#this still feels a bit rushed to me but overall I'm happy with it

[alternate-triforce]

Hyrule Herbology — Good Morning

START

Wolfseye | Groosebark | Chuwis | Obvious Flower | Downyflower | Moon Lily | Deku Babble | Deku Biter | Deku Baba | Frigweed | Hyther | Rose Everbloom | Dancing Lady | Dancing Lady II | Final (you are here) |

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Link wasn't sure if it was the clatter of something in the common room or the vertigo that woke him up. This was the second time he had dreamt that dream. His mother and father–instinctively he knew who they were–had no faces but for some reason he felt the warmth of a smile emanating from their empty visages. He rubbed his face with one hand and ran his fingers through his hair to get out any tangles before rolling off his pallet and heading into the common room. 

A powerful smell smacked into his nose as he entered. Link wheezed and doubled over, waving a hand in front of his nose to try and recover.

"Good morning," Fen said, hunching over a pot in the fireplace. "Did the smell wake you up?" 

"No," Link said, grabbing a stool and dragging it closer to the table. He flopped onto it and buried his head in his arms. "Stupid dream did." 

"With the faceless people again?" 

"They're not just random people, Dad," Link insisted. 

Fen grunted in discomfort. There was a slight pause before he spoke again. "I'm making this herbal tonic." 

"Oh." Link raised his head a little. "For what?" 

"It's supposed to give you a boost of energy," Fen explained. "Thought you might need it." 

Link wrinkled his nose. "'M not that tired." 

"You will be. You're on well duty this morning." 

Link buried his face in his arms again. "Why did you have to remind me." 

"So you'd drink this stuff," Fen said, placing a cup of the disgusting-smelling tonic on the table and pushing it over to Link. 

The boy grimaced but obliged, swallowing the thick tonic in one gulp. He gagged after he finished. Why did good things always have to taste so bad, he wondered. Or, perhaps, a better question: why hadn't Fen added something to the concoction to make it taste decent? "You should have added some flavor," Link said, never one to leave his thoughts unvoiced. 

Fen grabbed a small loaf of bread off a counter and pulled it apart, giving a piece to Link and keeping the other for himself. "Maybe, but I don't think we have much time." 

"It wouldn't have taken that long to add something–" Link began, before coincidentally he heard a bell clanging outside.

"Would've taken too long," Fen repeated, sticking his bread in his mouth before rushing over to the door. "Race you," he said between bites.

To get rid of the aftertaste in his mouth, Link gobbled down the bread. It was fresh and soft–easy on the gullet. Then he trotted up to Fen. "I'll beat you, old man." 

 "No you won't," Fen retorted, opening the door. "I'm only thirty-two." 

"Ancient," Link said. 

"Ancient?" Fen laughed. "Okay, let's not waste any more time. On the count of three–" 

Fen counted down, and they both were off, rushing down the path to the village center. As they rushed past houses, Link noticed Fen had gotten ahead of him and sped up a bit. His guardian's longer legs were a major advantage. He'd have to be smart to get an edge over him. 

"Hey! I see Penna!" Link shouted.

"Where?" Fen skidded to a stop and started looking for her. 

Link cackled and jogged ahead of him, making it to the village square easily before finding out where Fen had gone. He was talking with Penna, both of them making their way over to the bell, where all of the other villagers had gathered in a circle. Inside that circle was Ditri, the village leader. He was a tall man– a little lacking in hair, with a loud voice that he tended to use in the mornings. Link squeezed his way through two villagers so he could get a good look at him while he belted out orders for the day. 

"Everyone's here now, right?" Ditri shouted. 

There were murmurs, and someone raised their hand. Ditri pointed to them.

"Gorse got into a tussle with a rift the other day. She's resting right now." Ditri raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, that's perfect timing, seeing as a group of soldiers is coming in today."

More murmurs. Link heard the people close to him say something like "I hope they haven't raised their rates again." The villagers gave each other looks of concern, but Link just crossed his arms and huffed.

"Be on your best behavior, that's all," Ditri said. "Move out. We have work to do." With that the villagers scattered, walking to wherever they had been told to go the previous evening– in Link's case, the well closest to the fields. When he arrived, he stopped in front of it and took a deep breath. Someone the other day had told him that he should be proud of being old enough to lug a water bucket around, but he couldn't disagree more. He wanted to go back to bed. Link began pulling up the bucket out of the well for the first of probably a million times today. 

Or maybe not quite a million. Once he got into the rhythm of it, being on well duty wasn't so bad. Though it was tiring, Link hadn't lived five years in a farming village for nothing. He quickly got covered in mud and water from it sloshing onto him from the bucket, but once the sun came up it began to dry. When he gave villagers the water they needed they usually cheered him on and thanked him. Every once in a while he took a breather, absentmindedly humming some bastardization of a tune musicians had spread around Drinna, the nearest town. 

Around midday, everyone retreated from whatever they happened to be doing for lunch– Link included. Fen usually had something prepared ahead of time, so he wandered around looking for him. 

"Link!" Someone's voice– definitely not Fen's– called. "You're covered in dirt." Link whipped his head around to look at the speaker. It was Packard, of course. They had been friends for a long time. "You're covered in hay." 

Packard picked a single piece of hay out of his hair and snorted. "Uh huh."

"What did you think I'd be covered in? I was busy walking around in mud and dirt and stuff," Link said haughtily. 

"Flowers," Packard retorted, grinning impishly. 

"Shut up," Link groaned. 

Packard rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I found this weird flower near the border, and I think it might be good, so I wanted you to take a look at it." 

"Oh." Link put his hands on his hips. "I want dibs on half of it if it's edible." 

"Aw, c'mon, I found it. Quarter." 

"Two quarters." 

"That's half!" 

"Four eighths, and that's my final offer," Link said. 

"Fine. Whatever. I bet it's bad anyway." Packard stuck out his tongue. "Come on." 

The two boys walked along, Link behind Packard as they entered a small forest on the edge of the village's land. A border of painted stones marked the border– once they went beyond it, they were technically breaking the law. Not that either of them cared. Going a little outside the border was something everyone did from time to time; it really only mattered if you spent a day or two out there. Packard wove through the bushes in the forest expertly, pushing back a bough so he could move through. When he let go of it, it smacked Link in the face. 

"Ow!" 

“Huh?” Packard looked back at Link, who was rubbing his nose. “The flowers are right over here.”

Packard stepped back to give Link a better look. In a small clearing, a web of yellow and brown flowers grew thick on the forest floor. Link crouched near the flowers, examining them for a moment before tugging on one of them and uprooting a small tuber about the size of his finger. 

“These are dancing ladies,” Link explained. “They’re pretty good eating if you cook them.” 

“Oh,” Packard said, leaning over to watch Link work. “How many of those do you think there are?” 

Link scanned the thick bed of flowers. “Dozen or so, maybe,” he replied. “These are small, so it might be better to leave them for now.” 

There was a faint sound of rustling grass and something sniffing. Packard and Link both raised their heads in alarm. 

“What’s that?” Packard hissed. 

"It's probably just a rabbit or something," Link said dismissively, striding towards the noise. He made it through a few bushes before stopping in his tracks. 

A small creature about half his height stepped forward. She had large ears almost twice as big as her head, with strange markings in them that resembled the eye patterns on a moth. Her long, fluffy tail twitched slightly as she looked over the boy, tipping her large glasses down. On her back was a small satchel– something inside it was moving.  "A rabbit?" she asked. 

"Not a rabbit," Link said, scratching the side of his face. That was a pol, and probably one of the visitors Ditri had been talking about. Link guessed she was probably a mage–or at least some sort of magic user. She didn’t seem to be armed and her arms were so tiny she probably could punch a fly without it noticing.

The pol nodded. "You're…covered in dirt." 

"I told him that earlier!" Packard said.

"I like dirt," Link retorted. "So, hi, ma'am. We were looking for plants."

"You're a little far from home to be doing that, don't you think?" the pol said.

"Not that far," Link said. "No one cares if somebody goes beyond the border for five minutes." 

"Hm. You people are spoiled here, really," the pol muttered before looking back at her bag. It was moving even more now. "What're you doing, Slither?" 

She opened her bag, and a vine shot out of it, grabbing Link's right hand and wrapping itself around it as it grew more rapidly than Link had ever seen a plant grow. He yelped and pulled back, but the more he moved, the faster they pulled him back towards the pol. 

"Aha!" the pol exclaimed, pointing a tiny finger at Link. "I knew something was fishy about this village! You've got contraband!" 

"No I don't!" Link said, trying fruitlessly to get away. "Leave me alone!" 

"We'll see about that when we get you in front of Sergeant Sporpos," the pol said, gleefully trotting back towards the village and attempting to drag Link along with her. She quickly stopped as she realized she didn't have the strength to pull him along. "Uh, do you mind coming with me?"

"Why?" Link challenged. 

"Because if you don't someone bigger'll come by and grab you by the scruff," the pol replied. "Oh–other kid. You should probably come too." 

Packard, all too happy to be ignored, jumped at the suggestion. "Yeah." 

The three of them marched their way back over to the village square, where a gaggle of soldiers were talking with one another. Ditri was a few feet away from them, nervously wringing his hands. 

"I've caught someone!" the pol shouted triumphantly. "I told you it would work." 

One of the soldiers– probably the sergeant the pol had mentioned earlier, judging by the red uniform and armor– chuckled. "Lepy, that's a kid." 

"A kid with a lot of magic power!" Lepy insisted. "My plant is still attached to him, so he's definitely got more than usual." 

"I don't have any magic, sir, I swear," Link said. "The stupid plant just attacked me." 

"Yeah, I've never seen Link use magic," Packard said. "This is a mistake."

"...We do use those things on smugglers," Sergeant Sporpos noted. "And they've never lied before." 

"Exactly! Why would a chuwis lie to anyone?" Lepy replied, waving one hand dramatically. 

"Maybe you made it do that with weird plant magic!" Packard said, glaring at Lepy. 

The sergeant raised an eyebrow. "You do seem a little desperate."

"You can look at my bag if you want, sir, but I don't have anything with Forest magic," Lepy said. "Actually–wait." She took a pair of scissors out of her bag, and cut off some of the vines leading to Link's arm. They immediately grew back. "See?" 

"Hmph. Alright, we'll do a search of the area." Sergeant Sporpos turned to Ditri, who was staring at the commotion wordlessly. "Where are the boy's parents?" 

"I'll get him," Ditri said, taking a step back. 

The sergeant chuckled as the village leader scampered away like a frightened rabbit. After a few minutes, Fen came rushing over. 

"What happened–" he blurted out before two soldiers grabbed him by the arms. A fire lit up in his eyes, and he pulled back, but it quickly cooled as they yanked him into place. 

"We need to look through your house," the sergeant said. "Your son may have been messing with things he doesn't understand." 

"He wouldn't do that," Fen said, glancing at Link for confirmation. Link shrugged and shook his head. The vines had almost completely covered his right arm.

"Chuwis plants don't lie," Sergeant Sporpos replied, gesturing for the soldiers to let go of Fen. "Now, if you wouldn't mind leading us to where we need to go, we'll do a quick search." 

Fen nodded sullenly, and they began the walk back to the house. Well – "walk"; it was more of a despondent trudge. Packard followed around ten feet behind the main group, curious, but careful to keep his distance. He didn't want to get in trouble. 

As the vines began to bury Link's arm even more, Lepy frowned. "It's still sucking magic out of you?" 

"I guess," Link replied. 

"You have a really high capacity for magic." She sighed. "I guess I should put Slither back in his bag." Taking her scissors again, she cut through the vines in a few swift chops at the base of the plant before shutting her satchel. Then she looked between Fen and Link. “You look a lot different from your dad.” 

“Huh?” Link stared at Lepy. “I guess so. I mean, we’re not blood related.”

Lepy tilted her head. “You really are a strange kid.”

Once they made it to the house the sergeant ordered the other soldiers inside. Link winced as he heard clattering and crashing, then the sound of something rolling on the floor. A few times they called out like they thought they found something, then dismissed it a few moments later. 

"There's nothing here," one of them said after some ten minutes of searching the tiny house. 

"We'll check around the area," the sergeant replied. "Leave them alone for now."

The soldiers and Lepy both left to find more places to search, the latter giving Link a look of confusion as she walked away from the scene. As soon as they were gone, Packard trotted up to his friend.

"It sounded like they broke something," Packard said. "Are you guys going to be okay?" 

Fen sighed. "We've lived through worse. You should probably go find your mom. They might be looking through other houses." 

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. She might need you." 

Packard started off towards his house, then stopped, glancing back at Fen and the house for a moment. "I'm sorry about all this."

"It's not your fault," Link replied. 

Packard furrowed his brow, but he nodded and ran off. Once he was gone, Fen put a hand on Link's head and gently tousled his hair. 

"I didn't do anything, Dad." 

"I know," Fen said. "Are you still manning the well this afternoon?" 

"Yeah." 

"You'll need some good food for that." Fen smiled. "Let's have lunch." 

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

[vxnuslogy]

— the angel who lived. ft sunday

— warnings: f!reader (referred to as mother) but still uses "you/they" pronouns, angst, mentions and themes of death, brief mentions of blood, very lengthy/word vomit (~8k words), not proofread that much so apologies for any grammatical errors

— author's note: this is more of a character study on sunday and how i think he'll come to learn that escapism isn't really the way go about things but overall, i'm really happy with how this turned out. i hope you guys enjoy :p

death doesn't have a requirement. regardless of age, gender, or race, it will eventually reach everyone at the right moment.

sunday has always remembered the words - or rather the rumors the dreamchasers spoke of - that when death comes knocking at their door, they'll be clad in purple and a trusty crow perched on their shoulder for a companion. sunday wasn't the type of man to believe such rumors, but now, after waking up from what seemed to be an endless dream, he was forced to believe their words.

“can the angel walk?” you spoke. emphasizing the way you called him angel made sunday furrowed his brows in contempt. you were mocking him. with a huff of his breath, he slowly rose from his  position and walked with you.

“where are we?” he asks. you looked at him from the corner of your eyes before replying. “death's waiting room.” sunday felt his blood run cold. “you'll be staying here with me and the rest until your time is up.” he wanted to question you more. press you for answers on when and where death will take him.

but he never had the chance to. not when children of all ages came rushing towards you, all with bright smiles on their faces. he stood in shock, mind boggled at the thought. they were hugging death. did they not feel any ounce of fear?

one of the many children that surrounds you took notice of his presence. she had long brown hair kept in two low pigtails and bright green eyes that remind him of the garden he and robin used to play in when they were just their age. she waved him over and you urged him to walk up the steps of the giant house that stood in front of him.

“you'll be staying here with us until your time runs out. do be an angel and help me around with the chores, alright?”

and so for an indefinite amount of time — and against his will — helped you around the “orphanage”. 

the younger children were all unruly and liked to cause trouble. every morning he'd wake up to a young child jumping on his bed and would be subsequently dragged into his bathroom to get ready. they'd tug at his hand with an iron grip - it really wasn't, sunday could easily pry his hand away but choose not to hurt the child’s feelings - leading him to the main kitchen where you and one of the oldest girls, elenaor he learned, cooked everyone breakfast.

“woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i presume?” your voice laced with amusement made sunday sigh. putting on the apron elanaor had given him, he reluctantly stood by your side and waited for you to hand him a few ingredients to chop. “it was more of woken up by a gremlin and getting dragged all the way here.” your and elanaor’s snickers of amusement never failed to make heat rise up to his cheeks. he had to fight the urge to hide behind his wings, if he did, you'll tease him relentlessly. this wasn't how he would normally act under any circumstances. he had a reputation to keep, but here, in what you call “death's waiting room”, no one knew him. so he was free to act how he wished.

“you've been here for a while,” turning off the tap, you pat your hands dry and walk towards a pot on the opposite side of where he was. “you'll get used to it.”

“i don't think seeing “death” act like a mother towards soon to be dead children is something i’ll ever get used to.”

the halovian bit his tongue the moment his words stumbled out of his mouth. he could still hear you moving around the kitchen but you had made no effort to respond. sunday was ready to issue an apology but you had beat him to it.

“it's something i’ve never really gotten used to.” the sound of chopping ceased from his station. the sound of water boiling echoed between the two of you - he hadn't realized that elanaor had left to escape the tense atmosphere - he turned to stare at your back, watching you dutifully stir the pot. something that reminded him of his mother. he wonders then, did you also take his mother here to this very orphanage. did she also chop ingredients as you stirred soup?

“i find that quite hard to believe…” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. so unlike the voice of the head of the oak family.

you turn to him with a raised brow. “and why is that?” he walks to your station, chopped vegetables in his hand as he dumped them into the pots before putting the lid back on. “you look at home here. is this your home, death?”

you close your eyes and smile. “for a while, yes, yes it is.” 

sunday didn't question you further. the two of you quietly set the plates on the multiple tables in the dining room. he would often take glances at you, soaking in the black off shoulder top you wore under that frilly apron; the long muted purple skirt that swayed with your movement like it was your dance partner for years; and the most eye catching of them all, the black gloves you never took off. all of the sudden, sunday remembered this one particular rumor about you.

“they say before death became death, they carried life in their steps; but their fingertips eventually caused everything they touched to wither away.”

sunday wonders if that particular rumor is actually true.

elanaor came back with wary eyes flickering between him and you. with a small smile from you, the girl started taking the utensils from the cabinet and started laying them on either side of the plates. sunday will never get used to this almost domestic scene unfolding in front of him.

“breakfast is ready!” you cup your hand beside your lips as your voice echoed throughout the house. it wasn't long before little feet dragged against the wooden floor and started to pile in the dining room. “be sure to wash your hands first.” your gentle reminder was met with a chorus of ‘we remember!’. 

sunday stood idly in one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest as he started to remind himself of the next chores he'd be doing. sighing to himself, he pushed through his messy hair as his wings fluttered. without another word, he left the dining room and made his way to the backyard where there were piles of wet clothes waiting to be hung dry.

“oh! good morning, mr. sunday!” said a young boy with blonde hair and matching blue eye - the other covered with a black eye patch. “good morning, louis.” he replied with a smile before starting to take a few pieces of clothing and helping the boy with his chores.

“breakfast is ready,” sunday reminded. “i’ll take it from here.” louis shook his head and continued his actions. the older man didn't bother to urge him to get breakfast further. if there was one thing he learned by being here, it's that the children had adopted your stubborn and independent nature.

after hanging all the clothes, sunday bid louis to get breakfast - scolding him for trying to skip eating - and quietly made his way back to his room and plopping rather ungraciously on his bed with a sigh. his arm came to cover his eyes as he pondered, “when will death come to me?”

“not now, that's for sure.” 

sunday quickly sat up from his position to see you come inside his room, a tray with plated food in your hands.

“it's rather rude to enter someone's room without knocking first.” he barked. you only rolled your eyes at him and placed the tray on the small table in the middle of his room. “i did, but the angel seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice.” 

“be sure to finish everything. once your finished, bring them downstairs so i can clean them.”

and without another word, you exited his room. sunday sighed for the nth time today and made his way to the table, pulling a nearby chair and said his prayers before digging in.

he didn't want to admit it, but you were a good cook. every dish that you served him tasted like home; as if you had dug around his mind to take all of his nostalgic feelings and poured them all in the soup he was eating now. for “death's waiting room” it was ironically peaceful. sure the children would get into scuffles here and there, but without a fail, you'd come just in the nick of time and quell the burning banters.

but today you seemed distracted. sunday was an observant person by nature; he reads through people's emotion by the frequency they create and interpret them through the halo behind his head. recently, your usual soft yet peculiar frequency was replaced by something erratic; something that couldn't sit still. in the back of his mind, sunday wonders if it's related to the crow that's been following you like a shadow recently.

taking the tray in his hands, he made his way back downstairs to help you wash the dishes. on the way the children greeted him with bright smiles as they haul one another to play in your reading room, eager to pick out the bedtime story he or you would read later tonight despite it not being even noon. sunday didn't fight the small smile that crept up his face as some of the older kids tried to take the tray away from his hands, urging him to rest while they wash his plates.

“it's nothing to worry about.” he would reassure them with a pat on the head. “a few plates won't be the death of me.” 

by the time he was back in the kitchen, his chest began to feel heavy as you and elanaor talked. both your backs facing him but judging from the heavy and somber frequency you created, he could only assume you're talking about something sorrowful.

“angel?” you're voice snapped him out of his stupor. “apologies, i zoned out.” he avoided your eyes as he set the down his dirty plates to the side and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“you alright?” you question him, a brow quirked up in wonder. he looked to elanaor who was already looking at him with worry, “i should be the one asking that, but i’m alright.” you only hummed as you wiped your hands on the spare cloth and took off your apron.

“i have something i need to do.” 

elanaor's frequency spiked making sunday’s heart skip a few beats. 

“ely, angel, can you keep an eye on the children? i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“mother, wait!”

sunday felt his eyes widen as elanaor called you “mother”, dropping the plates she held on the sink and instead came to grip at your arm. her head hanging low as her hands curled into fists.

“does he need to go…?” she asks, voice below a whisper.

golden eyes met yours. sunday was trying to decipher how, or rather, why, your frequency suddenly flatlined, like how a heart would when someone passed. you were the first to break eye contact. leaning down to whisper something in elanaor's ear that broke the girl’s heart.

“angel.” your voice felt off too. it made his ears ring uncomfortably. it sounded like an untuned violin trying to play a complicated piece to impress the audience. “keep the children entertained while i’m absent.”

sunday didn't like you; he hated you. but right now, as you left the poor girl trying to harshly rub away the obvious tears spilling from her eyes, not bothering to turn back as you walked away, he decided he hated you even more.

—

“i understand. we’ll proceed like usual.”

your office was off limits to certain people for various reasons, but sunday and elanaor were exceptions. without turning to look back, you heard elanaor's voice from the other side of the door as you put the telephone down.

“come in.” you called out. the creak of the door always unnerved girl, you said you'd get it fixed but after the angel’s arrival you hadn't found any time to do so. “do you need something?”

“the children are asking for you.” this time it was the angel who spoke. his voice like a river flowing endlessly in a creak, you were distinctly aware that his kind had a natural affinity to having captivating voices. 

“i’ll be down in a—”

you were cut off as a crow started cawing and scratching at your window. from its reflection you see elanaor look down and sunday staring at you with a narrowed gaze. with a sigh, you circled around your desk and opened the window. the crow situated itself on your shoulder, a piece of paper tied around one of its foot.

“the two of you go ahead of me.” you spoke, taking the piece of paper from the bird. “i still need to finish this.”

from the corner of your eyes, you see elanaor leave but sunday didn't budge from his spot.

“something the matter, angel?”

“enough with the mind games, death.” 

he barged in your office, closing the door on his way and standing face to face with you. an angry fog clouding his eyes that reminded you of molten gold and sweet dreams.

“what's going on?”

“nothing is going on.”

“you're a terrible liar.” he snapped. you quirked a brow at him with a tilt of your head that made him even more furious. 

“so the angel can feel angry. that's good to know.” you turn your back on him and open up the piece of paper in your hand despite already having guessed it's content.

gaining back his composure, you heard him take a deep breath before trying to calmly question you further.

“what did you whisper to elanaor this morning?”

“i believe that's none of your business.”

“you—!”

sunday was ready to snap again but reigned himself in just in time for you to walk past him.

“if you're so curious,” you opened your office door and paused to turn back on him. “why don't you join us later tonight?”

“join you for what?” he didn't like where this one was going. the air felt heavy, it's as if the entire world were resting on his shoulders. it didn't helpt that you gave him a bitter closed eyed smiled as you left the room.

“one of our boys will be leaving soon.”

—

“and so, they all lived happily ever after…”

by the time you and sunday reached the reading room, children of all ages were all huddled into a cozy circle with elenaor in the middle. in her lap was an old storybook you had found in one of your travels.

you placed blankets on each and every children sleeping on their makeshift fortress of scattered pillows and stuffed animals.  brushing some of their hairs away from their eyes, letting your gloved hand linger on their faces for a while longer. all the while, sunday kept his gaze on you as elenaor stood by his side, storybook in her hands with an iron grip.

after tucking in everyone, you joined the two of them. you were the last one to exit the room. turning off the lights and letting your gaze loiter around the many sleeping faces in the now dark room.

“let's go.” you uttered with a sigh. taking the storybook from elanaor's hand and tucking it under your arms. “where are we going?” sunday asked who was a few paces behind you.

“we'll be bidding farewell to one of the older boys here.”

he didn't question you further like you had imagined, but you were grateful nonetheless. on the way you stopped by your office to take a candlestick and lit it up to serve as your guide through the dark house.

after climbing up a few steps, you stopped in front of an old rusting door. turning back to elanaor and sunday, you asked, “are you sure you want to be here?”

sunday was the first to answer. 

“you were the one to invite me.” he crossed his arms over his chest. he kept his eyes closed to hide the anxiety he felt, but the wings behind his ears betrayed him as they came to try and hide away half of his face.

you turn to elanaor who only nodded solemnly.

“death doesn't have a requirement..” you mutter as you open the door and enter the room. the two followed you inside and heard elenaor choking back on her tears. “it will eventually come to everyone, regardless of their age, gender, race.”

“death will find us all.”

in the cold and lonely room stood a bed, a boy with deadly pale skin laid there as he looked at you with a knowing look on his face.

“it's good to see you again, mother.”

sunday was at a loss for words as you sat down on the edge of the bed as you took off the gloves you wore and placed them on the bedside table along with the candlestick. the crow that was perched on your shoulder came to rest on the boy's bedframe instead.

“it's good to see you again too, corvy.” the sickly boy reached out his hand to pet the crow’s head but heaved a cough in the middle of the action.

the sound of his coughing urged elenaor to leave his side and run towards that other side of the bed opposite to yours. she gripped the sheets in a tight fist, sunday feared her palms would begin to bleed if she gripped any tighter.

“everyone's time eventually runs out…” you mutter as a strange red chord appeared in your hands the moment you touched the boy's forehead. “it's only a matter of when and how you're time runs out.”

“did you enjoy your stay here, michael?”

the boy named michael smiled with content. his boney hand holding yours that rested on his cheek.

“i did, mother.” you smiled at his response. the same smile you would greet the children with once they have woken up; the same smile the children would close their eyes to whenever you finished reading them a bedtime story. 

“that's good. i’m reassured that i did my job just fine.”

“you've always done a good job, mother.”

sunday couldn't believe his eyes. he didn't want to believe his eyes as your tears slowly cascaded down your face as you leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. elanaor jumping over to your side and hugging you tightly as her tears soaked your shirt.

your other hand came to hold the red string that was tied around the boy's sickly figure on the bed. you motioned your hand in a weird way and suddenly a pair of black scissors appeared. sunday felt his blood run cold as sweat dribbled down to his chin. 

“may destruction have mercy on you.” you whisper to him, forehead resting against his. “leading your journey in the afterlife, forever peaceful.”

“may this be the end of your painful dreams.”

and in the blink of an eye, the cord was cut and the boy closed his eyes.

sunday read the way his lips moved and felt his heart break in sympathy.

“may you have peaceful dreams, too, mother.”

—

you carried destruction — death — in your fingertips. ever since that night, sunday had kept his distance from you. he always kept his distance with you, but now, you would never catch him standing near your vicinity. 

the children found it strange. the two of you, without a fail, would always banter back and forth until the halovian had to leave to do other chores. some would turn to elenaor and ask what had happened between the two of you, but girl would only smiled with her eyes closed, pat them on the head and say “it's alright, they'll come around.”

but sunday thought otherwise.

how could death, shed any tears? it didn't make any sense. you were an emanator of destruction - he deduced from your words that night - death itself, so how come you brought life to the very house he and the soon be deceased children here?

they all considered you a mother. a mother. a parental figure they could go to to share their sorrows and woes. 

you couldn't possibly be the death he's come to know and fear, but at the same time you were. 

he wanted to hate you. hating you would be easier. it is easier. but his mind kept reminding him of the multiple times you would treat these children with the utmost gentleness. because you knew that one wrong touch could end their dreams.

“mr. sunday,” he looked up from his downcast position to look at elenaor. she'd been crying, sunday concluded. her eyes were red around the corners and she would sniffle from time to time. “will you be joining us for lunch?”

“ah…” he awkwardly turned his head away to hide the scratch that one of younger girls had accidentally given him. if she were to notice, elenaor would come bursting into your office to inform of his injury. “i’m feeling rather full as of now. I'm afraid i’ll have to decline.”

“i… see…” she only gave him a closed eyed smile. “well, goodbye then, mr. sunday.”

he waved goodbye to the girl who ran back inside the orphanage and sighed. hand coming to graze the cut on his left cheek and wincing as he did so.

“it'll get infected if you don't get that treated soon.”

sunday visibly froze, much to his dismay, as your figure emurged from his side. speak of the devil and they'll arrive, he thought.

“it's a scratch.” he weakly argued to which you only just hummed.

he kept his eyes on his hand playing with the grass as a shadow was cast over him. sunday flinched back when a gloved hand came to reach for his face, making him back up more to the tree he had been leaning on all morning. his actions startled you making you recoil your hand, all the while your hair obscured your eyes. but sunday swore he saw a flash of hurt in them. he felt guilty.

against his better judgement, his free hand came to hold yours in his. 

“sunday?!” you said in shock trying to pull your hand away.

your hand was warm. he wondered if they ever got sweaty and uncomfortable when the heat reached its peak, wearing black under the scorching sun didn't seem too appealing.

“you said my name.” sunday replied, making you furrow your brows. of all the things he took note of, it was the way you said his name. slowly, he let go of your hand and let it fall back to your side. you held such a strange expression on your face, but who was he to talk. he did something strange too.

with a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “come on, let's get that scratch of yours a bandaid.” 

sunday walked quietly with you as you navigated to the house’s makeshift infirmary. on the way there, children looked at the two of you with wide eyes and quickly rushed to each other's side to have hushed conversations.

“sit down.” you command and he followed.

the following minutes were spent in silence. you scavenging for a bandaid and some disinfectant, while he sat on the bed watching you move from one place to another.

“look to the right for me, angel.” your voice instructed him. this time, it wasn't your usual soft tone, nor was it the mellow and somber one on that night. it was more monotone this time around but still held some semblance of what he assumed was “fondness”.

your fingers carefully dabbed the cotton on his scratch before placing a bandaid over it. sunday noticed you didn't let your touch linger on his face like how you would when you patched up some of the kids when they got their own injuries.

“do you sing?” sunday asked on a whim, making you pause as you put away your tools. “what brought this on?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“louis and i heard someone humming the other day.” his finger grazed the fresh bandaid on his face. gold eyes never leaving your figure as you turned to look at him. “he told me you often hummed some of the children to sleep.”

“there's your answer then.”

sunday wanted to throw a pillow to your face. with an aggravated sigh, he stood up and followed you out the door.

“would it kill you to try and answer directly?”

“maybe.”

before you could step out of the infirmary, a pecking noise came from one of the windows, stopping sunday and you in your tracks.

you left his side and opened the window and let the crow inside the room. like the first time, it sat on your shoulder as you unraveled the piece of paper it handed you.

“will another child be leaving?” he mumbled. you walk towards him again and the both of you walk out of the infirmary. “everyone in this orphanage will leave.” your eyes met his and sunday pondered on what was going on in your mind.

“including you?”

“yes.” your answer was unexpected. “including me.”

“how so?”

“i’m no exception, angel.” there you were again, calling him by that blasted pet name. he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as he followed you to the library. “i may bring death, but death will eventually come for me one day.”

“will someone replace you once you're gone?” 

you only nod your head in agreement. hands grazing the many spines of the books that make up your library.

“ely would probably replace me.”

sunday pressed his lips to a firm line. in his mind, it made sense. elanoar was undeniably the closest child to you. she even accompanied you and him when michael departed, and he could only imagine how many children she's seen leave this orphanage in that room.

“they aren't really children, you know.”

the gray haired man furrowed his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“you know what dreamscapes are, right?” he nods and follows you to sit down on one of many seats in the library beside the window. “people sleep and enter this fantastical world created by your predecessors. this place is similar. the reason why i call it “death's waiting room”, is because it's actually a waiting room.”

“do you mean…” sunday paused, trying to connect all the pieces you've given him. “these… children… they probably aren't children. they're people who've fallen asleep and are waiting for death.”

“exactly.” you flip through the pages of the book you had taken from one of the shelves. every page was filled with different words in elegant cursive handwriting. “right now, you're in a dream. waiting for your time to run out. waiting for death to come to you.”

“then, if that's the case, when will you cut the cord of my life?”

“even i don't know the answer to that.”

“is my name not written on the paper your companion gave you?”

you shook your head. “then how do you know when someone's time is up?” you take a few minutes to organize your thoughts, trying to think of a way to explain it, but in the end you couldn't.

“i don't know.”

“you don't know?!” sunday snapped. hands crashing on the wooden table as he stood up. his eyes were furious at you, making you sigh. “i’m not a god, angel.” you snap the book shut in hand. the sound echoing in the empty library as sunday sat back down. 

“i may bring death to everyone i touch, but i am no more than a pawn in the grander schemes of things.”

“even i don't know why death comes to take the lives of us humans.”

sunday was speechless as he looked at you. you looked tired — absolutely exhausted — just like how his sister would describe him whenever he refused to leave his office back in penacony.

“i… apologize..” he bowed his head in shame. “i don't normally lose my composure like this.”

“it's fine.” he heard you sigh. “everyone grows on edge when death is waiting outside their door.”

“do you have to cut the cord?” 

what a silly question, you must've thought. but sunday wanted to know even if what he was asking was inevitable.

you only smiled bitterly in response.

“even i fear the consequences of death, angel. i have to.”

sunday felt sick in the stomach when dinner approached. his ears ringed with your response, that you too, will eventually meet your end. it made him sick, and he didn't want to admit it. 

he didn't come down to the dining room as usual. he expected elenaor to knock on his door, carrying a tray of food, something she's been doing after michael’s departure. but this time, when he opened the door, he had to stop you from stumbling inside his room as elenaor kept pushing you inside even with her hands occupied.

“elenaor..?!” you both whisper yell to the girl.

“you two need to talk!” she said with a huff. you winced when she dropped the tray of food on his table. “everyone's been worried about you two, y'know.” you both look away, sunday scratching his cheek while you were blatantly ignoring the girl as she put her hands on her hips.

“mother,” she called out to you but you pretended to not hear. “mother!” she said a little louder, now standing in front of you as she tugged and whined for you to acknowledge her. “you're so mean, mother!”

sunday’s wings hid the growing smile and laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the comical sight. 

your cold facade was cracking with the way your lips were curving upwards; eyes pooling with mirth as the girl continued to scold you for some odd reason.

“and you!” elenaor pointed at sunday with her finger. he saw you snicker under your breath, fist in front of your lips, a futile attempt to hide your amusement. “you're supposed to be the more mature one between the two of you!”

“i am?” he points to himself with a tilt of his head. “yes!” she replied with a huff. elanaor made her way to the door, but not without giving the two of you another half attempt to glare. “by tomorrow, the two of you should be back to normal!” and for good measure, she slammed the door shut on the both of you.

the room was quiet, that is until, your giggles filled the room. your poor attempt in stopping your laughter made sunday's eyes go wide in shock, though he didn't know why. you always laughed in the house. be it from the teasing you always do to him and the other kids or by something else, you were always a giggly person.

but this was different. sunday just knew this was different. the way your eyes crinkled and shaped itself into little crescent moons and how tears of pure joy would escape every now and then. and your smile, aeons your smile. that smile didn't belong to death, it belonged to you.

sunday's laugh rang like church bells, you had to double check if what you were hearing was real. the two of you shared a moment of silence before erupting into fits of giggles again. the sound reminded you both of children running around the orphanage, playing kings and queens, monsters and knights, and the laughter that came after all the playing.

“what a strange girl she is.” sunday said after coughing into his fist. he had to reign himself in when you laughed in reply. “she is. but she's my strange girl.” 

your eyes lingered on the door the younger girl had slammed. they held such fondness, sunday wouldn't have guessed the “death” he's always been afraid of would be so loving.

“well, now that's done.” you wipe away any stray tears left and motion sunday to his food. “eat. louis told me you hadn't eaten lunch. you must be starving.”

sunday sat down on the chair while you sat on the edge of his bed. smoothing out any creases on his blanket as he ate his food. every once in a while, he'd look at you between bites and still see that smile present on your face. 

“you should smile more.” he said before wiping his lips on the towel elanaor had kindly prepared his food with.

“i could say the same to you, angel.” you look back at him. the same soft smile still on your lips as the streams of moonlight in this beautiful dream started to fill in the gaps of the window in the room, bathing you in a glow that made you look divine. “you look more handsome when you smile.”

he coughed into his fist as you laughed. wings coming to try and cover his face and hide his flustered state. 

“i never… took you one for compliments.”

you tilt your head curiously, “do i not look like the type to give compliments.” sunday shook his head. hair and wings following his movement that made you swoon inside, it was nothing short of adorable. seeing the always composed mr. sunday stuff his face with the food you cooked for him.  

this wasn't good. but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

“you're wrong then.” you say as you let yourself fall onto his bed.

“are you fond of children?”

“well, i wouldn't have gone through all this trouble by creating this dream if i wasn't.”

“just answer me directly, death.”

you laugh again in response. how strange it was, that the name “death” the halovian would always use to describe you no longer sounded hostile.

“yes.” you said softly. “i’m very fond of them.”

“why?” he questions. you hear the sound of plates and utensils move around and it wasn't long before another weight made the bed dip from the other side. “everyone dreams of having their own family, angel. i’m no exception.”

you closed your eyes for a moment before they open again in bewilderment as you looked to your side.

your right hand, still with it's glove on, was being held by sunday's own hands. his thumbs and index finger would tug at your fingers before his palm settled in your own. 

you could hear the way your heart was beating in your ears. “do you not fear death, angel?” you ask as you let the man play with your hand like a child.

“i do.” he answered. you felt the bed dip and shift as he turned to lay on his side. “but recently, i've come to know them very well.”

you close your eyes again. letting the feeling of sunday tracing shapes in your palms lull you into a momentary sleep.

“what is death like, if you've gotten to know them very well.”

“death is a scary thing.” he paused, making sure you were listening. “i tiptoed around it back at home, like how two siblings would've tried to hide from their father when they played hide and seek.” 

“i didn't believe death existed until it took something - someone - very important away from me. it was the first time in a while did i felt the fear and fury of it all being poured into my body.”

“do you hate death, angel?” you ask, still not opening your eyes.

“i do.” he answered with no hesitation, making you scoff. “death is impatient, not waiting for me to finish my explanation before jumping to conclusions.”

alright, you admit, he got you there.

“i hate death. i don't ever want to experience it anytime soon. it takes and it takes, and i don't want it to take anything important away from me ever again.” you felt sunday weave your fingers together as he spoke. “but i learned that death, also gives.”

“death is a lot kinder than i imagined. they didn't snarl or bite - but they did tease and scoff - at me. they're fond of children, much to my surprise. treating them with the utmost care and gentleness, even i believe i don't possess.”

“death, though not intentionally, showed me that even beautiful dreams can cause suffering. something i've refused to believe — to acknowledge — for the longest time.”

“are you scared?” you ask. opening your eyes to turn to lay on your side as well. not letting sunday's hand slip away from yours.

“no, not anymore.” somehow, you could almost see the smile his handsome face wore. “because death is gentle when someone's time is up.”

“what if they aren't gentle with you?”

“well,” he only chuckles. “death is gentle with me right now, are they not?”

ah, he got you again.

—

sunday, from a very young age, was taught that dreams were one of the many ways that the gods used to convey their intentions to mankind.

all his life, sunday had seen the ugliest side of humanity and yet he wished nothing but the best for them. he dreamed of creating a paradise where humanity no longer had to fight for survival; the strong wouldn't grow stronger nor will the weak grow weaker. everyone would be equal. 

sunday's existence was to be everyone's savior; their saving grace in this perpetually cruel world. he would willingly spend the rest of eternity in solitude if it meant that others could live in a paradise, free from all misery and suffering.

he's never seen anything wrong with wanting to escape; taking the easy way out. who would want to be in pain after all.

you would.

why does life slumber? he always asks — he wanted to ask you but never got that chance to. 

“we slumber because we don't want to wake up. we do not wish to see a painful and unfair tomorrow. we want to hold on to this beautiful dream where everything is alright. because we fear the future, we don't wish to wake up. the future is not kind, not to everyone. we will lose everything.”

“but we still have to.”

jolting awake, sunday pressed his hand over his chest where his heart was beating erratically, its sound ringing uncomfortably in his ears. no longer was he in the orphanage he'd grown accustomed to. now, he was all alone, in a damp, cold, and dark room.

“can the angel walk?”

twisting his head to the side, there you sat. the same black off shoulder top, muted purple skirt, and your companion perched on your shoulder as you close the book in your grasp.

you smiled at him. “so the angel can wake up, good to know.” your words ring in his ears. it feels nostalgic, a sudden sense of deja vu, but it left him with a feeling of doom as you walked to stretch a hand to him.

sunday took it with a moment of hesitation. he let himself be pulled up with your help and let you lead him somewhere else.

“where are we?” he asks.

“in reality.”

his eyes narrowed in a confused glare. 

“what happened to the orphanage?” he didn't like the quietness of everything. he couldn't read your emotions, frequency practically nonexistent. “gone. everyone left.”

the ground shook along with his heart. he couldn't properly process the way you took hold of his hand and began to run straight into the darkness.

he was scared. he was so uncontrollably scared with what you've done because why…. why was he still alive?

“pick up the pace angel.” you turn your head to him. a teasing smile on your lips trying to hide the panic and terror in your eyes. “don't tell me the angel forgot how to run?”

“what's going on…”

“nothing's going on.” there you were again, avoiding the question; leaving him guessing in the dark.

against his instincts — the nagging voice in his mind to follow you and run — he pried his hand away from yours and skid to a stop. 

“angel?!” you shout in confusion. your panic doubled as the ground shook more and more.

“you can't just keep me in the dark, death.” his hands balled up into fists at his sides. the look of foreboding did not suit you, he much preferred your easy going natured smile. “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.”

what a stubborn child, your mind replayed. eyes fogging up with an unreadable emotion.

“alright,” you say calmly. “how about a game then?”

sunday looked confused but stayed patient with you. something you're not used to.

“let's play a round of tag. you're it. if you tag me, i’ll tell you everything.”

“this isn't a game, death.”

sunday had come to the forlorn conclusion that he didn't even know your name.

“all is fair in love and war.” your voice matched your somber eyes. 

what did you mean in love and war? what love? what war?

“come on now, angel, can't you just play one game with me?”

his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his fears down along with his hesitation.

“okay.” he said. “let's play, but just one game.”

you smiled in thanks. “on my count, we run.”

.

“three.”

.

“two.”

.

“one.”

.

“RUN!”

and so the both of you did. you ran with such vigor, sunday felt that he'd lose here. lose the chance of finally knowing the truth.

“don't give up on me now, angel. we're almost there!”

your laughter echoed in the dim lit corridors of this nightmare that seemed to never end. but the way a crown of light bathed you, sunday felt his feet push further and further until they burned from the pain.

you kept smiling back at him. the childish smile he'd always see on the faces of the many children back in the when they also played tag. you would always be “it” and tagged one child to another, leaving you the victor by the end of it all.

but this time, sunday would rise victorious.

“brother!”

sunday skid to a stop as a body slammed on his own, nearly making him stumble down. a warm embrace enveloped him, the same embrace that woke him from his dreams of order back in penacony.

“it's mr. sunday!”

“are you alright?”

everything was too fast. one moment he was playing tag with death and now he's reunited with his sister and the astral express crew.

“robin…” he quietly murmured. arms snaking to hug his sister tightly as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “i’m here, brother.”

sunday let a smile break out of his face as he let robin check up on him. laughing at the way she weakly punched him on the chest.

“it's a good thing you're unharmed, mr. sunday.” welt said, fixing his glasses. “it took us quite a while to find you, but i’m glad our efforts weren't in vain.”

sunday furrowed his brows. “what do you mean?”

“after your disappearance in penacony, me and the astral express crew had joined forces to track you down.” robin explained.

“i… see…” sunday pondered if the reason they weren't able to find him was because he was inside your dream.

wait.

“death?!” he shouted into the space but no one answered. he was sure that everyone was looking at him weirdly as he lightly pushed robin to the side to try and look for you.

“death?!” the pink haired girl exclaimed. “what's going on mr. sunday?!”

before sunday could respond, another tremor broke out.

“brother!”

something flashed in sunday’s mind for a quick moment. his mind replayed the first time he arrived at “death's waiting room”, how he was forced to do chores and help around, tell the children bedtime stories and tuck them in for bed. how the first night he witnessed death made his stomach swirl with uncontrollably fear and how “death” itself cried for the departed.

he remembered how elanaor barged into his temporary room and pushed you in. how he ate his dinner in silence as you smooth out the creases on his bed. how, against his own judgement, came to lay on the bed and hold your hand that he couldn't believe brought upon ruin to someone's dream.

“it's time to wake up, sunday.”

sunday felt a body hug him tightly before he was pushed out of the way. in a quick flash, a red cord wrapped around him and death before it snapped.

the loud clamor of a giant gate dropping made his ears ring. sunday felt his breath quicken as he ran to the metal gate and slammed his fist against it in a poor attempt to get it to open.

“death!” another slam of his fist. “death you said you'd explain!” and another. “don't leave me in the dark!”

sunday felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter.

and how his heart dropped when crimson started to slip through the cracks of the metal gate.

“you didn't tag me, so i still win.”

“no…” another slam of his fist, louder than ever. “no! death hang on, we can save you!”

“you can't.”

“you don't know that!”

the trailblazer came to pry him away from the gate but he persisted.

“i know death better than anyone else, angel.”

“you…!” sunday felt his legs give out on him. he could only gaze at the way your blood pooled at the floor. “what did you do…”

you chuckled. “i never thought i’d die for someone else, you know.” sunday's caught wind of the cawing noises on the other side of the gate.

“no…”

“who would've guessed i would die for your sins.”

“the papers…” and you only hummed to confirm his suspicion.

there was one thing that sunday noticed whenever s child needed to depart: your companion will always bring you a piece of paper with their name written on it.

“my name…” he weakly muttered. “i was supposed to die…”

“you were.”

were. you didn't kill him.

the papers that started to pile in your office and the way your companion never once left your side; they way that never - not even once - have you taken off your gloves off whenever you fondly brushed his bangs away from his eyes or the way you let him hold your hands.

you didn't kill him.

the room shook again, this time stronger than the previous ones.

“we need to leave, now!” the navigator shouted.

sunday felt his body being supported as the trailblazer slung one his arms over his shoulder.

“fly. fly far, far, away from here sunday; you're free now.”

how ironic it was, that you, “death” itself, would die for a man who tried to go against the principles of the aeon he claimed to follow.

you brought the head of the oak family to your waiting room, waiting for the moment when his name would be delivered to you so could cut the cord of his life. but you never did.

“you're no longer guilty, your sins have been cleansed.”

you didn't want to let him go, as he did with you when he held your hand that night.

“i’m sorry i couldn't be gentle like you hoped for. but this was the only way.”

“i hope you finally understand that human suffering is inevitable. that even when we're in pain we still find a way to value our lives.”

“we are not gods, angel, we don't get a say in what happens to humankind. but i hope you'll come around to accept that it's what makes us all human. remember us — me — with fondness in mind.”

sunday will never come to know death, because death died for him and his sins.

“i hope you enjoyed your time with death, sunday.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[oh-look-at-her]

"Use that on me."

Pairing: billy the kid x reader

Warnings: profanity, PinV, unprotected sex (don't be stupid, just babyproof it), dom! And sub! Dynamics, gun play, creampie, degradation, mocking, name calling(i think), small oral fixation if you squint, reader is female

tell me if i missed anything!

Description: despite Billy being a cowboy, he's a sweetheart, especially to you. He treats you like you're a porcelain doll and always makes you feel worshipped. You follow him on his unconventional journeys and tonight, you're staying in an abandoned shack in the woods and your mind wanders to unexplored waters.

A/N: Alright, it's finally here! I'm sorry, it took a bit longer to write than I thought it would when I posted the teaser of this story. I originally planned this to go a bit different, but I'm overall pretty happy with how it turned out even if it did take its own course of action a bit. The ending is a bit rocky, I know, I'm also sorry for that. Regardless of all that, I hope you guys like it! I'd love to hear your opinions or points I can improve on! Lastly I want to say; bear with me, English is not my first language, but I think I checked about everything. I appreciate feedback and if I have anything wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me!

"Use that one me." there it was. It spilled out. You had been thinking it for the last week and now it just slipped out. You were sitting up from the floor which you had covered with blankets in an attempt to make it more comfortable. You had been staring at Billy's gun holster for a while. He had been innocently going on about the road ahead. The journey that would start the day after.

"What?" he hadn't noticed how you kept eyeing his gun. He hadn't noticed how your eyes had glazed over with lust, just thinking about what he could do to you if he tried. He most certainly hadn't noticed how it made you restless. Your body tingled and your skin was on fire.

"I want you to be mean to me. I want you to fuck me like you mean it...and I want you to use your gun on me." A rush of adrenaline had taken over your mind. Or maybe it was just arousal? Who knows? You most certainly don't care.

Billy looks concerned. "W-what? Why?" He mumbles.

You look at him reassuringly. "Oh baby, you know you're always so sweet to me and I love that. But... I don't know, I just..." you don't know what else to say, but it looks like he's understood what you meant.

Billy looks at you for another moment, a bit dumbfounded, before getting up from the floor and walking towards the chair over which his gun holster was hanging. He slowly wraps his fingers around the base of his gun and takes it out of the holster. He looks at it intently before looking back at you.

"You want me...to use this one you?" You nod. "Why?"

You ponder that for a moment, thinking back to all the times he's held that gun up to people's heads. The look in his eyes...was mesmerizing. The lowering of his brows, the tilting of his head, the tug of a smirk on his lips.... So, you tell him exactly that.

He chuckles for a moment at your confession, looking down at the weapon in his hands. It’s a low chuckle, one you had never heard come from his lips before, sultry and enchanting. Your mind runs crazy at the sound. He kneels down in front of you, as you're still sitting on the floor and he looks at you for a moment, analyzing your features.

"You sure about this, Darlin'?" He asks in that same goddamned tone of voice. You nod eagerly at his question, your thighs discreetly rubbing together for any type of friction you could get.

He notices the small movement but doesn't say anything as he gets closer to you, until he's right on top of you and you're face to face with him. He looks into your eyes lovingly for a moment before putting his attention towards the gun still in his right hand.

Slowly, he traces your collarbone with the tip of his gun, testing the waters. When you breathe out a sigh of content, his eyes meet yours again and he knows that what he's doing is exactly what you want.

He slowly traces the gun from your shoulder to your collarbone again. From your collarbone to your neck and from your neck to your jaw. All the while, keeping eye contact with you and noticing how you're reacting to it.

You close your eyes, humming as a small content smile graces your lips. Billy watches every movement you make with the utmost interest. It spurs him on as he brings the barrel of the gun to your lips. You open your mouth obediently, something he hadn’t expected but he didn’t awfully mind. He pushes the gun to lie on top of your tongue. You twirl your tongue around it and Billy can’t help but think about what that pretty tongue of yours would feel like on his cock.

He feels the room getting hot and his pants tightening at these thoughts. But, fuck, are you pretty with your mouth open for him. His innocent girl with a gun in her mouth all because she begged for it. He never could’ve imagined this happening, the poor boy. Not in his wildest dreams. He was surprised, maybe even a bit repulsed at first, but seeing you like this for him is something he can most definitely get on board with.

You go on to suckle gently on the gun and it drives Billy absolutely insane. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty like this.” He murmurs to you and you smile. He pulls the gun from your mouth and admires the sheen of spit on it. “Absolutely disgusting.” He whispers to himself and your thighs clench together once more at his words because it is disgusting. You are filthy for wanting him to do this to you.

You just don’t care. You want him to do these things and you couldn’t care less about whether it’s bad or not. If anything, it spurs you on. It’s humiliating, but so, so good.

“Take that off, baby.” He gestures to your nightgown. You quickly obey, surprised by his sudden demanding tone of voice. The usual sweet Billy is no longer there and right now, you very much do not mind. You slip the nightgown off your shoulders, exposing your chest and Billy’s eyes catch on the sight before drifting further down as you push the nightgown off of you. You’re bare before him now and his eyes continue to wander. He’d never done that before. He said he always wanted to be respectful and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

He was right, it did make you uncomfortable, but not in the way he had probably imagined. You grow shy under his gaze, but secretly, you love the way he’s looking at you. Hungry, like a predator admiring its prey and playing with it. But that’s not what makes you uncomfortable, no, the growing heat between your legs is what is making you uncomfortable and Billy had barely even touched you.

God, what would it be like when he finally does touch you? Your cheeks flush pink at the thought. Billy notices, of course he does. “What is it, honey? Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ flustered already. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and I can’t even look at her for a bit without ‘er gettin’ shy?” He’s teasing you, mocking almost. You furrow your eyebrows in frustration at his words and he chuckles. He moves to lie down next to you.

“Come here.” He demands, patting his thigh. You obey quickly, scrambling to move on top of him and straddle his lap. You’re naked on top of him and he’s fully dressed. When you’re travelling, he always stays fully dressed at night, just in case someone sees you both. He lets you wear a nightgown as you please, though. Right now, this proves to be a big contrast and it’s setting your mind on fire. You paw at his clothes and a smirk graces his lips at the desperation on your face. He likes it.

He holds up the gun that was still in his hand, tracing it from your belly to your chest. He smoothes it over your hardened nipple, making you shiver at the feel of the cold metal against your unusually warm skin.

“Might I remind you that I am the one with the gun in their hand right now, darlin’?” he props his left hand to rest behind his head as he continues to move the gun over your smooth skin. Your collarbone, your belly, your neck, anywhere he could reach. The suspense builds up and you can feel your stomach doing backflips as you close your eyes, soothing into the metal touch. But then…. click.

One short ‘click’ sound makes your eyes shoot open. He loaded the gun. Your eyes dart towards his face, a daring smirk on his lips, knowing exactly that that sound would’ve startled you. A shiver runs down your spine at the realization that the gun is actually dangerous right now. He could accidentally pull the trigger and hurt you….you like it.

“What is it, baby? You scared? I won’t hurt you, darlin’. Not unless you ask me to.” Those last words drive you insane and he can see you can’t take it anymore. You paw at his clothes once more, but he gives in this time. He gently lies the gun down next to him and sits up with you still on his lap. You stare at his hands as they slowly but surely unbutton his shirt, finally revealing some delicious skin to you. Once he’s unbuttoned the shirt, it takes everything in you to not start biting and sucking at his skin as he takes it off.

Billy sees the look in your eyes resembling hunger and he smiles to himself. He looks at you for a moment, letting you admire him, before saying; “If you want me to take these pants off, you’re gon’ have to get off of me, baby.” He chuckles as you eagerly climb off of him and he finally takes off his pants, leaving you staring at his obvious hard-on through his underwear.

“Yeah, you want that off too, baby?” he asks in a degrading tone of voice, mocking your desperation as if he hadn’t purposely been building up the tension inside you.

You nod frantically, a small whine escaping your lips at the thought and the degrading tone of his voice. Bily’s surprised at the sheer desperation of you. I mean, just look at you! Sitting there on your knees on the ground right next to him, breathing heavily and a slight sheen of sweat already covering your body, your nipples hardened and eyes low to solely focus on him. It’s driving him insane.

He quickly takes off his underwear at your confirmation, finally lying naked before you. You drink the picture up like you’re a traveler in the desert that hasn’t seen water in days. You climb onto him, your eyes locking with his before pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss is full of desperation and desire as you swirl your tongue over his bottom lip and lick into his mouth as if you’re delirious at the taste of him (which you must admit, is not entirely inaccurate). He deepens the kiss by pulling you in by the neck, his hand having snaked behind you to firmly grasp you and move you as he pleases.

When you come up to catch your breath, he looks at you mischievously. He wants you so bad… but he wants to play with you for a bit. After all, you did ask him to use his gun on you.

He suddenly flips you both around so he’s on top now, grasping his gun in the process so you don’t land on it. It is still loaded, after all. You look up at him adoringly and it melts his heart for a moment. You try to pull him in for another kiss, but he stops you and lets his gun sit on your lips again.

“Just hold on, honey. Didn’t you tell me you want me to use my gun on you?” you nod, eager to find out what your darling boyfriend has planned for you. He smiles at your obedience and then focuses on the gun still resting on your lips. He slowly drags it down again. Down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, your nipple, your belly button… He’s nestled between your legs now, the tip of the gun resting right underneath your belly button.

His gaze flashes to your pussy, your clit already red and swollen, begging to be touched and your pretty hole already so wet with anticipation. “Look at that, baby. You’re so pretty and wet for me, aren’t ya?” he dips his head down slowly and unexpectedly licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, moaning at your taste and making you mewl at the sudden pleasure.

He looks up at you, admiring the pretty look on your face at his sudden action. “hey baby?” you answer with a breathy ‘yeah’. “can I try somethin’?”  you pause for a moment, curious as to what this ‘something’ is, but you quickly say yes at his proposal. He smiles and sits up, slowly dragging the gun with him.

The gun traces down… slowly down to where your pretty clit is aching for Billy to just touch. When the cold metal touches your clit, you squeal softly in surprise, the sensation foreign to you. Bily quickly asks if you’re okay, but the only answer you give him is a low and breathy moan accompanied by a smile.

He traces the gun lower… all the way to your pretty hole. The barrel of the gun catches on it and teases your entrance slowly, warming you up to the feel of it. Soft moans and whines erupt from your mouth and Bily can’t get enough of the sight before him. You, your legs spread out for him, his gun between them, your pretty face while you make those delicious sounds for him. It spurs him on to do what he does next.

He stops teasing your entrance with the gun for a second, but before you can protest or whine about it, he slowly pushes the tip of his gun inside you. Yes, he did it ever so slowly, but he’s having you mewl and moan for him so easily. He slowly keeps pushing the gun inside you (while still making sure you’re okay the entire time) until it’s in as far as it can get. At this point, you’re a puddle for him, all lust and desire for him and your brain has turned to mush.

The gun is soaking with your juices at this point and you feel so good all filled up by it. Billy slowly starts moving the gun out of you until only the tip is left inside you. A guttural moan rips from your throat when he pushes it inside you fully again. He starts fucking you with it, setting a slow but deep pace that has you squirming for more. His dick is growing impossibly hard at the sight before him and he can’t take it anymore. He slowly pulls the gun out of you now, carefully depositing it off to the side.

He slowly drags his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness before stroking his cock with it, spreading your arousal over it. The sight of him pumping his cock in his hand right in front of you has you delirious.

“Baby…” you mewl, reaching for him. “What is it, honey?” he asks gently, “What do you want?”

“Please fuck me.” You say directly and he smiles at that, leaning down to met your gaze. “Yeah?” he asks, slowly dragging his cock through your folds, teasing you and making your moan softly. Your hips buck up into him and he laughs at you. He laughs at you, how mean. You enjoy it, though. You like it when you feel degraded by him.

“Yes, please honey, please…” you beg and he smiles before finally pushing inside you. He stretches you out slowly. Your mouth hangs open and your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escapes you when he bottoms out. He pauses for a moment to let you adjust, but god, is he stretching you out good.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. My pretty pussy is so wet for me.” he slowly starts moving in and out of you, making you mewl.

” And all because I fucked you with my gun?” His thrusts speed up and you scratch his back as you moan with every one. He grabs your thighs and proceeds to wrap your legs around his waist, making his cock hit a spot impossibly deep inside you.

“You’re filthy, you know that?” he sets a brutal pace, his thrusts hitting that spongy spot inside you so well every time. You cry out and he admires the expression on your face, brows furrowed, jaw slack, eyes rolled back, a hot blush spreading across your cheeks, a sheen of sweat coating your skin.

“Gettin’ off on me threatening you with my goddamned gun" he curses and he can feel you tightening around him at his words, having caught on to the fact that you like it when he says these things to you.

You’re going insane at this rate and you can feel the coil in your stomach tightening already. “I didn’t expect my sweet girl to like those things.” he states, obviously out of breath. "Turn around, baby." He demands before pulling out of you. You whine at the sudden emptiness, but you do as he says, propping yourself up on your knees and resting your head down on the makeshift pillow below you.

He kneels behind you, admiring the way your back is arched and the way your pussy is soaked for him before teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick again. You're about to complain about him not fucking you yet when he suddenly pushes inside you and bottoms out in one thrust.

Your face is pushed down into the pillow and your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he keeps fucking you, setting the same brutal pace as before. He bottomed out every single time, sending waves of pleasure to your core and you can feel your orgasm starting to build quickly.

You try to tell him that you're close, but all that leaves your mouth is moans and rambles. Your brain is foggy with pleasure, but he gets what you're trying to say. "What is it, darlin'? You close? What do you need?" He asks in a mocking tone of voice. You just answer with a whine.

He chuckles at your reaction before reaching in front of you to slowly rub at your clit. You mewl and squirm at the sensation, feeling the coil winding impossibly tighter. Billy's thrusts grow sloppy and you can tell he's about to cum as well.

He sets a fast, calculated pace at rubbing your clit. "Fuck, baby, you're squeezing me like a vice." You whine at his words. "I'm gonna cum inside you." he curses at the thought. "Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up so good, honey."

He's thrusting into you at an ungodly pace and his skilled fingers rubbing your clit is just too much. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you. Your cunt clamps down on Billy's dick, coating him with your cum.

he moans and fucks you through your orgasm. "Shit, baby, I'm gonna come." The movement of his hips stutter as he comes, filling you up just like he said he would, slowly pushing his cum deep inside you with every thrust.

You whine. You're overstimulated and you can't take any more. you claw at his back and he slowly pulls out. "Hey honey, you okay?" he asks gently, cupping your cheek with his hand. you nod and sigh, too tired to keep your eyes open.

Billy lies down next to you, holding you close to him. your sweaty bodies tangle as you both calm down and you both lie there for a while.

"Well." Billy starts after a bit. "That was... unexpected." You chuckle at his words and murmur a small 'yeah' in return.

"Why haven't we done that before?" He asks incredulously. You outright laugh at his question.

"Did you like it then?"

"Absolutely."

Tags: @harvey-malfoy

[mikhailwrites]

MWIII Campaign thoughts&opinion

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD (OBVIOUSLY)⚠️

Alright, here we go. Modern Warfare III. Disclaimer: I've been part-timing as videogame journalist (not in EN, obviously) for the past 10 years so this might read a bit like a review which this is not.

It's been a year since we watched the 141 sit in the bar in Chicago and look at the photo of one Vladimir Makarov. And the day of reckoning is finally here, at least for those of us with eaely access to the campaign.

The game opens, surprisingly, from the Konni perspective. As one of Konni soldiers, you infiltrate the prison to free your boss. First look at Makarov is menacing and leaves an impression.

Speaking of Makarov, however, I can't but feel like the writers had dropped the ball. It's obvious they were trying to go for the unhinged psychopath vibe but honestly, so many Makarov's lines borders on ridiculous, oftentimes crossing the line entirely. At times, I felt like I'm watching an old 007 villain and I don't mean it in the good way.

Most glaring example was in the Flashpoint mission. As Price and Soap capture Makarov after bombing the stadium in Verdansk, the terrorist then taunts and mocks them, revealing to know their names and threatening them with a revenge. The dialogue is, frankly, on a bad side and Makarov in that scene sounded to me more like a spoiled, rich teenager than much feared leader of a private army with ambition to start another World War.

It also contrasted wildly with the continuation of the scene where we see Soap almost lose it, tackling Makarov and pressing a gun to his head while Price tries to dissuade him from killing the criminal on the spot. That bit was well executed and I really liked it.

What I also liked was the Passenger mission and the very unique perspective we got as players, feeling the helplessness of the victim as it's forced to play role of a terrorist, solely based on their ethnicity. The "You're not a terrorist, but you look like one," line felt very powerful, especially in the context of current affairs.

The whole campaign felt very rushed and, in my opinion, the total commitment to the "race against the clock" hurt the narration a lot. There is not a moment of respite and every piece of the puzzle is delivered in a manner so hurried, I sometimes had trouble following it.

Especially in the Danger Close mission as we, similarly to MWII, operate Shadow Company gunship to provide air support, and out of nowhere, we get a shout that there's a helo nearby and Makarov's in it.

We then proceed to shoot the helicopter down and Makarov is seemingly KIA. Well, he's obviously not but the whole scene is delivered in such a luckluster manner that I was wondering if I perhaps missed some cutscene or debrief (I didn't) and was asking myself if the developers are even serious.

The overall pacing is off, especially compared to MWII and this leads to the lack of impact and emotional response.

Which brings us to the more sensitive part of this post. Being a Ghost/Soap shipper, I was happy to see the two interact and to pick up the rapport established in the previous game. Like many others, I, too, would appreciate more time with them, but I would appreciate more missions and longer campaign rather than cut other characters' screen time.

When they are on the screen, banter is usually quick to follow. Soap and Ghost interact easily with each other, hinting at a natural progress of their relationship. The Milena interrogation is especially great in this regard.

And then there's that ending. Honestly, I knew someone would die. I think it was pretty much given. Still, I had my bets on Ghost, thinking that Soap was way too fresh and had his whole career ahead of him to be sacrificed. Well, I was wrong.

In the confines of the story, it makes sense it's him. There is major foreshadowing happening in the Verdansk mission and when Soap ends up going with Price at the end, well, it was clear. Soap almost killed Makarov years prior, Price stopped him, and now Makarov comes and kills Soap right in front of Price. The choices and consequences. It makes sense.

But.

But it serves no purpose. It's literally the last mission, so what could've served as the major catalyst for the big finale - rest of 141 coming for Makarov for some good old revenge - just ends up rather sour. Especially since Johnny, during his last struggle, as he saves Price's life, doesn't even manage to kill Makarov, only injuring him, albeit badly.

It gets worse when you realise that during both games, Soap didn't get any justice at all. In MWII, he seemingly kills Graves, taking a revenge for the betrayal and the Alone mission. Only for Graves to casually reappear later, stating he wasn't in the tank that the game clearly stated he was in.

And now he loses his life without taking Makarov with him. It's... beyond sad for the character to get treated this badly by the narration.

The team's response to his death is a bit mild as well. It starts well, with Ghost scrambling to him as soon as he spots him, feeling for vitals even though it has to be clear to him that he's gone, that felt gutwrenching. But after that? It's... lacking some stronger emotional response. They say their farewells to Johnny, a single sentence each (and, my god, did they truly think the "he was the best of us" clichè would work on any level whatsoever?), scattering his ashes, and that, too, as great as the animation was, just... felt a bit hollow and artificial.

There are ways to kill a beloved character to make it feel truly heartbreaking and meaningful. The scriptwriters here should've taken notes from Destiny 2's Forsaken DLC for example. They could've used Soap's death in a myriad of ways, including making player to choose between, say, saving Soap and letting Makarov escape. Or between saving Soap and defusing the bomb. Or just about dozen other narrative choices that would make Soap's death more meaningful and would have much bigger impact on the player.

As it is, I cannot help but say my own farewell words: Johnny died, but what for?

[peakyltd]

Hey Daisy 🤗 If the prompt "I forgot you were like this" wasn't chosen yet, i would like to request a fic for it with Tommy 😊 I loved your story Nightmare and would like to see more of your angst! Feel free to discard in case you don't feel comfortable/don't vibe with it!

Broken | (DARK!Tommy)

A/N: Apologies that it took me a while to write your request Isa! I went with Dark!Tommy for this one so I hope that'll be enough angst 😜 I'm not so sure about the outcome tho, maybe it's a bit rushed? But I'll let you and everyone who reads this be the judge of that! The prompt can be found in bold and italics.

Tommy Shelby x reader

Warnings: Manipulation(!), narcissistic traits, threatening, neglecting, non canon. It's not a happy story overall so please don't read if those topics are triggering for you.

Word count: 3700

She was wandering trough Arrow House. The place once filled with love and warmth was now replaced with emptiness and worries.

Tommy had left once again and she didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. She didn’t care, at least that’s what she told herself. She somehow still cared, way too much for her liking. Deep down she knew that he had her wrapped tightly around his finger.

She stopped in front of a portrait of him, taking the details in. They used to be happy and he had always been a great husband to her. Now he only spoke to her when he needed her.

Slowly but surely he took things away from her, things she loved. She lost her friends and didn’t saw her family anymore. Only his but they weren’t invited often. She didn’t realize it at first until she was stuck in the house. Their house. He told her it was the best for her, that she would be safe. He probably had it all planned out.

She believed every single word and now hated herself for it. How could she be so stupid to believe him? A sigh escaped her lips as she made her way further trough the house.

How could she not, she loved him and he loved her. They were married, you don’t marry someone you don’t trust. He only did this out of love… right?

She used to be an independent woman. He told her he loved that about her. She would never let a man control her life like that. She would never until she met Tommy, the man who changed everything. Above all he had changed her.

But after today she would go back to being an independent woman. To being herself. She had talked to a lawyer in secret and had him make up the divorce papers. She was ready to leave this prison although she was scared for his reaction.

She entered his office and put the paper on his desk. She didn’t had the heart to tell him. That, and she was too afraid. She knew he would call her over and make her explain but she didn’t dare to start the conversation.

After a quick glance at the office, she left and made her way upstairs. Once she reached the last step, the front door opened. Tommy walked in. Her heart was beating fast as she carefully peeked down to where he was standing.

His shadow creeped up on the floor as he made his way to his office. He looked tired and it seemed like he had a tough night considering the number of stains on his clothing. Her heart told her to go see him, to help him but her head told her to stay right where she was.

Maybe he was injured and needed her. But if he was, he had called it upon himself. She chose to listen to her head and leave him be. She walked over to their bedroom and entered it. Her body felt tensed, she didn’t know what to expect from him.

Before she had the chance to close the door, she heard cursing coming from downstairs followed by Tommy shouting her name. “(Y/N)!” Her breath was stuck in her throat, fear washing over her. “(Y/N) come here for fucks sake!” He bellowed. She had no other choice than to face him.

Her hands were trembling when she reached the end of the stairs. Tommy stood in the doorframe of his office, anger blazing on his face. She did not dare to look at him. “What the fuck are you thinking, eh?!” He shouted at her, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut.

“Eh?!” His face was dangerously close to hers. She looked up at him, his face was battered, a few cuts decorated his frame. “I can’t live like this anymore.” She softly said, afraid that he was going to hurt her. He had never touched her but he also was never been this angry with her.

“I can’t fucking hear you!” He yelled, his eyes boring in to hers. “I can’t live like this anymore.” Her voice was louder and to her surprise steady. “You can’t live like this anymore?! And why’s that?! I give you everything you ask for! Everything!” He shouted, she could feel his breath on her face.

“I’m stuck in this house because of you. I have no one left because of you.” She tried to defend herself. “I told you why, eh?! It’s the best for you!” Tommy stepped away from her, taking his glass of whiskey he had filled before. “And that you have no one left is not my fucking fault now, is it?!”

She looked at him, tears filling her sight. “Then whose is it? Because I’ve always looked out for my friends, my family.” Tommy took a sip, hoping the burning liquid would calm him down a bit. “Perhaps you did too much.” He countered.

“How could you say that?” Tears fell down her cheeks. “How could I say that? I just found fucking divorce papers on my desk, maybe you could try to explain that first?!” His anger rose up again.

“I think they explain enough.” She cried, looking at him. Tommy lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke in her direction. “So you thought, I’d just sign ‘em? Are you out of your fucking mind?” He sneered at her.

“I’m not.” She told him, her fingers nervously played with her dress. He looked at her, nothing but anger in his eyes. “Go upstairs. You’re obviously not capable enough to have this conversation.” He harshly told her. “I am, Tommy. Don’t act like I’m some stupid woman!” She yelled at him.

He laughed humorlessly. “But you are. Now go. We talk tomorrow morning.” He waved her off. She looked at him in disbelief. “I don’t want to talk tomorrow, I want to talk now.” She discussed as she watched him sit down behind his desk. “Go.” He hissed.

“If you don’t want to talk now, I’ll leave.” She stated. He looked up at her, cocking his eyebrow up. “And go where? You just said you had no one left.”

He knew exactly how to hurt her. The tears were still falling down her cheeks as she stared at him. “Now go upstairs. Goodnight (Y/N).” He dismissed her.

She wanted to scream at him, hit him even but she just stood there. Feeling defeated after what just happened. "Wasn't I clear enough?" Tommy's low voice pulled her back from her thoughts. "You were." She simply stated as she left his office, making her way upstairs again. When she reached the bedroom, she was sobbing.

She was so disappointed in herself. She could finally tell him what she wanted but didn't. She couldn't. Maybe he was right and was it her fault that she had no one left. Was she really that clingy? Maybe that would explain why Tommy was barely there for her, maybe he was annoyed by her.

She sat down on the bed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She was going to leave, no matter what he said. She would find someone who would help her. At least that is what she hoped for, someone who cared.

It took her a while before she started packing her belongings. She still wasn't sure what to do. There were some things she had to leave behind, she wasn't able to bring everything and when Tommy would find out she sure as hell never got it back. So she had to pack the things that were the most important to her.

She came across a gorgeous green dress and stopped to let her hand slide over the fabric. It sparkled when the light hit it. All the excitement to wear it was gone. There was an important event next week, she had been looking forward to it.

Finally she could spent some time out of the house and hopefully spent time with Tommy but after tonight he would never take her with him again.

Her thoughts were running trough her head while she held the dress until a low voice startled her. "What do you think you're doing, eh?"

Tommy was watching her. She never heard him come in. "Nothing." "Nothing? So this bag packed itself?" He asked her, as he lifted the bag from the bed. His voice was calm.

"I'm still going." She confidently told him. "I don't think you are." He sat down on the bed, holding eye contact with her. "You don't fucking own me, Tommy. You're never here in the first place and when you are, you act like I don't even exist!" Her frustration and sorrow taking over.

"Listen, lov-" "Do not call me, love!" She yelled at him. Tommy sighed. "Listen, love. You know I do this because I love you, right?" He assured her.

"If you'd really love me, you would never treat me like this!" She cried out.

She didn't want to cry again but she couldn't fight her tears anymore. Tommy stood up and embraced her. All she wanted was to fight him off but she had missed his touch for so long.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have said those things." He apologized to her, stroking her back.

She gave in to his embrace and softly sobbed into his chest. "You would do it again. You do it everytime." She blurted out.

Tommy let go of her and put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "It is because I love you and I want to protect you. You know that, right?"

Staring back at him, she didn't know what to say. She didn't even know what to believe anymore. "You know how my life is, love. I work hard to provide a good life for you but it's dangerous. So I rather put myself in danger than you." He explained. "Without me you wouldn't be where you are now."

"Maybe that would be better." She sniffled, her eyes scanning his face. It didn't seem like he was lying, maybe he really wanted the best for her.

"I don't think it would. Now come, you should get ready for bed. You don't want to look tired tomorrow when Pol comes over, do you?" He changed the subject ever so swiftly.

"And next week, you'll look amazing in this dress." He added as he tapped the green dress softly. "I'm not going Thomas." She began. "It's not even up for discussion (Y/N). You're going. If the evening goes well, I might sign the papers if that's what you want."

The minute he brought up the divorce, her hope had flared up. "You would?" She asked him, her voice soft. "If you go and behave, then yes." He assured her, stroking her cheek. "You wouldn't want to ruin our night, eh?"

"No." She answered him shortly. "Then go to bed and do your best." He had her right where he wanted.

The week had been very differently. Tommy was much kinder to her, took her out for dinner multiple times and even sat down to attentively listen to her and her worries. He apologized to her and told her that he loved her. She finally felt heard by the man she loved.

On the morning of the event she was woken up by Tommy who was standing at the edge of the bed with a huge bouquet of red roses. She sat up, confused by his sudden gesture. "I wanted to genuinely apologize for my behavior ." He told her while handing her the roses. She took them carefully, the bouquet was heavy.

"Thank you." She hesitantly said, now knowing what to do with it. "Shouldn't you be working?" She asked. "I decided to spend time with my wife today. Breakfast is waiting for you downstairs. Your favorite." He answered her, his blue eyes looking in to hers. They seemed sincere.

"Is this just because of those papers?" She wondered. "It's not. You were right, I neglected you. I just want to show you that I do love you." He told her, kissing the top of her head softly. "Are you joining me for breakfast?" He asked her. "Okay. I'll get ready" She answered as she admired the roses once again.

When she walked in to the dining room, Tommy was already waiting for her. She sat down at the table and found indeed her favorite breakfast.

"You didn't put any kind of poison in this, did you?" She bluntly asked him. Tommy chuckled. "No of course not, I'm not some kind of monster."

She doubted him still. "Here let me switch." He said as he swapped their plates and ate some of her previous plate. She finally gave in and started eating her breakfast.

"I get that you don't trust me (Y/N) but I want to make it up to you. Even though you might've already made up your mind." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly. "I promise you I'll change."

He told her many things but never these words. She hoped he was sincere with her this time because despite everything he did, he still had her heart. He was apparently the only one in her life that still cared for her.

He had planned out their day already, first they went horse riding together. It was relaxing to be back in the nature with her favorite horse. They stopped at the spots her and Tommy visited often back in the days, reminiscing old, happy memories.

When they arrived home, Tommy had made sure lunch was prepared for them. They enjoyed the lunch, even had a few laughs. It made her feel happy, like he was really trying to change for her. Finally.

“Would you like to go out for a walk?” He had asked her. “Oh... yes, okay.” She wasn’t used to this kind attention anymore, or any kind of attention in general. “Come on then.” Tommy stood up and reached out for her hand, she happily took it.

Once they arrived back home, it was time to get ready for the event. Many important people would be there so they had to look perfect.

She had put on her dress, had done her hair and was now applying her make up. Thoughts of the day going trough her head, almost forgetting what she had to endure these past months.

“Can I come in?” Tommy asked, opening the door slightly. “You can.” She answered. He entered their bedroom and stopped behind her. “I’ve got something for you.” He said, making her turn around.

“You got something for me? You already gave me roses today.” She said. “I know but I knew you’d like it the moment I saw it.” He replied, holding a square box in front of him.

“But before I give it to you, I want to tell you that I’m sorry for everything. Really. You are the love of my life, you have been ever since I layed eyes on you. I couldn’t imagine a life without you.” He told her passionately, he pressed his lips on hers once he finished his sentence.

She returned the kiss. It was sweet and soft, it had been such a long time that he showed her affection. His words had hit her hard. She knew he was speaking the truth, he would never lie about those things.

“I forgot you were like this.” She softly said. “I’ll do better. I promise.” He told her as he gave her the gift.

“Now open it.” He demanded softly. She opened the box, revealing a beautiful diamond necklace. A gasp escaped her mouth. “Oh my god Tommy it’s beautiful.”

“Would you let me?” He asked as looked at the necklace. “Yes of course.” She smiled. He took the necklace and carefully clasped it around her neck. “Now everybody can see you’re mine.” He smiled, pressing a kiss in her neck.

“As if they didn’t already know.” She stated as she got up. “I think I’m all ready for tonight then.” She looked up at him.

“One more thing before we go.” He said, moving over to the fireplace. “What might that be?” She asked excitedly, wondering what he was up to. Tommy took papers out of his suit pocket and unfolded them.

“These papers." He showed her the divorce papers. "What are we going to do with them?” He asked her as he pretended to read them, walking slowly over to the fireplace. “I-“ The words got stuck in her throat. “I don’t know.”

“Let me ask this differently.” Tommy said as he looked at her. The kindness in his eyes had made place for a cold, hard stare. “Do we burn these papers or do we keep them?”

“Tommy…please.” She pleaded, now knowing what to do. “Keep in mind what I did for you these past days, love. You can’t betray me after everything I did for you.” He simply stated, showing no emotion.

“And I appreciate it, I really do.” Her voice trembled. “Then I guess I know what to do.” He said as he put the papers in the fire, he calmly watched them burn.

She watched the papers go up in the flames, the color draining from her face.. He moved over to her and grabbed her hand. “Lets go before we’re too late.”

The car ride was quiet. All her hopes of a peaceful life had faded away in the flames moments ago. She had to think of something else. Maybe the gala could be her salvation somehow.

The driver stopped the car in front of the building. Tommy got out and opened the door for her, offering his hand. She took it, not looking at him, as she got out. "Come on, love. It's a cheerful evening." He mentioned, lifting her chin with his finger.

"You look gorgeous." He complimented her. She was forced to look at him and showed him a small, fake smile. "Now let's impress some people, eh? It would be good for the company." He stated.

They linked arms and made their entrance. A few people had already recognized Tommy and before she knew the endless conversations and networking had started.

If she wanted to have a chance to escape, she had to do it tonight. Her eyes scanned the chic space, packed with people. Her heart started beating faster, it scared her but she was determined to do it. It was now or never.

"Darling, would you please excuse me?" She kindly asked Tommy who was talking to some kind of entrepreneur. Tommy looked over at her, not sure what she meant. "Are you okay?" He asked. "I just need to visit the restroom." She sweetly smiled at him.

"Alright." He spoke before returning to his conversation. She made her way trough the crowd until she found a door that led to a long hallway. She turned around to search the crowd, trying to see if anyone was following her.

She was safe. She quickly entered the empty hallway and closed the door. She ran as fast as her heels let her. When she reached the end of the hallway she found a door that led outside.

Her hand reached for the doorknob as she heard footsteps coming closer. She hid around the corner, frantically looking around in hopes of finding a better hiding spot but she didn't.

If these footsteps belonged to Tommy, she would be dead.

She held her breath, not knowing what to expect. A figure of man appeared in front of her. "Can I help you miss?" He asked politely. She looked at him, a soft gasp escaped her lips. It was a waiter.

"I-I just need to get some fresh air but the door was locked. I'm not feeling well, you see." She lied to him, hoping he would fall for it.

"Oh I'm sorry. Guests are normally not allowed here but I'll make an exception this time." He joked as he unlocked the door. "Thank you so much." She almost desperately thanked him.

"Do I need to get someone for you?" He asked her. "Oh no, you don't have to. They know I'm here." Another lie fell from her lips, she really hoped he fell for it.

She stepped outside and waited until the waiter went back to the party. If she wanted to get away from here she had to find a ride. She didn't care where to as long it was far away from the place she once called home.

Carefully she made her way around the building until she could see the cars lined up in front of it. Keeping her body close to the walls to escape the lights that were lit all around the building.

A few people were leaving already, maybe there could be an opportunity to join them.

She anxiously came closer to the front, there wasn't much to hide behind anymore.

Once she reached the front she decided to just go for it. Asking the first driver she'd see to bring her to whatever place would come to mind. She stepped away from the wall and made her way to approach the closest car.

"There you are." A man blocked her way, grabbing her wrist tightly. She looked up at him and was met with familiar blue eyes. The blue eyes that once loved her but now scared her. "I was wondering what took you so long."

He knew. He knew that she wanted to run away. To escape him. "I think we should go back inside, don't you think?" He held her wrist even tighter, a small smile on his face but a cold look in his eyes. "Eh?"

"Yes, we should." She softly agreed with him. He let go of her wrist and placed his hand on her lower back, leading her back inside. He leaned close to her ear.

"The next time you're trying something like this again..." He whispered. "I'll make sure you won’t live to see another day."

Taglist: @zablife @brummiereader (I know you asked to be on the taglist of my new series but I thought you might like this as well! If you rather not want to get tagged in anything but the upcoming series, please let me know!)

[ofmermaidstories]

Hii Merms, thank you so much for the kind response 💌🩷

It's been days and I honestly did not get the chance to read the official chapter yet. Which I believe I should do before responding even, because the issue with the leaks was the mistranslations here and there. And because so much of it was also open-ended many fans came up with stuff out of nowhere and pushed it into the ending and called it canon. So it was a mess.

It's weird to me, it felt like Horikoshi forced himself into an ending that would satisfy everyone else and not him, which ultimately resulted in him messing up a bit. Because he put such great great effort and thought into sympathising with the villains and what they story means for how hero society operates. And he kept on showing how flawed the society is until ch.429, the before last.

In the end, like u said, traditional hero rankings are still a thing. Some people have changed yes, like the old lady who ignored Tenko but reached out her hand to another version of him, that could have been like him. But the last chapter also shows that the majority, or at least a huge part of society, is still sticking to the old ways of thinking. (Like the guy mocking Dai for his quirk, how being a hero is somehow more of a thingfor "elte people").

And while Uravity began a project for quirk counselling that's now fundamental for society and Tentacole fought against racism. It seems everyone else continues on to be normal pros. And there is no shame in that, but idk, the fact you all took part in wars that occurred because of how society and hero society operates but continue to do the same thing your predecessors did is asking for another League of villains, another group of children and young who would be pushed to that. But maybe I'm jumping to conclusions since we barely got to see any of what the new pros (like Mirio) are doing.

Also goodness, the mistranslation that class A did not see Izuku after graduation and people so QUICKLY believed it and spread it around. I saw alot of post both on twitter and tiktok shaming class A for it.

My dear "we don't fact-check leaks even though it's a very common occurrence that mistranslations happen" people, are we really talking about the same class A? The same class A, that collectively as a class, decided to join Izuku back in his vigilante arc to help him? They were willing to go out and be vigilantes with him. But then Nezu assured them they can bring him back instead so he could rest and be protected all the same.

THAT SAME CLASS A? Who knew what OFA means and all it's connections, the way he was quirkless and got it. and the only thing they(Oijiro) asked was how does it feel like? They never made him feel weirded out about it. (It might not seem like a big deal, but when you look at the public reaction to it, like "isn't that AFO's ability tho" or "he's like a Nomu" u would see).

So also yeah, I'm so so happy about the fact they all contributed funds to his suit. But prior to that he was a teacher for what, 5 to 6 years? While I do think being a teacher suits him. Keeping him in the dark about getting a chance to be a hero again JUST as he seemed to accept he can be a hero by teaching and inspiring younger generations seemed a bit off to me. But then again, I wanted him to be able to grow and continue to be a hero so I guess I can't complain much about it.

Overall I'm actually happy and sad it ended, this show was with me for 6 years. And it's my most cherished so I don't want to say goodbye (we still have a movie and the anime, so exciting). Even if that small disappointment is still lingering.

Hii Liliii. 🌷 How are you feeling about it now that we’ve had a little bit more distance? Have you read the official chapter yet? I dunno if it makes that much of a difference, but it did for me LOL. I don’t read the scanlations (they’re UGLY 😡) but I do think that like, seeing the dialogue in action verses hearing a brief summary from a rushed translator does matter. And that was the case for me!! Whenever the fandom took the leaks and then like, ran wild with them, it always… idk! I won’t say it ruined things, really, but it definitely made things less fun, and for me personally it had a lot to do with how quickly the discussion goes from, “oh, the leaks are suggesting (thing happens)” to, “omg, this is cold hard fact and now 50k people agree”. For example: the other day I saw a post here, made in the wake of the leaks, that said something like, “oh i can’t believe kacchan singlehandedly funded deku’s suit” and like??? no the fuck he did not!!!! LOL. I guess it’s just a lethal combo of like, overzealous fans taking what they want from the leaks without taking the time to tell themselves hold up and wait, and then making it everyone else’s problem too. 💀 Overwhelmed by the siren song of instant gratification.

Having re-read the last couple of chapters, tho, I don’t think Hori wrote himself into a corner! There’s definitely a disconnect, though, between us as an audience, and Hori as the author—like we’re kinda on different wavelengths? Because he’s shown what kind of writer he is (with the way he’s answered questions in like, interviews and stuff, he kinda actually reminds me of that Ralph Waldo Emerson quote. “The most interesting writing is that which does not quite satisfy the reader. Try and leave a little thinking for him; that will be better for both […] A little guessing does him no harm, so I would assist him with no connections.” emphasis mine). For better or for worse, Horikoshi just does not care/think to dwell in the big moments/emotional beats he creates, and I think that throws most of us as readers off, LOL. Like… we want to be more in Deku’s head, we maybe wanna see more of the kids in their final years at UA, or starting out as Pros, or like, linger with Deku a bit more in a school day. But Hori doesn’t wanna give us that. And I think that’s where everyone is getting their wires crossed—we want one thing (or several lmao) and Hori… wants and does another, LOL.

(The middle part of that Emerson quote above says, “The trouble with most writers is, they spread too thin. The reader is as quick as they; has got there before, and is ready and waiting […] If you can see how the harness fits, he can. But make sure that you see it.” And to me that’s the problem, we as readers have jumped ahead of Hori and have landed at a place we expect him to arrive, and instead he zigs in the complete opposite direction LMAOOOO. whether or not it works issss. Up for debate lmaooo. Are we seeing where the harness would fit, where he’s seeing a collar? Some food for thought maybe.)

One opinion I’ve seen in the wake of these last few chapters is that Hori often gets his messaging confuddled; I’m not sure if I agree or not. I think it’s another case of harness vs. collar lmao, like maybe we as readers are taking away different conclusions to what he’s intended (he’s sticking to his message; we just don’t like how he’s telling it LMAO). But it is stark, when you lay it out. Anyone can be a hero—as long as they have pro hero friends funding an Iron Man suit for them lmaooo (anyone can be a hero, but they need a community of people willing to hold out a hand for them to get there). Society is fundamentally selfish and overlooks uncomfortable things, and that breeds resentment and hate (society is capable of change, it’s just a slow crawl to get there, and that maybe we can’t help everyone—but the point is that we should help the people right in front of us).

I guess the biggest example, though, is indeed the League; I’ve seen soooo many heartbroken people point out that Hori spent all that effort—an entire POV arc!—on showcasing the villains, and getting us to sympathise with them, and what-was-the-point-of-it-if-he-was-just-going-to-kill-most-of-them-off? But they were always doomed. Doomed by the narrative, doomed by their society. It’s what makes them a tragedy. The tragedy of their tragedy is that Hori’s preferences with his storytelling (or his weakspots, depending) doesn’t really stop to give people the catharsis of like, a big goodbye. 🥺

(This is off-topic, but every time time I see that phrase—doomed by the [whatever]—it makes me think of a quote from one of my favourite books, Picnic at Hanging Rock:

“Edith echoed, ‘Doomed? What’s that mean, Irma?’

‘Doomed to die, of course! Like the boy who “stood on the burning deck, whence all but he had fled, tra… la la…” I forget the rest of it.’”)

Hori’s ending really wants to leave us/let us believe that like, our Heroes have solved the biggest problems their predecessors faced, and now they’re like, a glorified search and rescue—but I think the fun of the ending is that it does leave room for new villains, new League-type deals, to pop up. 😈 People are good and bad. There’s always going to be someone who wants to lock a kid in a basement, lmao, the point is that someone will be there to help them out of it. And maybe it’s baby steps at the moment, but the takeaway I got from the story was less about fixing everything forever, and more like, putting systems in place so that you and others—heroes and civvies alike—can catch what you can, when you can. 🥺 Deku might miss League 2.0, but maybe Kota or Stitches at the end there won’t. Our Heroes have turned the tide. They’ve reminded people at large to do their best. 🥹 They’re actively teaching them to do their best.

Which is why it drives me bonkers when the fandom likes to like…. discount Class-A’s bond!!! At it’s worse though—throughout that awful gap where all we had were the leaks—I just had to keep telling myself that the, “Izuku was abandoned by his friends!” stuff was a product of this fandom being an average age of like, twelve. 💀 LOL. But also it’s just—idk! A result of shipping culture, maybe. The inability to understand that people can and do have meaningful relationships outside of people they have sex with. 💀 That it’s possible for a whole class of kids who went through a war together to care for each other and still be busy with saving the world, outside of school. 💀💀

I’m happy and sad it ended, too. 🥺 A lot of complaints I’ve seen are valid—and have made me realise that the thing that threw me, personally, was how passive an ending it is (like how things just happen to Izuku, aka him being given the suit as a surprise and not being apart of it). I’d like to reread the series, back to back, and see how it flows! Maybe when the anime comes along and fills in some of those gaps where Hori couldn’t/didn’t want to, it’ll feel more… apt. 🥹 And I hope that by the time the anime ends, Lili, you feel a little more fulfilled by it. 🥺🌷

[the1gayteen]

Pink Pony Club Episode-911

Thanks to @speaknowbuckley I gained the motivation to finish this plot idea for what I picture for a queer central episode (Gay club, because its LA and I am desperate for ABC to allow us to see that side of the city!)  for 9-1-1!  (Also im back from vacation yay!)

Title: The Pink Pony Club (Please know that its been a Chappell Summer for me truly) 

Main Plot/Episode Dynamic:  

I see this following a bit after Bucks initial coming out as Bi (I initially had this before he actually was confirmed bi so I saw him coming out alone, but I can still see this with the buck/tommy coming out as well!). Takes place during pride month and Hen is watching as Buck is excited for his first pride month as not and ally™. I see her wanting to take Buck out with her and Karen to the bars to celebrate, and of course Chim and Eddie may have overheard and become jealous to join (letting them all come along for support and just fun). Overall its an episode that explore a lot. Buck feeling scared to feel accepted into the queer community finally, that maybe he isn't queer enough (possibly exploring Bi hatred within the community) (for me bi hatred and eraser is something that I would love to see touched upon especially now with how people have been reacting to bi characters becoming a norm) and scared to head out to the bars. But having a Buck and Hen brother sister scene where she convinces him that he should celebrate and love himself. Eventually planning outfits together. I see buck finally letting go as he walks into the first bar. People dancing around without a care, queens, men, women. Standing on the floor and letting the music mute his racing mind, finally letting himself sway to the music with a content happiness. Hen and Karen smiling proudly as they join in.  

Oh but don't think this whole story is just on Buck and Hen. I love a queer Eddie arch and if I was a writer for ABC this would be the first fucking stone cast for this arch. Eddie walking into that bar initially without any worry. He was an ally and doing this for his best friends, no worries there. Why would he be? He’s straight... right? But why as he's watching buck dance with men does he have this pain in his chest. Or seeing other men dance together with such joy and ease. Why as he sips and chats with a drag queen at the bar does he feel the most like he’s at ease and belongs somewhere than ever before? Why does the episode end with Eddie sneaking off back to the very same bar the next night without the rest of the 118 as a soft melody of pink pony club plays, a smile etching across his face as the lights over cast his face (I NNEEEDDD). 

Oh and Chim, having a fucking blast as per usual with Maddie.  

Songs Used/When they would be used: 

9-1-1's sound track to me at least has always been phenomenal for storytelling and setting the mood. So for an actual pride episode like this I would want some good bangers (I made a playlist that I may post later lol) 

1. If I Had You- Adam Lambert 

2. Pink Pony Club – Chappell Roan  

3. Rush- Troye Sivan (See this as more of a background song) 

4. I Know a Place- MUNA 

5. Its Raining Men- The Weather Girls 

There is more but these are *my* essentials 

Possible Emergencies: 

I would love for the conversation of Buck wanting/starting to look into queer culture and history after coming out to be shown on a call at a drag show/club. The same club that the 1(gay)teen shows up to later in the episode. Something about the dimensions of how certain heels are made for drag performers or how thick costumes (tights, tucks, etc.) can be and how that queen or queens ended up in that situation.  

A pride parade incident? (I wrote a possible scenario where there is one with Take me to Church over it and gods let me be a writer, PS I don't think I'm a good writer at all lol) 

Again thank you for coming to my Ted Talk I will take my exit..

[cloudcountry]

IKEMEN REQUEST BC IT SAYS 5/5 AND I HOPE I'M LAST DFJGHFJDKSDFFJKDLS

Shakespeare "reusing" one of his sonnets to woo the reader with his extremely shitty guitar skills under the window (outside the door) and overall he's just yowling like a cat bc of the guitar 🎸 (also I say reusing bc we've read it in modern times, but for him it's new asf)

note: he is trying smth "modern" to woo the reader but also thinks a guitar is a cittern/cithren hence the yowling

SUMMARY: theo yells at you to wrangle your lover. said lover is trying his best to serenade you.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: YOU ARE THE LAST DW im writing two things today since i missed yesterday oopsie. i feel like will would be a really nice singer though :(( he has such a ncie voice :((( so yea i changed your request a little bit because i doubt hes the type to YOWL but yk theo is fed up with anyway!!

i used sonnet 116 for this because its so beautifully written excuse my geeking

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments.”

“Hey, Hondje. Tell him to shut up.” Theo huffs, a string of very creative Dutch swears leaving his lips after he slams the door shut behind him.

You can hear what Theo is talking about.

There’s a strange warbling noise that sounds like a musical instrument, along with a very familiar voice cooing unintelligible lyrics from out on the balcony. You open the door that Theo just left, stepping out into the cold night air. The singing becomes clearer, and a smile creeps on your face when you lean over the railing.

“Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove.”

It’s Will, a guitar in hand that he’s clearly struggling to play, his eyes trained on the space you occupy now. A smile blooms across his face as he sings, the notes too plucky to be anything but offensive, but it's him and he’s doing something for you, and so you listen.

“O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.”

It takes you a second to register the words he’s singing to you, but when you realize it's a sonnet giddy laugh tumbles from your lips. Will’s eyes gleam with joy at the sound, and he steps closer to the balcony. His neck is craned up so he can see you, yearning to be close and yet being a whole floor away.

While he may not be able to physically reach you, his words do.

“Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.”

The sonnet reminds you of Will’s love, of how it’s never changing, of how it’s held up even though everything the two of you have been through together. It reminds me of how devoted he is to you, his love, and how he’d do anything to ensure your happiness, even if he has to sacrifice himself.

It’s something he’s been working on. He’s well aware that it’s not just him who would die if the two of you were parted now.

“If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.”

The final notes ring into the night and you offer him a polite clap, the soft sound leaving the night around you two undisturbed.

“Sebastian told me that was an effective way to woo someone from your time period. I do hope you found it satisfactory.” Will confesses, awkwardly holding the guitar like he isn’t sure what to do with it.

This time you laugh loud, raising your head towards the stars as your heart flutters for this man.

“Come inside already!” you call out to him, giggles still seeping into your voice as you rush back inside to let him in.

You’re going to have to make sure Theo isn’t around, but you can deal with that when the time comes. Right now, you need to concern yourself with your silly, wonderfully talented lover.

[sgiandubh]

Jottings: Season 7, Episode 3. Bloody newspapers, never get anything right

You will not need any tissues for this sort of dependable wrap-up episode, that probably packs a punch with regard to the books' timeline and helps explain some obscure points to show-only people, like me. Ice-cream is still a welcome side addition (B&J's Cookie Vermont-ster, this week), though: it is, after all, a very hot, sleepless summer in Europe.

Timeline and our attention are split between 1776 at Fraser's (f)Ridge and somewhere around 1978 in Inverness. While there is drama at the Ridge (the fire at the Big House, the Bugs, the Jacobite gold), in Scotland all the emotions of homecoming are quickly turning into a muffled affair, thanks to SS's evergreen DGAF monotony.

Spoiler: Bree's line while seated with Roger on the front steps of a -now- derelict Lallybroch ("I'm really happy right here") sounds and translates exactly like the supremely anticlimactic "I'm your daughter" (The Birds and the Bees). I will never, ever, ever forgive SS for that and I can only be relieved this time it wasn't such a big deal, in the great scheme of things. Or was it?

Unpopular opinion: Claire's Ave Maria fell a bit flat in these Catholic ears. I was expecting more, given the uber-dramatic context, and found it wanting. But this fleeting disappointment was soon enough redeemed with the soulfully subtle wink to Robert Frost's Death of a Hired Man ("Yes, what else but home?/It all depends on what you mean by home. /(...) ‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there,/They have to take you in.’). Immaculately delivered by C. - the woman does understand and feel poetry, and that, my friends, is a rare gift.

John Bell will surprise you in a very, very good way. Puck grew up. I see great things.

The J&C/S&C bubble: unsinkable. Because 'a thing of beauty is a joy forever'. And, it is my absolute conviction (along with Keats', of course) "it will never pass into nothingness".

Overall, we get all the right vibes from fizzled out Season 4 and underrated Season 5 in this episode that brings the Frasers back to Bree & Roger's humble pioneer cabin, for lack of a better solution.

For obvious reasons, I cheered and booed at the 'blood of my blood` scene, featuring C's new sgian-dubh (FYI, the handle fits perfectly in her palm). I admit, I sometimes am a vainglorious cretin (wee joke, Antis), but hey: it's been a while since we haven't seen knives and blades so prominently featured in this gunpowder, treason and plot segment of the saga.

With Vandervaart still off my radar, this rushed transition left me a bit hungry for more. Ever the optimist, I can only hope next week will be bigger, brighter, better and more. And the kilt is back (what's not to like, I wonder), because tee-hee, J&C are on their way to Scotland, too.

Little do they know, however. Onwards!

[xiaolanhua]

So here are my thoughts about In Blossom!

This post may have some spoilers!

I finished watching it yesterday and decided to make a post about my opinions while the drama is still fresh in my mind.

So, the drama made me interested from beginning till the end and overall it's great! It's nothing really revolutionary in terms of plot/story (historical dramas tend to have some similar stories) but it delivered what was promised: mystery, romance, investigation, a bit of thriller with amazing shots and gorgeous costumes!

About the leads:

Liu Xue Yi as the male lead really raised the level of this drama. His performance was one of my favorite things while watching it and i'm so grateful to whoever casted him as the lead because he deserves it (enough with playing the bad guy who never gets his happy ending or the girl 🥲).

At first, I was a little bit concerned about watching because I wasn't a fan of Ju Jing Yi's acting from the dramas I've watched with her but after finishing this one I think she made a solid performance (it's not the best one but definitely her best one yet) and it didn't compromised the drama at all. I've seeing a bunch of not so nice comments towards her specially because people were not happy with the actress "swapping" and although I think the "original" Yang Cai Wei did a great job I'm still satisfied with how things turned out and I like both "Cai Wei".

About the main couple:

For me, it's really poetic how Pan Yue loved Cai Wei since childhood, got to reunite with her after 10 years from being apart of each other, to think he finally married her and then "she" dies on the eve of the wedding, and how he goes insane about her death that get white strokes on his hair and goes on a mission to know who is behind her murder WHILE Cai Wei it's alive by his side but with the face of someone he despises (Shangguan Zhi) and when they start to work together on the cases, they begin to be close to each other and he hates himself for developing feelings for Shangguan Zhi thinking he's betraying Cai Wei's memory. It get's even better because he's falling in love again as she's behaving like the Cai Wei he knows so he get's even more confused and watching all of this was a delight!

They had chemistry, their scenes were fun, interesting, tender and sometimes even hot so it's a win for me actually.

About the second couple (SPOILER!!!!):

Their interactions were pretty cute and they had chemistry but it's a shame what happened to them, specially with Lan Jiang (he deserved better). I always felt that they were a "doomed" couple and I'm sad that I was right about it, my heart hurts for them both as the characters themselves and the ship that didn't sail.

About the cases and the story:

Another thing i liked about this drama is how the cases were introduced, they were directly or indirectly related to the main "mystery" and every case were solved so they didn't left any loose ends. Some dramas of this genre tend to abruptly solve the cases and they end up not adding much to the narrative so I'm glad this were not the case here.

The pacing of the drama was pretty good but I do feel like the last two episodes were a bit rushed. We can't have it all, can't we?

The ending was good as expected (not for some characters I would say) but still good. SPOILER!!! I liked that the cliffhanger did not affected the characters so it could have a second season if the producers wanted but it's not necessarily needed (My Journey to You can't relate).

Overall, it was a pleasant watch so I rate 8.9 out of 10. It's not perfect but I would totally recommend!

[sleepynxri]

“Shh, you’re safe. I won't let you go"

A/N: I did not expect for it to be like this- I expect it more to be the other way around but I feel like other players like it how Jean is more the comforting type. But the next time I'll make a one shot for him I'll make the reader the one comforting him :D

Pairing/s: Jean Williams x anxious reader

Warnings: stressed reader, mentions of having a meltdown and just overall anxious, I guess hurt/comfort but no one is actually hurt?? Yes there's fluff

You’ve always known you were the anxious type of person.

But that doesn't stop you from pursuing the things you wanted in life. You moved out from your house to go to college and chose a course to your liking. You were nervous at first, but you kept everything under control.

You handled your way on becoming independent and studied to the best of your abilities. You have done your best and that's what matters to you.

You thought following a WikWok video’s route would help you calm down after the rush and adrenaline from college before meeting your parents and family for the summer. What could go wrong you asked.

You knew karma and being jinxed existed.

But this?

I'm pretty sure the fates or any gods or goddesses out there are just laughing at your misery right now.

Your car breaking down out of nowhere….. you don't have enough money to pay both the hostel and the repairs of the said broken car.

What else?

You groaned softly as you sat yourself on the sand on a nearby beach side you found. It was near night time already but you didn't give a single fuck. Your mind was overwhelmed and needed to process everything.

You were surprised you didn't have a meltdown already, but it's probably because of the constant stress you got from college you slowly got used to it.

You wanted to be proud of that, but you were too tired to even do it.

You were happy that you got a Hostel to stay at and a job to hopefully pay the fees as soon as possible. Being in an unknown place made you want to curl yourself in a bundle of blankets and hope that everything was a dream.

Did you even remember telling your family that you won't be able to meet them in the starting weeks of summer because of this mishap?

“There you are” You froze suddenly from your position.

That familiar voice, the first person who helped you from your rollercoaster of a road trip. The stranger who owned the car you fell asleep in after you almost got a panic attack from your car breaking down out of nowhere.

Jean, the sheriff of Brine Bay.

" What brings you out here? It's nearly night already” His voice was always so soothing and so comforting. You always wondered if he was always like this. How many times have he encountered situations like this?

You promptly ignored him and stared at the tiding waves of the sea. The sound was almost the same tone that Jean has whenever he talked. You chuckled at the resemblance.

You heard rustling of the sand beside you, you assumed Jean sat down.

“Is everything alright? “

" Would you believe me even if I said yes? “ A joking tone would be evident but the edge of your emotions was still there.

You could hear Jean chuckling beside you as he found the conversation a bit humorous. You smiled slightly hearing it.

“How did you know I was here?"

“Lucky guess?"

“Bull"

“Alright alright, I'll tell you the truth. This is actually the area I go to distress myself when being a sheriff was too much for me" your eyes slightly widened from the information. Jean? Too much on being a sheriff? You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

You didn't expect Jean of all people to get tired of the role he has in Brine Bay. Your eyes glanced over to the male as you saw him looking at the night sky, as his chestnut hair slowly flickered slightly from the winds of the sea. A small smile was on his face as he looked like he was… . reminiscing?

“Hey, I'm always here if you want someone to listen to alright?” You were surprised by his words….. you knew he was the comforting and soft-hearted type of person… but not to this extent.

He stood up from where he was sitting and then outstretched his hand for you.

“Let's head back to the hostel, Dante must be worried for you" you roll your eyes, you weren't sure if his words were right or wrong since you knew the personality of the said front desk employee of the hostel.

You accepted his hand and he helped you stand up. You didn't expect to be pulled into a hug.

“I'll be here whenever you need me" he whispered slightly in your ear. You were confused but relaxed at some point as you wrapped your hands around him.

You were immersed in the hug, you couldn't remember how long you were in the position with Jean.

But you didn't care, you were already happy surrounding yourself in his arms.

Threads of You: Beyond the Bay Demo

Lavendeer Studio's Discord server

[heehoothefool]

I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED SIDE ORDER

SPOILERS BELOW AS I TALK ABOUT IT

Okay so first and foremost congrats to Nintendo for making a genuinely fun new way of playing the game that felt really inventive and fresh. "Splatoon Roguelite" was not a concept I'd ever imagined seeing, and it certainly wasn't something I was entirely sure I'd enjoy when it was confirmed as a reality.

And yet, I found myself having an absolutely wonderful time with this game! It's not so hard it's impossible, but it's also not so easy that I get bored, striking a really nice balance of keeping me both deeply invested in the gameplay without ripping my hair out in a fit of gamer rage.

I think like many others, I too would have liked maybe a few more bosses in the boss floor rotation, but genuinely I'm more than happy to over look that just by virtue of how fun the game turned out to be. I do think maybe Parallel Canon could have stood to be a bit tougher, it really just feels like an Octoling Onslaught level from past solo modes, but that's about my only real complaint for how the bosses themselves play.

The music kicks ass like usual, and I liked the way they handled the story so that both players who really only committed to the one Big Run and players who, like me, went for all the palettes, had a good chance of leaving the dlc rather satisfied with their answers.

In terms of palettes, I was genuinely surprised with how good most of them felt, and was especially surprised when I found myself sincerely enjoying palettes with weapons I normally would despise! Finding out that Marina's palette was actually genuinely viable, and possibly one of the stronger palettes I the game, was such a rush of joy to me. In no world had I ever considered a brella, paired with a sprinkler and ink storm, would ever be a viable combination in a game like this. And yet it was so genuinely fun to play with and build and very quickly opened my eyes to very creative palette building methods!

Some part of me does wish the order clone weapons you got for beating a run weren't just Skins, because some of those kits were genuinely really good and unique and I would have loved to play with them in a competitive setting, but I do understand why Nintendo, and especially the Splatoon Team, didn't lock An Entire 12 Unique Weapon Kits behind a paid DLC, and I appreciate it deeply. (A new Luna kit would have been nice tho)

Also, holy fuck was 8's palette hell. Don’t get me wrong, it was a very good and enjoyable challenge, but also I reached Overlorder like 6 different times and kept dying on the final phase because I turned off my Damage Reduction Hack in favor of Increased Damage and An Extra Life while still being able to have like. 12 chips. So every enemy shy of the little bastards and the sprinkler bitches would one shot my armor. Not to mention Reef Slider spam. I kind of wish the chip reduction vs. active hacks wasn't as unforgiving as it is, but that's a personal preference and not really a complaint I'd genuinely launch against the game. I was just having a rough time due to the splattershot's low damage compared to the Jelleton's high hp. I felt like I'd been handed an Arospray with a little more range and a slower fire rate, but no added damage, and been launched into a profreshional Salmon Run match Alone. A really good weapon if you want a real challenge from the game.

Overall I loved this, and I'm definitely gonna make a few more runs to try and get the Prlz to buy out Cipher's shop. I already have all the gear and banners, just gotta pick up the stickers and decorations.

[flusteredfools]

First off, love ur work & ur au.

The LoZ au was such a good read & I absolutely love the fluff & hurt in Feafull hearts.

Keep it up~

On a different note had artisan y/n ever thought of making candy? I can't help imagining sprite sun getting a sugar high & zooming around.

Aww thank you!! 💕💕 I'm so glad you like them! The LoZ AU I know seems like a weird crossover to some but I'm glad overall people liked it! I'm still looking forward to the drabbles I have planned for them. And I'm already getting sad that Faeful Hearts is starting to get closer to the end; it was originally only meant to be a 10 chapter short story but I've fallen so in love with my own creation that it's now been spread out over 20 chapters and still going... XD As for your question, yes! Artisan Y/N loves to dabble in a bit of everything and anything, and candy making would be right up their alley! From simple candies like milk caramels and chocolate melts to finer skilled ones like sugar sculptures, they'd want to try it all; and much to their Fae partners' delight. Assorted candy trays make great holiday gifts after all. If Sun and Moon had their way though, Artisan Y/N wouldn't be sharing any of their sweet creations with anyone but them; but after letting them sample all the treats one day only to find the myth of a sugar rush for humans is not a myth for their Fae Neighbors, well they had to pay a bit more attention to how much they spoil their loving Fae spouses.

If you'd like, please enjoy this small drabble inspired by your ask that's below the cut!

Sugar Highs & Hayrides - Part One

Faeful Hearts Side Drabble - Artisan Y/N x Fae Sun x Fae Moon (word count: 1353)

CW: kisses and playful Fae, very minor main story spoilers (I think that's it but please let me know if I missed anything)

The Autumn breeze blows chilly air across the wind chimes outside the kitchen window, while you work on the final batch of treats for the Many Hands Shelter’s Halloween party tonight. With no children of your own and your home being too far outside the small town, you wouldn’t be seeing any trick-or-treaters, no littles dressed up in spooky or adorable costumes gracing your doorstep with small riddles or silly jokes. You can’t say it was a holiday you used to look forward to while you were growing up, though the boarding school did host a small dance and banquet, inviting family members to come and join in the festivities and show off what the students have been up to throughout the year; you never really partook in more than just the meal. 

Gregory would invite you to join him and the Glamrocks in a makeshift patrol of trick-or-treating; Gregory visiting houses for candy while the Glamrocks would split up and watch over children and help steer them from trouble. Though occasionally, the Fae would pull small pranks of their own on rowdy teenagers or those up to no good. But you’d politely decline more often than not. No costume to wear door to door and not usually feeling up to the pranks. So instead you’d retire back to your dorm room and keep yourself entertained with self-study, crafting or reading. 

But this year is different, this year you’re back home and have two loving husbands who greatly enjoy the holiday. They’ve told you tales from years in the past, how they’d take the time to relax and celebrate on Hallow’s Eve. Sun would spend time swapping in and out of his Glamours to be around the children, helping lost ones find their parents, picking up abandoned wrapped treats, admiring all the decorations humans would hang and place around their yards; and Moon would delight in startling anyone who crossed his path while he clung to the shadows in his animal Glamour, laughing alongside children and adults as jack-o-lanterns lined the sidewalks with a warm glow before claiming fallen candy as a reward for his tricks. 

You were more than happy to let them have the holiday to spend however they wished, even if it left you at home alone in the small cottage; after all you had no magic that would allow you to join in their pranks or guidance. However, Sun said he had a better idea and pulled out a flier from the Many Hands Shelter advertising a Halloween Party and requesting volunteers and donations and, well, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day. 

Moon volunteered to help them decorate the venue they rented and even offered to help make a haunted house attraction, and you had to remind him to make sure he didn’t go overboard, small scares were fine but you didn’t want any children or parents terrified; to which he replied “no promises~” with a sharp smirk. Sun had already been picking out the best pumpkins and squash from his garden to help children carve and paint their own jack-o-lanterns, as well as offer his truck and trailer for a night time hayride. 

In between helping them both with their projects, you decided to do the majority of baking treats for the event. Wanting to make it extra special you decided you’d make candy this year to go along with your cookies, cakes and brownies. You’d done a bit of research, getting everything you’d need to make your own sugar sculptures and chocolates; though most of the work could be done through candy molds. 

You just finished a tray of caramel and candied apples and slices, and were now working on dipping some blueberries and strawberries in colored melted sugar, planning on sculpting the blueberries into small spiders and the strawberries into bats; working the melted sugar similar to how you’d work glass. You wanted small works of art that children and adults could enjoy, posing the spiders on white candy sticks as if they were hanging from a web and the strawberry bats on pretzel sticks as if they were hanging from a branch. Figuring it would be an easier way to eat the treat without anyone getting their fingers too sticky. 

That’s not to say you didn’t have your fair share of mistakes with the candy; a decent size pile of broken sugar shards and chocolate chunks fill a bowl on the counter beside you. Though the bowl of misshapen treats isn’t as full as it once was, Sun keeps sneaking pieces out of it when he thinks you’re not looking when he comes in to help load up your trays of goodies for the party. You’ve let him get away with it a few times now, just so the bowl wouldn’t overflow while you still needed it, but now that you could see the bottom of it again it was time to cut the light Fae off. 

“Sunshine.” You lightly scold once you hear him approaching again as you finish packing up the last of the treats to load. His attention turns to you, hands that were about to reach for the bowl on the counter wrapping around your body instead.

“Yes, my Sweet?” He coos, placing a kiss to your lips before trailing them across your cheek. 

You giggle away from his kisses, “don’t you think you’ve had enough sugar for now?” He gasps and nuzzles his face against your neck, trailing new kisses as one hand draws circles into your hip.

“Never~ There’s no such thing as too much sugar, especially from someone as sweet as you~” he teases between kisses, drawing them back up your neck to your lips. You giggle again, pressing your own kisses back to his lips as you trail your fingers down his shoulder and arm of the hand not on your hip. 

“As kind as it is of you to say that, Sunshine, I would have to disagree.” You continue your path along his arm until you’re able to grip his wrist and remove the candy he was trying to steal literally from behind your back. “And I think a bowl full of sugar when I know you plan on having more at the party tonight is too much.” Sun clicks his tongue in disappointment of getting caught sneaking the candy, having thought he was distracting you well enough. He switches to a pout, trying to use his puppy eyes on you to make you give in like you always have before. You spread your free hand over his face to block it out and you turn your eyes. “No! Don’t even think about giving me the puppy pout. You know how you get when you have too much sweets and you have a group of children looking forward to a hayride tonight.” 

“But Blossom…” Sun whines at you, taking advantage of your hand across his face to place more kisses into and you feel your resolve melting away like the sugar still in the pot with each gentle touch. You let out a long sigh and you can feel the corners of Sun’s lips upturn into his winning grin. 

“You don’t get more now, so wipe that smirk.” You playfully huff at him, “but as long as you don’t get too hyped up on sugar that it will affect your driving, you can finish the bowl before we head over to the venue.” He places a firm kiss on your temple as he pulls away from you to load up the final dessert tray you finished. Sun spins himself and the dessert tray happily as he hums a tune in his victory as he leaves the kitchen. “You’ll still have to cut back on the desserts at the party!” You call after him and while you know he heard you, he didn’t respond. You let out a groan of mild regret as you start cleaning up the remains of your mess; trying not to think of the mess you’ll have on your hands later tonight when Sun doesn’t heed your warnings.

[duchessonfire]

Whatever AU you create I live for it, honestly I'm your biggest fan at this point. Feel free to expand! The abo, supernatural twist, the motherfucking reverse sugar that i did not expect 😂 what kinda dynamic do you envision? Are they overall similar to savior except for some key point or is the energy between cegan completely altered? What are the vibes 🤩

Also! What are you thought on Negan's evolution and can you add your twist as to where do you think Carl can fit in it

(ive never watched dead city and stopped twd years ago coincidentaly right after carl died i keep up a bit with spoilers so i got the gist of it. But from what i can see he's become a fundamentaly different person. Swagger still there but dialed down enough to make me sad 😔 wbu do you keep up? id be impressed if you did cause that's some damn comitmment.

Listen i've been trying to recreate your magic by combining ao3 tags lately but nothing seems to fit! Its the age difference, its the slow burn with what started as someone playing meanly and exerting their power on someone else only to be hit with the feelings 🫢, it's the top tier d/s subtext, its the jealousy and the two step forward one step back, its the smut tbh mostly the smut, simply put it's giving.

And absolutely no rush and dont feel obliged to answer but what kinda irl timeline are you predicting for part 3 and 4 and the neganpov? You've been churning out updates lately (22k high quality chapter within a month; we are spoiled god bless🫂).

I'm frothing at the mouth waiting for your next update. You sincerely bring me joy.

Hi again Cegan lovely! ✨

Thank you so much for this sweet message.

The dynamics of the other Cegan project I have planned will be very much similar to the Savior!Carl universe with Carl and Negan going from enemies to lovers. The only one that is truly different is the reverse sugar daddy AU where I'm going for a Carl that is super shy and vulnerable, really a gifted kid who has trouble connecting with people and who clings to his crush for his former PE teacher for dear life. I'm really excited about those projects even though I have no idea when I'll have time to write them 😅

I am still heavily involved in TWD universe and I have watched the main show until the end, as well as the Daryl Dixon, The Ones Who Live and the Dead City spinoffs. I was very unhappy with Negan's characterization in the last season of TWD but Dead City really brought a breath of fresh air and I'm excited to see what lies in store for Negan in season 2.

So funny thing, part 4 of the Savior!Carl universe will cover Rick's arrival and the war between the Saviors and the other communities, but because I want to stick closely to canon, part 5 will deal with the time Negan spends in the cell and the Whisperer War. So I have in fact plans for Carl and Negan's relationship even after Negan loses his empire. (I'm actually very excited about their new dynamics after that happens ❤️‍🔥 While Negan will go softer, Carl will become a lot harder and more ruthless so that will be pretty amazing to explore...).

I'm so happy that you enjoy the Savior!Carl AU 😍 If you're looking for more Cegan content, I recommend looking at my bookmarks. If you enter Carl Grimes or Negan Smith in the "other work tags to include" section, you will be able to see all my Cegan bookmarks. I especially recommend the fics by Gemjam: Wildflowers and Genesis, which are really the main inspiration behind the Savior!Carl universe, but in my bookmarks you will find loads more of amazing works by amazing writers! Happy reading 📖

So for the time-line, part 3 will finish this summer for sure, hopefully by beginning of July. I will post chapter 10 this week (hopefully today or tomorrow), and then it's only two more chapters to go. The time-line for 4 is a lot blurrier because I still have a lot of brainstorming to do. Same for part 5 and for the Negan's pov. Ideally, I would like the Negan's pov to post at the same time as part 5 because Carl will spend a lot of time away from Negan while he's in the cell, so posting Negan's pov at the same time would still giving readers a healthy amount of Cegan next to the plot of part 5.

Thank you again for such a lovely ask and I hope you have an amazing day 💐😘

[cozymidnights]

I'm very confused on what I'm feeling and I need to get it out aaaaaaaaa

(also the dub dropped super quick WTH)

First of all IT WAS SO SHORT!!! It could have done with at least 5 more minutes a lot of stuff felt rushed

knew the boy was going to pilot, I'm so happy

Also glad N and Uzi finally got their what are we talk haha

I really hoped Khan, Thad and Lizzy got to do more like I expected them to fight J at least a little bit

Totally knew V was alive

The inmaculate ex gfs vibes between V and J, amazing I need 200 fics please

For the longest time I wondered were the solver ended and cyn started and apparently they are one in the same???

Cyn/solver is a menace, so gross and terrifying one of my favorite villains of all the time

N with Ptsd was very real and it broke my heart

Fight was epic but I didn't expect less

Uzi's speech I'm cringe but free is everything to me I lover my girl so much

Uzi now has the solver core??? WHAT DOES IT MEAN??? WHAT DOES THAT IMPLY!?!?! ANSWERS PLEASE

Doll my beloved gone too soon cold have done more I feel robbed

N's artist journey is very important and I love that he's learning to draw Manga no less, he and Uzi are going to be the cringiest couple of dorks and I wouldn't wanted it any other way love them so much

Also cyn is on Uzi's head what does it mean???!!?!

Honestly Khan and Nori just to having that little exange, criminal

Also dub was really good again very close to the original so no notes

I just love that in Spanish Uzi is allowed to swear hahaha she deserves it

Overall I liked it but it feel awfully open ended, I really feel there's so much left, is it going to be more? Or that's it???

Up to episode 7 I felt the show was very good with the set up and reveal but episode 8 just left me wanting more

Seriously where's the rest of the show

Still I love the show very much and I'm so thankful to Liam and the Glitch team for it