about him before.

It was just like out of Le Petit Prince—the book that JJ had given her for her birthday. The book was a classic children’s novel, one that Emily had read many times. It was as if the character had simply stepped out of the book.

The book was about a little boy who lived on an asteroid and was in love with a rose. He went on an adventure through space before landing on Earth. There, he befriended a fox. Emily could picture the simple watercolour illustration of the small boy prince speaking to the fox. She could almost feel the pages of the book between her fingers. She smiled as she thought of JJ’s excited face as Emily unwrapped the present a few weeks back.

This fox, like in the book, was speaking to her. She racked her brain for what she was supposed to say.

“What am I doing here?” Emily asked, this time in English.

“Je ne puis pas jouer avec toi,” said the fox, which was not the answer to her question, since he had told her that he couldn’t play with her. “Je ne suis pas apprivoisé."

I am not tamed, he said. He has not yet been tamed. Emily remembered now what she must say.

“What does tamed mean?” she asked, in French.

The fox jumped down from the bookshelf and walked through the library, his small paws leaving prints in the white snow. He was bright red against the ground and easy to follow through the familiar stacks. Emily noticed that she wasn’t cold, despite the weather, even as her breath came out in puffs that lingered in the air.

“It’s something that’s been too often neglected. It means ‘to create ties’... but you know this.”

Emily remembered this part, he was right. In the book, the boy doesn’t know what taming means, how to create ties with the wild animal. He does not yet know the meaning of friendship.

The novel was filled with layers of metaphor. It spoke to childhood, love, loss and the power of the imagination. Emily’s copy sat next to her bed, and she had been looking through it before she fell asleep that night.

The fox crept through the seemingly endless bookshelves, his tail swishing back and forth as he walked. Emily tried to keep up, but he seemed to weave through the library with a practised ease.

The fox stopped. He hopped onto a desk and curled his tail in front of him. He cocked his head and looked at her expectantly.

“Your person has run from you, correct?”

Emily stared at him. This part was not in the book. She nodded after a moment.

“I ran from my boy at first, too.”

She remembered this part: in the novel, the young boy wanted to befriend the fox. But he was impatient. The fox explained that it would take time, that the boy would have to return over multiple days to build his trust. The boy would begin sitting far from the fox, not even making eye contact. Over time, he could move closer and closer until they finally could play together. Their friendship could only be forged over time.

“Were you scared?” Emily asked.

“At first,” he replied. “But he was patient. And persistent.”

The fox swished his tail, then continued: “At times, my heart was not yet ready to greet him.”

“How did the little prince finally tame you?”

He did not answer the question, as she already knew the answer, instead he said: “Words are the source of misunderstandings.”

“Was it all worth it? Even though he left you in the end?” Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, then looked off into the distance, almost wistfully.

“Here is my secret,” he said. “It’s a very simple secret: it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

“On ne voit qu'avec le cœur," Emily repeated. She knew this line by heart. It was better in French.

The fox disappeared into the books and Emily was left alone in the empty library. His words filled her mind.

Words are the source of misunderstandings. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly.

Emily woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring in her ear. She was curled up on her bed, on her side. Her blankets had fallen onto the floor, and she was close to shivering in the chill air. She slammed her hand onto her phone and fumbled until she turned off her alarm.

It was a dream. A vivid dream. She didn’t normally get those.

She stretched, her neck sore after sleeping at a weird angle. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the convoluted dream that was still clear in her mind. Somehow, even after all she had done to distract herself, JJ still was a key figure in her unconscious brain.

Emily needed to move on from that, focus on school. She couldn’t dwell on what she couldn’t control. She was an expert at pretending everything was okay; she had held herself together through worse.

She stared out the window. Instead of the white snow that had been so crisp and bright in her dream, outside was grey and dreary. She couldn’t see any hint of precipitation, frozen or otherwise, just dead grass and wet asphalt. The trees were bare as the leaves had fallen and been raked up last month, and there was salt on the roads in anticipation of the freezing temperatures.

Emily methodically dressed, donning a pair of jeans and a dark green button up shirt, pulling a sweater on top to combat the chill. She then played some music on her laptop. She focused on the lyrics, allowing her mind to go blank.

She sat in front of the mirror on her desk, carefully applying her makeup. There was something about a swoop of liquid eyeliner that made everything feel okay. At least, more okay than they used to be. If she looked put together, maybe she would feel like it, too.

Emily rarely remembered her dreams and she really wasn’t used to having to think too hard about her subconscious. All that was very Freudian, anyways. She wrote the dream off as her sleep-deprived brain mixed with reading before bed.

She donned her warmest leather jacket, the one with sherpa lining on the collar and tugged a mustard yellow beanie onto her head. Then, she lifted her tote bag onto her shoulders, and put her headphones into her ears, turning the volume up high, hoping that she could drown it all out.

During her lecture, Emily didn’t retain a single word her professor said. She mindlessly typed her notes, completely zoned out the entire time. She wondered if the words on her screen made any sense, but decided that it must be an issue for a future version of herself. This was probably a bad idea, as it was just about finals season and her exams were fast approaching.

Her mind was elsewhere: thinking about the blonde who lived across the hall. At times, Emily thought about their kiss, or imagined holding her hand, or holding her body. Then, as her daydreaming gave way to reality, she remembered the anxiety as JJ ignored her texts. She remembered JJ ending it one day, then coming back from a hookup mere days later.

Every day that week, as Emily walked down the hall, a part of her wanted to knock on JJ’s door, like she used to, just to say hi. Beyond everything else, Emily missed JJ. She missed laughing over dinner, studying French, or even lounging in one of their dorm rooms, doing nothing and talking for hours. She missed the way she smelled and her soft touch and her big blue eyes. She missed JJ’s kindness, how she would remember little details about Emily, and how she would knock her shoulder against Emily’s to get her attention. Emily missed her friend.

But the hurt was still there, and it overpowered her longing. The hallway reminded her of JJ’s words, her breaking it off, the tears in her eyes.

Emily hadn’t seen her since, with JJ doing an amazing job at avoiding her.

As soon as her class was over, she walked off of campus, heading straight to her favourite cafe downtown. It was usually busy this time of day, but she hoped the crowd would keep her from wallowing and make her focus on her work. Campus was inextricably tied to JJ. The field reminded her of JJ’s soccer games, the library of their study dates, the cafeteria of their group dinners and even the quad made her think of the time she almost ran JJ over with her skateboard when she was distracted.

Emily sat at the long sandy wood table and sipped her latte as she opened her laptop.

Members of the Prentiss family were extremely talented at pretending things were normal, that everything was fine, and Emily was no exception. She had tucked all the hurt, all the confusion, into a neat little box in the back of her mind. Storing it away until she could deal with it.

She typed away at one of her essays, only taking pauses to sip her coffee. She was busy finding sources and working on integrating quotes to develop her argument. She enjoyed the sound of her keyboard clacking, adding to the din of the cafe.

Her phone was tucked neatly away in her pocket. While there was a noticeable silence in their group chat—the one with both Emily and JJ in it—Emily’s phone seemed to be constantly pinging with messages. Derek was checking in on her, Penelope seemed to be trying to distract her, even Hotch had sent her a message to make sure she was ok. If Reid had a cellphone, she knew he’d be doing the same. Sometimes she got messages from Penelope’s number that was signed by the younger boy. Somehow, the whole world seemed to have known exactly what had happened between her and JJ.

The sun was setting faster and faster these days, and by five, it was creeping below the horizon. At this point, she had most of her essay drafted, so it felt like a good enough time to call it quits. Anyways, her back was starting to get sore from the minimalist chair and all she really wanted to do was curl up in her bed again.

Emily packed up her bag, depositing her empty mug on the counter, nodding at the barista before leaving.

She took the long way home, walking along the river and listening to her music, trying to clear her mind. She pulled her hood up against the cool air.

She walked for five minutes before slowing as she came upon a church that she had passed before. Instead of continuing along her way back to her dorm, something made her pause.

Lights lit up the facade: a red brick building that stretched up into the sky with a pointed bell tower in the centre. Columns graced the front, standing strong on either side of the large, wooden doorway.

Emily stared at it. It was simultaneously familiar and foriegn. Emily had spent almost every Sunday in church, be it Sunday school or mass with her mother. No matter where they were in the world, there was always at least one church in the city that they could attend.

In Rome, their visits had only gotten more frequent, as after school, she and Matthew would wander the Renaissance churches around the city, admiring the architecture and discussing theology and morality and free will.

Something came over her in that moment, and she found herself wandering up the steps, trying the door to see if it was unlocked. The door swung open easily, and for a moment Emily thought about walking in. She thought about kneeling before the cross and going through the familiar motions of prayer.

She thought about asking God about JJ, about what was going on, praying for guidance on what to do. She could picture the way the light would dance through the stained glass window, she could feel wooden pew under her knees, she could almost mouth the words of her prayer.

She thought of St. Georgia, her confirmation saint. She thought of her life of solitude, and how that almost sounded nice. Young Emily had thought the same thing.

She thought about the mass that she sat in her pew, with tears in her eyes, as the priest talked about how being gay was a sin. She thought about how her mother repeated those words when she came out at sixteen.

She let the door close without entering, before walking away, longing for the feeling of the wind on her face instead of the dusty smell of incense.

It had been years since she had set foot in church. The last time had been in Rome, the day she walked in with Matthew, before… well there was no before. It just was. Her pregnancy had triggered something in both of them, questions about the church that could not be prayed away.

Emily clenched her fists, her short nails digging into her palms. She remembered the way Matthew had held her hand at the doctor’s, and held her as she fought back tears, and walked arm in arm into the church in defiance of the priest.

After, their questions hadn’t subsided. Matthew read and read and read and the more he learned, the more the church transformed the place of safety and solace to something neither teen could stand behind.

Still, she missed her childhood certainty. She missed the feeling of a power greater than herself watching over her. She missed the singing—though she would never admit it—she had really enjoyed being in the choir. She missed how her mother would sit next to her, how it was often the longest time she got to spend with her busy mom.

Emily shook her head, fighting back the memories, and turned up her music and continued her walk home. She dug around in her backpack for a lighter and her pack of cigarettes. Fumbling for a moment, she lit one and breathed in the dark smoke.

The wind was biting and her leather jacket did little to keep the cold from creeping into her bones. As the sun was setting, Emily began to shiver.

After dragging her walk out as long as she could, she finally went back to her dorm. Her hands were iced cold and she was shivering. She dropped her backpack on the floor before collapsing onto her bed. She checked her phone to find a missed call from Derek.

She called him back, knowing that he was likely to pick up from only down the hall.

“Hey,” she said. She felt suddenly tired, and wondered whether he would pick up on that.

“Hey Prentiss,” Derek said. “How’s it going?”

“I’m fine,” Emily lied.

“No you’re not,” his voice came through the phone, and from the hallway, and he knocked once before opening her door.

Emily sat up, looking over to him in surprise. As if he owned the place, Derek walked over and sat down on her desk chair, letting it spin with the motion of his body.

“We’re ordering take out,” Derek said, “You can’t survive on coffee.”

“I can try,” Emily muttered.

“Pizza?” Derek proposed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding the cafeteria.”

Emily crossed her arms. Derek was good at making her feel better, pushing her to take care of herself without forcing her to talk about her feelings. He was a private person, and so he never went too far, knowing that there were lines that neither of them crossed.

“Thai?” he said with a sly look in his eye, he knew she couldn’t refuse.

“Ok fine,” she gave up, “You know what I like.”

“That I do,” he said, dialling his phone and calling the local family-run Thai restaurant for delivery.

Forty minutes later the two of them were eating curry and watching The X-Files on Emily’s laptop. They were sprawled out on the floor, both scooping rice into their mouths as they discussed the plot of the episode—aliens—and whether or not they actually believed in them.

Emily didn’t realize how hungry she had been and struggled to remember the last full meal she had eaten.

After she had finished, she felt slightly more human, slightly less out of it. Still sad, but being sad on a full stomach, sitting next to her best friend and watching her favourite tv show was a bit more bearable.

“I just don't get it,” Emily blurted, surprising herself as the words fell out of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Derek replied, “What’s the point of probing? Don’t they have good enough technology that they could just scan someone and know what’s up?”

“I mean, yeah,” Emily said with a laugh, “But I was talking about JJ.”

She paused.

“Did I push too hard?” Emily mused, “Was it my fault?”

Emily didn’t plan to vent to Derek. She hadn’t really told him the details yet, as she was still embarrassed after Thanksgiving weekend. Telling Derek’s entire family about how she had a girlfriend and then immediately getting dumped was not great for the ego.

She learned early that it was safer keeping things to herself.

Emily had done just about anything to fit in when she was younger. She was desperate to be normal. To be someone that wasn’t the weird queer girl that moved around a lot. She learned languages, learned cultures. She learned how to wear the right clothes, say the right thing. She tried so, so hard to be normal, and yet she never seemed to do it right.

In her senior year, Emily finally gave up. She dyed her hair, did her make up in a way she knew enraged her mother, and dressed the exact opposite of what the other kids did.

Since then, Emily was trying to focus on being herself. Derek was her first friend to really accept her for her, and over the past year and a half, she felt herself beginning to relax around him. In her second year at college, she was no longer the new kid.

She had started to feel comfortable with him, and all of their new friends, so she was kicking herself for letting things with JJ blow up in her face. She should have known this was all too good to be true.

“Em,” Derek said, “You can’t blame yourself. There’s definitely more going on with her that we don’t know.”

“Did Pen say something?” Emily said hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Derek said, rubbing the back of his neck, “She hasn’t said anything outright, ‘cause, y’know it’s all so complicated. We’re friends with both of you. But she made it seem like it wasn’t just you.”

Emily gulped at the guilt she felt when she thought of how all of this with JJ must be hurting her friends. They had all gotten so close this semester, and she hated the thought of ruining it for everyone.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Emily said with a sardonic laugh.

“Essentially,” he said.

“Look Prentiss,” Derek said, “I think this is just a hiccup. You’ll figure it out. You two just need to talk and stop running from each other.”

“How do I get her to stop running from me?” Emily asked, her dream vivid in her mind once again.

“Wait it out,” he said, “She’ll come back to you eventually. For now, eat some mango.”

He offered her the dessert, some mango and sticky rice that they had gotten to share. Emily took some with a grin.

She could wait. JJ was worth waiting for.

———

Emily was almost ready for bed when she heard a knock at her door. Derek had stayed for most of the evening, watching tv and talking for hours to keep her mind off of things. He had wandered out around nine, as he had an early practise the next morning.

She was just about to get undressed after brushing her teeth and washing her face. She stood in the centre of her room with her fly half undone as she heard the sound. She zipped her pants back up and walked to her door, unlocking it, expecting to see Derek returning for something that he had forgotten. Instead, she was face to face with Jennifer Jareau.

“Hi,” JJ said. “Can we talk?”

In JJ’s hands was a large tin filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. They were piled high in the tin, perfectly baked with picturesque chocolate chips still warm from the oven. On JJ’s face was a nervous expression as she held out the gift for Emily to take.

Emily stood and stared at JJ, wondering if she was real or if she had finally snapped and was hallucinating.

A moment passed. JJ smiled nervously at her, big blue eyes boring into Emily’s own.

Emily took the cookies.

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily cm #jj x emily #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #fanfiction #fanfic #jemily fanfiction #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #sweater weather au #sorry for the delay!!!!#life got in the way

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shnuggletea · 3 years

Photo

This is my entry for the Inuparents Day 2021! I was paired with a lovely and talented artist @kirrtash. She'll be posting this fic with her art on her AO3 account for us. You can also find her Ko-fi account here! Make sure you check out her page for the AMAZING art that goes with this fic! I'm so glad I got to work with her; this was a true collab as I really felt she was working with me the entire time. I enjoyed every minute of this event! Thank you so much @inuparentsday for hosting and sharing with all of us!

Link to AO3 HERE!!!

If you want more from this event (and trust me, you totally do) here's the Tumblr page! I would post the AO3 page buuuuutttt yeah I deleted mine lol! But there is one as well!!

Playlist is right here!!

TAGS!!!

@underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @classyhumanathletepalace @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @misspepperpottss @kagometaishostory @egosolivagant @fandompromptsandfun @fandomartlover @fanficnewbiee

Chapter One

“Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.”

― Mahatma Gandhi

It was a cold night. The kind that made your skin tense as soon as you stepped out into it. It also had a tendency to make a man’s scrotum shrivel and seek warmth. Not something they liked to talk about… usually.

“God damn it’s cold! My balls are up my ass!” Toga said at a level that made it even more inappropriate.

Miya shook his head, the image of Toga dancing on his toes to stay warm filling his brain. “How unpleasant that must be for you…”

“No, seriously! And those are big balls…”

Sitting back from his scope, the Monk pulled his shoulder-length black strands back and tied them there. “Just because we’re on comms doesn’t mean you have to talk so loud. No one is supposed to know you’re there, remember?”

“Right, right, right,” Toga was silent save for his huffing, warming up his hands with his breath, “still fucking cold though…”

“For fucks sake, aren’t you a demon? The temperature shouldn’t bother you!”

Pulling the sight around, Miya zeroed in on the loud mouth, shifting on his toes just as he knew Toga would be. He lifted his gold eyes right at him, somehow knowing Miya had turned his sights onto him. “Yeah, I’m a dog demon. I’m just as if not more sensitive to cold than insensitive humans like you!”

“Say that a little louder, I don’t think the old lady across the street from you heard it.”

“She needs new batteries in her hearing aid…”

“You couldn’t possibly know that!”

“I do, she just told the Shopkeep when she went inside.”

“Can you focus? Use that extra sensitive hearing to find our target?!”

“Can’t find what’s not there, Miya.”

“Then keep searching, Toga!!”

It was silent again but only for a second. “Now who’s being too loud…” Miya growled, getting to his feet and pacing away to kick something. “Calm down, you’re going to have a stroke.”

“Why the hell do I put up with you?”

Miya didn’t need to see Toga to know he was smirking. “Cause I’m the best. And who else you got? Myouga?” As much as he didn’t want to, a laugh sputtered loudly out of him, one the dog demon would have heard even without their comms. “See? You need me and I need you. Now get back to your post.”

Sighing and groaning, he did as ordered; laying down on the cold pavement of the thirty-story building he was perched on. He wasn’t an idiot, Toga placed him this high to keep him ‘safe’ if they found who/what they were looking for. It had been over an hour but Miya knew better than to question Toga’s judgment. Or Myouga’s intel.

Toga was cursing the inconvenience of it all. Winter was by far his least favorite season and he swore the others knew it too. It was why they waited until the middle of the season and hours after sunset to pull this crap. It was all to mess with Toga and nothing anyone said would change his mind about that. The heat from playing with Miya flooded out quickly so he was back to bouncing on his toes. It made his two blades smack against his thighs but that was a nice distraction from the cold as well.

Black toboggan on his head was large enough to cover his ears and his long silvery-white hair covered his neck. But it was his fucking hands and feet, his fingers and toes numb with cold.

He hated cold feet.

Humans passed and didn’t even glance in his direction. And why would they? Humans had no clue of his existence. Him or anyone similar (like Miya) were a secret from the world. Even though Miya was far from a demon; he wasn’t human either. It was that difference that had Toga placing Miya on the high building and far from the fight. If there was even a fight to be had.

He wouldn’t be surprised if this was all a rouse to force him to stand out in the cold all damn night!

That was until he smelled it. “Miya… they’re here.”

“You’re sure?”

Toga glanced upward towards the tiny dot. If he were human, he wouldn’t be able to see the agitation on Miya’s face. But he wasn’t human and it was always there. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He pulled out So’unga and moved to the outer edge of the alley he hid in, glancing around. “Toga, get back! I’m here to scout not you!”

“Even with that scope you still see shit.”

“Toga, it’s an order! Get back!!”

“I’ll be fi….”

Toga was cut off, ice splitting up from his feet towards his heart. Leaping back, he avoided impalement with relative ease. When he found the perpetrator, Toga didn’t hold back his laugh in the slightest. “Good to see you too, Snowflake.”

The cat demon was growling at him and it had just as much to do with the fact that she was a cat and him a dog as it did that he called her ‘Snowflake’. “That’s not my name!!”

“Right, right, right. What was it again?” Toga teased.

If she wasn’t wearing a black hoodie that covered up all her fur, it would be standing up in anger. “It’s Toran, prick!!”

She slung out her arm and ice followed in a path along the ground. Toga stepped to the side to avoid it; making it seem like child’s play. “Well that’s not very nice. At least my nickname for you is a term of endearment. Yours sounds like an insult.”

Toga had his lower lip popped out and Toran roared, pissed. “IT IS AN INSULT!!!”

Glancing around, Toga saw that his little distraction had worked; the street was clear of all possible casualties. They had all seen the display the kitty cat had made and smartly left the area. Which was good because now Toran was tearing up the whole area with her rage; jagged and angry ice breaking up the sidewalk and pavement as it shot upward without warning.

Toga jumped and dodged it all, keeping his hands in his pockets. “Ice. Just had to be ice.”

The already frigid air was made much colder with the glacier that surrounded them. A small arena of sorts, Toga released a slow breath and watched the white puff float away.

Toran broke out of her thoughts of murder for a moment and spun to find him; realizing quickly (but too late) that it was just the two of them now. “What have you done?!”

“Me? You’re the one creating your own ice castle. You know, for an Ice Queen, you sure are hot headed.”

Toga smirked while the cat hissed, throwing out her arm again. Only this time the ice didn’t form on the ground. It shot out of her hand like a missile; long and sharp like a spear. Aimed right at his heart.

He moved out of its way with little struggle. “Careful there Snowflake! Pretty sure your Boss didn’t order you to kill me!”

Toran shuddered and then turned her head back and forth to work out the tension. “No. Not not you.”

The smirk that grew on her face had Toga dropping his. Spinning on his feet was a pointless gesture, they had comms after all. “Miya! Look out!!”

This was why Toran’s attacks were lackluster and easy to dodge. He had thought she was holding back to keep from killing him. But no, it was because her attention and powers were split; ice racing up the front of the building Miya perched on. It shot out of the top in deadly spikes completely destroying the top floors of the short tower. And Miya was silent. Myouga hadn’t told them the target but given the location Toga had assumed it was a human they were after. And he was half right.

“He’s a human with demon powers. Powers that are extremely dangerous for demons; a Black Hole. Why you’ve allowed him to not only live but also stay by your side is a wonder, Fighting Fang. He shouldn’t be allowed to live…”

“Miya has lived just fine by mine and your side for a time. You pick now, of all, times to kill him?!” Toga screamed.

Toran’s smirk grew to a grin and she shrugged. “Orders are orders.”

“Oh?” They both turned and found the monk, a little out of breath, but with his sniper rifle on one arm and his hand out at the ready. “Good to know my life is worth so little. But I knew that already.”

Toga rolled his eyes at the drama queen. Miya had his fist closed tight but the runes that covered the cursed hand were removed. He was ready to kill.

“You won’t do that! Not with Fighting Fang so close! You don’t have the control to suck up only me!” Toran said while shaking with her fear.

Miya tilted his head to the side at her and glanced over at Toga. “That’s true. But he’s such a pain in the ass…”

“HEY!”

The monk used the small distraction to whip his rifle up and fire. He got Snowflake in the upper thigh and she released a loud whimper mixed with a roar. The shot to the leg didn’t slow her down as she leaped away over her ice walls.

Toga turned back to his friend, a lopsided grin on his face. “I knew you wouldn’t risk it, buddy.”

“I should have. She got away.”

Now at his side in a flash, Toga clapped a hand on Miya’s shoulder. “You got her in the leg! Without aiming!!”

“I was aiming. For her gut. I missed.”

“But not completely!”

Miya pulled away roughly from his friend and surveyed the damage. “Those nosy people are going to have a coronary when they get word of this.”

“Speaking of, we should get out of here. I’m sure they’re already on their way.”

Toga grabbed Miya by the collar and hoisted them both to another high building; one not destroyed and closer to the scene below. It was a mixture of cops and men in lab coats. Toga didn’t know how much Miya could make out from their distance but he was sure the ones in lab coats were the ones that were at the last mess they made. One in particular was hard to miss; his long black ponytail stood out amongst the others. And he was becoming a constant in their lives.

He was becoming a problem.

“Izayoi, take a look at this for me please.”

Setting down her notes and her pencil, Izayoi straightened her lab coat as she made her way to her colleague’s microscope. Quickly, she pulled back and tied her long black locks out of her way and leaned over. Her colleague had stepped back out of her way and said nothing; so there was no bias.

“This can’t be right. It appears… deformed.”

“Right? I thought so too!”

Stepping back, Izayoi took the sample’s file and began reading. “It says here it was taken from an incident on fifth and Topsail last night? But it doesn’t say anything about the incident or those involved.”

The woman next to her nodded in silence and Izayoi handed her back the file, hurriedly leaving the lab to the one down and across the hall. The man she was looking for was directing boxes that looked like they were filled with ice of all things. He glanced up at her and quickly signed the form in his hands and pushed the attendant off hurriedly. “Dr. Hime, how are you finding your new lab?”

Izayoi shook her head. “It’s fine, Dr. Setsuna, but I’m here about the samples you sent us?”

“What about them?”

“Well… what are they?!”

He chuckled at her and she felt her blood rise to her temples. “That’s your job to figure out, isn’t it?”

“Sir, all science aside, it’s difficult to ascertain much from a few drops of blood when we know so little about it…”

“Run it through the database and see if you get a match.”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Izayoi liked her job, she really did, until it started to become some kind of cloak and dagger operation and Takemaru got promoted. “We already did that and it came up with nothing.”

“Of course it did.” Takemaru mused quietly.

“Excuse me?”

Izayoi’s attention shot up to her boss but he shook his head with a fake smile. “Nothing. Just mark everything that you find in what you have, Izayoi.”

She turned and left quickly; part in frustration but also because it bothered her greatly when Takemaru spoke informally to her. Just because he was her boss now didn’t mean it was appropriate. Quite the opposite. With so much more going on, Izayoi let it go. For now.

Back in her lab and feeling safe, she looked over the blood sample again. Five had been taken and although they all looked the same they had different locations marked in their file. Izayoi looked again, taking the sample her colleague had away from her (and she was gracious to have it off her plate too). Switching back and forth, Izayoi looked over the DNA results again. They were inconclusive; the only recognizable strands reminded her of feline DNA while the rest were mutated or something. But she noticed one thing; although from different locations the blood was from the same person.

“Maybe the cat DNA is the answer?” She asked herself. The lab was empty as Izayoi got lost in her task.

Even though all the same, she didn’t want to risk any more contamination, taking each sample and amplifying them. Polymerase Chain Reaction took a few hours so Izayoi left for the small cafeteria (more like a break room with a coffee maker and vending machines) for a cup of coffee. She had taken a seat at the small table in the middle when bodies hustled hurriedly past the door.

Leaving her cup behind, Izayoi leapt to her feet and followed as fast as she could behind the small group of overly excited Scientist. They went to the loading bay which was odd in itself. The loading bay was for supplies like chemicals and printing paper. Nothing exciting came through here except when her new genetic analyzer arrived. Izayoi doubted this many were excited over something like that. It was also far too late for a delivery; already nearing ten pm.

Standing off to the side, she hid as she watched the large armored car as it backed into the loading dock. A few men in police uniform hopped out; Izayoi’s confusion and curiosity increased at the sight. One opened the back doors while the other stood right behind, his weapon up and armed.

Everything that Izayoi could have possibly imagined dropped to the floor and shattered as a man walked off the truck. His long silver hair was pulled back and swung as he looked around at the group of men that surrounded him. It was pretty.

Izayoi shook her head of the thought, focusing on the man. His red jacket and dark jeans hid his body from her but he looked normal otherwise. He had drawn purple streaks on his face just under his eyes for some reason. She couldn’t see his eyes from where she hid or make out many details of his face but the purple was hard to miss.

Her eyes traveled down to his hands; cuffed in front of him. He had long, sharp looking nails. And they looked thick and dangerous even from a distance. Her thoughts were interrupted when the man lifted his joined wrists and held his hands up. Everyone jumped except her as she watched with rapt attention; intrigued to just what the man was going to say.

“I come in peace.”

Her eyes rolled instantly and she let out a loud huff. What the hell was this guy even doing here? And why was the staff of Takemaru’s lab about to wet themselves with excitement?

She hadn’t seen him the entire time, too focused on the ‘specimen’ on the truck, but now Takemaru stood before the strange man with a wicked looking grin. He looked over the man in cuffs but said nothing to him, turning to his men who salivated behind. “Take him to the lab.”

They didn’t take the usual hallway. Instead they took the man the back way designed for deliveries. Izayoi stepped back and completely out of sight; sneaking down the hall and back to her lab. When the noise from Takemaru’s lab reached hers, she slowly left hers again and snuck down the hall. When she peeked inside, there was nothing out of the ordinary so she straightened herself and walked right in. Only to be stopped by Takemaru.

“Dr. Hime? What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” She said plainly. “I’m still working on those samples you gave me…”

“Oh there’s no rush. You don’t need to worry about them anymore.” He said, waving a hand at her like it was no big deal.

“I don’t need to worry?! Sir, I spent all day running them. I’m not about to drop them…”

“Fine, Izayoi, you do what you need to. In your lab.”

He was kicking her out and she resisted the urge to run from the informality; stretching on her toes to look around him instead. “Did you get a new project?”

Takemaru swayed and moved in her way more, blocking her view completely from spying the back of his lab. “It’s ‘need to know’.”

Izayoi seethed. Ever since Takemaru got promoted (over her) he acted like it was some kind of ‘boy’s club’. That’s what it was, all the men in the room moving around without issue while she was stuck in the doorway. She was sure that was how Takemaru got promoted instead of herself. Even with a few women on the board it was very much a ‘man’s world’ in the lab as of late. As much as it pissed her off they did give her a nice raise. And she loved her work as well as those who worked in her lab.

She would put up with it for now until a better offer came along. As it stood, this was the only lab in town that could handle her caliber of study. Didn’t mean she had to pretend she was okay with it, huffing as she turned on her heel. “Whatever, Dr. Setsuna. Enjoy your new toy.”

Let them think they’re keeping their secrets. Izayoi was sure she would figure them out soon. She hated secrets. Secrets and liars her two main pet peeves. It was the reason she became a scientist. To discover all the secrets the world held and to uncover any lies. This was all just another mystery for her to unravel.

And unravel, she would.

#inuyasha fandom #inuparents day #izayoi x toga #cell mates prequel #cell mates universe #inuparents day 2021 #how to make a hanyou

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prince-toffee · 3 years

Text

Alleyways

Hordak x Shadow Weaver

Canon Divergence | Alt Universe

Season One | Episode 14: Alleyways

Beatrix scoffed and threw the brown ration bar and the rest of her food tray across the prison cell, she far preferred the grey ones. She gave a defeated sigh lowering her head down. She rubbed her fingers over the scratched part of her mask, in the spot where a chip of the Black Garnet used to reside. Her shoulders slouched down, all tension in her muscles left her as she gave up. She felt so powerless. So weak. Just a few days ago she was still one of the most powerful witches on the planet, every magic user feared her name.

Shadow Weaver.

Now, she sat in a prison cell, rank-less. She didn’t know if she should’ve felt honoured, or disgusted by the fact that the cell was specially attuned and adjusted for her specifically. Which meant it was probably designed and constructed, in secret, long before her treason. This place was full of secrets and surprises, usually unpleasant ones. Hec-Tor would’ve probably said it was an honour, he was an architect that truly thought of everything. And The Fright Zone was one of his most haunting creations.

Beatrix wasn’t disgusted, per say. She knew she didn’t have many fans, and plenty of enemies at every corner. This outcome was inevitable, she knew deep down she was getting too greedy for her own good. But the power felt too good to give up. What a fool she was. She saw it all clearly now. Where her addiction led her. Her very unsubtle disregard for orders, her greed peering through her emotionless, cold stature. She knew she was on thin ice with Hec-Tor, the control freak he was. He desired order and expected subordinance. He always disliked her - everybody back home knew she was a wildcard, deceptive, insidious. Looking out for only herself - she never really cared about the cause.

Perhaps she should’ve been more surprised that he didn’t do it earlier. She knew he wasn’t fond of her, and vice versa of course - she couldn’t stand his patriotic and prideful attitude. Acting as if being apart of The Horde was a gift from god. He was an old blind fool. Beatrix wouldn't have thought twice before leaving this place and selling her loyalty and inside information to the most welcoming bidder - The Alliance, or even maybe try her luck with The Empire of Talon Mountain. So any choices to choose from, now if only she could manage to escape her imprisonment.

Unfortunately, if she knew Hec-Tor, and she did, The Hordak had probably thought of every possibility of escape she would think of, and countered it. He was paranoid like that. The spherical pure white containment cell she was unceremoniously thrown into was made out of Glowmoon-Dwarfstone, the surface layer anyway. A magical element only found on one of the moons of Etheria, able to absorb darkness itself. Bad news for the Weaver of Shadows, she was powerless here. She despised feeling weak, vulnerable. She was meant to be the predator, not the prey.

She had no shadow. The stone absorbed it. She felt two dimensional. She didn’t know if that made sense, but she heard the stone had negative effects on the mind if in close proximity for too long. Speaking of which, she had no idea how long she had been locked up, she lost the track of time. No windows. So no sky. No clock. No space. The spherical cell was the size of a small closet. At least they were still feeding her, but the food in there was never anything to gloat about.

She placed her face into her hands, she was loosing it. She couldn’t break! But she was close. She didn’t want anyone to have the satisfaction of seeing her beg, and pled. She was strong, stronger than them. She was going to win in the end, she just had to wait it out, play the long ga-

“Inmate-667. Place your forehead on the wall behind you and position your hands behind your back. The containment unit door will open, and a commanding official will commence your questioning. And Weaver, you’re gonna like this one, hehe.”

Beatrix narrowed her eyes and growled at the announcement. She recognised the voice, Force-Commander Grizzlor. She never liked him. The feeling was seemingly mutual. She did as she was ordered. A groan reverberated through her throat, she knew exactly what this was, she could tell from Grizzlor’s smug voice. Catra. She was back to berate her. It seemed like her former ward’s ego had grown three times the size, rather than her heart. Beatrix dreaded these visits. Catra came over from time to time, to insult and demean the dark sorceress, rub her victory into Beatrix’s face. Insolent little brat! She got lucky! Beatrix was weak when she caught her off guard, too drained by the toll the Black Garnet’s power took on her. If only- if only she could take hold of the Garnet’s power! S- She didn’t need much, just a little, it would’ve cleared her mind, beat her heart faster. If she had just a little more she could’ve had taken out Catra, and her two stooges. Everything would have been all better if only she had a little more. Damn that girl! And her mother!

The cell opened up. A side panel gave out a hiss as it dislodged, pulled out and off to the side. Weaver felt the colder air pour in. The closest shadow cast onto her was too weak for her to do anything with, the upper layer of the walls draining it’s ethereal cosmic weight. Or perhaps she was the one who was too weak. Catra loomed over her. The teen thought she could intimidate her, not a chance.

“Well? Come on then, you spoiled brat! Got anything to say? Came here to gloat and mock me, you think you have won, but one wrong move with Hordak and he’ll throw you to the dogs, he’s-”

“Weaver.”

The sorceress silenced herself. The voice that called to her was cold and smooth, in other words not Catra’s. The single word was followed by a pair of footsteps, metal boots clanking against the stone’s surface. The sound of cybernetics hissing as his joins moved. He was close now. The cell entrance slide back into place closing the cell. They were alone now. Beatrix had to admit, even though she knew Hec-Tor for most of her life, seen him at his most vulnerable, even shared some intimate moments with him, but still even after all that - he was terrifying.

She turned her head around, and there he was. He looked different in the light, stranger. She almost never saw him outside of his ThroneHall. Always cloaked in darkness and smoke. She sometimes wondered if he bought smoke machines on purpose to scare any kids that would accidently wonder into the room. Hec-Tor certainly had a taste for the dramatic. Beatrix turned around and seated herself comfortably looking up at the Overlord, well, as comfortably as possible. There he was, in all his glory, out of shadows - a glorified toaster. The same Hec-Tor that used to write poetry for girls that would never go out with him. The same Hec-Tor that dyed his hair blue, because kids from the neighbourhood made fun of him being ginger. The same Hec-Tor that beat his own father within an inch of his life, and conquered half of the galaxy...

Same old, same old.

She swallowed down quietly, she couldn’t show him she was weak. The mask helped hide most emotions, most weaknesses, she had to control the rest of her body language. Beatrix lifted one leg over the other and intertwined her fingers together, giving off a relaxed posture.

“Lord Hordak. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She looked over him - blood red eyes, and teeth, grey skin, military regulation hair cut, his two prostatic arms, which could crush boulders, his imperial purple cape, and the neon lit armour implants. She was actually curious as to what he was actually going to say. His eyes narrowed, anger was apparent, but an air of irritation was present too. He gave out a long tiresome sigh, as he moved his fingers to rub the bridge of his nasal cavity, even venturing as far as his eyes. She was in for it.

“Why? Why can’t you just follow orders? Beatrix Hallows, always struggling with adhering to reason and common sense.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he actually had the audacity to school her, to talk down to her. This was almost worse than Catra, hearing her full name spoken out in a mocking tone, like lecturing a child, slapping them on the hand, this was humiliating. And from Hec-Tor too. When angered by her he’d usually give her the cold shoulder, take her off a mission, reassign command to someone else, like Catra. She thought he had given up on talking to her ages ago. But she wasn’t going to have it.

“Having fun? Look you’re not covering any new ground here. Catra already had multiple pitstops here to make me her new donkey. If you think you get to insult me like that, just remember your punk rear wouldn’t have made it back home if it weren’t there for me. You owe me. Several.”

It was true. Back on HordeWorld, back on the streets. They had nothing. Had to rummage through trash, and steal for food. Stomach empty all day. Times were tough. They had to rely on each other. One distracted the passer-by and the other pickpocketed, on a lucky day, thanks to Hec-Tor’s puppy eyes the stranger would hand them some pennies on top of that. But man, on days like these she wished she had never stood up to those bullies shoving little young Hec-Tor around, should have never allowed him to follow her. But how couldn’t she, he was so adorable.

“I am not here to appoint you my personal laughing stock. And I thought I told Catra talking to prisoners was forbidden. I’ll have a chat with her about the regulations... I am here to understand. Finally. I have been putting this off for far too long.”

This was curious, and unexpected. She would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t interested in what was about to exit that mouth. He had avoided her for years. Often said she was ‘not worth wasting words on’. The feeling was mutual. She heard that mouth declare rousing speeches, bone-chilling monologues, and the softest of kisses. Versatility was everything. He continued.

“We never saw eye to eye, never liked each other, you always went your own way. Chose to differ from others, always take the other path. You talk back to me, you waste resources on personal escapades, and often break protocol... But back there, at such a crucial point, disobeying my orders, for what? Just because of a child that did follow orders?”

Putting faith in that girl was going to be his undoing. Unless she was going to get to him first. Catra was always a nuisance, untrustworthy, going off on her own, not listening to what she was told. She had a rebellious spirit, that drove her away from Weaver’s lessons, she often managed to drag others away with her. She was too smart for her own good.

She’ll be biting down on Hec-Tor’s ankles soon enough. She supposed that an upside of being stuck in the cell was that he had to deal with Catra’s antics now. That was his mess to clean.

“How did she even get a drop on you? Was it the Garnet? I told you to tell me if the artefact displayed any negative effects-”

“Are you done? I know you didn’t come here to talk about my feelings. If you care to know your magic weapon is fine. And Catra. She’s nothing but a brat, that you’re letting walk all over you.”

She wasn’t having any of this, she had to speak up for herself. Call it a warning, that girl is not to be dismissed, she’s trouble - like her mother. But deep down she felt a hint of embarrassment herself, she was one of the most powerful sorceresses, years ago when she first drained the power of the Garnet she did it effortlessly. Even though Hec-Tor didn’t trust her, he handed her the responsibility, because he knew she was the only one who could hold its power. He knew she was mighty. But now, the Garnet rejects her, resists her, no longer bows down to her might. It hurt sometimes. But she could never show weakness.

The infamous Hordak stared down at her, judgementally, much like how he looked down at everybody. He looked off to the side at the thrown away tray, mashed potato and peas smeared on the floor, tray flipped over, and the brown rations crumbled on the floor.

“You’re not eating.”

What was that? She wondered to herself. Was that genuine worry? She noticed he stayed on the ration bars for a second too long, noting her preference perhaps. He seemingly had no idea where to go from there, so she helped him out, she asked.

“Why are you here Hec-Tor?”

This time using his real name rather than his title. More personal, it cut to the point. Plus he was always going to be Hec-Tor to her. That puppy eyed scaredy-bat, the one always picked on, by bullies twice his weight, the nerd allergic to flowers, and the same geek that used to write poems for her. She dismissed them of course, just a bunce of nonsense if you’d ask her. The change never really quite settled in, even when the Council made the public announcement of picking the new Hordak. Even when Hec-Tor’s face came on every screen on the planet. Even when the death of He-Ro shocked the nation. Nothing changed.

Well, maybe not until that day at Vix’s Diner. It was the strangest circumstance. He was the one who called her over. She guessed it was just a nostalgic meet up, like in the old days. 'The Hordak' was present, so they ate for free. Their conversation would be constantly interrupted by randos bowing and giving respects to him. He dismissed them.

But there was something different about the man that sat in front of her, he was colder, more stiff. Beatrix treated herself to the unlimited free breakfast meals, best she’d eaten in years. She half listened to his ramblings, something about the war with the Light and the Ones Who Won’t Be Named escalating, the Council was abolishing anti-terraforming laws, and Horde warships were launching on the offensive against the enemy. The wannabe poet gone, all that was left of the boy was a patriot, and a soldier. Well, what do you do? That’s what the government spoon feeds people.

But the strangest thing was. He asked her to be his 'Weaver' - his second in command. An honour placed apon only those who are seen as worthy, or chosen by the Council. But this wasn’t an ask of desperation or of fear. This was an order. Firm, and powerful. That day in the diner, if Beatrix would’ve refused him, she didn’t know if she would’ve walked out of there with her head on.

The Hordak is no mere man you can refuse after all.

He is the 'Beast of HordeWorld'.

And so, they set off. Boarded the warship: Annihilation, and rocketed into the stars. And the newly appointed Shadow Weaver pondered, that it was quite curious that HordeWorld was completely decimated only few days after they left. Curious indeed. Blah. Blah. Blah. Couple of thousand years, some food shortages and dead bodies later: Etheria. Crash landing in the back fields of King Niro’s Kingdom of Scorpion Hill. And it was through Weaver’s highly skilled dark magic on display, that the kingdoms bowed down to them, Mysticore even building a statue in her honour. They looked up to her, marvelled at her magical abilities. Her Horde magic was far more advanced than what the wizards held in their possession. She taught, and trained them. But good things never last. They turned on her.

“Like I said, Beatrix. I am here to understand.”

Now it was his time to use her name. She was still curious yet cautious. Whatever side-tracks Hec-Tor from the main mission, can’t be good. All this was strangely personal. Was the Beast in fact capable of concern and closeness? She let him continue.

“We’ve known each other longer than most beings live. But in my quest into the unknown, I never even dared to explore what was nearest me. Tell me, why break, why snap at me at a point of victory? And why, why the girl? It’s that Magicat that sets you off at every moment. Why? Why do you hate the girl?”

“Will, you free me?”

“...No. We both know I won’t, I can’t. It is against the protocols, and I gave you too many passes, vouched for you too many times, I overlooked your actions for too long. And that’s why I am here.”

Well, that wasn’t going to work. No freedom, no deal, no talking. She was surprised by the fact that this entire situation was simply a genuine attempt at a heart to heart. But he knew nothing. And that’s how Beatrix liked to keep things. Much like Hec-Tor, she wished to be a bogeyman, imagination was always the greatest deterrent.

And what was there to explain? Catra was a pain, undisciplined, and unwilling to learn. Beatrix wasn’t about to just let that brat walk over her, of course she snapped! Everything Catra got, every punishment, was because she deserved it. Though... no. No, he couldn’t know. Could he? Did he? Hec-Tor was a master tactician and strategist, he always researched and analysed everything before the attack - what if the Beast already knew the answer to his own question?

Did he know about Melendy?

Beatrix never spoke to anyone about her personal life, especially not her love life. And she had made sure she was back for check-ins, erased her tracks, she was sneaky. She didn’t slip up often. How would he know? Could it be? Was the grand Lord Hordak jealous? A curious stalker.

But perhaps it wasn’t that outside of the realm of possibly. The Queen of Magicats. The Lord of the Horde. Hec-Tor set up many negotiations in the time before the war, people talk.

And what now, he expected her to sit here listen to him give her therapy? As if. If that bastard knew about Melendy’s choice... about her leaving, and didn’t say anything, just holding it over her head as bait - then damn him to the Light! But did he truly know? He couldn’t possibly understand. She was in love. Nothing ever came close to making her feel like that. Not even him. Beatrix loved her, and she chose to leave, just because of tradition, culture. To Light with it!

But what prompted him to care? Perhaps he looked back fondly on the past, reminiscing? Hordak and her didn’t sleep together often, but when the duty became too much, too stressful - they aided each other to settle the nerve. Heh, it took practice to get used to each other, their first time, wasn’t pretty.

She still remembered that night, or well, it was day actually. She always misremembered, since the skies over the city of Catrax were always grey from the city’s pollution. Kids used to come over to their windows and watch the rare instances when sunshine would penetrate the dark clouds above. Very little hope shone down on the people of the lower levels. But the kids of the higher levels, the ones on the first floor, above the clouds, they had all the sunshine they wanted, and took it all for granted.

So when Beatrix and Hec-Tor pickpocketed and stole a little, just to keep living, just to have. It wasn’t that selfish. When the two crash landed on Etheria for the first time they ventured throughout the land, claiming everything they could, stealing and conquering, taking - just to have. Just because they couldn’t in previous lives.

On that day, after Beatrix stole old Mister Scurvy’s wallet as Hec-Tor distracted him, they both ran off away from the yelling man. Ran faster than they ever ran before, too afraid that the man’s screaming would attract the attention of any local law enforcement, if they got them, it was Confinement for sure, no matter that they were teens.

She huffed and panted so hard she almost fell off her own feet. She had to lean herself on the side of a brick wall in the alleyway she ran into. Just as Hec-Tor joined her, the rain began to pour. He bowed down, arms holding his knees, trying to support his upper body. His ears tilted down. His exhausted cough turning into a cackling laugh, which clearly infected Beatrix since she burst into laughter with him. She didn’t really know how it happened, but he got closer to her, with her pinned against the wall, looking straight into each other’s eyes. As their chuckles settled, her hand ventured down to his hip as her lips made their way to his own. And then, well, they were teenagers, you know what else.

Good memories.

Perhaps memories were just the advantage she needed, perhaps Hordak didn’t despise her as much as she had previously thought. Could it be? The All-Mighty Lord of The Horde feeling... lonely?

“Do you remember the alleyway?”

“Eh, there were... many alleyways.”

True that, after it felt so good, the first time, it sort of became a daily routine for them. Partners with benefits. They used each other to feel better, to feel something. There was nothing between the two, or so Beatrix thought. But perhaps she was wrong yet again. She wished to test that.

She took off her mask. The Weaver mask was a totemic symbol back on HordeWorld - representing strength and authority. And underneath that mask, was a woman. A broken woman, with scars and stiches, missing flesh. Something many would call a monster. But Hec-Tor Kur of House Kur saw nothing but beauty. A magnificent beast that saved him many a times. The girl he fell for so long ago. And Beatrix knew that, knew it was the moment she locked her toxic waste green eyes with his blood red, which shimmered in the light of the cell. She knew straight away, his weakness.

“Look at me, Hec-Tor. So frail. I wasted away. So little of me left... The Council was right. No matter what power I aim to tame, I fail, I never amounted to anything, like they predicted. I know you’re disappointed to have me as a partner on this venture... But… I miss the alleyways. When we had nothing. Back when so little felt like so much.”

It worked. The seemingly cold and calculated persona cracked. His facial expression changed, from irritation, and anger to a certain softness, maybe pity. He breathed in heavy, and out through the nose. He took a step closer to her. The cell was a snug fit so his leg was already brushing hers.

“We do have nothing, Beatrix. We are the last of our kind. We have little, but we can have it all. You are not a failure. We are not failures. There is a reason why I haven’t just simply executed you like a common thug... I miss those days too. But we still have time.”

The Hordak kneeled down, lowered himself to be closer to her. This was it - the moment of truth. He clearly had no idea what to do with his hands, so one rubbed its thumb and pointing finger together in anticipation, while the other hovered in the air half open awaiting her permission to proceed. The Weaver of Shadows accepted it, took hold of the old vampire’s hand into her own, intertwining their talons. Old scared skin taking comfort in one another, something familiar, in an unfamiliar world.

“We will have our people back. We will terraform this miserable planet! And we will be the new gods of a new utopia... And... though we never seem to see eye to eye... even if all it was, was physical, there is no one I would rather stand with and watch this world transform into hope, because you are my partner. This is our mission.”

Beatrix was the first to move forward. And Hec-Tor quickly followed suit, he closed his eyes and opened his fanged mouth. And the blissful moment was brief, but glorious, the space bat even let a pleasing hum escape him. And perhaps Beatrix would’ve let it go on longer, it wasn’t often that she had pleasures like these. But this situation was dire, and also, she was really tired of looking at the same white walls all day. She decided she earned herself a little walk to stretch her legs.

Hordak knew there was something wrong - his mouth became colder, and something wriggled inside that made him choke on his own breaths. Shadow Weaver rose up, straightening her legs completely, while Hordak bent down, onto his knees. The Dwarf Stone absorbed all darkness present on all surfaces, rendering her powerless, but the magic stone’s reach was limited. Cause Hordak’s entire inside of his body was nothing but darkness - so many shadows coating all of his vulnerable entrails and organs. She wasn’t going to paralyse him permanently, she wasn’t that cruel - just because of their history, she could show mercy.

Hec-Tor’s face pale and sick, his body limp, blood pooling around his organs, he fell on the floor. Shadow Weaver took a good long heavy breath, perfect. She placed the mask back over her face, and approached the wall of the cell through which Hec-Tor entered. Firmly placed her palms on the stone and pushed against the wall. The ethereal shadows twisted and morphed and drilled into the wall, she didn’t have much time. Every second the walls drained away the shadows, Hec-Tor had very little left in him, and the bright magic of the material weakened her, so little strength was left in her.

But there it was, the sound of the stone cracking. She wormed her fingers into the crack, enlarging it, chipping on it. The rock crumbled down, exposing the metallic layer underneath it. That was it, her window of opportunity. She commanded the shadows to bore into the mechanisms, and the shadow beast tore the panel wide open. The steel bending and ripping was extremely satisfying. Weaver loved the look on Grizzlor’s face as he took in what just happened. The witch made quick work of him, throwing him off to the side with the dark mass. She sighed in relief, she wasn’t free yet, but she had plenty of material to work with. The shadows from smallest corner to the largest corridor converged around her, swirling like a vortex.

“Now this is something I can work with.”

#hordak #shadow weaver #my own repost because i can #shadowdak #weaverdak #also on ao3

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hauntedozone · 3 years

Text

A New Normal

This is my Secret Santa/Christmas Truce gift for @junicane ! I decided to give my first PP-is-canon fic a shot with this ficlet. I hope you enjoy the fluffy new normal after PP ~

Read below the cut (1184 words)

For once, Christmas was perfect.

Well, as perfect as his least favorite holiday could be.

His parents’ squabbling was at an all-time low – the entire Fenton clan wanted their newest family member’s Christmas to be absolutely flawless. And it was.

Now, on December 26th, Danny’s cocoa tasted sweeter than it ever had. He was cozied on the couch, wearing a festive sweater he could never see himself wearing before. Five brand new stockings hung above the fireplace. The old four were worn out from over a decade of use, and Mom thought just one shiny new stocking would make the newest Fenton feel out of place. Danny and Jazz readily agreed to replace the Christmas socks – it’s not like they were particularly attached to the decorations, anyways.

The peace was helped by the fact that Dad finally accepted that Santa was fake when he hadn’t shown up to help stop the Disasteroid. According to him, “Santa wouldn’t have just sat around while the Earth was threatened. He would have used his Christmas magic to save everyone!”

It seemed like ever since the Disasteroid, Dad was even more boisterous and optimistic than normal. It probably helped that he wasn’t trying to destroy him anymore.

“No longer armed and dad-ly,” Danny said to himself, smiling at his pun and taking the last gulp of cocoa.

“What was that, sweetie?” Mom called from the kitchen. The amount of banging coming from that room meant she was either on the edge of a scientific breakthrough or really into the latest recipe.

“Nothing,” Danny called back, getting up and heading toward the kitchen to put his mug in the dishwasher.

He found his mom battling what appeared to be a mound of cookie dough infused with ecto-energy. The mound bore a cartoonish, angry face, with chocolate chips for teeth. She brandished a hand mixer in one hand and a lipstick blaster in the other.

“Mom!” Danny shouted, alarmed.

He shifted into his ghost form and flying at the pile of dough. He pushed into it with an audible squish, turning them both intangible and flying down to the lab. He heard Mom shout as he phased through the floor but couldn’t make out the words. The cookie dough gnawed on his arm ineffectively as they soared toward the portal, squishing chocolate into his suit.

“Hey!” Danny shouted. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to dry clean ghost clothes?”

The cookie dough continued to gnaw, smearing the chocolate further.

Danny flew up to the portal’s controls, using his thumb to unlock the door. He shot the dough a glare.

“You know, it’s ghosts like you that give ghosts like me a bad name.”

He chucked the cookie dough into the Ghost Zone, where it quickly disappeared into the green depths. Danny shifted back into human form and quickly closed the portal door before the ghostly dough came right back inside. Danny dusted his hands off theatrically.

“You’re just lucky I don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he said, thinking to the statues of himself that stood in every country in the world. Nobody could call him evil knowing that he’d saved the Earth from certain destruction.

“Danny!”

Danny turned toward the stairs to find his mom at the bottom, breathing heavily from her sprint downstairs.

“Oh, hey! Don’t worry, I took care of that ghost. After all, there’s nothing I wouldn’t dough for you, Mom.”

Mom sighed. “Sweetie, that was just a new cookie recipe. It would have been fine after I…” She trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What if someone in the Ghost Zone eats it? They could get salmonella poisoning.”

Danny wrinkled his nose. “Uh, Mom, it’s not like they…”

He paused. That was weird.

Why would I say “it’s not like they can die twice?’ Danny thought.

Everyone knew ghosts weren’t really dead like the movies, just monsters from another dimension. Sure, some seemed like people, but that was just because…

He wracked his brain. He couldn’t remember.

“Danny, sorry. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Mom turned back toward the door and began to ascend the staircase. “Could you get your sister? It’ll be dinnertime soon.”

“You got it,” Danny called as he transformed, brushing off his odd thoughts. He turned intangible and floated through the ceiling and outside into the snow. He scanned the empty street. He knew she had to be out here somewhere, she was supposed to be shoveling the driveway.

A burst of cold smashed into his ear. Danny fired an ecto-blast in that direction on impulse. Another freezing blast to his face, this time getting in his eyes, blinding him. He tried to wipe the substance out of his eyes, blowing air through his nose to get the freezing moisture out. Snow.

Giggles erupted from in front of him.

Found her.

Danny blindly shot a small ice beam in front of him, enough to sting but not truly injure anyone. His sister let out a scream, overdramatic as always.

“Hey! No fair,” she whined.

Danny laughed and blinked the rest of the snow out of his eyes. “You know, technically, we should be evenly matched. Same genes and all. Extremely fair.”

Dani crossed her arms. “You know I don’t have ice powers yet. Plus, I’m like, two years younger than you! More, depending on how you want to count my age.”

Theatrically, Danny pretended to count on his fingers slowly. He stared at his hand intensely for effect. “Add two, carry the one…”

Another snowball pelted him in the face.

Danny felt his eyes glow bright with intensity. “Oh, it’s so on.”

Dani screamed with joy and turned invisible, but the speed of her flight sent a trail of snow puffing up from the ground and into the air behind her. Danny used his ice powers to conjure a snowball in his hand, a perfect sphere. He tracked her until she got close, then unleashed the ball of snow. The ball exploded mid-air, chunks of frost hovering on Dani’s invisible form.

“No ice powers!” Dani shouted in mock-anger as she turned visible once again. But her words had no bite, and a smile danced on her lips.

Suddenly, she pulled her arm from behind her back and launched another snowball at him, smacking him in the chest.

Danny blinked a few times, surprised. “When did you even have the time to make that?”

Dani smiled triumphantly and crossed her arms. “I can’t just give you my strategy like that, cuz.”

He let out a laugh. Despite the cold, the joy of goofing around with Dani warmed him from the inside out. He reflected (not for the first time that Christmas season) on how happy he was that she could spend the holidays with her family instead of alone in the Ghost Zone.

Danny held up him hands in defeat, grinning. “Alright, alright. You win this round. But after dinner, I better see you out here for round 2.”

For once, Christmas was perfect.

Because for once, their entire family was together.

#ficlet #dp fic #phicc #christmas truce #secret santa #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom fic #danny phantom fanfic #dani phantom #danielle phantom #maddie fenton #danny fenton #christmas #dp

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psycho-mocha · 3 years

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The Minfi Chronicles

Episode 2

Infi loved jumping up and down anywhere. Her only powers enabled her to control gravity and velocity. That was what they were called hopefully, she was still failing physics.

“If I jump will you let me fall?” came Mocha’s voice from behind her. They were roaming around on rooftops since there was nothing to do. Their town wasn’t big enough to attract aliens or world destroying creatures. What it did attract was gossipy aunties and NRI cousins, without fail, every wedding season.

Nothing’s better than a stroll on the roofs with your crime fighting partner to escape family and so here they were, testing out what else they could do with their powers.

“Do not jump Mocha.”

“Whyyy. I wanna experience flying. How crazy would it be if you changed the laws of gravity? Then you wouldn’t fail your exams!!!” She said beaming, proud of her great idea.

“Very smart indeed but 1) we can’t reveal our powers and 2) I might be tempted to pull a reverse Else and let ice or stone in this case strike your heart. Let’s see if any trolls manage to fix you up then.” Infi replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“You’re mean” Mocha pouted and turned away, trying to command the branches of the trees to pull them to the other end of the terrace. Apparently it was too far but changing nature’s course and growth wasn’t an annoyance at all.

“Uhhh Infi?” Mocha asked from the other end of the terrace.

Hearing the urgency in their tone, infi bounded up to her. “Yeah? You got something?”

Mocha was peering over the edge of the terrace, careful to remain out of sight of whoever was down there. “Nothing of major importance, just your family friend destroying my cousin’s art project.”

“Wha-” Infi looked down and took in the scene “Should we stop her?”

“Nah my cousin is annoying. Plus family reunions are always fun. But I think I won’t skip the engagement ceremony this evening after all” Mocha answered, a small smirk on her face. “You should come too, drama is guaranteed and for once we won’t be at the centre of it”

Grinning, infi replied “I’m in. If you manage to spill a glass of water I might be able to make sure it splashes on whoever you want. Changing course and speed of water. Should be simple physics.”

“Yess let’s do that. Also I think there’s a police siren going off somewhere.”

“Must be your supercharged hearing, all I can hear is mausi telling ma her halwa recipe. Can’t we stay I want to know the secret to mausi’s halwa?”

“Infiiiii” Mocha groaned, dragging her by the arm to the roof. “The police are always late and your brain works better under pressure. I might panic and unleash random jets of whatever power my brain decides to shoot out”

Infi shuddered “Yeah we don’t want a repeat of that. What’s the location?”

Mocha closed her eyes and in a few seconds she’d given Infi the exact address, along with map coordinates although how she knew those was beyond her understanding.

“See you there partner” Mocha grinned and jumped off the roof, calling all the nature around to herself. Branches shot out from everywhere and retracted just as quickly, forming a moving bridge for them. Where there were no trees nearby, Infi was behind her, helping them shoot forward to the next roof without having to touch the ground for a second. No she did not pull a reverse Elsa in the end.

They reached the site in a matter of minutes, with Mocha travelling like a well dressed mowgli and infi bending gravity and breaking the laws of physics for herself and Mocha when they needed.

As it turned out, however, their services were not needed. They were on the roof of the Chief Inspectors house and their kid had gotten into the keep and started the siren.

“Well that was a fabulous waste of time.” Infi muttered.

“Well atleast we got to fly. Hey could you do whatever you did to help me move forward again on the way home?” asked Mocha

“Can you hand me that rope behind you, mochu?” Infi asked, smiling sweetly, too sweetly.

When Mocha got her the rope she handed one end to them and all Mocha heard was “Hold on” before she felt herself being lifted in the air, the gravity around them reduced to almost nothing.

“WHOOO. THIS IS AMAZING. YOURE THE BEST. WAIT HOW DO I GET DOWN?? INFI??”

“HOLD ON TO THE ROPE” Infi shouted and pulled her like a balloon, while Mocha shouted obscenities at her all the way back.

#asks #siyar #minfi #minfi chronicles #minfi chronicles 2 #omg #omgomg #IM LITERALLY GOING TO SCREAM LIKE OMG DFHKJSFHDSKJFS #I READ THIS LAST NIGHT #hi im going to reblog this on minfi too #@everyone i love siyar

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musical-chick-13 · 3 years

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And Theon bc I love him

WHAT A COINCIDENCE I LOVE HIM TOO (this answer is gonna be a combination of books and show)

Send me a character and I’ll tell you the following:

• Did they live up to their potential? / In what ways was their potential unachieved?

-I would say yes. The only negative I have about his general arc is his death (which, see below). But Theon from the very beginning was, though not a particularly nice person, still relatable. Feeling othered, wanting to be accepted by an immediate environment that doesn’t accept you, isolated from and ostracized by your family, and the tension that comes between serving the different types of familial relationships in your life. Theon has no idea who he is, tossed aside by his blood family for not growing up with them and being “soft,” aka sort-of moral and having emotions that aren’t selfish rage or smugness (which, yep, that second part is a mood, see: my entire childhood and how no one wanted to be around an “emotional” “soft” child). And from there, he spirals out of control in a way that, while certainly not admirable by any stretch of the imagination, is still understandable in the context of the narrative and his characterization. And from there, after going through hell and quite literally losing himself (even to the point of straight-up denying rescue), he builds himself back up gradually, to the point where he expressed extreme regret for what he’s done, helps an innocent woman escape a truly horrifying situation, acknowledges that his family is generally garbage, and (in-show b/c again books aren’t finished), helping to restore his sister to power, rescuing her after his PTSD relapses while confronting Euron, and ultimately opting to protect the Starks come hell or high water in order to genuinely atone for what he’s done. He is no longer conflicted because he wants to do the right thing, and that right thing is defending the kingdom from the White Walkers and making sure Sansa and Bran are safe. And it’s no longer about fulfilling a duty or finding a family to fill the void. Because now he has found himself. I will contend that Theon has one of the best, most nuanced, most organic redemption arcs of all time. I will forever be grateful that I got to see that piece of storytelling unfold.

Although, I would love to know what he thought of Dany. A missed opportunity, that.

• How they negatively and positively affected the story.

-Positive: His arc of identity and finding where your loyalties lie ties into the overall theme of “How do you find yourself in a world where goodness, authenticity, and honesty are often punished and increasingly rare?” And it proves that governmental politics aren’t the only defining factors in decisions: familial politics can be just as difficult and dangerous, which adds yet another rich, complicated layer to the overall story. He has a genuine, honest-to-Drowned-God redemption arc, which is...not really present anywhere else in the story (no, Jaime is not on a Redemption Quest, I will die on this hill). But I think the biggest draw of Theon’s presence is that it deconstructs the whole “Character Revenge Fantasy” idea. He does bad things. We want him to be punished. But not like that. No one deserves that. How far is too far? What does retribution really look like? Given how easily that idea can be abused and go off the rails, is retribution even something to strive for? What is the point of using extreme violence/torture/mutilation/breaking someone’s psyche when it doesn’t really accomplish anything? Isn’t atonement and genuine justice a better option? It certainly was for Theon. He could only piece himself back together and do anything meaningful once he was out of his abusive environment. All of these are imporant questions that are posed by his existence in the narrative.

-Negative: Idk if I have much to say here. My biggest problem is his death (see below), but that’s not really a negative story effect so much as...being disappointing and narratively irrelevant. I gotta say, his introduction via his sister was...really weird. I genuinely have no idea why GRRM wrote that. It never came up again or had any kind of narrative ramifications and kind of cast a strange, uncomfortable light on his relationship with Asha/Yara for the remainder of the story. I can ignore and enjoy their later relationship it if I don’t think about it too hard, though, so I guess I’ll chalk it up to GRRM having a Bad Idea.

• What my favorite arc for them is.

-All of it?? Theon’s journey is kind of...one big arc, which is why I think it works so well. He has this overarching redemption plot which spans the entire series and informs every decision he makes (for good or for bad, depending on where in the aforementioned journey he is). The redemption arc isn’t bogged down with side plots or other pieces of narrative clutter, meaning it has time to grow and, thus, be gradual and realistic. If I had to choose a specific point, it’s probably when he tries to reintegrate back into society via supporting Yara. Gaining the Iron Islands’ support for her ruling, spiriting away with Euron’s fleet, and ultimately rescuing his sister after her capture. He can’t just go back into society. He’s scared. He has really bad PTSD. But he recognizes that putting his home in good hands is something bigger than just him because it’s Yara’s home, too. I just...I really love family relationships, y’all.

• What I think of their ending.

-I’m not really sure how I feel about this one. I get that the series is GrimDark™ and that people who make the right choice and fight for good die all the time, but Theon dying just felt...wrong. To me.

And, like...I get it. It makes sense to parallel his original descent into villainy (cemented by executing those two boys and pretending they were Bran and Rickon) with him dying to protect Bran himself. It ties into the whole very common trope of completing a full redemption arc by committing a completely selfless act at great personal cost. It’s kind of like the whole Missy thing in Doctor Who (which...hoo boy, that post is coming, make no mistake), where selfishness is directly opposed by making the ultimate sacrifice with no motivation for personal gain. And the fact that the last words he ever heard were “You’re a good man?” I cannot even begin to describe how much that makes me sob. But...honestly, I’m really tired of this idea that redemption has to end in death in order to be achieved or “complete.” I think it’s much more poignant to have a redeemed character live to help build a better world. Because what’s the point of telling people to be better if the “reward” is death? No one’s going to want to reform themselves if they think that’ll be the result.

I think the thing that Bugs Me™ the most is that Theon never really got to have a moment of peace when he was alive. Sansa gained the North’s love and at least had a secure childhood. Ned and Cat were happily married for years. Arya had parents who loved her and a good relationship with Jon. Jon fell in love with Ygritte and found his Night Watch Bros, and Robb (in show verse) had some very happy moments with Talisa. Davos put great stock in what he considered fulfilling friendships with Stannis and Shireen; Brienne was treated respectfully by Renly, Catelyn, and Sansa; Missandei and Grey Worm had each other and their friendship with Dany, who herself had many personal successes in her quest for the Iron Throne and saw the death of her abusive brother. Cersei even had moments with Jaime (who himself had several notable military victories and at least some time with Myrcella, as well as being gladly and deeply in love, however dysfunctional that love was), times when she successfully fought off enemies (including her dad), and some sweet moments with Tommen, as well as a huge victory via blown-up sept at the end of season 6. Theon was treated as a second-class family member by the Starks his whole life by being “traded” to them as a condition of war resolution AS A BABY, is immediately disparaged and mistreated by his immediate family when he tries to return to them, makes terrible decisions that almost cost him his conscience completely, is brutally tortured by Ramsay, is on the run with his sister from Euron almost immediately after, and has a PTSD attack that ultimatly results in him having to launch a rescue mission. And then he fights ice zombies. And then he dies. He never really...got to be happy at all? There was never any kind of “win” for him. Not even survival. The narrative couldn’t even give him that.

TLDR: Theon’s death seemed less shock-value-y than others (like, for example, Shireen or Missandei or, heck, Melisandre even), and it isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It’s narratively-informed and it makes sense as an emotional through-line, but, ultimately, Redemption Cemented By Selfless Death is a tired trope, and I honestly thought this story (which...you know...serves as a deconstruction of common fantasy tropes/book tropes in general) was better than that.

• When I wish they had died. / If I think they should’ve died.

-So here’s where we get personal™ kids.

So, it’s no secret that I am...severely mentally ill. I’ve talked about expression/presentation of mental illness in regard to Cersei a lot on this blog, and how that (as paradoxical as it may seem) helped bring a sense of comfort and emotional resonance to me. Theon, post-Ramsay, has, I think, a very clear case of PTSD. Theon is one of the few characters I’ve seen where his mental illness isn’t the cause of the bad, violent, dangerous choices he makes. It only takes root after he has made the decision and conscious effort to better himself, and it, rather than demonizing him, serve to humanize him. His trauma didn’t define him. And although a PTSD attack led to him unintentionally losing Yara to Euron’s capture, he makes every effort to rescue her, a goal he does end up achieving. It is so rare I get to see a character who goes through these things, successfully fight them and come out with positive qualities at the end. Like...switching topics a bit here, Jaime going back to King’s Landing to (try to) escape and ultimately die with Cersei made sense to me because, as Jaime says, he is a hateful man. He never made much of an honest effort to be anything else. And he never truly wanted to be good; he just wanted to be liked. He wanted to adopt some personality that would make him feel less disconnected from the rest of the world. But Theon...genuinely feels remorse for everything he’s done. He makes a concerted effort to do everything in his power to improve the lives of people he believes are good and deserve to be safe. So, just...killing him off in a Completely Selfless Sacrifice (like...you know how a lot of mentally ill people put themselves through suffering-like OCD rituals, bottling feelings, self-harm, even suicide-in a misplaced attempt to “help” or “protect other people”) seemed antithetical to everything we saw of his arc.

Ultimately, with such a humanizing, empathetic portrayal of trauma and mental health struggles, seeing Theon be killed off just...pissed me off. I am so tired of seeing mentally ill characters die. I really want to believe that I can live through and thrive in spite of the things that afflict me, and I get example after example of characters not being allowed to do that. It feels awful, quite frankly. And it makes hope that much harder.

I also just feel like...there was nothing the story gained from his death? I get the thematic parallels as mentioned earlier, but it didn’t really move the story forward in any significant way. It didn’t motivate other characters to do anything, it had no political ramifications, it didn’t serve to contribute to any kind of happy ending or commentary on society, it just...was sad. Again, I thought this story was better than that.

#theon greyjoy #got #my son #mental illness in media #meta #redemption arcs #tw: self harm mention #tw: suicide mention

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