#standing stones scene rewrite

[luvtak]

seasons of love, hhj

✦ pairing hyunjin x reader

✦ genre/tw FLUFF! FLUFF! ONE MORE TIME SAY IT WITH ME! FLUFF!!! hyunjin and mc are very much in love! hyunjin is said to be taller than mc and have bigger hands. lots of kisses and i love yous. suggestive in a couple places. in and out of present and past tense lol. overall very sweet and lovely--hyunjin and mc falling in love through the seasons

✦ w/c 2412

✦ a/n okay so! this is a rewrite of something i posted springtime last year and i hated it lol. this time around i am very proud of hyune and mc and they’re love story and i hope you all love it too!! I've spent months adding scenes and taking them away until I got here <3 please like and reblog, and please please reach out if you have any ideas or questions or just wanna talk!! love you guys forever, mwah!!

He came to you in the Summer, bringing with him music and dancing, and so much laughter you forget how serious falling in love can be.

There is just something about warm weather. It could be the sun shining over your beloved, lighting them up like a god or a king, maybe it’s just that the temperature resembles the touch of your lover’s caress, or that the awakened world is made for romance. It was early July, and everything was blue and sunny; days were filled with jokes and getting to know each other over hot days and cold drinks. Confessions given on front porches and whispered under blue skies—a million firsts bundled up as the heat went away.

He tells you he likes you so quietly, whispering in his sweet little voice, “would you like to go out sometime?” 

The way his tall frame looked against the paint palette sunset would live in your head forever; pretty hair and long legs, the sweetest smile curving up to his crescent moon eyes. Looking back, you wished you had a camera or shared his talent with a paintbrush–just to have that moment set in stone. The smile that made you say yes. 

In the beginning, he was too shy to hold your hand or stand too close. Inching closer and closer until he stood against you–brushing his fingers against yours until his big hands were enveloping your smaller ones. 

 The first time he kissed you, his hands were shaking.

 He was so nervous you could feel the goosebumps rising on his arms, but he asked so sweetly,

“Can I kiss you.” And there was no way you’d ever say no. Not when he stood there in his summer clothes and pink cheeks, not when it was Hyunjin asking. 

He held you straight against him, both hands on your face—the first press of his lips like drinking water, so slow as not to choke then gulping it down. His skin was soft everywhere you touched, and his kiss was happy: full of teeth and giggles and coming up for air.

Getting to know him was like walking into your childhood home, everything about him as familiar as the lines on your palm. Some parts of you are certain you’ve known him before—maybe you were lovers then too, or maybe two trees whose roots were intertwined. In any reality, you can’t see how Hyunjin is supposed to be with you. There is just no other reason why he could know you so well already, no other explanation as to why his body fits around you like it was made to.

Late one night you tell him your theories, and the smile he gave you was so bright and shiny you thought the sun came up. You tell him calmly and earnestly,

 “Hyun, I’m almost certain we’ve already met thousands of times before.” 

August is hot and covered in orange sunsets and long kisses; pink skies the same color as his cheeks when he asks you out again and again. He tells you about his life while you flip through his journals, page after page dedicated to moments he loved and dreams he’s had, and moments yet to come.

The days are long and it’s so easy to care for him, 15 hours of sunlight allowing you to learn all of him and still need more. Sharing secrets under leaves and laughs under covers–it’s too quick to fall in love, too fast for this insatiable longing to rise up in you. But you think you are, you must be, what else could that aching pull in your tummy be? 

The first I love you falls from your lips like the leaves around you. A day spent shopping in the Halloween aisles and holding hands to keep warm. He looks so pretty, dark hair standing out against the grays and oranges of the season, and you love him so much you can’t help but tell him. The words float easy, accompanied by wind bitten skin and a warm gaze.

At first, he hesitates, making sure he’s heard you right, until finally the sun breaks on his face and he speaks.

“I love you too, silly.” He says it like it’s obvious, and it is. He’s been telling you with his eyes and his hands for months, it’s the truest he’s ever felt.

Autumn is spent studying each other, learning how and when to touch—how to make him gasp and sigh. His eyes flutter when you kiss his hip and roll when you bite down; He scratches and pulls, he makes your teeth rattle with his skin. Late nights and early mornings mapping each other, he tells you he loves you and swallows the response, touches the words away.

“I love you; I love you; I love you.” You say over and over again, hoping it sinks into his soul like a second skin.

In mere months, he knows your heart like it’s his own, slotting himself into your life like he’s always been a part of it. Your body has become his home; he’s tied his heart to yours in a double knot. You’re made for him, he’s sure of it—molded from the same clay, split-a parts who’ve found each other.

He tells you things he’s never told anyone before, pressing the secrets against your lips and pulling all of your secrets out of you at the same time. 

He adores you, cherishes you as a person, a friend, a lover. He feels happier than he ever has, and he wants to show you to everyone he knows. When he introduces you to his friends, the smile never leaves his face and his hand stays wound with yours. They welcome you like an old friend, and he feels like both pieces of his heart are melting together. He watches you joke with Felix and be teased by Minho, and he thinks you’re the piece that’s been missing this whole time.

Months have been spent just the two of you, and it’s been perfect–intimate and so warm, but seeing you among his friends changes things. Almost like it wasn’t yet real, and now it is. 

When you go to bed that night, he tells you,

“They love you and I love you.”  and the look you give him is so beautiful, he thinks he should bottle it and save it for later.  

Winter brings an unwelcome guest, a yearning for him that won’t go away—it’s harder to love him when he’s busy, and you wish you could be stronger and less jealous, but you’re only one person. It gets considerably difficult to wash the harsh feelings away when he isn’t there to help you, too many nights spent feeling too far away from him induce an anger you can’t get rid of.

When he arrives late and smelling of alcohol, you can’t seem to swallow the bitterness—why would he be drinking when he could be here with you? 

Hyunjin, never a novice in reading you, picks it up right away. 

One quick comment and then yelling. 

“Are you just tired of me?” It escapes from your tongue like a lash, pricking invisible scars onto every vein. He wishes you would know he misses you too, but how could you when he’s never around, not physically nor emotionally, so you keep screaming. Yelling so loud about things that don’t matter. You hope he knows you’re fighting to stay, not to leave, but the words leaving your mouths are so harsh, you can’t be certain if he remembers he loves you.

If you were in your right mind, you’d know he doesn’t want it this way. Everyday he longs for the heat of summer and the comfort of autumn. If he wasn’t drunk, he could tell you, but instead he says, “I just can’t do this anymore.” Maybe it’s better to let go and find each other next time, next life.

 Recently it’s been too hard, and maybe he’s not strong enough to learn about this part of you, but you are.

You’ve never been afraid to learn his bad parts, sure he’s a dream shaped like a boy, but he’s also whiny and clingy, and sometimes he gives up too fast. Even though it’s hard, and the tears are streaming into the seam of your lips—you gulp down the acidity and tell him you love him.

“It’s never going to get easier, Hyun, you’ll always be busy, and I’ll probably always miss you, but I love you and you said we’re meant to be, and you’re not a liar.” You tell him you’re sorry for yelling, and he says he’s sorry too, and in the morning, he’ll use his hands to apologize and then his mouth and he’ll promise to keep you warm when he can.

Winter is spent learning to love the pieces of each other that are unlikable, to see the invisible boundaries of before and honor them. You remember your theory about the trees with woven roots, and you remind yourself sometimes you’ll have to sacrifice your share of the water to survive, and you hope it’ll be easier when the world reawakens.

Night comes so fast, and it's so cold, but he loves you. It’s been half a year now, and you almost can’t remember where you were this time last year. Were you freezing without him? Or did you only feel the cold now that he’s here? 

All you know is his warmth–pressing into you wherever he can. 

A silent promise for the spring yet to come. 

His birthday arrives with the first of the blooms, the world not yet alive. You wish him happy birthday under warm sheets, whimpering the words in place of presents. He spends the day with the people he loves most and the happiness he feels eases into spring. He tells you it used to be his favorite; and you promise for his day you will bring some of the magic back.

 You help him pick flowers to paint, and read him your favorite stories, you kiss him under cherry blossoms and show him your favorite sunsets. It helps some, but not all—even so, spring with you is prettier than without. He’s sure his skin is brighter because you kiss it, and his paintings are better because they’re of you. He doesn’t know if you believe him, but he means it. His world has become technicolor since you walked into it.

He says it’s just better with you, “I mean it, honey, life is unbelievable when you’re around.”

It’s almost been a year, months spent learning and growing just like the flowers scattered around you. He loves you, so it takes no hesitation when you ask him to move in. He feels like it was already in the midst of happening anyway—his one drawer became a dresser, and his favorite snacks found their way to your cabinets.

Months ago, your heart became his home, and now he gets to live in it every day. Sure, you bicker some: many sighs of “That’s not where that goes, Hyun.” Combined with sweet mutters of “Well, it should go there, sweetheart.” But it’s exhilarating to open his boxes and link his life with yours—mitch-matched mugs in the sink and dirty clothes mixed together.

Your home is filled with dancing and music, laughter and love. His paintings cover the walls, pictures of your days held with magnets on the fridge. His life is now yours and your days belong to each other, and every night he reminds you it’s almost been a year, but how could you forget.

Sometimes, when he puts a dish away wrong, or leaves his clothes on the floor, you question why you invited him in. Even so, you wouldn’t take it back. He’s added so much color into your life, spring personified. A lovely romantic boy who sets your soul on fire. 

The flowers that line the street remind you of him, and the bees who accompany you on your walk sing a quiet song that resembles his sweet nothings.

 Your sweet spring boy, Hyunjin.

 Radiant in every season. 

Somehow, he looks the prettiest in the July heat. Of course, every season you’ve spent with him he’s been beautiful, but there is something about his smile surrounded by clear skies. His cheeks are the same color as the flowers and his kisses as warm as the sun. Something about the season where you first met, encasing him in a beauty befit of a prince. You can’t believe it’s been a year with him, a year getting to know how to love him and feeling his love back.

Looking at him now, he could probably make you do anything which is why when he woke you up at the crack of dawn dragging you out to see the sunrise you couldn’t say no. It was frustrating at first, when all you wanted was a few more hours in bed next to him, but Hyunjin could make you do anything if he smiled down at you.

He’s doing it now, looking so darling in his light sweater and clips in his bed-messed hair, looking past you at the sunrise. You love him like this, and it takes all of you not to tell him, to keep the peace of dawn. 

You’ve loved things before—people, places, things, but never a boy like this.

Hwang Hyunjin is so precious, so dear to you that it hurts sometimes. No one has ever loved you the way he does, his love surrounds you—covers you under a warm blanket of his affection until it radiates into you.

He’s telling you how pretty you are, how you look like the fresh blooms and you’re laughing—which is all he wanted. He only ever wants to make you happy, even if that means being a cheeseball sometimes. Especially if that means waking you up early enough to see the sun come up, and he wants to see that smile again, so he asks,

 “Honey, do you wanna know a secret?”

“Oooo, yes tell me.”

“I love you.” It comes so easy, flows so quickly past his lips like a nightly prayer, like it’s something so objectively true he can’t lie about it, which it is. And your smiles is so wide, laughing at how sweet your boy is, and you say,

“Oh, I already Knew that. I love you too.” And he smiles, grinning at the summer sky.

© LUVTAK

[jurassicshields]

Part of my Camp Cretaceous season 4 and 5 AU. Here Darius and Brooklyn find a photo on the yacht, showing Mitch, Tiff, Daniel, and Mila. It was dated for one month before the campers went to Isla Nublar, and that Mr. Kon was in touch with the poachers for an unknown job. The two also soon discover that Mila is Kenji's mother who he claimed died a few years ago. But what is the truth?

*Mitch Lang and Tiff Lang are running some operation for Mr. Kon. They are to begin once they get the go from Mr. Kon. *Photo taken somewhere inland by Kash Lang(most likely their son?) *Mila is Daniel's wife. She is said to have died at least 4 years ago after a car accident that Daniel managed to survive.  *Mila was known to collect various cultural outfits and objects, her style varying on her mood. 

AU OVERVIEW- The Campers have finally escaped Isla Nublar and are heading toward what they believe to be Costa Rica. But an unexpected turn of events leaves the six shipwrecked on an island full of secrets, mysteries, and threats they have never encountered before. 

SCENE SCRIPT-

Darius: What’s that?

Brooklyn jumps slightly and pulls back. Darius can now see the image that they found below, with its edge now folded. 

Darius: Do you know who they are?

Brooklyn: No, but you said he looks like Kenji’s father. Maybe there’s some relation?

She points to the man holding onto a woman, his face stone cold but looking like a person you respect. His hair was graying and an ebony tablet was in his other hand.

Brooklyn: Wonder what he was doing? Did our poachers know him at some point?

Darius goes closer, looking over all the details, then takes the photo and flips it over. On the back, he sees a small text written in the top left. It is barely noticeable and written in scratchy handwriting.

Brooklyn: I must have missed that.

Darius: November 8, 2015. Taken at-- I can’t read that part, their handwriting is too messed up. 

Brooklyn: The 8th was about a month before Jurassic World fell. So this is very recent and they all met not too long ago.

Darius(reading): Mitch Lang, Tiff Lang, Daniel Kon, Mila Kon, and the image is taken by Kash Lang.

Brooklyn quietly breathes in surprise.

Brooklyn: That is Kenji’s father! We called it! Wait! Is that his mother too? 

Brooklyn stares down at the photo, taking in the woman.

Brooklyn: She looks like him. They have the same facial expression when being forced to do something. Mrs. Kon must not like to stand for pictures.

Brooklyn says a few more things, but Darius doesn’t seem to hear them. Brooklyn shakes his arm and he looks at her.

Brooklyn: That’s Kenji’s mother! Ha! Not what I- What’s wrong?

Darius: Kenji… he… he told me that--

Darius: -his mother is dead.

Brooklyn takes a moment to register what he said, but once it does she looks sick. She glances back down at the photo, then back up.

Brooklyn: His parents wouldn’t lie to him? No one could do that to their kid.

Darius: Kenji said back when we first met that his mother died a few years ago. I think it was from a car wreck. He told me-

Kenji: (cuts in with a tired voice and a yawn) I told you what?

READ THE (NOT COMPLETED) STORY/SCRIPT HERE: https://www.wattpad.com/1340465160-camp-cretaceous-season-4-rewrite-rewrite

[13leaguestories]

Superstition: All that Comes Between

I may change that name, so far all of my ideas are revolving around "in-between" ... Anyway!

After doing a poll with those over on Patreon, the winner was fleshed out stories for Superstition. This grew into the info you'll read below.

This isn't all 100% set in stone it's like 99% set in stone lmfao) and if things do change then of course I'll mention it.

:: What Is This ::

These stories will be a collection of mini stories that will further flesh out Roe's personality and experiences, their companions, and the relationships that grow or deteriorate between their companions while also providing variables that can be carried and remembered by the story to shape dialogue and relationship paths further.

Similar to the DLC themes, supporters will be able to vote on story ideas and the top 4 through 6 ideas will be chosen. These are all going to be canon. For example, one of the stories will be Roe attending their mother's funeral. So there won't be any romance when there's no romance in story. But when romance has come up then yes, I will add a few more NSFW scenes so the story may remember that your Roe likes it rough or they have a certain interest in a certain kink and they try that out.

:: How Will It Work ::

Volume (I decided to go with volumes, sounds cooler lol) will be before season one starts, volume two will be after season one, and so on. So in all there will be five volumes. The fifth one will more so be all of your variables brought over into the final addition with a bunch of "what comes next." Variables that can later be loaded into the story (similar to how one can load a save file) will be available so that the story can take these changes into effect as soon as the story starts.

I'll release Volume 1 before finishing up S1's rewrite.

:: Can I Play Without It ::

The story can still be played and enjoyed without these add-ons. Literally, it'll just be like before this was even put out, the story can still stand. This story is just for more fun. Explanations to what's going on or has been going on, and to provide a more fleshed out Roe that will pop up in story for those who love that.

In short, just because you didn't buy this doesn't mean you're going to miss out on some plot or not have variables in game that may lead you down a losing path. None of that will happen.

:: Price ::

Obviously since I'm making this announcement here, this will be available to the public, but will have a $3 dollar price tag for every volume that becomes available (besides the last one. Cos Season 4 will have two tacked on and I'm not going to make that $6. I'll figure it out when S4 actually comes into existence).

If you're already the $3 tier or up on Patreon when it releases then of course you don't have to do anything extra. A link will be made available through Patreon. Otherwise, to get it, it'll be the same way that you can get the DLC.

[sleepingdeath-light]

dance with the devil ; 18+

requested by ; nobody (sweet seduction rewrite)

word count ; 2554

content ; one night stand, wet dream, unprotected sex

fandom ; black butler

pairing ; sebastian michaelis x female reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

It took you quite a few moments to realise what had happened to you, half-asleep mind and bleary eyes struggling to catch up with reality as you slowly — ever so slowly — woke up. The first thing your dulled senses registered was the smooth, almost slippery, surface of the material you were laying in, layer after layer of the rich feeling material sliding under and over your body, a silky cocoon that should have been alarming in how cool it was to the touch. Then, when you stretched out one of your legs, you half consciously realised that there was barely any fabric over your private parts, the only barrier between your sex and the sheets beneath you being a thin and flimsy layer of what felt a bit like lace. Finally, when you sighed and rolled over onto your back, you began to pick up a scent that you knew had no business being in a bedroom — saffron.

That caught your attention, causing you to sit straight up as your sleep-blurred eyes darted around your distinctly unfamiliar environment: to the four strong, black quartz pillars that seemed to extend upwards into an endlessly murky dark sky; to the four intricately carved ebony posters that dotted the corners of your queen sized bed, itself covered in sheets of crimson and obscured behind half pulled-back translucent red curtains; to the lone, stone archway that faced the very end of your bed and the two glowing pinkish eyes that peered menacingly out from it.

With no idea where you were or how you got there, all you could do was freeze and pray to whatever higher beings you could think of that this was all just some vivid nightmare — or a well executed prank by a friend. But that small crumb of hope was quickly dashed when the figure spoke up in a deep, smooth tone that sounded somewhere between familiar and wrong. So perfect it was inhuman.

'Well, my lady,' the creature began, those eyes narrowing into slits as it stared at you from the shadows, 'I must admit that your interest in my last contract is most flattering. Your efforts and your results are incredible... for a mortal, at least,'

'Who are you?' You just about managed to spit out, your voice lacking the confidence that you'd tried to convey and coming out as something much closer to a squeak or a whisper.

'Perhaps a more appropriate quotation would be "what am I", ' it joked, a rumbling chuckle punctuating its statement before it continued, 'but I suppose I could humour you for your forwardness. We do not have names as you do, we simply go by whatever title we are given by our masters. You have names, we borrow them,'

'Then what are you?'

'I thought I'd made it apparent enough,' it sighed with seeming annoyance before it began to slowly move forwards, it's next words punctuated by the clacking of what sounded like heels, 'were the decorations I chose not a dead give away? Is the endless night above your head not a clear enough sign? What about the red lace you're wearing, did you think that was just coincidental?'

Bit by bit the entity emerged and you felt the blood drain from your face. It was tall, taller than anything you'd ever seen, and yet it felt close to human in height — a paradox only befitting of a creature of its calibre. A swirling cloud of black ink and blacker feathers circled its form, moving both as tranquil as water in a stream and as frantic as dust in a hurricane. Two large wings, their feathers perpetually falling and charred, sprouted from its back and curled around its humanoid torso — which itself was pale and covered in a leather uniform that wouldn't be out of place in a bondage scene. It's legs, long and slender and strong, were covered up to the knee by those heels — dark and leathery and high, making its own naturally towering height even more apparent.

And then there was it's face: pale, flawless skin that was too smooth and soft to be human; thin lips quirked upwards into a mocking smirk whose overwhelming mirth reflected in its cat-like fuchsia irises which regarded you with curiosity; a sharp jawline framed by straight black bangs and hair that looked too soft for its nature. Human features stapled together to form something decidedly not.

'A demon,'

'Well done, my lady. Though with your incessant prodding into my past I had assumed you'd have caught on quicker,' it gave a faux pout before chuckling again and approaching the bed, answering each of your questions cryptically as your mind raced to piece together the puzzle laid out before you.

'Your past? I've never seen you before,'

'Correct, you haven't seen me until now,'

'I don't study demonology or theology, I'm a historian!'

'Indeed you are, my lady,'

Then, just as the toes of his boots tapped the edge of the bed-frame you realised what he'd meant and blurted out the name he had 'borrowed'. The name you'd been looking into just a few hours earlier.

'Sebastian Michaelis,'

The demon smirked and reached out to grab your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles.

'At your service, madam,'

————

‘You’re a demon?’ You reiterated, still unsure of what was happening to you.

‘A crow demon specifically, my lady,’

‘And you brought me here for what reason exactly?’

You started to play with the sheet beneath you, fingering the hem whilst you anxiously awaited his response, breath catching in your throat when he finally spoke.

‘To reward you for your determination,’ he tilted his head and leaned forwards on his hands, now half on the bed in front of you, ‘After all you wanted to learn about me, did you not?’

You paused for the briefest of moments before giving a small nod, not quite trusting yourself to respond.

‘There are things that textbooks and letters won’t teach you — surely you of all humans must understand that basic principle?’ Another nod and you swore his eyes flashed that pinkish colour again, ‘Then consider this me filling in some gaps. If you’d like me to, at least?’

Finally having found your voice you managed to croak out a quiet question. ‘And what would that entail exactly?’

He raised his eyebrow and looked between you and your bed before he spoke. ‘Surely I don’t need to spell it out for you?’

‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘Then I send you back,’ he offered nonchalantly, ‘I’m not forcing you to be here, I’m merely offering to expand your knowledge of myself, that is all,’

And after taking a minute to consider, you finally came to a decision.

‘I… I think I’d like to stay,’

After all, opportunities like this were rare to come by, and you were hardly going to turn him down. Not when he looked like that.

————

In a fraction of a second, Sebastian had scaled the bed and was on top of you — pouncing the moment he was able like a wild animal faced with fresh prey. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he had crashed his lips to yours, burying his fingers (claws?) in your hair to hold you still whilst you moaned and gasped in shock against his lips — groaning when you felt him press his hips harshly down against your own and felt the full size of his bulge.

He was massive, far larger than any you’d taken before. But you hadn’t the time to consider it as your mind was soon preoccupied by the heat and passion of the kiss as well as the faint stinging of him occasionally pulling your hair in his efforts to keep you in place. Only willingly pulling away when you started to feel your lungs burning for air and roughly pushed on his shoulder.

Even then it was a slow and minute movement. Barely noticeable but just enough to let you breathe whilst he took in your messed up appearance, dark eyes glinting with a sinful mixture of pride and lust.

After he parted the kiss, there was only a thin string of saliva connecting your open mouths that soon broke when he suddenly reached up and began to play with your chest. Smirking down at you whilst he groped the meat of one breast and chuckling when he started to roll and pinch your nipple and you started gasping and arching your back up into your touch. And once he was satisfied with how much attention he’d given it, he repeated the process with the other.

Alternating between right and left whilst teasing you with sly remarks that had your skin heating and your core throbbing with need.

‘You feel amazing,’

‘A perfect fit, it was like you were made to be used,’

‘Oh yes, keep making that sound,’

‘Keep on moaning like a whore and I’ll treat you like one,’

‘Eager, are we, kitten?’

After a few minutes of this, however, the demon seemed to grow tired of it and abruptly stopped and moved to tear your thin panties off of your body. Quick enough to startle you into silence as he spread your legs further apart and settled himself comfortably whilst pressing the tip of his thick cock just against your soaking wet entrance.

Then he paused for a moment, not pushing it in and instead just slowly sliding his length along your slit. Gathering more and more of your slick with each go around and taking more and more of your patience with it until you finally snapped with a huff and a glare.

'Oh for God's sake just fuck me already!'

Your outburst made him chuckle darkly to himself, looking down at you with mirth before promptly complying with a simple 'as you wish' being his only warning.

Sebastian entered you in a single fluid movement, filling you to the brim and beyond, not giving you even a second to adjust before he started to thrust into your soaking wet cunt. His pace was fast and rough, merciless and unrelenting as he pounded into you — long, thick cock bullying into your pussy in such a way that it had your eyes rolling back and your mouth falling open in a silent scream of overstimulation.

It was all so much, and it only compounded when his large hands pushed your legs back up towards your body, practically folding you in half in the process. Your new position allowed him to reach even deeper into your pussy and every minute movement sent new waves of white hot pleasure racing through your veins.

The room was filled with a veritable cacophony of the lewdest sounds possible: the wet slapping of skin against skin as he thrusted into your dripping wet cunt, the low echoing grunts and growls that spilled from his lips and caused the room around you to tremble, the moans and screams that escaped you as he continued to ravage and use you. It was booming and overwhelming but in the state you were in you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Especially not when he reached down with his free hand and started to play with your neglected clit in time with his thrusts. Circling, rubbing and flicking the bundle of nerves whilst continuing to rock his hips inhumanly fast against your own.

A delicious cocktail of sensation that was rapidly bringing you closer and closer to your release. Brought closer with every thrust and flick and grunt and phrase you couldn’t understand solely because it was coming from him — and at this rate you knew you wouldn’t last.

And, indeed, with the combination of his cock filling you and his skilful fingers toying with your sensitive clit, it didn't take much longer for you to fall helplessly over the edge of climax. Completely, deliciously, at his mercy as he relentlessly pounded into your pussy, abusing your g-spot with the same relentless precision that he used to rub and circle your clit in just the right way to have your mind going completely and helplessly blank.

Your vision erupted into a blurry mosaic of watercolour reds and blacks broken up by spots of pure white. Your body was being wracked with wave after wave of intense pleasure that had you arching into him and trembling in place as your waist and thighs started to ache. Your mouth fell open into a perfectly slutty 'o' as a string of whorish moans and groans and expletives spilled from your lips, each one earning rougher treatment and more degrading dirty talk from the man above you that you were in no state to even register.

Your mind was blank and yet you were only able to think of him: his cock, his fingers, his lips, his voice. Just everything about him.

And Sebastian, as if able to read your thoughts (which he may very well have done), smirked and leaned down just enough to bring you into a passionate kiss as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Leaving you helplessly overstimulated and yet wanting nothing more than more of what he could give you.

More. More. More.

————

You woke up with a start, sitting straight up and looking at your surroundings with sleep-blurred eyes. Mind still catching up and trying to comprehend where and when you were as you reeled from the intensity of your orgasm. Then you shifted your leg slightly and felt the pool of wetness in your panties and came to once more.

You were back in your home office, exactly where you were when you fell asleep. Still in your work clothes with piles upon piles of books and papers and notes scattered haphazardly across the surface — one of which was unfortunately dampened at one corner from where you'd drooled on it in your sleep. Lovely.

It was rare for you to have such lucid dreams and part of you was disappointed that it was just a figment of your imagination. Apparently reading about long dead butlers would make them pop into your unconscious mind as a sexy demon, who knew.

With that humorous realisation, you made quick work of reorganising the bomb site that was your desk. Neatly stacking your books and filing each bit of paperwork away with a system you'd devised at the start of your project. But then you caught sight of something that most certainly hadn't been there before; a small piece of parchment adorned with the most beautiful cursive you'd ever seen.

'Dear human,

Your determination and tenacity in your attempts to research the tragedies that befell the Phantomhive lineage are highly admirable. The efforts you made to check and confirm your sources are something that other mortals should strive to emulate.

Though your flexibility and stamina would be hard to match, kitten, both in your work and in other areas — for which I should hope I am the only witness.

We'll speak again tonight, we have much to discuss.

* also it was Michaelis, not Micheals, darling'

You scoffed at the correction before smiling to yourself and carefully folding the paper once, then twice, and putting it in your breast pocket. That was one you were going to keep.

Maybe it wasn't just a dream after all.

[tojigasm]

House

Authors note: Here is the long-awaited Sam fic!! Funny thing, actually. I finished this last night only to open my computer and realize it hadn't even been saved, so I've spent this morning or so rewriting all of it, lolz. Anyways, I hope you lovelies enjoy!!

Warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, fem!reader, stepcest, sam is your stepdad, daddy kink, creampie, doggystle, kissing, anxiety

Synopsis:

Home is not the same afterward.

She doesn't notice Sam's more frequent absence as he spends more time in your room. And when you don't have college work to get done, the two of you are talking, making out, or fucking.

Your mother doesn't notice. Because if she did, what would you do.

The stone is hot beneath you – settling a baking ache into your skin that seeps up from your beach towel beneath you.

And the sounds of the rushing waves are heavy and soaked with foam that crawls up the sand as though it's coming to grab at you and pull you into the sea along with it.

You pop a bubble of gum from your glossed lips, swinging your feet behind you. You've finished the page of your book.

"Y/n," Sam's voice calls to you against the windy beach. "Look here."

He's set up a few feet away, and a digital camera stares back at you in his hands. The red recording light pulses above the lense.

You wave bashfully, fingers dancing as you wink to the camera from under your sunnies. "Hi, Sam's camera," you roll your eyes, turning back to your book.

Sam tugs at the string of your pink bikini top, "What's a pretty thing like you doin' out on the beach all alone?" His voice draws in a southern heat to it. He looks from side to side before settling down next to you, "hundereds of boys out here probably waitin' fr'their chance to steal y'away, huh?" He tips your chin, still recording you as you meet his baby blues.

A smirk pulls over your lips and you smile, teasing at the end of the string of your bathing suit top, "oh, nothin' just enjoyin' the view," you stifle a giggle through your southern accent.

Sam nods from behind the camera with a smile before stroking his hand over your jaw to behind your ear, thumb circling the soft of your cheek.

His thumb slips past your sticky lips, he lets you wrap the plush of them around his digit, and he sighs softly.

"You're a naughty girl," the light of the camera catches your eye, and you stare down the barrel of the lense before looking up at him, smirking. "What would your mother think?" The southern accent weans.

You pull away from his thumb with a 'pop', "What would your wife think?" You pull your sunnies up to rest on your head.

Sam gages you under a watchful eye of baby blue. Tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, he lifts the camera up again to look at you through the grainy lense.

Your lips perk under the scene, glossed and plush when you run your tongue along the soft of them again.

"Keep doing that, and you're gonna be in trouble, missy." Sam teases, his voice deep with warn.

You nod, "Oh, of course, daddy." There's a draw to your voice that Sam catches almost instantly. A draw of dangerous wean that suggests something that challenges him.

"Am I a bad girl, daddy?" You peer over your shoulder, "a bad, bad girl?"

Sam doesn't say anything. Rather, he watches you, smirk pulled in loftiness and eyes narrow for a moment before he stands and makes his way near the water.

—

The ride home is gentle and soft as music plays throughout the car.

Your legs are propped out the side window, and the sun blazes over your skin a glittery shine.

Sam keeps a hand on the wheel and the other past the button of your jean shorts, circling the pads of his fingers over your clit.

—

Sat in his lap, thin fabric of your bathing suit pressed into his hot bulge. Sam's hands slide up and down the soft of your back to squeeze at the plush of your ass.

You gasp playfully, arching your back some to press your hands up into your breasts with a soft moan.

Sam groans from beneath you, relaxing deeper into the leather of the couch and spreading his thick thighs.

"You're so pretty." Sam speaks earnestly, resting his head against the arch of the couch.

You bite at your bottom lip, scuffing your hands into his thick tufts of roan. "What would my mom think?" The question is far softer.

Sam chuckles, and you can feel his leg bounce up and down beneath you. His head rolls to the side lightly, "Let daddy take care of you, hmm?"

Rough hands scoop under the plush of your ass to lift you, gently moving you to rub against the hot bulge of his cock.

A sharp hiss passes through Sam's teeth, and he holds a hand at your waist as the other strokes up and down the length of him.

The fat swollen tip presses into your bathing suit, and you whine, followed by a teaching 'shh' from Sam.

"Christ, can already feel how wet you are."

"Please fuck me." Your brows drop into a pout "wanna feel good, daddy." and Sam nods, moving the thin material to the side with one hand before pushing his tip against your sopping folds.

"Deep breath fr'me, angel," Sam guides gently as you take the girth of him inch by inch. The ache pools in your thighs, stretch so delicious your knees ache.

Your head falls forward to his chest, and he takes on a protective role when you've taken the bulk of him. Completely filled with him, balls pressed up against your velvet folds.

Sam presses a kiss to your temple, "feel okay?" He asks, testing a soft thrust that makes you keen in want.

"Please," you sob, tucking your face into his shoulder.

The two of you go on like that for a while; taking from one another and all at the same time fliiing each other up in a suffocating hold that contracts and pulses.

Windows of the living room fog and both you and Sam's skin runs slick with heat.

"M'legs hurt." You mumble, and Sam nods.

"Okay, hon," he helps you off of him before standing and maneuvering you to sit on the slick seat of the couch.

You wiggle in an anticipation and Sam chuckles quietly, running his hand over the globes of your ass.

"Arch yr'back, sweetie," he stands behind you, pushing at the dip of your spine to which you follow, dropping your head to cushioned pillows and letting your knees support your cunt In the air. "There y'go."

His cock fills you so deliciously that you sob.

And it's all so overwhelming; your slick that trickles down the insides of your thighs, the 'pap, pap, pap' that echoes throughout the living room, the weight of him and the stretch of his girth against your gummy walls, and the vulgarity of it all.

"Fuckin' swear you were made fr'me," Sam groans and you cry.

Your cheek presses into the hot leather of the couch, and your nails dig into the rough seat.

Sam's hand trails down your arm to hold your own, grounding you as he gently circles his thumb over your hot skin.

"So deep," you mumble, "feels so good."

His hand slips to hold at your chin, pulling you up to rest your back against his chest.

The angle makes your breath hitch and your eyes screw shut as his cock stretches you open.

"Please," you cry.

And when you cum, your lashes fall to your cheeks and your walls squeeze around his girth.

"M'cumming, daddy, fuck" you sob and Sam soothes you, letting you fall back to the couch, laying himself atop you.

"You're okay," Sam whispers against your cheek, still pumping into you.

The overstimulation sends shivers through your thighs and toes, making you squeal under him.

Sam drops his chin to your shoulder, kissing up the soft of your neck and your chin. The bristles of his beard tickles against your soft cheeks.

"Oh fuck," Sam warns, swollen balls tapping your soaked folds. "Shit, daddy's gonna cum," he bites at the skin of your shoulder when he fills you.

The heat of him spills into you and trickles down the insides of your thighs and Sam gently places you to the couch before scooping his cum back into your swollen cunt.

Large hands run up and down the soft of your legs.

"You okay?" He asks after a moment.

You nod. Lashes closed to your cheeks.

He stands and sits beside you on the couch, pulling you into his lap, holding you to his chest as he rocks the two of you back and forth gently.

—

Home is not the same afterward.

Your mother doesn't return from her trip for a few days, and though she's none the wiser, you know eventually one of the two of you would slip.

She doesn't notice the Sam sitting on your side of the table, his hand soft on your thigh or your foot on his shoe.

She doesn't notice the small splintered pieces of leather from her favorite couch that are missing.

And she doesn't notice how excited you are when she tells you she's planning another girl's trip at the end of the upcoming month.

She doesn't notice Sam's more frequent absence as he spends more time in your room. And when you don't have college work to get done, the two of you are talking, making out, or fucking.

You tell yourself your mother doesn't notice as Sam pulls you into his lap against your headboard, kissing over your cheeks and nose and chin. The bristles of his beard tickles you again, and you giggle.

Your mother doesn't notice. Because if she did, what would you do.

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Rewrite: Moxxie

A big thing with Moxxie was just me wanting him to not look like a butler. I don’t know what it is with Viv and men in suits, but I'm not a fan. To keep his vest from blending into his pants, I untucked a bit of his undershirt. I want each member of IMP to stand out visually from one another (because all imps literally look related to some degree lol) so I gave Moxxie green in his color palette to contrast the orangish red tone I gave his skin. I also think green eyes will help him stand out very nicely from the group. Instead of striped I put gold rings on his tail and gave him a couple rings on his fingers because greed and gold. Since Viv loves bowties, I let Mox keep his but made it droopy because I think it’s cuter. Originally, I was going to keep his coattails, but I feel like with the shape of his legs it just muddies his silhouette. 

With Moxxie there isn’t much about his character I have to gripe about or want to change. He’s a skilled gunman with knowledge of the subject and history of guns. Cool, now for that, I’m working in his greed traits and decided that he outright hoards guns (since viv wants to claim imps hoard things). Moxxie has a vast collection and is always keeping them nice and spiffy. 

Now one thing I don’t like about Moxxie is his insecurity. Moreso the fact that it’s constantly being played up, like in Unhappy Campers where he’s like a crotchety old woman going through menopause because his wife is more popular than him. At that point it’s just stupid for the sake of drama. Since I made Millie the insecure one, I’m going to play up Moxxie’s straight man status. 

Moxxie is going to be the level headed cool sniper type I suppose. He’s not going to be as expression as Millie, the blue oni to her red in a sense. I think the comedy of that could be when something does make him lose his composure (I think I'll draw up a redone scene as an example) like Millie’s parents outright disliking him or Striker singing about how he sucks and should go fuck himself. I like the idea that because of his childhood as the son of an abusive mob boss father he’s learned to shove bad feelings down rather than express them outright. This doesn’t mean I want him to be a stone faced rock. No, I mostly just want him to express surface level exasperation and frustration with Blitzø’s antics (like his big “WHAT?” when Blitz mentions he hired Strikker) 

So an example of this could be Striker’s song. After he tells Moxxie to go fuck himself, a close shot of Moxxie’s face shows it twitching. He adjusts his glasses, stands up, and excuses himself. (Millie recognizes that this is bad because she knows him and follows) But she loses him in Striker’s fangirl crowd. Moxxie will be visibly upset as he climbs the stairs before hearing Millie calling for him and regaining his composure – until he notices the glow coming from Striker’s room that catches his attention. 

So I don’t want this Moxxie to be a straight-faced ass, just a more composed character. 

Back to his insecurity real quick! Mozzie is a trained assassin but his is not physically strong enough to fight hand to hand. This is a weak spot for him because his father constantly shat all over him growing up and would literally smack him around and Moxxie was (in his own mind) too physically weak to stop it from happening. 

As to how he met Blitzo... well in this I don’t want the bs jail in hell bit because there has been no justifiable ass pulls by Viv or the team. Idk I'm having trouble. Maybe they met through Millie? Like Moxxie meets Millie doing something and is like ‘holy shit I love this chick fuck you dad I'm out.’ 

Idk that’s what I'm going with I'll fix it later this took way too long to do and i'll still gotta do Blitzo and Stolas and maybe the other characters and then maybe rework season one idk i'll focus on just doing Blitzo and reworking my Loona again

[taevbears]

Magic Shop - 13

Every coin has two sides

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Namjoon focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, found family, domestic/slice of life, action/adventure ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 10.3k ⤑ warnings: descriptive violence, body horror, near-death of a main character, prejudice and oppression of mages, heavy angst. ⤑ note: lol bc last week, i had already written out the entire chapter and just meant to edit and post it last weekend. but then another idea struck me while i was at work, and even tho i meant to just change ONE scene, it started leading to a completely different ending. so lol here i am, one week later, after rewriting half this chapter 💀 this chapter is also heavily inspired by "A Village Under Siege" and "The Attack at Nightfall" quests in Dragon Age: Origins + the world of necromancer bells from the "Old Kingdom Series" by Garth Nix

Chapters: Series Masterlist | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

From the distance, an old windmill is spotted over a hill. Its turbines spin slowly with the breeze, and the weathered bricks keep it standing tall after all these years. The distinct landmark signifies one thing.

Hawthorn Village. You’re finally here.

And it’s just as Namjoon remembers it.

Nostalgia hits him as you all cross the bridge that leads into the village. Thatched roofs and walls made of stone and wood. A large well near the center of the square where he used to make wishes upon as a kid. The elementary school he went to, the old church that his parents religiously attended, and the farmlands with livestock and crop mazes.

Much to his dismay, the aftereffects of the nightly terrors have taken its toll on his beloved hometown.

People are trying their best to get through another day, distributing produce to feed the hungry and burning the dead. A blacksmith with tired eyes insistently pounds iron with a hammer to make new weapons that will give them a better chance against the enemies. A militiaman tries to keep up morale, although most of the remaining men are just farmers and workers – none of them trained to fight. Survivors step out of the infirmary tents, wrapped in bandages but still in pain. A small child cries, looking for their parents.

Doom hangs in the air. Haunted and defeated are the faces of Hawthorn’s residents, as the looming threat of another unsettling fight is set before them.

“What’s happened here?” Seokjin asks one of the villagers.

A middle-aged man’s light up when he sees your group. “I haven’t seen you folks before. Have you come to help us? Did our notices finally reach someone?”

It isn’t long until the group is ushered to the local church. Gathered by the altar is the mayor of the village. Dark circles are under his eyes from sleepless nights, but he looks at you all with hope as the villager announces you’re all from a guild. Then, he explains to your party their dire situation.

Decomposing corpses return to life at night with the hunger for flesh, and they have been attacking this small village for the past few nights. From dusk until dawn, these attacks on Hawthorn are relentless. Each night, they come in greater numbers. Due to the necromancer and dark magic being involved, no one has been responding to their urgent calls for help. The local hunters have been summoned to the capital, and guilds often overlook their tiny settlement when they pass by.

All of Hawthorn fears that tonight will be the worst attack yet.

“You’re our only hope,” the mayor pleads. “Hawthorn won’t stand a chance otherwise.”

The Oathkeepers look at Seokjin, but his eyes are on Namjoon. He feels the rest of you looking at him too. As if it’s up to him to decide whether his hometown is worth saving, or if the quest at hand is deemed too dangerous to assist. Allowing him to back out now before they’re obligated to see things through, no matter what the risk.

“Of course we’ll help,” Namjoon decides without hesitation. “Tell us what you need.”

Tonight, things look pretty grim.

Morale within the village is at its lowest. After multiple perilous nights of terror and gruesome deaths, the ones still alive are worried they’ll be next. That nothing will remain of their beloved Hawthorn once the sun goes down.

“Someone has to know something about the necromancer. We have to find out who is terrorizing the village and what their motive is,” Namjoon concludes as you all gather outside the church to debrief. “We also need to help the residents prepare for tonight’s battle: teach them how to properly hold weapons, encourage every able-body to help with the fight, and inspire them to defend the land and their community.”

“Leave the villagers to us,” Seokjin offers, gesturing at himself and the members of his guild. “We’ll do our best to get everyone ready before sundown. You just focus on finding that necromancer.”

“Taehyung and I are going to look at their resources,” Hoseok informs, surveying the infirmary tents. “I might be able to make something for the injured.”

“We’ll check on the blacksmith,” Yoongi says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “He was in rough shape when we passed by. Half of the villagers aren’t wearing proper armor and are carrying broken weapons. Repairs need to be done if they want to stand a fighting chance.”

“Taverns are a great source of information,” Jackson mentions as he eyes the local pub. A smile touches his lips as he wonders out loud, “Maybe I can even convince the owner to give out free shots of courage to the fighters.”

“Then Jungkook and I will talk to the farmers,” Namjoon decides as he looks at his familiar, who nods his head in agreement. “The notice mentions that they’re the ones who suspect dark magic is at hand. Maybe one of them saw something that can give us a clue to where our necromancer is.”

With a solid plan set, the party breaks off to their assigned tasks.

Tonight still looks grim, but there’s hope.

With success, they might be able to turn everything around before nightfall.

“Any luck?” you ask when you see Namjoon and Jungkook circling back to the village square after a while.

“Not really,” Namjoon mulls with a sigh.

“They said the horde comes from all around the village. One night, they’re skeletons from the village’s graveyard. Another night, they’ve come from the nearby lake or from the thickets of the woods,” Jungkook explains with a frown. Whoever they talk to seems to have different descriptions of the undead creatures. “Most of the villagers are too busy trying to stay alive to keep track of what’s been causing the dead to rise.”

“They did confirm one thing, though,” Namjoon adds before he throws a glance at his familiar. “They heard the sound of bells.”

“Bells?” you echo, looking between them.

“It’s how the necromancers summon the dead,” Jungkook simply explains. “Without them, they’re just like any other mage.”

“Good to know,” you mutter, shivering at the thought of hearing strange bells in the middle of the night. At least, if nothing else, you’ll be able to take away their advantage.

Still, a mage that has the skills to control the dead must be incredibly powerful.

“How is everything here?” Namjoon asks as he looks around.

“Good. Jin is a natural at raising morale,” you reply, looking over to where a small crowd chants Seokjin’s name. The others in his guild have been teaching them how to use their weapons, and although they’re still clearly unskilled, their progress is still quite an improvement from before.

“Hoseok-hyung looks like he has things under control in the infirmary,” Jungkook points out. The nurses and patients around him are in awe at the simple potions he had given them, claiming that he must be a miracle doctor. They also look smitten over Taehyung, who’s soothing voice calms and comforts the bedridden a bit.

“Yoongi-hyung, too,” Namjoon notes when he looks at your familiar, sitting over an anvil and helping the blacksmith craft weapons of steel. With assistance, it seems like the blacksmith will be able to get repairs done in time after all.

Shouts and cheers from the tavern show that Jackson, somehow, persuaded the bartender to give out free ale to the villagers. Although tipsy, their spirits are high, and they seem eager to fight after a round of complimentary drinks.

“I’ll help Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook states, interested in what they’re doing. He approaches the blacksmith, who seems elated to have additional assistance.

“We should probably check on Jackson. Maybe he’s heard something,” you suggest, turning toward the tavern. But Namjoon grabs your hand and pulls you back.

“Actually,” he starts, suddenly a little nervous. He takes a deep breath before he tells you, “There’s something I need to do first. Before it’s too late.”

At age thirteen, Namjoon awakened the power of magic. The feeling of bestowment is like fire. The initial spark of energy courses through his veins and spreads within him. Mesmerizing, alluring, and dangerous. No matter how much he reads and tries to understand his abilities, there’s always something new to learn, to incantate, and to master through his connection to the Veil.

Magic is both a blessing and a curse. Two sides of the same coin.

At first, Namjoon hated what he was. He hated that he became a mage.

Every night, when he was locked away in Alterwood Keep or WIndshire Tower, he questioned what he had done to be damned with such misfortune.

Magic is what burned his family’s home to the ground. Magic is what got him taken away from his parents, his friends, and his village – everything he knew. Magic is what lured the hunters into killing Ignis, turned Adriel into a beast, and shunned him from his home for so long.

The same home he stands before now.

“This is it,” Namjoon tells you, looking at an ordinary-looking house.

It’s been rebuilt over the years. Shabby, but somewhat similar to what it used to be. The curtains are identical to the ones his mother had put on the windows, down to the same shade of color. The front has pots of flowers that she liked to grow, and as the weather warmed, she’d smile as they began to bloom. Inside, Namjoon is certain he’d find a small collection of books his father would’ve read, and upon his favorite chair, he used to emphasize the importance of education and the pursuit of knowledge.

Your fingers thread through his. “Are you ready?”

He looks at you and nods his head.

At age nineteen, shortly after he was transferred to Blackstone Castle, he finally started to see magic as a positive force in his life.

Magic is what brought you all together, intertwining your fates with each other like red strings of soulmates. Magic is what makes the ordinary, unassuming shop at New Haven come to life and keep you all safe and happy. Magic is what brings him back to where it all started, with you by his side.

Years have passed since that fateful day he was taken from his parents. He’s started to accept that magic is a part of him. For all its wickedness and destruction, and all its serenity and wonder. Two sides of the same coin.

He just hopes, as he raises his hand to knock on the door, his parents will accept him as well. Magic and all.

The door swings open. An older woman stands on the other side. “Yes, can I help you?”

There’s a polite but cautious smile on her face, and deep dimples on her cheeks that match Namjoon’s. The resemblance between them is unmistakable.

“Hi Mother,” Namjoon greets her with his own nervous, dimpled smile. His hand squeezes yours for assurance. “It’s me. Your son.”

Confusion turns to recognition, which turns from surprise to disbelief. You watch as the woman looks at Namjoon like he’s a ghost.

“Y-You. You shouldn’t be here,” she stutters, lip trembling as her eyes water. Her hand is pressed to her heart as she steps away from the door. 

An older man notices his wife’s distress and comes to the door as well. He puts an arm around her and frowns at you two, not seeming to recognize the young man who has his height and strong build. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Father, it’s me,” Namjoon tries to say, but his voice is small. He’s starting to think that this is a bad idea. “Kim Namjoon. I’m your son.”

Like the woman, the man is initially shocked by the news. But then, his eyes narrow at Namjoon angrily. “What are the likes of you doing here, boy? Don’t we have enough to deal with?”

Namjoon visibly stiffens at the harshness in his father’s voice. “I’m here on a quest. I’ve come to learn that our village is under attack.”

“My village doesn’t need your help!” his father yells, spit flying as he holds his wife protectively. “Magic is what got us into this mess! Magic will make things worse!”

“Let’s get out of here,” you quietly urge, frowning at their hostility.

This is like his nightmares. Their looks of hatred and disdain burn under his skin, searing themselves into his memories. It’s hard for him to breathe, it’s hard for him to think. Suddenly, he feels so small. Like he’s a child again, standing before the fires that destroyed his home and took everything from him.

“Get away from him if you know what’s good for you, little girl,” the man warns, finally noticing that you’re there. “He’s something Wicked. His magic put us all in danger and ruined our lives!”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon chokes out. The words that he wanted to tell his parents after all these years. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Get out! Do not come here again!” his father interrupts as his mother bursts into tears, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. He grabs whatever is closest to him and waves it in a threatening manner. “Get away from our house before you destroy it!”

Namjoon obliges, stepping away from the door. He looks deeply hurt as he tries again. “But Father—”

“Do not call me that!” he barks as he gives him one more hateful glare. “We don’t have a son. Not anymore.”

Then, he slams the door shut.

“That went well,” Namjoon comments, sarcasm thick in his voice. He sits on a broken crate in the alleyway the two of you end up in and sighs. “I feel like an idiot.”

Part of him had known that, maybe, his parents weren't going to give him the warmest welcome. Part of him even thought that, perhaps, his parents wouldn’t recognize him.

Still, it hurts.

It hurts that he had expected otherwise. That he had hoped his parents would listen to him and forgive him. That they’d come to accept him.

But they’ve made it more than clear that Hawthorn Village and the house he grew up in is no longer his home. And that the parents who raised him are no longer his family.

Namjoon always knew this scenario could’ve been a possibility. And yet, he foolishly wanted to be wrong.

“Joon…” Your voice calls out from behind him, but you seem at a loss of words.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes, feeling incredibly dejected as he keeps his back to you. “I shouldn’t have bothered. I should’ve known it’d be a waste of time.”

And it hurts. It hurts so badly.

Knowing that all his efforts to return home — and all the punishments he took for running away — were fruitless. That no matter how hard he tries to be good and understand his magic, nothing will change.

In the end, Ignis really died for nothing. And that’s probably what hurts the most.

Namjoon half-expects you to scold him for dragging you along. For you to comment how you knew this was a bad idea, and that you both have other important things to worry about right now.

Instead, you approach him and gently wrap your arms around his neck. Your body is pressed against his back, hugging him from behind. Neither of you speak as he stiffens under your touch. But he places his hand over your arm in a wordless request to stay.

And you do. You stay with him, kissing his tear-stained cheeks and wishing you could do more to comfort him.

But to Namjoon, this is enough. Being with you is more than enough.

When the sun goes down, the dead awakens.

Villagers of Hawthorn scramble indoors, locking themselves inside and barricading the doors and windows. The church bells are quiet, not to be rung until morning light. Everywhere is an eerie silence, and those left to fend off the inevitable enemies swallow their fears as they train their eyes on the horizon.

There, a green fog mixes with the misty air, and the putrid stench of rotting flesh slowly advances toward them. Death is coming, and with it, alarming numbers of the undead.

“All right, everyone!” the mayor begins, taking command of the last line of defense. The odds are heavily against them, but he has to keep up what little morale they still have left. “We’ve driven off this evil before. We can do it again for one more night. We fight, or we die trying!”

With that said, the villagers charge in. Battle cries ring out as they use their pitchforks, shovels, and scythes to attack the incoming herd.

But they only get so close before the fear sets in.

Death looks them in the eye. Corpses with lifeless, glowing eyes, flesh rotten and decayed, and bones visible as they unhinge their jaws and let out an unsettling groan.

Some of them flee the opposite direction, running away from their foes. Some stand frozen, panic seizing them in place. Some, unable to stand the horrid smell, drop their weapons and retch out their stomach’s contents.

The villagers don’t stand a chance.

Then, they begin to hear it.

In the dark, rural farmlands, the sonorous sound of bells toll. Yet, when their eyes gaze to the local church, the large brass on the tower is completely still. If it’s not from the church, where are the bells coming from?

A scream pierces the air. The mayor turns to see a woman swinging an axe around violently. Her eyes are wide with terror, fixed on something before her, but there isn’t anyone around her. She continues to scream at something to get away from her as she slashes the air.

Two friends suddenly turn on each other. The two men have been buddies for years, and it’s like they don’t recognize their friend. They have that same, wild look in their eyes as they grab each other and raise their weapons.

The mayor’s heart hammers in his chest as they turn against each other, mistaking alley for enemy. “Men, what are you doing? Stop it!”

But it’s too late.

Blood splatters. Followed by cries of agony.

Horrified, the mayor gets away before they try to hurt him as well. As he runs, he grabs a woman’s shoulders and tries to warn her not to listen to the bells. But when she turns to face him, her face is completely disfigured. The flesh looks like it’s melting off her skin, bone and muscle peeking as she smiles wickedly.

“What’s wrong, mayor?” the woman asks, but her voice sounds off. Another voice is layered over hers – deep and raspy, almost demonic – that clearly isn’t her own.

The mayor lets her go and shrinks back in fear. As he looks around, he sees that the undead have somehow surrounded him. They stand there and watch him with their lifeless eyes. Their rotting flesh. Pitchforks, shovels, and scythes in hand.

Mysterious bells continue to echo, drowning out his screams.

“Do you hear that?” Hoseok asks from beside you. The two of you are stationed a little away from the village, near a part of the woods that locals claim was one of the spots the dead have risen from. It’s foggy and creepy, and you’ve been eyeing the thicket and expect a horde of undead to stumble from beyond the trees.

But it’s been dead quiet.

Even as you hold your breath and stand perfectly still, you can’t hear anything.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

Hoseok glances over at you with a frown. “I hear the ringing of bells.”

The sound of footsteps crunching on leaves and twigs catch your attention. Seokjin calls out to you and Hoseok as he and Namjoon appear from the fog. “We need to regroup. Something is happening at the village.”

“What do you mean? Are they under attack?”

Neither of them answer you. The concern on both their faces only makes you worry more as you and Hoseok follow them toward the old windmill where the rest of your party is waiting. It’s a little closer to the heart of the village, and you can hear some commotion going on, like the villagers are in the throes of battle.

You spot Taehyung in his raven form, flying from the direction of the village and landing before you and Hoseok. When he transforms into his human form, he reports, “The recently deceased have risen, but they’re not the biggest problem.”

“Then who are they fighting?” Namjoon asks, eyebrows furrowing together.

Taehyung leans against Hoseok for support, bringing his palm against his forehead like he has a migraine. “They’re fighting each other.”

Silence follows the unsettling news.

Seokjin is the first to break it. “What the hell is going on?”

As if to answer him, you all hear it too.

The haunting, sonorous sound of bells in a nearby distance.

Hearing them sends a chill up your spine. And knowing that they’re beckoning death makes them even more terrifying.

“We need to get the bells,” Jungkook reminds you, turning away from the village to look you in the eye. “It’s the only way we can stop their madness.”

“We’ll have to be quick,” Namjoon agrees. “Or Hawthorn won’t make it to sunrise.”

There are seven necromantic bells. Each is more difficult to wield properly as their size and power increases. And, without proper care, the bells have a negative effect on the ringer that could backfire to certain death.

As you and the others approach the village, you hear the chime of the first bell.

It’s been a long day. Traveling the long roads to the village by carriage and on foot. Helping the residents prepare for the gruesome attacks tonight. Getting ready to face a powerful mage hiding somewhere nearby.

Sleep. The first bell sings. And you’re hit with a wave of drowsiness.

Yoongi catches you before you collapse on the ground. His eyes are tired, as if he hadn’t slept for days. In a slurred mumble, he commands, “Stay with me.”

The others aren’t faring any better. Long yawns and slow steps plague your group. Some of them look like they’re about to slump over and fall unconscious. You and the other mages ignore the lull of the bell and stay awake and alert. With tired eyes, you try to scan for the source of the sound and see a shadow slip into a building.

“There,” you point out, readying your wand. You follow after it with half your party close behind you. Seokjin stays behind with his guild, promising to catch up. Jungkook looks lethargic as he kicks open the entrance a few times before nearly tumbling inside.

A home abandoned is what you’re met with. The people living here seem to be gone, hurriedly leaving in the middle of making dinner. Flies swarm the rotting food, but it doesn’t look like anything else has been touched.

“Be careful,” Jackson warns, going further into the house. He uses his wand as a light, cautiously going from room to room to make sure the coast is clear.

It looks empty. But you know it isn’t.

You feel someone watching you all from the shadows.

When you turn to face the main room, your eyes widen when the figure emerges. Shrouded in tattered robes and carrying a bandolier of old bells is the necromancer. Deathly pale as a ghost, thin and bony like a skeleton, and decayed like the very creatures they summon. 

The necromancer — a truly Wicked creature — isn’t human at all. It’s a phantom.

It towers over you, face covered in darkness. In its hand is the second bell, which rings and beckons the dead with every step it takes toward you.

A burst of flames comes from your wand, aiming right at the necromancer’s face. Fire catches on its robes, but the necromancer seems unphased. Even as it’s burning alive.

Behind you, wooden boards split and break, and arms of the dead reach through the window to grab you. A startled scream escapes your lips when something does.

You’re pulled tightly to Namjoon’s chest as he leads you away from the doors and windows. He keeps a wand pointed at the necromancer as he holds you protectively. From your peripheral vision, you see Jackson, Hoseok, and the familiars trying to keep the horde out.

Distracted, you don’t notice the necromancer tucking the second bell away and taking out the third one from the pouch. With two hands, it rings the bell – up, down, left right – each toll causing different sounds from one bell, but they make a dancing tune that compels your legs to move on its own.

“Namjoon!” you gasp, trying to hold onto him. Mechanically, one foot marches over the other. Against your will, you leave his side. Neither Namjoon nor the other boys could stop you as their own feet seem planted in place, unable to move.

By its command, you spin around and start to slowly head straight toward the window, into the reaching arms of the undead. The boys call out to you, and you try to resist the magic. Every fiber of your being tries to hold you back from being torn apart by their greedy hands and mouths.

But your body won’t listen. You continue to march forward.

With all his willpower, Namjoon leans as far as he can and reaches toward you. His fingers grasp the back of your clothes and he yanks you backwards. You stumble a bit, but you reach back and cling onto him, anchoring yourself as he pulls you closer.

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, wrapping both of his arms around you.

Relief washes over your face, even as your legs continue to move on its own, you and Namjoon hold onto each other. With the wand still in your hand, you manage to point it at the necromancer and cast a spell of frost, just as it takes out two more bells.

The necromancer freezes. Icicles form around it for a few seconds before it shakes it away. Namjoon’s eyes widen when he realizes something.

Magic is very effective against the necromancer.

Just as he realizes this, the phantom necromancer starts to rapidly swing the bell in its left hand.

Whispers from beyond the grave seem to float around the room with the fourth bell, disembodied and ambiguous. The voices are in every direction, layered with the quick and steady rings. And Namjoon swears one of the voices is calling out to him.

His eyes look for who is calling him, and his gaze turns toward the crowd of undead by the window. Then, his eyes widen when he hears the chime of the fifth bell.

One of the skeletal remains starts to look familiar to him. The clothes are tattered and weathered, but the scraps of what’s left are the same from that day, slightly charged from when the hunters burned him. Flesh and muscle start to form around the skeleton, bringing back the teenage boy Namjoon once left behind.

Impossible.

Ignis, alive and well, is among the horde. His first friend since he’s become a mage.

“Namjoon,” Ignis calls out to him again. His voice is echoing and weak, but it’s still very much the same as he remembers.

Hoseok, and Jackson are looking in the same direction, stunned. Namjoon would’ve thought they’re also seeing Ignis until he hears the names they call out.

“Mina?”

“Adriel!”

A sense of confusion draws Namjoon out of the spell. He doesn’t see Adriel or Mina in the crowd, but he sees Ignis. Are you two seeing someone different?

Taehyung grabs both Hoseok and Jackson before they could step closer to the window. “Don’t. You’ll get hurt.”

Yoongi and Jungkook block the window as well, trying to keep you and Namjoon safe. He doesn’t realize it, but Namjoon’s grip loosens around you from the shock. The spell from the third bell still lingers, causing you to move away from him again, but Yoongi easily catches you this time.

“Is that—?” you begin to ask, but Yoongi shakes his head.

“It’s a trick,” he says as he tightens his hold around you. “Whoever you see isn’t there.”

Namjoon’s heart drops a little when he realizes the fourth and fifth bell must’ve brought back memories of a deceased loved one. An old friend to each of you that had passed on. Their voices. Their likeness.

“Hyung, you have to get the bells, Quickly,” Jungkook reminds him as he glares at the phantom necromancer. “Before it uses the seventh one. That’ll cause death to everyone who hears it.”

That means there’s only two more bells left, and the last one is deadly. If there’s a chance to stop the necromancer, it has to be now.

The necromancer tries another combination. It exchanges the fourth and fifth bell for the second and sixth ones. With the second, it’s able to summon the dead, beckoning them to come to it from beyond the grave. And with the sixth, it has complete control over them, binding them to its will. Within its shrouded face, its eyes begin to glow an eerie yellow the moment it wields the sixth bell.

Namjoon casts a bolt of lightning from his wand, but the necromancer vanishes before it hits. The bells ring somewhere that he can’t pinpoint, and he sees you and the others regain control of your bodies and try to look for the necromancer all over again.

“It couldn’t have gone far,” Namjoon reasons, scanning around. All of you are on high alert, wands ready to strike the moment the phantom necromancer appears.

Then, he hears the sound of wood breaking. More reinforcements join the previous herd and start to come inside. Namjoon completely loses sight of you and the others, using gusts of wind to blow the undead back and knocking them against walls and furniture. He calls out to you, but the disembodied groans, the stench of rotting flesh, and the sight of disfigured creatures keeps him from looking for you.

One of the creatures he comes to face is Ignis. Or at least, what looks like him.

“Stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” Namjoon says, pointing his wand at him. It feels like his Harrowing all over again. Being forced to face his biggest regret.

Ignis has his wand pointed at him as well. It’s a broken stick. The old, dirty clothes that he wears barely covers his chest and waist, but there’s a deep wound where the hunters have stabbed him through the heart. There are burn marks from when they had set him on fire.

Namjoon feels a burst of hot air as a fireball flies past him. He counters it with a water spell, dousing the flames before it hits him. The two elements collide as steam fills the room, causing Namjoon to lose sight of his old friend.

Sparks of lightning flash to his right, and he barely dodges an electrifying bolt. The attack hits a picture frame behind him, and the glass shatters as it falls on the floor. Wind sweeps up the broken glass and hurls it toward him, and Namjoon levitates the broken boards in front of him and uses them as a shield to protect himself.

Spells after spells become a dance between offensive and defensive attacks between Namjoon and Ignis. He can feel himself getting tired. The overuse of magic is causing his hands to blacken. He’s breathing heavier, and pain shoots from his arm when it got hit with a critical ice attack.

But Ignis is slowing down too. He’s proven to be an incredibly difficult opponent. But like Namjoon, Ignis is panting for breath and from the tips of his fingers down to his wrist is inky black of magic overuse. The wound on his chest expanded, bleeding heavily, yet he still stands. Stubbornly, he continues to point his wand at Namjoon, still wanting to fight.

However, Namjoon knows he needs to end it now.

While in battle, it seems like the others have taken care of the undead herd, but the necromancer’s whereabouts are still unknown. He can hear them shouting at him, but he doesn’t know what they’re saying. All he can focus on is the opponent before him.

Needing to end the fight, Namjoon tries a new spell.

Keeping his eye on Ignis, he slowly crouches and puts his hand on the ground. The earth moves beneath his fingertips, and covering the house are thick vines. They come from one side of the house, through the window, reaching across the floor and ceiling, and finally snagging Ignis. He seems surprised when they wrap around his wrist and disarms his wand, and around his ankles to immobilize him. 

The surprise turns to worry when one of the vines wraps around his neck.

Then, they begin to tighten.

Namjoon tries not to react as he watches his old friend die by his hand once again. He feels the sting of tears threaten his eyes as the wand falls on the ground and Ignis begins to choke.

As much as Namjoon wishes he could go back in time and undo his old friend’s death, as much as he’d like to think this is the real Ignis and not some undead creature wearing his skin, he knows his friend is long gone.

He points his wand at Ignis, the tip of it heating with a fire spell.

But before it’s cast, Namjoon is knocked to the ground. As he comes to his senses, he realizes three horrifying things.

First, the phantom necromancer had been there the whole time. It’s been ringing the bells, conducting them like a puppeteer. And Namjoon is its puppet with strings.

Second, it isn’t just Namjoon that was being controlled by the bells. His party has been immobilized, forced to watch as Namjoon fights Ignis. But Jackson – who was standing closest to the phantom – manages to break from the spellbound restraints, covering his ears to block the sound. Out of willpower and determination, he puts one foot over the other to sneak up on the necromancer. Until, finally, he yanks the hoister of bells before the necromancer has a chance to grab the seventh and deadliest one.

Third, the moment that the necromancer is no longer in control, Yoongi lunges at Namjoon with his hand curled into a fist. Jungkook manages to grab Yoongi’s waist, but they both topple over and knock into Namjoon. The three of them are on the ground, and Namjoon realizes that Hoseok and Taehyung are yelling at him too, but their voices are where Ignis is.

Or what he thought was Ignis.

It isn’t an undead creature caught in the vines of his spell.

It’s you. This whole time, it’s been you.

“Let her go, Namjoon!” Hoseok screams, trying to yank the vines away from you. Every time he pulls one away, another takes its place. They start to tangle around him and Taehyung as well. He can feel it grabbing his ankles and see it wrap around Taehyung’s hand as he tugs on the one around your neck.

Fuck, he doesn’t even know if you’re even breathing. Your body looks lifeless as they continue to constrict your chest and your neck.

Taehyung curses and tries to shake off the vine that’s spreading up his arm and toward his neck. Hoseok’s mind is spinning, wanting to use a fire attack to burn the vines, but afraid that it’ll hurt you and Taehyung. And Namjoon is still dazed from the effects of the bells.

Seokjin finally catches up after helping the surviving villagers. His eyes widen when he sees what’s happening and immediately rushes to you with his sword at hand.

“Hyung!” Taehyung exclaims as Seokjin carefully cuts the vines to free the three of you. Hoseok immediately catches you, and to his relief, you’re still alive. You’re still breathing, but barely.

“Is she okay?” Seokjin asks, his hand still around his sword. The Oathkeepers have jumped into battle with Jackson, trying to take the necromancer down with standard magic spells now that the bells are not with it.

“She’ll be fine,” Hoseok says as he sees Yoongi rush toward you. He hands you off to him. “Watch over her, hyung. We have to help Jackson.”

Yoongi merely nods. His hands are trembling a little as he holds you in his arms, taking you somewhere safe from the fight.

Namjoon finally snaps out of it when he sees Yoongi passing by. He catches a glimpse of you too, but Jungkook shakes his shoulder and urges, “Hyung, come on, let’s go. They need us.”

Slowly, Namjoon stands and his eyes narrow at the necromancer. The spells are aggressive as it targets Jackson, trying to get its bells back. The Oathkeepers surround him, protecting him as they use their weapons against the powerful mage.

“Push it toward the vines,” Namjoon instructs, and they do. Each swing of an attack that the Oathkeepers land, and each spell cast from Hoseok and Jackson causes the necromancer to step closer and closer to the vines where you were.

One of the vines manages to snag the necromancer’s ankle. Another starts to wrap around its arm. Everyone watches as a being associated with death struggles to free itself from the plants that are full of life. But that only tangles it up even more, constricting it until it can’t move at all.

Then, Namjoon stands before the necromancer. He still has a bit of magic in him, and with it, he unleashes a small fire. Just like he had accidentally casted all those years ago, when he first awakened his power.

This time, it’s with purpose as the flames engulf and destroy everything before him.

There’s an unnerving feeling that settles throughout the remains of Hawthorn Village.

All night, the Oathkeepers gathered everyone they could find and brought them to the church. They figured it would be easier to protect everyone if they’re all in one place.

Priestess and the faithful Devoted clasps their hands so tightly in prayer, their knuckles turn white. Mothers hold their young children close, comforting them as best as they can. Men guarding the inside of the chapel anxiously pace with their hands hovering over their weapons, anticipating that they’d be the last line of defense if your party fails to stop the necromancer.

It’s been a long night.

The fighting and shouting beyond the church door lasts for hours.

But beyond the horizon, there’s a silver lining of hope. Dawn breaks, and a new day begins. As the sun rises, so does their salvation.

Word spreads of what you and the others have done. How you all saved the village. How Namjoon defeated the awful creature that’s been terrorizing them.

“Didn’t you have a son named Namjoon?” one of the villagers asks, but Namjoon’s father shakes his head and denies it. There’s a frown on the old man’s face as others have gathered to talk about the news.

It’s finally over. Their village is saved. They’ve survived those perilous nights. And it’s all thanks to the guild that came to help them.

Stepping outside, the morning light greets them. Fighters return to embrace their loved ones after the long battle. Children cheer with joy for their heroes, and tears are shed from relief between reunited families and partners.

Among the fighters, there’s Namjoon and his group.

One of the boys – the one with a slender build and a sharp face – has you on his back. The others are worn and exhausted, but seem okay from the distance as they help support each other back to the village. And Namjoon, with two of his comrades holding him up, keeps trying to disregard his own injuries as he worries about yours.

The concern on his face, the remorse and sorrow in his expression – it’s just like when he was a kid on that fateful day.

“How do you reckon they did it?” another villager asks him, looking at the direction that Namjoon’s father is staring at. It would be easy to reveal the truth. That Wicked mages are among them, and the entire village would be full of distrust and anger toward them.

“Who knows?” the old man says instead, and turns away from the group with a frown.

Magic may have gotten them in this mess, but in an ironic twist of fate, magic is what saved them.

For the first time in days, Hawthorn Village is promised a good night.

The mayor and the surviving villagers hold a small ceremony to honor the deceased and to hail your party as heroes. It will take time for their tiny village to recover. Even with the threat of the necromancer gone, there’s still fear of the night and what it could behold. But the mayor is confident that they can rebuild.

You’re then taken to Hawthorn’s inn to recover. Luckily, no one else is severely injured, but you and Namjoon have the worst of it.

Hours pass, and you’ve yet to open your eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Hoseok reminds him, wrapping a cloth bandage around Namjoon’s arm. “That necromancer made you guys attack each other.”

It doesn’t make Namjoon feel any better.

“I nearly killed her,” he laments. At Blackstone Castle, Hoseok once swore that if Namjoon ever hurts you, he’d kill him. Truly, this warrants his friends to turn against him like others have done before.

But somehow, they don’t.

Hoseok finishes up and examines his work. “To be fair, she did a number on you too.”

Namjoon is told to rest, but he can’t bring himself to let his guard down. He keeps thinking there must be a catch. That, perhaps, the others are still angry with him and are starting to resent him.

“Namjoon-ah, come eat,” Seokjin calls out for him, gesturing for the mage to sit at the table. He serves him a bowl of stew the innkeeper made. “Be careful. It’s still hot.”

“Hyung, are you healing okay?” Jungkook asks again – probably for the fourth time that hour alone. He frowns at the bandages Hoseok put on him, and there’s genuine concern in his big, doe-shaped eyes. “If you need anything, let me know. Got it?”

“Be careful, hyung. You don’t want to hurt yourself again,” Taehyung scolds when Namjoon nearly bumps into something. It’s the closest any of them have been stern with him all day, yet Taehyung frets over him like he does with you and the others.

Even Yoongi strikes up a casual conversation with him, flipping through a book of Devoted scriptures he’s found. “What is this garbage they’ve been teaching you?”

Namjoon frowns. “Hyung, what are you doing?”

“There’s nothing else to read,” he states with a scowl.

“I mean, why aren’t you angry at me?” Namjoon asks, his heart still full of guilt. You mean so much to all of them, and what he did is unforgivable.

“You didn’t mean to hurt her,” Yoongi simply replies.

“But I did it,” Namjoon protests, feeling a bit frustrated. He doesn’t get it. “Why are you all so nice to me after what I’ve done? Why don’t you hate me?”

Isn’t this how it always goes? Why is it so different this time?

“You’re family to us, Namjoon,” Yoongi tells him. “We could never hate you.”

Namjoon wants to believe that, but he doesn’t feel like he deserves to. Not after what he did to you.

Whenever he feels overwhelmed and stressed, Namjoon likes to run to clear his mind. Usually, it’s along the river near New Haven, where he can relax beneath the shade of a tree he liked afterwards. But as he lets his feet take him somewhere, he finds himself by the Hawthorn Lake.

Most of the villagers have gathered here as the late afternoon sun colors the skies with reds and oranges of twilight. To honor and mourn the lives that were lost the past few nights, they’ve decided to hold a small ceremony for them. And standing a short distance from them is a familiar face.

“Where’ve you been?” Namjoon asks, walking up to him.

Jackson is quiet as he watches them. The villagers pray and hug each other, and some sing hymns and play instruments by the shore. Paper lanterns are lit and sent off into the water, representing both hope and remembrance, as well as grief and loss. With the setting sun hitting the water’s surface, it matches the small flames being carried across the lake.

It’s a beautiful ceremony.

“I wish we could’ve done something like this,” Jackson quietly confides without looking at Namjoon. “For Adriel, Mina, and everyone else we lost at Blackstone.”

“We still can,” Namjoon tells him, facing the lake as well. It might be difficult now, but maybe when things settle down with the hunters, they could go back to the lake by the castle and hold a memorial for them one day.

Silence passes as the sun continues to sink. For once, it’s a peaceful evening. And the somber songs start to turn to ones of celebration as a relief washes over them. Tonight, they no longer need to fear the dark.

“You know, I wanted to take up this mission so I could bring them back,” Jackson confesses. “Adriel sacrificed himself to give us our freedom. I’ve been trying to enjoy the gift he gave us, but it isn’t fair that he’s dead while I get to live outside the prison he desperately wanted to escape from.”

Namjoon frowns. “Necromancy is dark magic, Jackson. What if it backfired?”

“I didn’t care. I would’ve used whatever they had to bring them back: bells, tomes, ritual circles,” Jackson lists as he looks at the stash of bells he’s been carrying with him. “Whatever it took. Wouldn’t you want to do the same for that old friend you told us about? The one you saw during the fight?”

Ignis.

Immediately, Namjoon thinks of how the bells convinced him that his old friend had come back. How it took his shape and form, and how it used his voice.

“If I did, he wouldn’t have been the same.” He’d probably be no different from any of the other undead they saw last night. A shell of a human with its spirit gone. A mere illusion of what he once was.

“I probably wouldn’t have been the same either. Had I tried, I would’ve lost a sense of who I am and become a monster like that necromancer phantom,” Jackson concludes with a frown. “That thing we fought… it wasn’t human. It was truly Wicked.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees. The necromancer felt like it had lost its humanity a very long time ago, and now just wanders into towns and villages to torment and cause chaos.

“Here.” Jackson holds out the bells to Namjoon. “Make sure to destroy them.”

Namjoon takes it, and he can feel the weight of its power in his hand. “What’s your plan now?”

“Don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out,” Jackson replies with a small shrug. “I might stay here for a bit and help them rebuild. The guys at the pub really liked me.” 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep.

For a while, you drift in and out of consciousness. You feel the warmth of Hoseok’s healing magic before he applies an ointment to your wound. You hear the sweet tune of Jungkook’s song as he sings to you. You feel Taehyung brush the hair away from your face and press his lips against your knuckles. You hear Seokjin bargain with you – a kiss from your handsomest boyfriend if you open your eyes. When you do, you see Yoongi sleeping on a chair nearby, and you’re certain he hasn’t left your side since you were brought here.

But you don’t see or hear from Namjoon. You force yourself to sit up as the memories of last night come back to you.

In all the years you’ve known Namjoon, he’s always been a strong person. He has thick skin and a level head, and is eloquent and witty with his words. He shoulders a lot of the hard work so you and the others don’t have to. Whenever you need advice, comfort, or someone to rely on, he’s always the first person that comes to mind.

But Namjoon is also human. He can’t always be strong.

And while the details of the fight are still a bit foggy to you, there’s one thing that haunts your mind. The absolute horror on his face when Namjoon finally realizes it’s you he was attacking.

Yoongi stirs when he senses you’re awake. “Where are you going?”

Caught halfway to the door, you stop mid-step and ask, “Yoongi, have you seen—”

Just then, the door opens. Jungkook blinks in surprise when he sees you out of bed. “Oh? You’re awake?”

The others start to crowd in when they hear you’re up. You’re met with relieved sighs, lingering touches, and questions about how you’re feeling from all of them. But as you look around, you notice someone is missing.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

The boys look at each other, exchanging glances as if they don’t know what to tell you. Then, Jungkook speaks up. “He went to get some fresh air. He feels really bad about what happened.”

“I should talk to him,” you decide, determined to find him. You want to look for him anyway. “Do you know where he went?”

Soon, all of you are outside the inn. It’s incredibly empty by the square, and you learn that it’s because most of the villagers have gathered by the nearby lake. From what you’ve heard, it seems Jackson and Namjoon heeded over there as well.

“You’re the girl that was with that boy, aren’t you?”

For a second, you almost didn’t realize someone was talking to you. Then, you turn to see a familiar face. A woman that looked at you with terror and coldly slammed her door at your face yesterday. Namjoon’s mother.

“I am,” you answer, honest but a bit guarded. Now that you have a good look at her, you can see how much Namjoon takes after her appearance. He has the same high cheekbones, the same shape of her eyes, and the same deep dimples in his smile. She stares at you as well, but she doesn’t say a word. Self-conscious, you ask, “Is… Is something wrong?”

She blinks and shakes her head. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to stare.”

You don’t sense any hostility from her this time. Rather, you feel like she’s genuinely curious about you. Perhaps, after the battle and hearing people talk, she had a change of heart about her son.

“That’s all right. I must look terrible.” 

You laugh awkwardly, trying to dust off any dirt from your clothes and fix your hair. Magic helps make you look presentable enough to go out, but you’re still exhausted from fighting all night. Your spells are still weak from overuse, your current clothes are battle-worn, and you’re in a dire need of a bath.

“Actually, you’re quite beautiful,” she quietly admits, and you’re taken aback by the compliment. She looks away from you. There’s a sadness in her eyes as she asks, “How do you know him?”

She doesn’t need to name him for you to know who she’s talking about.

“We’re…” Friends? Lovers? Housemates? Family? “Together. He’s my partner.”

She still doesn’t look at you, but you can see the frown form upon her lips. “And you know what he is?”

“That he’s a mage? Of course I do.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

You blink at her, confused. “Why would it bother me?”

Her gaze lifts to meet yours, and she stares at you for a long time. It begins to occur to you that, although she knows that Namjoon is a mage, she doesn’t know that you’re one as well. To her, it seems outlandish that a human would willingly love a mage.

“He’s a monster. At least, I believed so,” she finally tells you. “I blamed him for ruining our lives. Don’t you know how shameful it is to have a child cursed with magic? The whole village shunned us for years.”

“Perhaps that’s a problem with your village’s beliefs and not your son,” you retort with a scowl. “His affinity to magic isn’t the only thing that defines him. He’s a good man with a kind heart, and while he’s many things, a monster is far from it.”

Remorse flickers on her face. “Forgive me. It seems you care an awful lot about him.”

“Of course I do,” you tell her so earnestly. “Whether he’s a mage or not, he’s still Namjoon. And I love him.”

Again, his mother stares in silence. She seems baffled, and, perhaps, a bit guilty. For a moment, she hesitates, and just when you’re about to walk away, she asks, “And… is he happy?”

You glance back at his mother. “You can always ask him yourself.”

“No, no. It’s too late for that now. It’s better that he doesn’t know I talked to you,” she backtracks, but there’s a small hint of relief to know what’s become of her son after all these years. “Thank you for indulging an old, shameful woman. I’m glad that he has someone like you who loves him for all he is.”

Night has fallen over the village of Hawthorn. But for once, it’s met with laughter and festivities of celebration. Jackson spots his new friends from the pub and introduces them to him. A guy named Mark invites them both for a drink and to hang out as the lantern ceremony continues.

The moon shines brightly as its light reflects against the lake’s surface, and the glow from paper lanterns being carried across the water is a breathtaking sight.

“Namjoon.”

But despite all the people and festivities around, all you see is him.

Namjoon leaves Jackson and the others and sprints toward you, but stops himself before he gets too close. His hand reaches out to touch you out of habit, but he holds it back. He swallows the fear and hesitation building within him before he plasters a nervous smile. “Hey, baby.”

You look him over, not saying anything at first. Your eyes seem fixed on the bandages he has around his arm. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

His smile fades. A short chuckle of disbelief escapes his lips. “How is that the first thing you ask me when I’m the one that hurt you?”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve killed you!” His voice raises, causing a couple passing by to look at you two. He steps a little closer and frowns. “I’m sorry, baby. I swore to myself that I’d always protect you, and I put you in danger. I don’t ever want to put you in that situation again.”

“Namjoon…”

“So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

You seem to know where this is going. He could see the shakiness in your breath and the way your eyes water. “Namjoon, stop…”

“I think it’s better that I stay here at Hawthorn.”

This decision didn’t come easy. But after hearing that Jackson planned to stick around, he figured he’d stay with him. Help the villagers rebuild. Reconnect with old friends and maybe even his parents. Make this place feel like home again.

It seems like a reasonable idea, but the hardest part is leaving you, the family you brought together, and the shop that became your home. As Namjoon stands before you, he knows he doesn’t deserve any of them. Not you, not the others, not the shop.

“You don’t mean that.” You’re crying now, and even as you wipe your tears, you can’t bring yourself to stop.

In all the years Namjoon has known you, you’ve always been a strong person. You carry an admirable confidence when it comes to your magic. You’re as kind as you are protective of the people you care about. You’re capable of handling yourself when faced with difficult situations.

Before he realizes it, he reaches out to you again. His hand cups your face and his thumb gently strokes your cheek, wiping your tears away. “I’m so scared of hurting you again.”

“And I’m scared to lose you.”

But you’re also human. There are times when you’re not always strong.

It dawns on him that you, like him, are terrified that your magic has hurt him. That you think the reason he wants to stay at Hawthorn is because you attacked him.

“You’ll never lose me,” Namjoon promises. Because he knows, even if you’re far apart, he’ll always think about you. In his dreams, in his thoughts. You’ve already claimed every part of him like a fire. “I love you.”

“Then don’t stay here,” you tell him. “Come home. With me.”

And it strikes Namjoon that this is what he’s been searching for his whole life. All the times he’s tried to return to his family, and all his efforts to understand his magic were to get what you’ve given him all along. Acceptance, trust, love. 

Namjoon nods his head, swallowing back his own tears. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, smiling with relief. And on that beautiful night, with the moon shining brightly and the paper lanterns glowing in the water, he kisses you.

Hawthorn is just as Namjoon remembers it.

The small, farming village with a tight-knit community. Every morning, the villagers rise at the crack of dawn, tending to their animals and crops, fishing by the nearby lake, and selling their produce at the marketplace. His parents still live here, and so do many of his childhood friends and their families. And when he looks around, he sees the familiar buildings of the old windmill, the local church, and homes made of thatch roofs and mud and stone walls.

Even when he was forced away, he couldn’t imagine anywhere else could be his home.

Years later, after finally returning to the village, Namjoon realizes he couldn’t be any more wrong. He had once thought – while trapped in a tiny room in Alterwood Keep – if he ever made it back here, he’d never want to leave. That this place was his village. This place was and will always be his home.

“Ready?” Hoseok asks, looking at you, Namjoon, and Jackson. The three of you nod as all wands are drawn over the necromancer bells.

With the power of four mages, the powers are sealed away and their tempting call to beckon the dead is nearly silenced. They look like ordinary bells, but should anyone try to ring them now, it’d be muffled and mute. Its effect is significantly weak with the magical seal intact, and the bandolier of bells tucked away in Jungkook’s pack.

“Let’s get out of here,” Seokjin decides once the spell is done. His hand slips around your waist protectively, weary eyes double-checking that none of the villagers have seen you guys use magic.

“It was nice seeing you guys again, man,” Jackson says, hand clasping Hoseok before he pulls him into a quick hug. He does the same to Namjoon and adds, “I’m glad you changed your mind. It doesn’t feel right to separate you all for some reason.”

Namjoon smiles a little at that. “Feel free to stop by at the shop anytime, Jackson.”

“I’ll know where to find you.” There’s promise in his voice that he’ll keep in touch.

Your party heads out of the village, receiving final thanks from the mayor and some of the other villagers for your help. Namjoon pauses when he sees his parents among them. His father merely nods at him and says, “Take care of yourself, Namjoon.”

“Thanks. You too,” he replies, a bit stunned. His parents leave it at that, shuffling away as Hoseok calls for him not to fall behind, but for Namjoon, that is more than enough.

When he catches up to you, you’re at the bridge that enters the village. He pauses and takes one more look around at the old windmill, village, and the farmlands. It really hasn’t changed that much since he was a child.

But Hawthorn no longer feels like home to him.

“Ready?” you ask, offering your hand to hold.

Around you, the others state how they’re looking forward to going back to New Haven. Yoongi complains that he needs a bath and a long nap. Jungkook wrinkles his nose at his muddy pants and mutters how he’s eager to start his meticulous laundry routine. Hoseok and Taehyung invite the Oathkeepers for food and drinks at the shop once you’re all back, and Seokjin complains how he’ll end up doing the majority of cooking.

Namjoon smiles fondly as he watches you all. Then, he nods and takes your hand.

These days, home to him is a small, ordinary, and unassuming shop in a bustling trading town. It’s a building that’s much bigger and more extraordinary on the inside than it is on the outside, with a tavern, a parlor, a mysterious door by the entrance that fulfills a person’s greatest desires, and bedrooms on the upper-floor curated to their residents’ tastes and styles.

Lately, home is waking up to bread baking and coffee brewing when Seokjin and Hoseok wake up early to start the day. It’s afternoons when he’s reading a book and listening to Yoongi playing the piano in the parlor, or Taehyung and Jungkook giggling as they play games with each other. Home is evenings when Jimin stops by with a bouquet of flowers for you, and all eight of you are gathered together for dinner as the weariness of the day melts away in each other’s presence.

To him, home is picnics by the river with you, basking beneath the sunlight of a gorgeous day. Home is debating what fruit is the best at the marketplace, and ending up taking home both of your favorites anyway. It’s childishly teasing each other with pranks and mischievous spells, and then finding ways to be in each other’s arms by the end of the day.

Home is with you.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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[thislousytshirt]

Wyll Ravenguard story suggestions

ive heard a lot of people, both fans and non-fans of wyll, say that his storyline is lacking, and i agree. i actually think lae'zel, karlach and wyll just have weaker stories than the other origin characters but ive seen people say they think wylls was neglected because hes the only black character and yeah... i think it has a lot of potential and ive thought about how id rewrite it without removing anything thats there (like completely changing the role of his father or changing wylls character, i tried not to change his character at all but there might be things i overlooked) i tried to come up with content that could feasibly be added to the existing game by larian. anyway heres what id add

-a scene early in act 2 where wyll confesses to the player that what happened with karlach has caused him to question whether mizora has manipulated him to kill other innocents or good people in the past. he summons her to ask (wait, can he summon her? i dont see why not) and she makes light of the question, refusing to answer outright but implying she has. this is upsetting to wyll and causes him to question his role as a hero. (this scene does not happen if karlach was killed or that quest wasnt completed)

-a scene early in act 3 where wyll tries to help a group of refugees but is rejected because one of them can sense his connection with a devil. this sparks a conversation with the player where wyll says hes come to terms with his sacrifice but he isnt made of stone and being rejected by his father and then continuously used by mizora is wearing him down. he then apologizes for being selfish and the player can end the conversation or tell him hes not being selfish and encourage him to talk about what it was like after he was outcast as a teenager. after this he will show frustration with the situation and say hes afraid he will grow to resent the people hes trying to help. the player can say that they value his help or they can encourage him to stand up and defend his own value to other people. (or they can say some dick thing yk)

-after duke ravenguard is rescued hes brought unconcious to the camp. he recovers and is freed from the absolute by the astral prism but is disgusted with wyll like his is in canon and refuses to work with the party or listen to what they have to say. he leaves to go to his house and gather his resources. the party agrees they must go after him before the astral prism's effect wears off (is this how the astral prism works?) the party sneaks into ravenguards house or fights his loyal flaming fists to get to the duke, and pass a persuasion check to allow wyll to talk to his father. it is a DRAMATIC and EMOTIONAL confrontation where wyll tells his father he made a pact to prevent a slaughter, that he has been fighting to save innocents ever since, and that it still hurts that his father believed he had done it for power. wylls father looks conflicted and agrieved - he doesnt want to believe he was so unfair to his own son. wyll tells him that he can disbelieve wyll and hate him if he wants but begs him to work together with him to stop the absolute and save baldurs gate. ravenguard believes him and is remorseful, they hug and everyones tadpoles connect catching the duke up on whats happened. he goes to their camp and becomes an ally like usual

*if the party didnt recruit wyll or he was killed, the duke becomes their ally like in canon and gives them the key to his house so they can use his stuff

*if the persuasion check to get ravenguard to talk to wyll is failed they will have to fight him. after the fight wyll gives him a potion and says his speech like normal. i just think it would be fun and dramatic to have a mini boss fight in there

*if for some reason the player decides not to bring wyll to the confrontation with the duke then they can just persuade the duke through dialogue and tadpole-meld with him but it will not be nearly as satisfying. back at camp wyll will say hes reconciled with his father and thank the player.

*if duke ravenguard is not saved at all then i assume there is a canon dialogue that plays with wyll but i havent seen it so if its as bad as his reunion scene then rewrite that too.

i havent seen like, every scene, i havent even finished act 3 in my playthrough because i have adhd, and ive only seen wylls early romance scenes. so its possible some of the stuff ive touched on is hidden late in act 3 or in the romance but i want it in his main story path and earlier if thats the case. and i have seen the confrontation with his father and i think its super bad.

also - i know rescuing the duke is already very difficult and annoying, and adding extra steps to recruiting him would piss a lot of people off, but its worth it for me to get the confrontation into a setting where lighting and staging can be used to effect, and the effect of wyll having to forcibly enter one of his families properties which he should have been welcome in - it symbolizes him no longer accepting his exile.

anyway tell me what you would have done differently

[81scorp]

Constructive criticism: Raya and Wish (2023)

Ah yes, Raya and the last Dragon and Wish... and a bonus

Raya and the last Dragon

Taking place in the fictional country of Kumandra, based on Southeast Asian culture, the movie follows the warrior princess Raya as she seek the fabled last dragon to save her father and the land of Kumandra from evil spirits that are known as Druun.

Critics gave the film positive reviews; some critics praised the imagery and depth but criticized the limited Southeast Asian representation.

The movie is very good on a technical level, Visually impressive, fun characters and the story is good... until the third act.

It`s message doesn`t really fit into it`s narrative. It tries to fit a square shaped peg into a round hole.

If I could wish upon a star that I could travel back in time and do some changes to the script I would like to make one small change.

Namaari giving her "This is just as much your fault" speech and Raya acting as if she`s right

The biggest downside in this scene is Raya`s reaction to what Namaari says, looking at her own reflection in her sword as if to say: "My god, what have I become?"

How I would do it: Raya and Namaari fight. Raya gets the upperhand, disarms Namaari and is about to strike the final blow... but then she looks at what`s happening around them, the city is falling apart, killing Namaari is not gonna solve this. She drops her sword.

Raya: "My original plan was to steal the gem. It was Sisu who convinced me to talk to you. She believed in you. And for a moment... so did I."

Then she leaves to save what still can be saved of the people of Fang.

Namaari looks at her own reflection in one of her twin swords and has a "My god, what have I become?" moment.

I guess I could stop here, but I want to change one more scene.

Raya giving her gem piece to Namaari

In the scene where they are all in the pit trying to fight the druuns with their gem pieces and Raya realizes that they have to put the pieces together, it would be better if Namaari gave her piece to Raya before she gives her piece to Namaari.

Namaari would then step backwards and let the Druun take her. The others would then give their pieces to Raya, stand next to Namaari and be turned to stone. Raya tries to put the gem back together, nothing happens, she places herself between Namaari and the others (Tong, Boun, Little Noi and the Ongis), puts a hand on Tong`s arm and a hand on Namaari`s shoulder as if to form a bridge between the two. (Symbolism!)

Then the dragongem starts working, everyone gets unstoned, the dragons return, Kumandra is united and everyone`s happy.

The end.

Yes, I know. Raya needed to learn how to trust, but Namaari needed to show that she could be trusted.

Wish (2023)

Disney (the company that owns your childhood) was turning 100 years old and decided to give itself a big pat on the back by making an animated movie that would celebrate it`s legacy.

The film received mixed reviews, with praise directed towards the vocal performances, the animation and references to the wider Disney canon, but criticism levelled at the plotting, songs, and screenplay.

People were disappointed in Wish because it was supposed to be a milestone, the movie made to celebrate that the Disney animation studio has been around for 100 years! It just couldn`t live up to the hype. But if you take all the hype and great expectations out of the equation and just view it, not as this BIG thing it was intended to be, but just as the movie it is, it`s... just OK.

Later when the art book of the movie came out and people saw what could have been, many youtubers decided to do what I have been doing since 2015, and do a little constructive criticism of their own. With so many rewrites of Wish popping up on the internet and my own history of playing script doctor, it only seems logical that I too throw my hat in the ring and submit my own Wish rewrite.

So... if I had a fairy godmother who could Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo me back in time to when this movie was written, this is what I would change.

People willingly giving their wishes to Magnifico

It would have been better if Magnifico took peoples wishes from them without their knowledge. It would have made him a better villain. He could take peoples wishes when they are asleep.

Asha

I`d dial down her quirkiness a little. Personalitywise she could be an ambitious overachiever, a mix between Hermoine and Tiana, with an adorkable side.

Valentino

Does everything he says have to be something comical? I like jokes but not all of them landed. It was like his funniness was mandated. Dial down the number of jokes.

Some of the songs

It`s not that the songs are bad per se, some of them just don`t fit into the scenes where they are used, like "At all cost".

They should either have :

A: Given Julia Michaels more time and let her be more involved in the production. (Howard Ashman was very involved in the making of The Little Mermaid.)

or

B: Hired people experienced in musicals. Maybe the people who wrote the songs for Wicked, Hadestown or Hazbin Hotel?

Magnifico needing a book to be evil

The biggest problem this movie has is that it couldn`t decide if Magnifico should be a redeemable, three dimensional antagonist or a classic Disney Villain, so it did both and the results were underwhelming.

I would have made him a twist villain, but instead of waiting for the third act I would reveal it near the end of the first. He would be a charismatic leader, great at fooling people that he has their best interests at heart. In the end, his paranoia would get the better of him.

To Starboy or not to Starboy, that is the question.

At first I wasn`t gonna bother with the whole Starboy thing since it`s not really an issue. The movie`s biggest problem lies in how they wrote King Magnifico. However, a while ago I saw a video on youtube by ColeyDoesThings who talked about what the movie could have been if they had gone the Starboy route, and she made some compelling arguments. So for this rewrite I`ve decided to go with the Starboy idea.

Starboy`s personality could be a lot like Aladdin, a little bit like Peter Pan with a pinch of Ariel. (Why Ariel? Because similar to her, he wants to be where the people are, he wants to see, wants to see 'em dancin'. You know, all that stuff.) He would be a bit of a contrast to Asha.

I did not change Star becase I thought it was necessary, but because I thought it sounded interesting.

I would also make Hal and Bazeema gay and have them kiss eachother in the end.

Plot

Asha prepares to interview for the job of Magnifico's apprentice on the day of her grandfather Sabino's 100th birthday.

When Asha is around, her mother and Saba put on a happy face for her, when she leaves they become a bit apathetic. This is something that many people in Rosas over the age of 18 (who have had their wishes taken) do.

She leads tourists through the town as she sings about what an amazing place it is and what an awesome king they have in "Welcome to Rosas". She rehearses for her job interview with her friends,

There are three wishes that the king refuses to grant:

Wishes about killing people.

Wishes about making someone fall in in love with someone else.

Wishes about bringing people back from the dead.

If you wish to become a magician you`ll have to become the king`s apprentice (and you don`t have to be 18.)

Queen Amaya shows up and takes Asha to Magnifico. At first it goes a little shaky because she`s nervous but then it goes well and Magnifico thinks she is worthy to be his apprentice.

They sing a duet, but not "At all cost". It is a song about optimism and ambition, about what a great student/mentor team they`ll make. The chorus could go:

Magnifico: "With you as my student!"

Asha: "With you as my guide!"

Both: "Great things will happen with you by my side!"

Something like that.

The interview is over and Asha leaves Magnifico`s study.

She is excited. She gets to work with the king! The most awesome king in the world! She does a dorky little victory dance. Valentino shows up, he snuck into the castle with her. Asha starts chasing him, she doesn`t want him to break something expensive, she really wants this job!

Valentino sneaks in through a door to a big (and probably forbidden) room and knocks down an ancient scroll. Asha picks up the scroll to put it back where it was, then she notices the title: How to remove someone`s wish.

Remove? The king grants wishes, he doesn`t take them!

She tries to convince herself not to read it, it`s not meant for her eyes, it`s classified, but her curiosity gets the better of her. She reads in the scroll that the spell should not be used on people under the age of 18. The individual who has had their wish removed becomes docile and free of aspirations, and in some rare cases, even lethargic (just like Simon). They will feel like something is missing from their life but are not able to put their finger on what.

She refuses to believe this. This can`t be true! Magnifico wouldn`t do something like this! He`s a good king!... Right? There are magical orbs of light floating in the ceiling, she takes a ladder and climbs up so that she can get a better look at them. One of the orbs shows a woman that wishes she could fly, another a woman who wishes to sail the seas, another a man who wishes to climb a muntain, and one of the orbs shows... her Saba! It is true, the king takes peoples wishes from them!

She climbs down, puts the scroll back and leaves the room quietly with Valentino under her arm.

She`s about to leave the castle through the main gate when Magnifico shows up. He tells her that there will be a wish-granting ceremony later that evening and he wants her to be present. Asha is nervous, but not a "OMG! I`m meeting my hero!" kind of nervous, but a "Hope he doesn`t figure out that I went into a forbidden room and saw things I shouldn`t have seen" kind of nervous. He seems not to notice, but at soon as Asha leaves the room we see that he did.

Later that evening there`s a wish-granting ceremony, a woman gets her wish granted, the people cheer for Magnifico and Asha sits there next to the queen, stiff and nervous.

Later that night: Asha tries to tell her family the truth about Magnifico, but they don`t believe her. Distraught, Asha runs away and makes her own wish on a star as she sings "This wish". (Not a bad song, but it could have used better lyrics in some places.)

Starboy appears and surprises Asha who smacks him with her sketch-book. (Meet-cute!)

Magnifico senses Starboy's arrival and sees it as a threat to his power.

Starboy doesn`t really grant wishes per se. He`s only as helpful as giving the means, but it’s up to the wishmaker to put the work in order to have their wish fulfilled.

Starboy's magic brings the forest to life, giving voices to the animals, plants and Valentino. They sing "I`m a star", but with better lyrics. (No "we're all shareholders" or "Get that through your system. Solar!") Asha, Valentino, and Starboy embark on a mission to recover Sabino's wish. She wants to save all the wishes, but if she can only save one she`ll have to focus on Sabino`s.

Tension rises in Rosas, Magnifico makes a public appearence and promises a great reward for any information relating to the strange light phenomenon. This makes Simon react. The residents of Rosas begin questioning his rule for the first time. Magnifico gets uncomfortable, leaves and sings "This is the thanks I get" (But sinister, not upbeat, and no "I let you live here fo free and I don't even charge you rent"). Asha and Starboy takes not only Sabino`s wish but a few other wishes as well and uses Starboy`s cape as a sack.

Asha returns Sabino's wish and he is overjoyed to have his memories back and sings "A wish worth making", playing his lute. They get ready to take the sack with the other wishes and return them to their rightful owners when King Magnifico bursts into the family's home. He has been informed by a mole that Asha was responsible for Starboy's arrival. He crushes Sakina's wish as punishment, rendering her overcome with grief. Starboy tries to defend her and is spotted by Magnifico, who vows to capture him. Asha and her family flee with Starboy. Sakina can barely stand after what Magnifico did to her wish, so Starboy uses his magic to give her the strength to walk. In all the chaos they unfortunately leave the other wishes in their home, Magnifico takes them as his own. Sabino and Sakima hide somewhere safe while Asha goes back to Rosas to free the rest of the wishes.

Later, in Magnifico`s study: Simon enters and feels bad for selling out his friend, King Magnifico tells him that what he did was necessary for the safety of the kingdom and that Asha won`t be hurt. He turns Simon into a knight, not in a public wish-granting ceremony though, but right there in his study.

Later, a brainwashed Simon is walking the streets with the company of other knights, searching for Asha and the rest of her friends. Asha sees him and looks for a place to hide. She finds her friends` hideout, not because of Valentino`s butt, but because of his sense of smell. She rallies the rest of her friends, Queen Amaya shows up and joins them.

Asha and her friends start making a plan.

Later, in King Magnifico`s secret lab: King Magnifico has made a staff, Amaya shows up and tells him what Asha and her friends are planning.

Gasp! Queen Amaya is a villain! (Dun dun dunn!)

She and Magnifico sing an evil duet villain song which is kinda similar to "With you by my side".

Asha`s friends infiltrate Magnifico's study to open up the ceiling and free the wishes while Asha plans to distract Magnifico. She and Starboy hides in the woods, she is nervous, Starboy tries to comfort her, so they talk a little. The talking leads to feelings being revealed which leads to singing. They sing "At all costs" and dance a romantic dance, first on the surface of a lake, then high up in the sky. (Thanks to Starboy`s magic.) Starboy gives Asha a magic wand to use as he leaves to help her friends, he then notices that he is getting weaker. Magnifico arrives, he and Asha fights. Magnifico turns out to be Simon disguised with an illusion and he breaks Asha`s wand, Asha finds a way to knock him out using the environment to her advantage.

Her friends almost free the wishes but are betrayed by Queen Amaya. Starboy tries to stop her but she pulls out a dagger and threatens to kill one of Asha`s friends, Magnifico shows up and zaps Starboy with magical chains that he can`t break free from.

Asha returns to the city, is caught by Magnifico, finds Starboy in magical chains and finds out that Queen Amaya was just a mole. Magnifico darkens the sky with clouds so that the people won`t be able to wish on stars.

Asha (to Magnifico): "I believed in you! I thought you were a good king!"

Magnifico: "I`m not a good king. I`m a GREAT king!"

All hope seems lost, Asha starts to sing the reprise to "This wish", her friends and the people of Rosas join her and their singing makes Starboy strong enough to break free from his chains. The breaking of the chains creates a shockwave that knocks Asha, Amaya and Magnifico off the tower. Starboy, still weakened, only has enough strength to save one of them, so he saves Asha.

With Magnifico defeated, his spell powers down as a new day dawns over the kingdom, with the citizens, Asha's mother included, are able to get their wishes back, afterwards, Asha is soon confronted by a regretful Simon, who understands if she doesn`t want to forgive him, but she does as she understands why he did it.

Starboy keeps getting weaker and has to go back, he gives Asha a new wand and the two of them say good bye. She wonders if she`ll ever see him again, he tells her that he`ll be the second star to the right.

With urging from her friends, Asha promises to help others earn their wishes as a Fairy Godmother, aiding everyone in making their dreams come true.

Post-credit scene: One year later: Asha is walking to the wishing tree in her fairy godmother outfit. She walks past a grave stone. Sabino is sitting in the tree playing "When you wish upon a star" on his lute. A tear rolls down Asha`s cheek. After Sabino has played the song he disappears as if he was a ghost. We see that the grave stone that Asha walked past earlier was Sabino`s. She wipes away her tear, looks up at the second star to the right, takes out her wand and teleports to some place where she might be needed.

And that`s how I would do it. Not great but hopefully not bad.

I cut "Knowing what I know now" because it was getting a little tight between songs. It would be hard to fit that song, Magnifico and Amaya`s villain song and "At all costs" so close to each other, while still maintaining a good narrative flow.

At first I wasn`t gonna turn Queen Amaya evil because I couldn`t come up with enough evil stuff for her to do (that I could fit into the plot without making it worse). But then I made her a villain because it would make things harder for Asha and her friends, which would make the movie more interesting.

But like I said before, the movie`s biggest problem is not that the Queen wasn`t evil, but that the writers couldn`t pick a lane when deciding if they wanted to make Magnifico a three-dimensional antagonist or a classic Disney Villain.

And now... a Bonus

One more thing about Frozen 2

Turning Kristoff`s Lost in the woods into a cheesy 1980s rock ballad musicvideo

I was gonna have this in my Frozen 2 CC but forgot and didn`t remember until after I published it. Since I don`t wanna go back and edit it I`ll write it here.

This scene is admittedly entertaining and if you don`t care about tone as long as it`s entertaining it`s fine.

But funny songs works better for funny characters and what Kristoff is singing about feels sincere, which clashes with how the song is executed.

The 1980s rock sound: Lose it.

The visuals: Have Kristoff walking around in the woods, seeing things that, to him, looks like Anna: a pile of rocks, a pile of leaves, a cloud in the sky. Stuff like that.

Probably an unpopular opinion.

It is of course very easy for me to write these because I have the luxury of hindsight. And unlike the filmmakers I didn`t have a movie studio full of corporate suits breathing down my neck, focus grouping the movie to death, forcing in unnecessary changes and pressuring me to get it made before a deadline.

Why do I write these?

For several reasons. I`m nitpicky. Sometimes the movies I criticize aren`t bad, I just like my own ideas better. Sometimes the movies I critize are bad. I care about good storytelling and it`s a fun excerize in creativity and script doctoring.

But also because I have a lot of of free time.

---------------------------------------------

Other movies on my Constructive Criticism list that you can look forward to

Supergirl (1984) Jonah Hex (2010) Dragonball evolution The Spirit (2008) The Dark Knight trilogy

And as usual: English is not my first language, so if my writing doesn`t seem to flow naturally, you know why.

[fablesrose]

Ch 11 - The Ice Man Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: With Sophie gone to find herself, the crew is out a grifter. This leads to Hardison getting a little cocky when clearing their client's name from a diamond theft.

Words: 7077

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room felt a bit empty with Sophie gone; I could tell Parker felt the same as she shifted across the couch, trying to fill the space during the briefing. Hardison stood at the front of the room telling us about Jim Kerrity who was in charge of Kerrity Diamonds. In his four years of being in charge, he’s run the business into the ground by living beyond his means with addictions and party expenditures. 

Eventually Hardison was getting annoyed with Parker’s shifting, “What? Why? What are you doing?” He asked her. 

“What?” She replied. 

“It’s distracting,” Eliot exclaimed. 

“The couch is feeling a little empty,” she explained, her voice a little distressed. 

“Eliot, sit next to Parker,” Nate said. 

“No, I’m sitting here!”

I turned to Parker from my curled up position on the edge, “I can try to spread out a bit, would that help?”

Her face scrunched in a frown, trying to think.

“Guys, guys,” Nate interjected, “We all miss Sophie, I… We just have to adapt.”

“I got this,” Hardison said, walking towards Parker, “Move, go. Bye, go.” He motioned for her to scootch to the center of the couch and sat next to her. “You happy?” He asked, only continuing in the briefing once she nodded. 

“Kerrity’s finances are a mess. Maxed out, maxed out, overdrawn,” Hardison explained. “According to the insurance claim, he stands to gain nine million from the armored car robbery.”

“A guy like this gets in over his head and the insurance policy starts to look attractive,” Nate summed up. 

“Hires a couple of thugs, knocks off his own truck,” Eliot said. 

“It’s a sweet payout, too,” Hardison admitted. “He gets the insurance claim, plus he still has the diamonds.”

“Mmhmm, and honest people like Joey take the heat,” Eliot finished. 

“The thing about this that people don’t understand is insurance fraud, it’s a lot of red tape,” Nate explained, “and with a big claim like this it’ll take a year before Kerrity sees any money. Bill collectors are not gonna wait around.”

“He’s gotta fence the diamonds,” Eliot said. 

“He can’t,” Parker stated. 

“What?” I asked, everything moving a bit fast. 

“His diamonds are GIA certified VVS clarity, all about two carats,” Parker rattles off, stealing the remote from Hardison. 

“That’s my clicker,” Hardison pointed out, annoyed. 

“Who stole the Polar Star?” Parker asked, raising her hand, “Who stole the Gem of Gibraltar? Damiani Raid? Me. I know diamonds, and our bad guy can’t fence those diamonds because stones that size have an ID number laser-inscribed on them.”

The screen zoomed in on a diamond to show this tiny ID number etched into the side, proving her point. 

“Like a stolen car. You’ve gotta clean the VIN before you sell ‘em,” Eliot concluded. 

 “How do you get that ID off?” I asked. 

“With a special laser,” Parker answered, “But only three guys can do it. Antwerp, Dubai, Tel Aviv.” 

“And as of right now, Boston. Right?” Nate said, standing in front of us. “Kerrity has to move his diamonds, so we convince him that we’re the only people who can make them clean enough to move.”

“Get them to bring the diamonds to us,” Hardison said. 

“And when he shows up, uh…” Nate paused, “Oh, Hardison, can you put the crime scene photos…?”

Hardison took the clicker remote back from Parker and put the photos up. The photo showed our client, Joey, sitting in the armored truck with a paramedic tending to his wounded shoulder. There was a man standing to the side talking to him, a notebook in hand.

“State police guy, Lieutenant Bonanno,” Eliot introduced the man.

“Yeah. So we drop Kerrity on his lap with the stolen diamonds,” Nate explained, “Lieutenant Bonanno drops the hammer. Our guy gets cleared, gets his job back.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t mean to stop the fun train,” Eliot interjected. “We’re out a grifter here.”

“I know who we can call,” Parker volunteered. 

“Now, we’re not gonna call Sophie,” Nate disagreed. “No, she has asked for space, and we’re gonna honor that. No. Hardison, Y/n, you are gonna be our grifters.”

Hardison leaned forward with a smile, “I’m listening.”

“What? No.” Eliot shook his head in disbelief. 

“Is it too late for me to pretend like I don’t know about,” I waved my hands around the room, “this whole operation?”

“Yes,” Nate answered me and Eliot at the same time, “Parker, you’ll be the roper.”

“What?” She asked puzzledly.

“Cute dress, heels, you’ll be fine.”

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” Parker whispered to herself. 

I looked at her and could feel the anxiety rolling off of her. I nudged her shoulder to catch her attention. Once she looked at me, I nodded reassuringly at her, “We’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. You’re not alone, we’ll help each other.”

She nodded a bit more firmly, but I could tell she was still anxious. 

“Eliot, you’ll be the muscle,” Nate continued. 

A little while later, I found Parker hiding under the counter, talking to someone on the phone. I stood in the kitchen, quietly listening. It didn’t take long to figure out that she was talking to Sophie as Parker explained the situation to her. 

“I will not be fine,” she exclaimed, “I stabbed that guy with a fork!”

Well, I didn’t know that little detail. 

“Parker, Parker, relax” Sophie soothed, her voice softly coming through the phone, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s fine. Listen. Go to Nate’s storage cupboard and you're gonna find a sexy little mini-dress and my emergency Jimmy Choos.”

“Jimmy who? You have a body in Nate’s closet?”

“Shoes, Parker. Didn’t I teach you any...? Alright listen, this is the important bit. Do you still have the Rosalind Diamond you stole in Perth?”

“Yes,” she answered. 

I huffed out a breath, I really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Wear it. The diamond will speak for you. You won’t have to say a word,” Sophie said. “This is the key to the grift. You just trust the character. Say nothing. Trust the diamond.”

“I can do that,” Parker relented. “Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“I won’t,” she reassured. 

Parker caught my eye as she crawled out from under the counter. I motioned that my lips were sealed which helped her relax a little bit. Now to see if Sophie’s advice proved successful.

Parker was able to keep her cool and lead Kerrity to the back of the bar where Hardison, Eliot, and I were waiting, playing pool. 

“No,” Hardison slammed his cue on the table once he saw them turning the corner. “Come here, what have I said? What have I said about new people, huh?”

I raised my eyebrow at Eliot at Hardison’s attitude and accent. He just rolled his eyes in response before he slammed Kerrity into the pool table.

“Hey, it's okay,” Parker said, “This guy works in diamonds. He wants to talk business or something.”

“Alright,” Hardison relented. “Lay the arms down brother. He’s cool.”

Eliot let him up with a shove. 

“You’ll have to excuse my bodyguard. He’s touchy. It’s ‘cuz he’s a mute. Alright?”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at Eliot’s pissed off expression. 

“Yeah, well, my bodyguards don’t talk much either,” Kerrity responded, as three intimidating looking men entered the area.

“Well, looks like we found our armored car robbers,” Nate said through comms.  

I hummed quietly, noting the conclusion. 

Some dominance had to be established, some control. Hardison and Eliot saw it too, and after a look was shared, Eliot got one of the so-called ‘bodyguards’ into an arm lock behind his back, using him as a shield when another guard had drawn a gun.

“Going to shoot through your own man?” I asked the one with the gun. He had a look in his eye that said he was seriously considering it. 

His eyes flicked to me, a look of recognition noting that I was in play. “To be honest with you, I never liked him,” he said in a noticeable Russian accent. 

“Legit,” Hardison said. “Goon squad and all, isn’t it? Stand down.”

There was a tense beat before the Russian lowered his weapon. I stepped around the pool table and placed a hand on Eliot’s shoulder right as he released the man he was holding. My hand slid off as I stepped past him, perching myself on the table, placing myself more front and center. 

“Jim Kerrity,” he introduced himself. 

“You’re Jim Kerrity? Kerrity Diamonds?” Hardison asked. “Brother, you got it all last week.”

“The heist. Yes, that was me.”

“So, did you use these fellas here, or hire out?” I asked, making a show of examining my nails. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Eliot had closed the gap, ready to step in front of me if necessary. 

“We’re in the business, Jimmy boy. I can smell an inside job,” Hardison explained.

“So what do you do in the business, Mr…?”

 “I’m a thief.They call me… The Ice Man,” Hardison said with a smug smile. 

I rolled my eyes just as Nate repeated the name questioningly. 

“No, Hardison, you have to have a light touch. Undersell,” Nate said. 

“What kind of thief calls themselves a thief?” Kerrity asked. 

“An arrogant one,” I responded. I offered my hand to Kerrity, which he took just the fingers, and turned it with a slight bow of his head.

“Doesn’t matter, I have the reputation to prove it,” Hardison rebutted, annoyedly. “This is my assistant-”

“Annaka,” I cut in, “and I prefer ‘his more subtle associate.’”

Kerrity smiled, looking me up and down, “I don’t suppose you have a boyfriend, do you?”

Eliot took a half step forward, giving Kerrity the hint to back up. I simply gave him a tight smile, not answering his question. I did dress up a little bit, a blouse and nice pants. I wanted to look nice, but professional. The fact that he still felt the need to comment and shoot his shot made my skin crawl a bit.

“I’m sure you’ve seen my work in Perth. The Polar Star? Nicked it.The Gem of Gibraltar? Nicked it,” Hardison bragged, which pulled the attention back to himself. 

I looked to Parker who started to pace behind him as he continued to use her thefts for his reputation. 

“Then I shouldn’t be seen talking to you,” Kerrity concluded. 

“Right, right, right. Cause two criminals can’t talk business while shootin’ pool. Bitch of it is nickin’ ‘em’s butter…” Hardison trailed off. 

“Moving them is the issue,” I finished, “I’m sure you know something about that.”

“Yes, especially with those inscribed ID numbers,” Kerrity agreed. 

“There are ways around that,” I commented. 

“I got this laser, see,” Hardison continued, “Only one in the country, mind you. This thing, I had to bring over piece by soddin’ piece from Turkmenistan. It can scrub and ID clean off any diamond. Re-virginized.”

“And what kind of fee do you charge for such a service?” Kerrity asked. 

“Thirty percent,” Hardison answered. 

“Five percent.”

“Thirty percent,” Hardison reiterated.

“No way in hell.”

“That’s the discounted rate, brother. Cause anything lower than that is an insulted rate, cause it's an insult to me, savvy?”

I jumped in to even out the tension, “You said it yourself, Kerrity, it’s a very specialized service. If you can somehow transport your diamonds elsewhere, get someone else to do it, be our guest.” I slid off the pool table and returned to my spot on the end, grabbing my pool cue, “I will say, good luck executing that, let alone getting a better rate.” I began to rechalk my cue, not trusting myself to take a shot just yet. 

“You, uh, you ring me when you wisen up, hear?” Hardison said, writing his phone number on a napkin. 

Kerrity looked at the napkin for a moment before throwing it on the table, “Thanks, but no thanks, brother.” He swiftly walked away. 

The Russian walked up and grabbed the napkin carefully before walking away, following Kerrity. 

I let out a sigh in relief once they were gone. I finally leaned down and took a shot, hissing when the ball glanced off a corner, just out of the pocket. 

“Close,” Eliot commented before taking his own shot, sinking it easily, and moving on to the next one. 

“Why do I even bother?” I asked myself.

Eliot stepped up next to me, “You’ve gotta start somewhere, we’ll just have to practice more in the pub.”

“Hey,” Hardison cut in, “You can’t talk, remember?”

“Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot exclaimed, continuing to shoot pool, finishing the game quickly. He continued to berate him saying that it was stupid. 

As he shot each ball in, one after the other, I couldn’t help but focus on how he’d said that we should practice. The fact he wanted to do it together warmed my heart a little bit. As I started to imagine it, I couldn’t stop the image of Eliot looking at Mikel from the last job popping into my head. The image of Eliot’s blush when Mikel brought out handcuffs flashed before I fought it down. It shouldn’t have bothered me, it was none of my business. We were coworkers, friends at best. Still, I could enjoy the feelings he gave me and the moments we had together. 

Once Eliot sunk his last shot, he left the bar. I helped clean up before the rest of us followed him.’

“Ice Man?” Eliot asked Hardison once we got back to Nate’s apartment. 

“Hey, I put a lot of work into that character,” Hardison defended. “No, no, no, I bought new clothes, ugly as hell, too.”

“You got that right,” I whispered to Parker and she smiled at me. 

“This always happens when you go on the grift, Hardison,” Eliot said, “you go way too big.”

“You have to have some subtlety,” I commented.

“Yeah, Sophie told me to say as little as possible,” Parker explained, “let the character do the work.”

“When did, uh, Sophie say that?” Nate asked, walking down the stairs into the common area of the apartment. 

“A long time ago,” Parker said quickly, “maybe last Christmas. I don’t even think it was Sophie.”

Nate wasn’t quite convinced, but moved on anyway, straightening his tie, “I’m gonna go put more pressure on Kerrity. I want you guys to be on the clear-out. Ice Man, play it cool. That’s just an awful, awful name.”

“Genius,” Hardison tried to correct in his character’s accent.

“See?” Eliot said. “When you get in too deep on this, I ain’t bailin’ your ass out.”

“I don’t need you to bail me out. I’m the Ice Man.”

“Not. Gonna. Help.” Eliot emphasized again. 

I laughed at their expressions, clearly annoyed at each other. “Well, what’s done is done. Let’s just hope we can still pull this off. Even with Hardison’s accent,” I continued to laugh at myself as I retreated to my apartment.

It didn’t take long after Nate put some pressure on Kerrity as an insurance guy that Kerrity called Hardison to set up a meeting to see the laser at work. Parker, Eliot, and I drove to the lab where we were going to ‘borrow’ a laser.

Once we pulled up, Eliot was on the phone with someone, but Parker and I could only hear his side of the conversation: “I know. He’s driving me crazy. How, huh? I’m back up, they can’t rely on me. Alright, alright. Hey… thanks. Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“Who was that?” Parker asked. 

Eliot hesitated, “Cable company.”

Parker and I shared a look before I handed her the duffle bag from Eliot’s truck bed and sent them into the lab. Parker and Eliot went in and cleared out the lab with a chemical exposure evacuation, leaving it empty for our purposes. They set up a camera so Nate could see what was going on, and got ready for Kerrity’s arrival. 

I stayed in the parking lot waiting for Kerrity to pull in. I timed my approach into the building to run into him and walk him into the lab. 

“Mr. Kerrity, so glad you could make it,” I said, meeting him just before the door.

He opened the door for me, “Pleasure is mine, Ms. Annaka.”

I led him and the Russian he brought with him through the hallways to the lab where Parker and Eliot were waiting. 

“Where is Mr. Ice?” Kerrity asked once we stepped inside. 

“He’s late,” Parker responded, “He’s always late.”

There was a roar of an engine outside. We all glanced out and watched as Hardison pulled up in a red Ferrari.

“Hmm. Subtle,” Kerrity commented. 

“While he walks in,” I said, “May I see the stone?”

Kerrity presented the diamond, “Two carats. Very few flaws, my salesman said.”

I pulled out a jewelry loupe, a type of mini magnifying glass, that I picked up somewhere and examined the stone. I found the ID number, though it was still too small to quite read it. I commented that I found it and examined the body of the stone. I had little to no idea what I was looking for, but I figured he didn’t either. 

I finally looked up at him, “It’s a good stone, Mr. Kerrity. It should do nicely.”

Just as I had said so, Hardison walked into the lab with smug grandeur, “The Ice Man cometh.” He gestured to the machine on the table, “Let me introduce you to my laser, Glinda. You see, I found that laser fluences below the diamond graphitization threshold are most effective. Wouldn’t you say?”

Eliot and I made eye contact and shook our heads when Kerrity and the Russian weren’t looking. He was doing too much.

“Yeah,” Kerrity hesitantly agreed. Clearly not knowing what the heck he said, like the rest of us. 

“The diamond?” Hardison asked.

Kerrity gestured to me as I handed the stone over to Hardison. I was tempted to make an ‘oops, I lost it’ joke, but knew that wasn’t wise, for both the tension and the character. 

Hardison examined it, “She’s a beaut. Sheila, get me a pop.” He didn’t even look at Parker when he asked which I could tell she didn’t appreciate, even through her hard neutral expression. 

“Because this will be classified IF, an internally flawless two-carat round cut diamond, it should be easy to oblate,” Hardison continued, placing the diamond in place for the laser. 

Parker was out grabbing a cubic zirconia from a neighboring lab to replace the diamond while grabbing that pop. 

“How is this gonna fool him?” She asked Nate.

“He’s not looking at the diamond, he’s looking at the ID number,” he responded. 

“ID numbers are etched at a depth between five and seven microns,” Hardison explained while the laser ran around the diamond. “Using nanoblation, the UV laser pulses irradiate the etching.”

Parker walked in then with an open can of pop and handed it to Hardison. 

“Thank you, sweets.”

Kerrity turned to me, “I haven’t seen you contribute much to this partnership.”

I smiled softly, nodding towards Hardison, “He likes to show off in front of new clients, I don’t mind being more behind the scenes.”

He hummed curiously before turning back to Hardison who was taking the diamond out of the machine. I saw Hardison’s switch of the diamond for the cubic zirconia, only because I was looking for it. He handed the fake stone over to Kerrity to examine. Kerrity took it and looked it over with his own loupe. 

There was a tense moment when Kerrity looked at Hardison before he said, “It’s like it was never there.”

“I could do the rest in a day, but I’m only here for another week. I’ve got a thing in Antwerp.” 

“Alright,” Kerrity said, “let’s, uh, let’s do it tomorrow?”

“Done.”

“Excellent. Mr. Ice, Ms. Annaka.” Kerrity then left the lab with his Russian companion close behind. 

“Alright, nice work guys,” Nate said through comms. “Tomorrow, when he shows up with the diamonds, the state police will be there.”

“Why, so they can arrest Hardison’s ego?” Eliot asked as we exited the building. 

“They better bring some extra large handcuffs,” I laughed. 

“Be cool, baby. Ice cool,” Hardison replied. “Hey, who wants to go for a spin?”

“Can’t believe you rented a Ferrari,” Eliot said. 

“Rented?”

“I’ll get a ride home with Eliot,” Parker said. 

“Maybe some other time, Hardison,” I responded, “I’m kinda tired, gonna lay down in Eliot’s back seat.”

Hardison scoffed, “Y’all are just jealous,” but we were already crossing the parking lot. 

I did just what I said I was going to when I crawled in the back seat, leaving Parker and Eliot up front. I had to curl up a bit, but it was decently comfortable on the worn seat, making it soft.

“Hey, you alright?” Eliot asked once he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, I think I was just stressed, and now that this is almost over-” I yawned, “I’m just a bit tired is all.”

Eliot adjusted his rear view mirror a touch so he could make eye contact with me through it, “Well, ya did good. You deserve some rest.” I could feel the sincerity, even through the mirror and sunglasses he was wearing. I smiled and nodded at him, silently thanking him. 

Parker then turned and reached a hand towards me which I took with a squeeze, “Yeah, look at us, being grifters. I didn’t even stab anyone!”

“I’m proud of us, Parker,” I said, squeezing her hand one more time before taking my hand back and curling it next to me. My eyes then closed of their own accord, the steady hum of the engine lulling me, if not asleep, away from active wakefulness. 

Eventually we got back to the pub and Nate and I’s apartments. I slightly stirred when Eliot turned his truck off, but I couldn’t quite wake myself up until he placed a hand on my shoulder, calling my name. His hand was warm, the gentle movement slowly pulled me out of the slumber I had slipped into. I admit I was slow to move, but Eliot and Parker were patient with me until I got to my door. I trudged through my entry way to my couch, my limbs were heavy, as if I had been physically working all day for the past week. I must have been tense, holding all the stress in my body, for the past two days, trying to be natural and convince Kerrity of our legitimateness. 

Oh the irony.

I collapsed on the cushions, letting out a sigh in relief. If all went to plan, tomorrow I wouldn’t even have to play a character. It would all be in the police’s hands then. 

It didn’t seem like I was out for very long when Parker was standing above me, practically dragging me off my couch. 

“Did I forget to lock my door?” I asked, still waking up.

“No,” she responded simply. 

“What’s going on?”

“Hardison got kidnapped by the Russians.”

“Oh.”

We walked through the door to find Eliot angrily shoving an earbud in place, “Tell Hardison if he makes it out alive, I’m gonna snap him in half.”

“Uh, Eliot says hi,” Nate said, apparently into the comms to Hardison. “So what’s the plan there, Ice Man?”

I pulled my own earbud from my pocket and put it in, just in time to hear Hardison explain it, somewhat tactfully in the midst of… company. 

“Just so I’m clear, you want me to help break into Kerrity’s vault and steal his diamonds?”

“Oh, beautiful,” Nate commented. 

“So, what you’re sayin’ is we’re gonna explode through the ceiling of a tunnel, use a det cord and climb into the vault through the floor?”

“Det cord,” Eliot honed in. “That’s how they blew the armored truck.”

“Exploding through the floor will set the sensor off,” Parker said. “Tunnel’s a terrible way in.”

“Hardison, you’re gonna tell ‘em their plan won’t work,” Nate said. 

“Tunnel is a horrible way in,” Parker reemphasized. 

“I heard you Parker.”

We listened as Hardison relayed the news, which didn’t seem to go over well with the Russians to the point where Hardison had to commit to getting them in the vault. 

“Oh, yes. Of course you will,” Nate said, “Now listen. Hardison, you’re gonna have to figure out a way to buy some time so we can get you outta this. Yeah, get busy.” Nate then took his earpiece out with frustration. 

Nate was typing on Hardison’s computer for a little bit before he eventually said, “Guys, guys, I can’t make any sense of Hardison’s files.”

I gestured to it, pulling the computer a bit closer to me, sorting through files to see if there was anything I recognized. 

“Do you think you can…?” Nate asked me. 

I shook my head, “No idea, probably not.” I had helped Hardison out with some of his technical stuff a time or two, but he did most of the heavy lifting.

“You can’t track him,” Eliot pointed out, “he’s the one that does the tracking.”

“Well maybe he left it on,” Nate hoped. 

“Unlikely,” I said, sorting through more files, all of them encrypted. 

“What if we tell him to make a run for it?” Parker suggested. 

“They’ll kill him,” Eliot answered.

“Well, if he goes along with their plan, they’ll get arrested,” Parker pointed out. 

“We gotta find another way for Hardison to break in,” Nate concluded. 

“We need a closer look at the vault,” Parker said. 

“I’m working on it,” Nate said. 

Parker held a small can to us, “Hairspray, you’ll need this.”

“Let me ask you a question, man,” Eliot said. “If Hardison helps these Russians steal the evidence, how are we gonna prove Kerrity set up the robbery?”

“I’m working on it,” Nate stuttered. He gathered his clipboard and papers needed for his insurance agent persona. Parker handed him the can of hairspray; Nate took it and waved at us, “Do not call Sophie.” Nate then dashed out of the apartment, supposedly to Kerrity’s shop. 

I worked for a little bit longer on Hardison’s laptop, trying to find anything that could help, but  every time I thought I was close to cracking into something useful, I hit a dead end. I sighed, I would have to have Hardison teach me some of this stuff with his systems in case something like this happened again. When I was just about to give up, Nate got to Kerrity’s shop, and a notification popped up that a connected camera was in use. I cast the video onto the large screen in the living room so we could see what he was doing. 

Nate had a camera pen directed at Kerrity’s vault to gain more information, mostly for Parker, and for Hardison to relay to the Russians to pretend he knew what he was doing. 

“RGB keypad, let me see,” Parker said, “Move the camera to the left… No, vault left. Alright, then you have to do this my way. Remove the sensor while keeping the magnetic field intact. You are going to need a four inch by four inch aluminum plate, double sided tape, and a phillips head screwdriver.”

I slumped into the couch, watching Parker analyze the vault and listening to Hardison relay the information to the Russians. Eliot stood next to Parker, his focus as sharp as ever. The truth of the matter was, everyone here knew at least something that might help Hardison, but I was still stuck dead in the water. I watched, trying to learn.

Kerrity kept listing more safety features inside the vault: pressure sensitive tiles, two cameras monitored by a twenty four hour guard and Kerrity himself, seismic sensor, heat sensors, and motion sensors. This was becoming more and more difficult by the minute. 

“Hardison’s not gonna be able to do anything if the heat sensors are on,” Eliot said. 

“Nate, use the hairspray,” Parker instructed. “It creates a film that blocks the heat.”

Nate distracted Kerrity long enough to follow through. Then Kerrity told Nate about the security fog that fills the room after the alarm goes off; this fog makes visibility zero. To make matters worse, it would be triggered by any one of the other sensors.

“How bad is it?” Nate asked quietly once Kerrity was out of earshot. 

“There’s no way Hardison’s gonna be able to break into that vault,” Parker said matter-of-factly. 

“What is Hardison going to do?” Hardison asked, without the accent, so he must be away from the Russians. 

“Hardison is going to pretend to break into the vault,” Nate said. 

“Well, hopefully the Russians will only pretend to kill him,” Eliot replied. 

“No one’s getting killed,” Nate assured. “We’re gonna break in for him.”

The three of us just sat staring at each other, lost in our own thoughts, waiting for Nate to get back to explain what he was thinking. I could see the wheels turning in Parker’s head, going through all the steps to break into the vault. Eliot had a tenseness about him, whether that be anger or concern, I couldn’t tell. 

“We’re gonna do this quick and dirty,” Nate said once he got back. “You guys break into the vault before Hardison does, so the Russians think that he’s doing it.”

“Why not?” Parker said. “He’s been taking credit for my work all day anyway.”

“Then Hardison will lead the Russians into the vault a few paces behind him,” Nate concluded. 

“Hey, I got something,” Parker said after messing with Hardison’s clicker. The screen showed the security camera feed to the front of Kerrity’s store. Kerrity was showing a fancily dressed woman around his store along with all of the jewelry in the cases. 

“Hardison must have hacked into the security feed before he left,” Eliot said. 

“Well, well. I’m just gonna have to keep Kerrity out of his own vault,” Nate said, staring at the screen. 

We all then loaded up to go save Hardison. 

Once we arrived, Nate knocked on the door of the shop first. Kerrity quickly dismissed the woman with him, saying that he would meet up with her later, and let Nate in.

“This had better be important,” Kerrity said when he opened the door. 

“Yeah. Can we talk somewhere private?” Nate asked, stepping into the shop.

I then walked in, just catching the door before they went to his back office. 

Kerrity was surprised to see me, “Annaka?”

I smiled, obviously flicking my eyes between him and Nate. “Hello, Mr. Kerrity,” I said cautiously. 

He caught the hint, “This is Mr. Sterling with the insurance company, he came to discuss something with me.”

“I hope I’m not hindering something here,” Nate said as he shook my hand with a sickly sweet salesman voice that he’s been using. 

I shook my head, “Not at all.” I looked to Kerrity, “I don’t mind waiting, finish your business with Mr. Sterling.”

He nodded and brought Nate into his office.

Eliot was at the door just as they turned the corner in an armored truck company uniform with a cart. The guard buzzed him in just as I got to the door to open it for him. The guard came down with some paperwork for Eliot, assuming he was there for delivery. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispered to me as I held the door open for him to walk through more easily. He then turned to the guard, “Yo, yo. Late night man. Is there a register I’m supposed to look at?” Eliot was there at the dest with the guard by then and quickly knocked him out. “Sorry, buddy,” he said as he walked by.

I walked to Eliot and the guard, helping tuck him out of sight and out of the way for the rest of the night. 

“Okay Parker, you’re clear,” Eliot told her through comms, “come on down.”

She had perched herself on a ledge next to the security camera facing the street, holding a photo of an armored truck on the street for the guard’s benefit. I could almost feel her joy as she came down with her rig. I quickly let her in so she could get to the vault. I then stationed myself in the security room watching the cameras. I was out of sight and out of the way for the essential gears of the operation, but still in the shop if I needed to lend a hand somewhere, namely keeping Kerrity busy.

Nate was talking to Kerrity about his insurance policy and discrepancies that may deny his claim, trying to keep him occupied for as long as he could. So far, he was successful. Hopefully he could keep it up. 

Meanwhile, Parker was working on the vault, getting it cracked and ready for Hardison. 

“This will hold them together,” she said softly as she placed the aluminum plates on the vault. 

“Electric’s faster,” Eliot said as he handed her a screwdriver. 

“Vibrations will set off the seismic sensor,” she replied simply. 

Eliot shook his head and returned to the front of the store. 

Parker continued to work on the vault with quick efficiency. It was interesting to watch through the camera as there was no hesitation in any of her movements. 

It didn’t take as long as I had hoped for movement on the outside camera to catch my attention. A big black van pulled up in front with Hardison and the Russians hopping out of it. 

“Here they come,” I said.

Hardison reiterated it with his own quiet announcement, “Eliot, approaching the building. Approaching the building.” He then switched to his accent for the Russians, “Wait here, right? Gotta handle the initial break-in myself. Too many cooks and all.”

Eliot buzzed Hardison in when he banged on the door. They then proceeded to act out Hardison beating up Eliot. I winced, but was impressed at how realistic it looked when Eliot threw himself to the ground. Hardison continued to ‘punch’ Eliot for an extended amount of time while the two argued. 

“Next time,” Eliot said, “I’m playing the thief!”

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Hardison said. 

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Eliot replied.

“I went to Second City in Chicago.”

“You find time between that and karate at the Y?”

“You know what? Just shut up. Shut up.”

“Shut up,  guys,” Parker said calmly, trying to concentrate on the vault. 

She was able to get in when Hardison and Eliot finished their act, Eliot acting unconscious and Hardison letting in the Russians. Nate continued to distract Kerrity, shifting to his second point, the bribe. So far, so good. 

Eliot joined me in the security room and watched as Parker hung on the inside of the door and leapt to a bar or pipe on the ceiling, preventing her from touching the floor and triggering the pressure tiles. 

“Stuck it,” Eliot commented in praise. 

“Indeed,” I agreed, impressed. 

Hardison made his way to the vault, making a bit of a show of taking steps to crack the vault. He put a stethoscope to the vault door to ‘pick’ the vault combo.

“Parker wrote the combination in invisible ink on the door next to you,” Eliot told Hardison. “She’s in there, but she hasn’t deactivated the floor yet.”

“So take your time on the tumblers. Take it slow,” I said. 

He was able to delay a bit by talking to the Russians. “Sorry?” He asked when the leader spoke up. 

“I said you’re really everything you claimed,” the Russian repeated. 

Hardison shrugged, “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are,” the Russian laughed. “I’m sorry, just a saying. English, very tricky.”

Hardison went back to the tumblers. 

“Hardison, slow down. You’re breezing through that combo, like, way too fast,” Eliot said. “Parker, what’s your ETA?”

“Not ready yet. Floor is still hot,” she replied. 

Eliot and I shared a concerned look. 

“Nate, our timing’s not gonna work out,” Eliot said.

Nate, of course, couldn’t answer as he was still keeping Kerrity busy. That was quickly reaching its end though as Kerrity wasn’t taking the bribing narrative that Nate was selling. 

“Parker, get a move on. Nate and Hardison are way ahead of you,” Eliot said. 

“The floor is clear.”

“Nate, Parker is still in the vault.”

The Russians were pressing Hardison to get in the vault, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of stalling. 

“I need sixty seconds,” Parker said.

“Well, can you turn invisible in sixty seconds? Cause they’re bustin’ in there,” Eliot replied. 

“I’m gonna go slow Hardison down, buy her some time,” I said, walking out of the security room. 

“Y/n-” Eliot tried to say, but I was already gone. 

I walked the hallway towards the vault until the Russians and Hardison came into view. Hardison was just about to open the door when I called, “Ice!”

The four of them turned to me, the Russians clearly not happy. I suddenly took a hard swallow, I might not have thought this through. 

“Annaka? What are you doin’ here?” Hardison asked, looking a bit relieved at the distraction.

“You think I wouldn’t find you? We had a plan when it came to situations such as these, you are undermining your reputation from a business perspective! Who is going to work with us now if you just keep stealing their stuff?” I said it all quickly and with exasperation. I could hear my own nervousness, and I hoped that the distance I kept between myself and the Russians wasn’t too suspicious. 

“I’m sorry, hun,” Hardison said, “But this was an offer I couldn’t refuse, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” the Russian said, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a job to do.”

They turned back towards the door and away from me.

“Parker?” I whispered, not sure how else to hold them. 

“I’m clear,” she said. 

“Fine!” I said to the men in front of me, ready to make my leave, “But I want nothing to do with it!” I then turned on my heel and left the room, hearing the vault open behind me.

I heard Hardison say, “Don’t worry ‘bout her. She won’t do nothin’. Let’s get this done.” 

I went back to the security room where Eliot was watching the security feeds tensely. “How’s it going?” I asked once I stood next to him.

“Fine, thanks to you,” he said, “But that was reckless. Those Russians could have done somethin’ to you, could have killed you.”

I let out a shaky breath, “Yeah, I realized that once I got there.”

Our work here was done, so Eliot and I made our way out of the shop into the tunnel below for the final escape. 

“Guys, uh, Kerrity is on his way down there,” Nate said when he wasn’t able to hold him in his office any longer. 

Hardison was able to distract the Russians with Kerrity’s arrival long enough for Hardison to slip into Parker’s hiding spot, one of the large lock boxes. Parker blew a hole in the floor, dropping the two of them into the tunnel below where Eliot and I were waiting. This, coincidentally, also set off the seismic sensor and the security system. Who knew?

“Det cord,” Eliot explained simply to Hardison as we helped them up from the floor. 

We then made our way out of the tunnel to fresh air and freedom. Nate was waiting for us at the end of it.

“Thought we couldn’t use this tunnel,” Hardison said once we were out.

“Tunnel’s a horrible way in,” Nate replied, “but it’s a great way out.”

Once we were back, we reviewed what happened through the video feed Hardison had hacked. Hardison left the lock box with the diamonds tactfully open for when the police came to respond to the tripped alarm. This helped Lieutenant Bonanno find them; and with Kerrity reporting that his loose diamonds were stolen, this might as well have been an open and shut case. The matching ID numbers would just be the nails in the coffin. 

We were able to clear our client’s name and score him some cash from the swiped diamond we got after lasering off the ID number. As usual, this called for a celebration in the pub while Nate shared the good news with the client. 

Parker, Eliot, Hardison, and I all sat at the corner of the bar, it becoming a usual spot. Hardison turned back to the bar laughing after seeing the happy look on our client’s face.

“What are you smilin’ at?” Eliot asked. “You still screwed it up.”

“I’m smiling cause you said if I got in trouble, you wouldn’t help me,” he responded. 

“Parker made me,” Eliot excused. 

“No, I didn’t,” she denied. 

“Come on, man. Let’s hug it out,” Hardison said.

“I’m not hugging it out, Ice Man.”

“Just hug it… Just a little man love.”

“I’m not hugging it out with you.”

They went back and forth before Hardison forced himself onto Eliot in one of the most awkward hugs I’ve ever seen. Parker looked almost just as uncomfortable, but I just chuckled at them. 

Eliot eventually freed himself from Hardison’s grasp and stepped away from the bar. He stepped over to where I sat and said to me, “I promised you some pool practice, do you wanna go?”

I nodded, smiling at Parker and Hardison before turning fully to Eliot, “Yeah, let’s go.” I slid off the stool, standing next to him for a moment. 

He placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me towards the pool table at the back of the pub. His hand sent warmth through me, even as he was still grumbling about Hardison under his breath. I came to the conclusion that no matter how he looks at other women, Mikel, or anything else that may come up, I can still enjoy these moments with him. The moments where he’s comforting, protective, and now, when he just wants a bit of escape, and he could find that in me and playing pool, no matter my skill level. 

It might mean a little to him, these little moments, but they meant something to me, and that is all that really mattered.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder

[nintendo-b1tch]

There isn’t enough Rauru Fanfics!! >:0

So here, have some angst! :D

Warnings: Grief, Loss, Major Character Death, Sleep Disorders, Anxiety, Depression, Violence, Stress, No Happy Ending

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As he watched you run, a grin spread across his face, basking in the euphoria of this simple yet magical moment. Suddenly, you halted, turning towards him with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. In a swift motion, you planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, causing his eyes to flutter open in surprise and admiration. The affectionate gesture sent waves of warmth pulsating through his entire being, solidifying his love for you.

However, reality didn't mirror this idyllic scene. He awoke to find himself lying alone in bed, the absence of your presence as overwhelming as a tidal wave crashing upon him. Instinctively, his arm reached out to the side, seeking the imprint that your body would leave on his mattress. His fingertips grazed the empty space, a cruel reminder of the hollowness within his soul. As his trembling hand fell back to the sheets, his sorrow gave birth to crystalline tears that gently tracked down his cheeks, mirroring the anguish that consumed him.

His mind became a torrent of memories, each fragment tragically reminding him of the void that was now his reality. The weight of regret pressed heavily upon him, crushing his spirit with its unforgiving grip. If only he had been more cautious, if only he had shielded you from the clutches of Ganon, perhaps you wouldn't have been subjected to such a tragic fate. The simple stone, a mere piece of jewelry that adorned your neck, had proved to be a fatal harbinger of doom. In his heart, he carried the burden of guilt, etching the words "it was his fault" into the very core of his being.

Every fleeting moment with you, every stolen kiss, now replayed in his mind like a bittersweet montage. The weight of your absence intensified with each passing second, seeping into the crevices of his soul. The overwhelming grief threatened to shatter him completely, leaving only broken fragments of a once vibrant love story. The realization that you were gone, forever out of his reach, pierced him with a searing pain that he couldn't escape.

As the tears continued to cascade down his sorrow-stricken face, his heartbreak became etched in every line and crease. He yearned for the warmth of your laughter, the touch of your hand, and the ethereal connection that only the two of you shared. The throbbing ache within him served as a constant reminder of the irreplaceable void you left behind.

In this sea of anguish, he found himself drowning in a whirlwind of regrets and what-ifs. If only he could turn back time, rewrite the course of history, and rewrite the tragic fate that had befallen you. He clung to the remnants of your love, desperately seeking solace in the hazy memories of your beautiful laughter and infectious spirit.

In the depths of his despair, he vowed to honor your legacy and never let your memory fade. The stone that had caused your untimely demise became a symbol of his eternal devotion, a poignant reminder of the battles he fought within himself. With each teardrop shed, he silently pledged to fight for a future where love prevailed over darkness, where your laughter could once again fill the air, enchanting his broken heart with remnants of a love that will never be forgotten.

The haunting events of that fateful day replayed over and over again in the deepest recesses of his mind, replaying like a broken record that he couldn't tune out. There seemed to be no escape from the gripping nightmares that relentlessly whispered devastating images of your lifeless figure sprawled mercilessly on the unforgiving ground. And there, standing ominously in the backdrop of this indelible memory, was Zelda, her presence casting an eerie shadow upon the scene.

It was as if the weight of his guilt had become an unwelcome companion, a heavy burden that refused to be shrugged off. Shoulders slumped under the immense pressure, he found himself enveloped in an overwhelming sea of remorse, unable to fathom how he could have prevented such a tragedy. Deep down, he knew that you, in your infinite kindness and understanding, would never have wanted him to shoulder this blame alone. But try as he might, it was a challenge to convince himself otherwise.

Every waking moment was haunted by the fragments of that incident, the vivid imprints etched forever in his psyche. From the smallest details of how the light had danced upon your face to the exact postures Zelda had assumed in those haunting seconds, his mind relentlessly recreated the scene vividly, unable to let go. It was as though time had stopped and he was trapped within a loop of remorse, forced to relive every heart-wrenching second indefinitely.

The constant replay of this torturous memory began to spill over into his daily life, causing ripples of distress and despair in even the most mundane tasks. The once vibrant hues of everyday existence seemed muted and dull, as his mind remained fixated on that singular, pivotal moment of tragedy. The world around him carried on, oblivious to the silent torment gnawing at his soul.

He yearned for closure, for a way to escape the clutches of this consuming guilt. Desperate attempts were made to rationalize the situation, to find some semblance of solace in understanding that sometimes, despite our best efforts, life takes a cruel detour. But the heavy weight persisted, pressing down upon him like an unrelenting force, unwilling to grant him respite.

You were the one who opened your heart to fall in love with a unique and unconventional being like him. While many Hylians would mock and ridicule him, you chose a different path, embracing his imperfections and vulnerabilities without judgment or scorn. Your unconditional acceptance and support transformed his life, becoming the guiding light that brightened even the darkest corners of his existence.

The unimaginable day when you were taken away from him stands as a haunting turning point, forever etched into his memory. The mere recollection brings back a flood of emotions, like a fierce tidal wave crashing against the shores of his soul. He can still vividly recall the moment he crumbled, his helpless sobs finding refuge in the comforting embrace of his older sister. The pain of losing you weighed heavy on his heart, threatening to crush his spirit.

The sheer disbelief at your departure overwhelmed him. It was as if the universe had played a cruel trick on him, snatching away his beacon of hope and leaving him stranded in a desolate void of emptiness. Coping with your absence proved to be an uphill battle, one that required him to confront his inner demons and face the reality of life without you. Alas, his inability to accept your departure led him down a treacherous path of detrimental habits and destructive behaviors.

Night after night, unbearable nightmares plagued his vulnerable psyche, mercilessly thrusting him into a realm of torment that he sought to escape. Sleep became his enemy, a treacherous portal that unleashed the haunting memories he desperately wished to evade. His sister, although well-intentioned, could not fathom the depth of his anguish and grief. It was in the dead of night that she awoke, startled by the piercing sound of his anguished scream, a haunting echo of his heartache and yearning for you.

This distressing episode served as a mere glimpse into the extent of his sorrow, a silent testament to his shattered soul. The magnitude of his pain was impossible to comprehend fully, confined within the confines of his mind and heart. Yet, the echoes of his anguish reverberated through the halls of his existence, a constant reminder of the void left by your absence.

When the panicked urgency surged through her veins, propelling her out of her own room and towards the source of the piercing scream, she was met with a sight that left her breathless. In the wake of her hasty arrival, her brother's once peaceful abode had morphed into a scene of havoc and destruction. The room, once a sanctuary, now lay in ruins, as if a tempest had swept through its very core.

However, it was not the shattered remnants of the decorative mirror that commanded her attention, but rather the sight of her brother standing amidst the chaos. Approaching him with measured caution, every step calculated, she couldn't help but notice the untamed state of his hair - an outward manifestation of the depths of his anger. Only on rare occasions did his normally composed demeanor give way to such uncontrollable fury.

As she drew closer, her acute hearing intercepted the soft murmurings emanating from him, the words casting a shiver down her spine. Shock and horror washed over her like a tidal wave as his disturbing declaration echoed in her ears, each repetitious utterance carrying with it mounting intensity. " I'll kill him " he seethed, the weight of those words hanging heavily in the air. The force behind his voice grew, matching the intensity of his emotions, as his clenched fist collided once more with the jagged fragments of the shattered mirror. Yet amidst the chaos, her gaze locked onto something unexpected — a glint of metal in his other hand.

With tears streaming down his face, his anguish was palpable. The sight of her brother, overcome by a maelstrom of emotions, filled her with a desperate sense of concern. In that moment, she glimpsed her most cherished possession, a necklace that held sentiment and memories intertwined, clutched tightly in his trembling grasp. The juxtaposition of his vulnerability and the presence of that treasured necklace left her questioning the events that had led them to this drastic point.

Each shattered piece of the mirror, every trembling word, and the necklace cradled in her brother's hand served as a mosaic of emotions and turmoil. In that poignant instant, she vowed to uncover the truth and bring solace to her brother's tormented soul, to navigate the labyrinth of their shattered reality with unwavering determination. She knew that the road ahead would be arduous, but her love for him was an unyielding beacon, guiding her through the darkest of storms.

" Rauru....this isn't your fault, you couldn't have seen this coming "

" YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND, MINERU, I SHOULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING!! HE IS RIGHT, I AM NO FIT TO BE A RULER IF I AM UNABLE TO PROTECT MY FAMILY!! MY SUNDELION!! My everything.... " His body collapsed into his sister's arms, a vulnerable surrender to the overwhelming grief consuming him. As his uncontrollable sobs reverberated throughout the room, it became evident that something crucial was missing in his life. Your absence had left an unfathomable void in his soul, a void that seemed insurmountable in its depth and magnitude.

The tormenting night had awoken him from a fitful slumber, startled by the vivid intrusion of a powerful memory. In his dream, a cherished recollection had materialized, reminding him of a remarkable moment that had forever altered the trajectory of his existence. Summoning unprecedented courage, he had mustered the audacity to ask you on a momentous date, a simple act that held profound significance for him.

The night had unfolded like a beautifully scripted romance, each moment etching itself into the fabric of his memory. And when the time came to bid adieu, he exuded both anticipation and trepidation. With trembling hands, he gently clasped a meticulously crafted necklace around your delicate neck—an exquisite piece painstakingly created by his own hands. It was a blooming Sundelion, a whimsical embodiment of your heart's desires, carefully selected because he knew it held a special place in your affections.

His heart swelled with an indescribable sense of pride and accomplishment upon completing the necklace. The delicate charm gleamed against your skin, its intricate details a testament to the love and dedication he had poured into its creation. As you gratefully expressed your admiration for the thoughtful gesture, his smile widened, deepening the bond that already connected the two of you.

Through this tangible symbol of their affection, he hoped to convey a multitude of emotions that seemed impossible to articulate in words alone. Each carefully crafted petal and intricate design was imbued with the love, adoration, and profound understanding he had for you. It was his humble attempt to epitomize the intricate beauty of your soul—a reflection of the vivid blossoms that bloomed within your essence.

In that moment, he knew that the necklace would be far more than a mere accessory. It would become a cherished talisman, a tangible embodiment of the depth of their connection and the endless possibilities that lay ahead. And so, as he collapsed into his sister's arms, his tears mingling with the memory of that cherished night, he held the necklace close to his heart, finding solace in the reminder of the love he had once shared with you.

You were a truly extraordinary individual who possessed a remarkable ability to brighten people's lives. Your infectious personality and genuine care for others meant that you always went above and beyond to ensure that everyone around you wore a genuine smile. It was absolutely heartwarming to witness how effortlessly and selflessly you made it your mission to uplift those who were feeling downhearted.

In your presence, even the most sorrowful souls would find solace and comfort as you ceaselessly worked to turn their frowns upside down. Your unwavering dedication to spreading happiness and joy was truly awe-inspiring. You had an innate talent for understanding the needs and emotions of others, which enabled you to provide them with the support and encouragement they required during their difficult moments.

Your magnetic charm and charisma attracted people from all walks of life, and it was a testament to your exceptional character. Your mere presence had the power to create an atmosphere of warmth and positivity that enchanted everyone around you. You effortlessly formed deep connections and friendships, leaving an indelible impression on everyone who had the privilege of encountering your radiant spirit.

However, when fate took you away from the realm, an irrevocable darkness descended upon the once vibrant kingdom. The news of your untimely departure spread like wildfire, and the kingdom was plunged into an overwhelming state of deep sorrow and mourning. It was as if a brilliant light had been snuffed out, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill. As word of your loss reached far and wide, communities near and far grieved the loss of a remarkable soul whose impact had reverberated throughout the land.

The kingdom mourned not only for the loss of an extraordinary individual who had enriched the lives of so many, but also for the void created by your absence. The absence of your vivacious spirit and contagious laughter left an insurmountable emptiness that permeated every corner of the kingdom. The memory of your selflessness, compassion, and unwavering commitment to spreading happiness was etched in the hearts of every citizen, forever reminding them of the profound impact you made during your time amongst them.

The grief that pervaded the kingdom served as a testament to your extraordinary influence and the indomitable mark you left on the hearts and souls of the people. It became increasingly evident that your absence was not just a personal loss, but a collective tragedy that weighed heavily upon the entire community. The kingdom yearned for the return of the joy and unity that had once flourished under your guiding light.

Though the kingdom continued to mourn, your legacy lived on, as the lessons you imparted and the countless smiles you had brought continued to inspire and motivate. The memories of your kindness, generosity, and immense capacity to bring happiness to others lingered, reinforcing the importance of compassion and empathy within the hearts of those who remained.

In conclusion, your unparalleled ability to bring a smile to everyone's face, even in the darkest of times, was a gift that touched the lives of countless individuals. Your magnetic presence and unwavering commitment to spreading joy made you the guiding light of the kingdom, and your departure left behind an irreplaceable void that was mourned by all. Your legacy of kindness and selflessness continues to resonate within the hearts of those who were fortunate enough to cross paths with you, ensuring that your memory is forever cherished and celebrated.

Every single day, without fail, he would find himself in the same predicament: unable to sleep, tormented by the memories of their time together. Each night seemed to bring forth a different recollection, replaying like a broken record in his mind. It was as if the universe had conspired to snatch away his beloved far too soon, leaving him to grapple with an unfair and unfathomable reality.

The emotions that churned within him were overwhelming, and he couldn't help but feel a growing disgust in the depths of his chest. The sight of couples indulging in displays of affection felt like a personal affront, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. It was almost as if they were purposefully rubbing their happiness in his face, taunting him with the fact that he could no longer share such moments with you.

These thoughts, invasive and unrelenting, plagued his mind relentlessly. They consumed him to such an extent that he found solace only within the confines of his own room. It became a sanctuary of sorts, a shelter from the onslaught of memories and emotions that threatened to engulf him. Within those four walls, he sought refuge from the tumultuous waves crashing against the shores of his weary soul.

And so, he would retreat into isolation, withdrawing from the world outside that seemed so devoid of the warmth and joy he once knew. The confinement of his room became a physical representation of the emotional isolation he felt, a space where he could attempt to make sense of the incomprehensible loss that had shattered his world.

In this chamber of solitude, he would dwell upon the fragments of memories scattered across the vast expanse of his mind. Each moment of tenderness, each laugh shared, and every touch exchanged would be painstakingly dissected and analyzed. For within those memories lay the essence of what had been lost, the intangible connection that was now severed.

As he grappled with the unbearable weight of his grief, he longed for an answer to the inevitable question: why? Why were others allowed to bask in the glow of happiness while he was left to navigate the darkness alone? The answer remained elusive, buried within the complexities of fate and the unpredictability of life.

And so, night after night, he would find himself trapped in this ceaseless cycle of longing, yearning for an escape from the clutches of his sorrow. Each sleepless night was a stark reminder of the love that had been snatched away, and the pain that persisted. And within the walls of his room, he would continue to search for solace, hoping that one day, the memories would bring not only pain, but also a bittersweet sense of peace.

Rauru found solace in immersing himself in his royal duties, seeking respite from the overwhelming weight of his thoughts. Wrapped tightly in his blanket, he absentmindedly scratched at the fur on his thighs, a nervous tick that offered temporary distraction. His gaze fell upon the wounds that marred his flesh, a secret he held close, aware of the unhealthiness of his actions.

In truth, he couldn't fathom the possibility of breaking free from this cycle. It had become an addiction, a desperate attempt to alleviate the agony of your absence. You were more than just a presence in his life; you were the very essence of his happiness. The day you left, his world came crashing down, an irreversible rupture in his soul.

That fateful night, Rauru found himself kneeling before the statue of the goddess, pouring his heart out in desperate pleas. He yearned for your return, hoping against all odds that she would hear his cries and grant him reprieve. However, no matter how many times he humbled himself in front of that relentless statue, you remained forever out of reach.

Oh, how he longed for your presence once more, but it was an unattainable dream. He resigned himself to a life where you would never grace his side again, forever mourning the loss of the one who completed him..

[honeybewrites]

Writing Share/WIP Wednesday Tag

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag and @the-golden-comet for the tag!! I'm using this for my Wednesday posting schedule. Two birds, one stone, all of that.

Rules: share some writing!

I recently redid Rage and 703's first interaction and figured I'd post that! I think I've posted some snippets from it before, but this is the "full" scene, or at least until a scene change. Or I decide to rewrite it again...

Anyway! Hovering at about 1k, so a little long, but most of my posts are haha! Enjoy :D

The projections suddenly disappeared, vanishing like ghosts. Taking off the headset, there was no one else in the training cube. She knew better than to think it was a malfunction. No. Her training had been stopped for a reason. Taking off the rest of the gear, she set everything aside, standing and waiting in the center of the small room. Hands clasped behind her. Back straight, staring ahead mutely. Waiting for whoever would deliver her next orders. Two minutes later, she heard Master Gerd’s footsteps. Followed by another pair she didn't know. The steps were heavy, long strides. Highly likely to be another male, though not a Master she was familiar with. The door to the cube opened. Master Gerd walked in, followed by a man. He was tall. Well built. Not as old as Master Gerd, but at least middle aged. Suntanned skin, white and gray shoulder length hair pulled back in a bun. A goatee completed the look. He didn’t wear the standard Mors black suit, but his clothes were certainly expensive and protective. The intricate knife on his belt and bulging bag with the Mirralian government insignia told her he was a respectable figure. One that was well above herself. But his eyes… they were like brewing storm clouds. Dark, dark gray, with a hint of white lightening when the light hit them right. Only there was no ferocity in them. They were gentle. Like soft rain in early spring. It was odd, to see that gentleness in a man’s eyes. What was more strange, was the fact he smiled upon entering the room. One that reached his eyes. Perhaps there was something wrong with him. What man would smile upon seeing her? Other than a perverted one she was tasked with seducing. Though his smile didn’t look like a perverted one. “She’s efficient. Loyal. Well trained and obedient. She won’t be near as difficult as your last Asset,” Master Gerd said to the man before turning to her. “Due to your increased injuries and… questionable mission tactics, you are being assigned a field handler.” She had become more careless in her missions. Leaving more messes and bodies behind. Coming back bloodier each time. Master Gerd had been growing more frustrated with it. Especially over her lack of tidiness. He’d said as much. Repeatedly. He couldn’t punish her directly for it, since she completed her missions effectively, but that hadn’t stopped him from finding other things to punish her for. The message was still clear. The momentary death and reviving needed after her last mission must have been the final straw. Though assigning her a field handler seemed a bit… unorthodox. She had grown more messy, true, but her completion rate had skyrocketed. She was completing missions normally reserved for squads or duos, alone, well under the allowed timeframe. Especially compared to before… no. Those weren’t things she should be thinking about. It wasn’t her place to question orders. She was trained to follow them. Nothing more. “This is Master Ronan Airvix. You will treat him with proper respect and you will obey his orders, just as you do mine. If I hear of disobedience, there will be serious consequences, is that understood?” “Yes sir,” she said listlessly. “You’ve been assigned another mission. Debrief and objective has been sent to your comm. Airvix will be accompanying you. You leave tomorrow morning.” “Yes sir.” He turned back to Master Airvix, waving a hand in her direction. “Do what you will with her until then. She’ll comply. Though try not to do too much damage to her before departure.” Master Airvix laughed. Forced and uncomfortable. “Of course. Anything I need to know about her history?” “Her file has been sent to you. If you have further questions you may ask Healer Asurr, myself, or her if you wish. Though she likely won’t know the answers you want. She’ll need three hours before departure to prepare her gear and stop in Physical for her pre-check.” “Right, got it.” Master Gerd left without another word. The door didn’t make a sound as it closed behind him. Leaving Master Airvix and her alone.

She kept her position. Waiting for his instructions. “I know Gerd introduced me as ‘Master Ronan Airvix’ but you can just call me Rage.” He chuckled a little. Hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Most people do. Nickname I earned myself in healing school. Uh, what else? Oh, I’m Mirralian, certified healer, and uh, I’m blind. Wasn’t born blind, result of an accident, but I’ve learned to live with it. Doesn’t stop me from ‘seeing’ and it’s helpful at times. What about you? What’s your name?” “Asset 703,” she said.  She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his little rambling about himself. Perhaps he just liked to hear himself talk? No. That didn’t seem to fit his personality. It seemed to make him uncomfortable if anything. So why would he bother? “Well, yeah I know your number, but what’s your name?” “Asset 703,” she repeated. This must be some kind of test. She didn’t have a name. Or at least, she wasn’t supposed to. Her number was all the identification she needed. Master Gerd had punished her many times when he caught her responding to a name.  Her name would never be spoken aloud again. It would remain buried deep in the crevices of her mind. Right next to the memories of them. She would keep those memories safe. Far out of the reach of the Mors. It was the only thing she had left to remember them by.  “Don’t the other Assets call you something else?” He asked. Brow scrunched. Frowning. “I’ve seen them call each other names before.” Many of the Assets did have names for each other. Most of the Masters didn’t mind. Even Master Gerd turned a blind eye to it.  But they were just Assets. She was different.  The other Assets didn’t talk to her, nor she them. If she was assigned a mission with them, they avoided her. She returned the favor and kept to herself. She was well aware her presence was unnatural. Disorienting. Unfavorable. There was no need for her to be close with anyone. She had learned her lesson on relationships well. Never again. “I go by A-703.” He shrugged. Eyeing her oddly, but otherwise accepting the answer. “Gerd said you have to report to Physical for a pre-check?” “Yes sir.” “Er, you don’t have to call me ‘sir.’ Rage is just fine, really.”  Was this some other test? To make sure she showed him the proper respect? Did she continue addressing him as Master Airvix and disrespect his wish? Or did she address him as Rage as he asked her too and disregard proper honorifics and manners? Either way could be perceived as insubordination.  “Might as well go to Physical now if you’re done here. I need a few things from them and I want to know you resting levels.” He started walking towards the door, talking still. She followed. “Gerd had mentioned something about you having genetic altercations? Something about Asurr working with you?” “Healer Asurr is my primary healer.” They were far more than her primary healer. She was still unsure how much information this man was granted. If he was digging for information, and he used it, linking it back to her, Master Gerd would have a serious punishment for her. It would be best if she remained quiet. Observed. Until Master Gerd had given her clearer instructions.

First off, tagging @nczaversnick @yourpenpaldee @wyked-ao3 @elsie-writes and anyone else who wants to hop on!!

And because I'm doing this for my posting schedule, I'm using my tag list. You guys don't have to hop on the game if you don't want, but if you do, consider yourself tagged!

If anyone wants to be added/subtracted from the tag list, you can comment or DM me!

General Tag: @orions-quill @fractured-shield @anaisbebe

EoWC Tag: N/A

[ladyantiheroine]

The Things I Do For Gotham

Summary: When Nightwing finds himself in a bind, he makes Harley an offer she can't refuse.

Pairing: Nightwing x Harley Quinn

Requested by @exhausted-electron (and me)

Tags: Riding, vaginal sex, bondage

Author's Note: Rewriting The Scene™ from Batman and Harley Quinn to make it more consensual (and smuttier).

—————————————————————————

"I know, I know, freakin' stupid. Bringing him back to my place."

Nightwing's eyes fluttered open as a female voice stirred him from his sleep. His mind was foggy and his whole body ached. The memories of what happened came back to him slowly. He tracked down Harley Quinn. They got into a scuffle in the alleyway. And then...

God damn Joker venom, he thought.

"But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't just let him go."

Nightwing's vision adjusted to the light. He was in a bedroom. A cheap, decrepit one. He tried to move, but his arms and legs were bound. He glanced down and saw thick rolls of duct tape binding his ankles and wrists to the bedpost, leaving him spread-eagle on the dirty mattress.

Harley was pacing the room, still dressed in her uniform from Super Babes.

"He knows the secret location of my hidey-hole," Harley continued to talk to herself. "He'd blab to Batman for sure. Could've just killed him, dumbass!"

She stood with her back to him.

"Nah, I'm not a criminal anymore," Harley said, softer this time. "Plus, he's kind of too cute to kill."

Nightwing tried to ignore the way those last words made his face flush and tried to pull himself from his restraints. Whatever tape Harley used, it was fucking unbreakable.

“Anyway, maybe I should help out,” Harley continued. “Sounds like Ivy could be in some serious trouble—”

The wooden bedpost groaned against Nightwing’s pulls. Harley heard it and glanced over her shoulder.

“Don’t bother yellin’ for help,” she said. “This dump is condemned. Nobody in the whole building but us, Nightwig.”

Nightwing stopped struggling and glared at her.

“Wing,” he said.

“Heh?”

“It’s Night-Wing.”

“Really?” Harley raised an eyebrow. “Heh, guess I was thinking of that goofy mullet you used to have. Yeesh, that was like a whole decade of bad hair days.”

“Sticks and stones, lady,” Nightwing quipped. “I’ve taken trash talk from bigger criminals than you.”

“Criminals?!” Harley snapped. “If you haven’t noticed, I went straight. I’m a freakin’ waitress already.”

“Oh golly, that’s right,” Nightwing said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “I stand corrected.”

Harley fumed and stomped over to her desk. She grabbed a tall stack of papers and brought them over to Nightwing.

“Check this out, smart guy,” she said. “My pile of rejection letters. Evidently, the Mayo Clinic’s got some dumb policy of not hiring former costumed supervillains.” She sifted through the stack on her arms. “Just like every other hospital in the world.”

Nightwing opened his mouth to retort but then closed it. She had a point.

“There are…other jobs…” was all he could muster.

“Oh, sure,” Harley said. “I got a ton of offers.” She fished one document from the pile and read from it. “We’ve got a very special role for you in Bad Girls After Dark.” She found another one. “And you gotta love this one. ‘A tasteful pictorial to be shot in Thailand for legal reasons.”

Nightwing listened and, he had to admit, he felt for her. Harley used to be one of the most brilliant psychiatrists in Gotham, but then threw it all away to follow some asshole who saw her as a pawn more than a person. Now, she had to serve beers to more assholes just to pay rent.

God, he actually felt sorry for Harley Freaking Quinn.

“You say I’m a criminal,” Harley said. “They saw I’m a hoo-re.” She threw the stack down, papers flying across the floor. “Well, I’m sick of other people telling me what I am.”

A cold, heavy silence filled the room. Nightwing felt something he didn’t expect to ever feel for Harley Quinn: He wanted to comfort her. Tell her it would be fine, even though she’d tell him he was full of shit.

"Whateva," Harley said. She flicked her eyes over to him and smirked. "Gotta say, you gave me a heck of a workout."

Nighting tried to fight the red threatening to fill his face.

"Got me all sweat-stinky," she said. Harley sniffed her armpit. "Phew! Definitely could use a shower."

Then, she unzipped the front of her dress and stepped out. Nightwing stomach bolted. He knew Harley wasn't shy about that stuff, but it still threw him off guard.

Nightwing always knew Harley was attractive. Most female villains in Gotham were. But Harley in particular caught his eyes. He had the thought more than once that if he met Harley in some other circumstances, if she was some civilian girl he met at a bar, he would have let her take him home for some fun.

Now, he had a schoolboy crush on the girl that knocked his head in.

Meanwhile, Harley started talking to herself again. She stripped down to a white bra and panties and sauntered to the closet.

"I think better when I don't reek," she said. "Still gotta figure out what to do about Nightwig over there."

Harley began sifting through her closet. Nightwing was did-eyed and he felt a hot bulge form in his suit. No, this was insane. Harley was a criminal. A criminal who knocked him out and tied him off. This was not the time for his body to be playing tricks on him.

Maybe it was the Joker venom, maybe he'd been knocked too many times in the head, maybe it was the infuriating boner burning between his legs.

But Nightwing had an idea.

"Hey, Nightwing," Harley said, plucking a dress from her closet. "Is it true you used to be Robin?" She glanced at him with a smirk. "Huh, ain't that a kick in the pants? Little Boy Wonda all grown up."

Fuck it. It was now or never.

"Harley," Nightwing said. "About Poison Ivy..."

"I said I'm not interested."

"I know, but listen." He sucked in and released a breath. "What if I could...incentivize you?"

"Incentivize me?" Harley said. "How you reckon?"

"I'll admit, I don't know if I can help your..." He glanced around the crumbling room. "...situation. But Ivy is your friend, and that should be enough for us to put aside our differences just this once. And if you need a little something more to sweeten the pot..." He bit his lip. "Maybe there's something I can offer you...right now."

Harley was smart. It took only a second for her to connect the dots. Her mouth made an "O" shape and she raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" she said. Her eyes trailed down his body. "You're offering me a ride for my help?"

"If that's what it takes," Nightwing said.

Harley twisted her red lips in consideration. She dropped the dress she was holding on the back of a chair and sauntered over. She clasped a hand on top of his knee, and smoothed her hand down his thigh.

Nightwing visibly shivered. His cheeks were burning hot and his boner wasn't much better. Harley's long nail sent a tease of pain through the fabric of his suit.

Her hands spider-crawled down his inner thighs and clasped his junk. Nightwing hissed, from pain or pleasure he couldn't tell.

"Seem awfully excited," Harley teased. She leaned her face close to his. "Are you sure this is for me, or for you?"

Nightwing whimpered. He didn't even remember why he was doing this anymore. He just wanted Harley to touch him more and more and more...

"Are you interested or not?" he asked.

"Hmmm..."

Harley fingered Nightwing's crotch as he thought. Her fingers traced his length over the fabric and Nightwing had to clench his jaw to keep himself from moaning.

"I think you've got a deal, Nightbutt," she said. She crawled onto the bed and straddled him. "Just one condition—the restraints stay on."

Nightwing's cock was screaming beneath her. He wanted to touch her, but he felt no desire to rip the tape binding his limbs.

"Whatever you say," he said.

A wicked smile crossed Harley's face. She trailed her fingers down Nighting's torso, sending an electric shiver through him.

"Question, Wig," she said. "Do you have a spare suit?"

The question threw him off a moment.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Batman and I both have spare suits in the Batmobile. What do as—"

Before he could finish, Harley crawled onto the bed and straddled him. She pulled something out of the bedside drawer and flipped it open to reveal a switchblade.

"Harley," Nightwing yelped. "What the fu—"

Harley pulled the fabric of Nightwing's suit down at the crotch, and with one slash of the knife, she tore through it. A ripped hole in the suit revealed his boxers and his erection sprang out.

"Boy Wonder grown up indeed," she purred. She cut open his boxers and an icy breeze hit Nightwing's burning cock.

Harley shut the switchblade and tossed it on the floor. Then, she hooked her thumbs into the side of her panties and slowly pulled them down. Nightwing started drooling as he caught a glimpse of her wet, bare pussy.

"You're a pretty little doll," Harley said, tossing her underwear aside. "I always kind of hoped I'd get a chance to taste ya."

Nightwing gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Same to you," he said.

Harley smirked. She gathered Nightwing's dick in her hand and slowly started stroking it.

Nightwing lost it. He released a long, shuddering moan and jerked his hips up. Harley smirked in amusement.

"What's wrong, baby?" she cooed. "Wet me for me, already?"

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," he moaned. "Harley...."

"Hm?"

"I gotta..."

"You gotta what? Use your words, baby."

"Please...please fuck me..."

Harley gave him an evil smile.

"So no more," she said.

She lifted herself up and slowly lowered herself onto Dick's cock. God, she was tight and wet and steaming hot. Nightwing hissed between his teeth, his body clenching and pulling against the duct tape.

“Mmmmm, that’s good,” Harley purred, licking her lips. “You’re wasting this good body of yours on fightin’, tush.”

She began swerving her hips, slowly, savoring each wave of pleasure. Nightwing’s brain turned to soup and his hips bucked to meet hers. He was sweating buckets under his suit.

The more he whimpered, the harder Harley went. She relished hearing Batman's sidekick turn into a blubbering mess beneath her. She sunk her nails into his shoulders and fucked him deeper into the mattress. The bed frame sang under their weight.

"Fuck, Harley..." Nightwing groaned. "I...I'm..."

Harley covered his mouth with her hand.

"Uh-uh," she said. She was out of breath and her voice was a sultry wisp. "Me first, baby bird."

She jerked her hips, faster, more viciously. Harley tipped her head back, her pigtails falling down her back as an orgasm crawled up her body.

"Good boy," she breathed as she came down from her climax.

Then, she dropped her head and started railing him harder into the bed. She wanted to see Boy Wonder come undone beneath her, reduce him to a puddle.

And he did. Nightwing's hips bucked and his moans grew louder and more desperate and when he came he arched his neck backward in a hungry groan.

Harley slowed to stop until every drop of Nightwing was gone. He was a sweaty mess beneath her, red in the face, and not quite believing what had just happened.

Harley took a deep breath and grabbed his chin.

"You're cute when you cum," she said with a smirk.

She pulled herself off of Nightwing, leaving his abused cock cold and limp. She slipped off the bed and picked up the switchblade off the floor.

"Deal's a deal, nightbutt," she said.

She cut the duct tape binding Nightwing's body and he threw his feet over the edge of the bed.

"So, you'll help Batman and I find Ivy?"

Harley shrugged as she opened the drawer of her desk.

"Sure," she said. "I got nothin' better to do tonight."

She dropped the switchblade into the drawer and closed it. She sauntered over to Nightwing and looked him up and down.

"Sorry about the Joker venom," she said. "And the tape. And the suit. And the...well, you get it."

Nightwing shrugged.

"Can't say I wouldn't do the same if I were you," he said.

Then, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against her stomach. Harley chuckled and pet her fingers into his inky black hair.

"All goes well," she said. "Let's celebrate at your place next time, eh?"

Nightwing grinned into her stomach.

"You've got a deal."

[lover-of-mine]

https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-mine/755717242012008448/gg-here-so-to-push-their-agenda-since-ostark-isnt

I mean here’s the thing. Even if she was “on their side” at the time of that particular post…. It’s very clear where she stands *now* which is the same position as Oliver and everyone else related to the show. Over them and a very loud response of disengagement and un acknowledgment.

I know them thinking they are Thanos with the infinity stones and that they can rewrite reality at their whimsy is common for them but….Them posting a post from months ago *doesn’t actually* change the reality of things today no matter how hard they try.

Thanos with the infinity stones 💀💀💀 y'all are killing me.

But yeah, Aisha didn't even interact with a scene she's in. She's literally in it. Everyone is clearly tired of this.

[write-kin]

Turning.

Cal is stolen away, and gives up his humanity.

CWs: death

[note: this is a rewrite of an actual scene from the campaign cal is from! i wrote this from memory and kinda went into cal's mental state.]

-

He’d just wanted a breath of fresh air.

Calamine had felt like he was about to suffocate, the grief and his own struggle and fear making the air thick and making it hard to breathe. 

It wasn’t anyone else’s fault. Nobody had expected the boxes to contain bones. Much less ones that small. Nobody would have faulted Calamine for slipping away. The black bird that stared at him from outside the window, its beady eyes boring into him uncomfortably, didn’t help. 

So he made his way down the trapdoor, and then slipped out of the windmill, stumbling into the woods. Bryn and Sh’han were busy talking to each other, anyways. They wouldn’t miss him. He felt his heart beat in his chest like it was trying to escape. The woods soothed him, though. Back ‘Home’, there’d always been birdsong, or something going on outside even when the stone walls were silent.

But here, the only noise was his own footsteps. The eerie silence wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. At least, it did for the few steps he took before the same bird fluttered down again, landing on a branch in front of him. This close, its large size made it clear that he was staring down a raven. 

Those dark, beady eyes stared at him again. Unblinking- did birds blink? It looked at him like it wanted something. 

Knowing this place, it probably did.

He barely had time to wonder, much less act, before another raven landed near him. And then another. And another. There were tens, maybe even hundreds of ravens around him, approaching and fluttering and twisting around him so that the forest was obscured, and all he could see was their dark feathers and beady eyes. And in mere moments, in a flash of dark wings and confusion, Calamine was gone. 

The birds surrounded him, and he put his arms up to protect his face, his long braid whipping around him in the wind the birds created around him.

When they dissipated, and when Calamine slowly lowered his arms down, the forest was nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, he found himself standing on what felt like an endless plane of smooth, glassy obsidian. Looking down, he saw his reflection, scared brown eyes staring back up at him. 

He steeled himself before he looked up. 

And there, lounging in a throne, sat Strahd von Zarovich himself. 

The throne was ornate, a deep red velvet and wood so dark it was almost black, hewn in intricate patterns. A raven sat on the back of the throne, tilting its head in unsettling, twitchy motions as it examined Calamine. He felt like he was being scrutinized for any signs of weakness.

In Strahd’s clawed hand sat a goblet. Silvery metal held crystal portions, which showed that it held a thick red liquid. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking what it held for wine. Especially not with how Strahd held eye contact as he raised the glass to his lips. 

Almost like a halo, a full solar eclipse sat behind Strahd’s head, the sky fading from an uneasy scarlet into black, with no stars to be seen. Even the star embroidery on Calamine’s coat felt drowned by the void, like the clouds that framed the scene he found himself in were swallowing up anything that dared even pretend to illuminate the world outside of the dim light the eclipse offered. 

With how smooth the ground was, Calamine almost felt like he’d slip and fall, like he was standing on a sheer cliff face and one step would send him hurtling down. It was a strange type of vertigo, where everything was perfectly still and yet he felt as if he were about to go hurtling down into the nothingness above him. 

And yet when, on shaky legs, he stepped forwards, Calamine didn’t fall. His boots met the stone and didn’t slip. He took step after step, gaining confidence as he approached, stopping a few feet away from Strahd. Even with the vampire lord sitting, Cal still felt dwarfed by him. 

The look Strahd gave him was scrutinizing, yet gentle. He looked Calamine over, expression stern. There were an agonizing few seconds before he spoke. 

“Why are you here?” The question filled Calamine with a dread he couldn’t place the exact source of. When he spoke, he was quiet, and his voice strained with the struggle to get the words out of his throat.

“The- the birds brought me here, I don’t-” “You know what I mean.” Strahd’s interruption makes him feel like he’s just failed some sort of test. Like he’s a child in trouble again. Calamine took in a deep breath, and tried once more.

“I came here because of you. Because I- I want to be strong. Like you are.” “Strong?” The response came, full of vitriol. “You think I am merely strong? I am the ancient. I am the land, and you come to me and say I am simply strong’.” “Perhaps,” Strahd continued, and Calamine felt like a prey animal as he did so, “I was wrong to bring you here. Perhaps you are not as interesting as I thought.” 

No. No, he couldn’t. No. Not after everything Calamine had done, had given up to get here. No. He couldn’t fail now, not here. He took another step forwards, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He almost didn’t care.

“No! I, I- I want to be powerful. Not just strong. I want to be powerful, if I- if I had even a fraction of your power, I could- I could hurt them. Like they hurt me. Please. I came here to find you, to speak to you, to-” He exhaled. “I don’t have anything else. This is my only chance.” Strahd raised an eyebrow, a smile across his face. While Calamine was pleading his case, begging and almost crying, he’d finished his drink. Calamine noticed that, the light of the eclipse filtering through the crystal, glinting on his eyes and reflecting on his face. Strahd held the goblet out, and with that satisfied grin, he took one clawed finger and dragged it across the palm of the hand holding the glass. It bled, dripping into the glass below.

Calamine stared, transfixed, watching Strahd’s blood fill the goblet. Slowly. When it was full so that the crystal segments were once again crimson, the cut seemed to simply sew itself back up, like it had never been there.

Strahd’s hand shifted. Wordlessly, he held the goblet out to Calamine. 

The few steps it took to be close enough to take the goblet felt like miles. Slowly, he reached out, taking it in his hands. The blood glistened, almost beckoning to him. His mouth felt dry. He stared, watching the light dance across the red. 

“Go on.” Strahd coaxed. 

Vividly, in Calamine’s mind, a crossroads appeared. He was holding the key to his own future. He wasn’t sure what that was, and yet he knew, he knew with his entire being that if he were to refuse this, whatever it may be, he may as well turn around, tuck himself back into that dark little room and stay there, no revenge, no fulfillment, until death took him. 

And yet.

Calamine tipped the goblet to his lips, the blood metallic and strangely warm on his tongue, choking down half the goblet before he pulled it away. His eyes flickered up to Strahd, whose smile was smug, confident in the lazy way one can only have when they know for a fact they are entirely in control. 

“Oh, no no no,” he chided gently. “On the road you have set yourself down, there will be no doing things in halves.” And so Calamine took the glass back to his lips, drinking down the rest of the blood, which became less and less sickening as he did so. 

When it was gone, and his lips were stained with red, the goblet fell to the glassy ground. Calamine felt a sharp crack of pain tear through his head, like he was being torn apart, and it wrapped through to the rest of his body. It was agonizing, and his legs went out under him. He couldn’t even catch himself as he fell to the floor, body wracked with pain. 

He thought he might have screamed at one point. If he did, it was an alien sound, swallowed by the fog that crept in. He knew that he fell into silence at some point, the world fading to black as a chill began to overtake him.

“Very good,” Strahd mused, standing over him somewhere. “You might be more interesting than I thought.” 

And there, collapsed in a heap, with Strahd von Zarovich as the only witness, Calamine drew his last breath. 

[coffeebanana]

Enemies au ft. Ladrien for the ask game 👀 (hehehehe)

@heartfulselkie @ladyofthenoodle @rosie-b

i see this is was a popular one (which is good because i'm actually dying to talk about it 😂). i haven't written much of this yet, but i DO have a complete 26-chapter outline (that i made during my writing "break"), and even though i'm trying not to get too deep into it yet because i have so many other projects, i also not-so-secretly want to be enabled. do with that what you will this fic would take place in an au that diverges from canon at some point early season 5 (post-elation at the latest but i haven't quite decided), and it's my rendition of sentiadrien being forced to help monarch. i want to play with how sentiorders might work and what loopholes might exist. but also the fact that adrien doesn't know he's a senti yet. he doesn't even understand WHY he keeps agreeing to help his father, and he hates himself for that and ladybug...is understandably not in a great place either. obviously she has more support than adrien, but she still feels the weight of the burden. she misses her kitty 😢. and even alya has some stuff going on in her life, so she can't be as available to marinette as she has been in the past

then ladybug and adrien run into each other after an akuma attack one day. and it's sort of an echo of strikeback, where she's at her lowest point, and even if adrien knows he should run away and leave her, he can't. not when she's hurting. and he starts to realize maybe he can still help her. maybe he's not useless.

and ladybug also starts to see adrien in a new light (because he's still allowed to go to lycee, he just...doesn't really talk to any of his friends anymore). she's been so distracted with her own stuff that she's pushed her feelings about him aside, but even if she can't overthrow monarch, even if chat noir is lost to her, maybe she can at least help someone she loves

so basically it's ladynoir enemies with ladrien helping each other pick up the pieces. where they both start at rock bottom but maybe they (with some help from their friends!) can start to help each other heal

i'll share the intro scene under the cut (since this is getting long) with the caveat that this is an early version i might still want to flesh out/rework/possibly rewrite completely

thanks for the ask(s)!! 💜

...

It was barely October. It shouldn't be cold enough for the air to burn on the way down, for each breath to feel like ice crystallizing in Ladybug's lungs. But it did. 

It felt like she'd forgotten how to breathe.

Gigantitan toddled down the street, clapping his hands and using the occasional stopped car as stepping stones. Car roofs caved in as he advanced, bringing muffled screams from those who hadn't been lucky enough to flee  in time. And Ladybug could only stand there, backing away unsteadily as she failed to come up with a plan. 

Part of her wondered if she should just give up. It would be fitting, at this point, to be taken down by a toddler. If she barely had the strength to get out of bed every morning, she certainly didn't have the energy for impromptu babysitting—even if the fate of Paris hung in the balance.

Maybe it was someone else's turn to care.

The voice in the back of her head—the one insisting she didn't really want that—wasn't loud enough to spur her heavy limbs into action. Instead she found herself wondering what the end would be like. When Monarch won, when he made the wish, would she feel the force of being torn apart, cell by cell? 

Or maybe her end would come sooner. Gigantan was getting close now, and the silhouette of Monarch's mask flash across his face. But maybe he wouldn't be swayed by Monarch's words. Perhaps he'd keep smashing through the streets, and she'd be crushed like the cars he'd already left in his wake. Or maybe—

Someone slammed into her side, protective arms wrapping around her as they flew through the air, landing roughly and rolling until they slammed into the side of a building. Even with the suit, her hip was still throbbing from the impact when they stopped, her assailant hovering over her. She kept her eyes shut tight for a moment, breathing in his familiar scent and taking comfort from the arms bracketing her body—keeping her safe, the way they always used to.

The way they shouldn't. Not anymore.

Chat Noir's breath warmed her face as he pushed himself up, and Ladybug forced her eyes open to meet a pair of wide, worried eyes. Ones that sucked away any remaining breath she had left.

How dare he look at her like that? After everything?

"Ladybug, I..." He squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body stiffening momentarily. "I'm sorry."

A shiver travelled down her spine, zapping some life back into her. By the time she noticed his hand twitching in her periphery, she was already moving. Her fist connected with his cheek as claws grazed her earlobe.

Grunting, Chat rolled off of her. She sprang to her feet, hand moving to her yo-yo as she glanced back and forth between her two foes. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she was starting to cobble together some semblance of a plan. But she needed more time, so she tossed her yo-yo around a nearby chimney and took off through the streets. 

When she was certain she'd gotten enough distance from the fight, she stopped on a rooftop, resting against a chimney as she caught her breath, remembering the shock of green eyes boring into hers.

It shouldn't be cold enough yet for her body to feel so numb.

...