#why not leave it in a cliffhanger

[serenelia]

Adepti OC + injured Kazuha•°. *࿐

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Content includes: nightmarish descriptions, minor mentions of blood (it's only an illusion so dw), oc that is part of the Adepti.

Scroll away if you do not entertain the idea of a self-insert (kind of) oc, I do not take criticism towards it thnks :3

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A throb in the side of his head, sweat dripping down his face, drops of blood escape his clenched fist. Kazuha claws his way out of his own chest, black goo marking every movement he makes, turning red and dissolving at a touch. It fills the air around him, slowly making its way into his system through his mouth. Engulfing his lungs, making his efforts to resurface fruitless.

Somewhere, a high-pitched voice echoes through the void.

Each step takes you closer to your fate

...can you avoid it–

A sudden shift in his environment makes everything disappear; the dull colors shine a bright light that blinds him for a moment.

And it calms everything.

Floating there, his whole body and mind feel like he's in a permanent state of tranquility. Never has he felt any suffering beyond or before that point.

No confusion, no thoughts, nothing.

A needle lodges itself in his head.

He doesn't move.

He can't.

Multiple needles began appearing, and the pain doubles.

Yet he can't move or speak.

It stays there for an agonizingly long time, and the feeling of the pain only becomes worse once it spreads to his neck and to his chest, where it situates.

Suddenly, something grabs at his chest and yanks it away from his body—

A sharp gasp follows his wake, and Kazuha lunges his hand in front of him, moaning in pain upon feeling the painfully familiar throb in his head.

He clutches at his head, closing his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows, trying to clear his head to lessen the pain. His other hand came down to hold on to the soft blanket covering his lower half.

He halts.

Blankets?

The pain surprisingly fades away a breath later; a static-like feeling hovering over his head remains. Thankfully, it's not painful, merely a disturbance.

Kazuha lifts his head and is surprised to see he isn't in the woods where he originally was. A large peach-colored room with bookshelves filled to the brim with rolled-up paper and glass tubes replaced the trees and humps on the ground.

Windows cover every corner; a light orange glow shines through them, with wooden pillars holding up the mildly decorated roof. Upon closer inspection, he finds a lot of items floating in the air. Some follow gravity and stay on top of the wooden shelves; some defy it and float around, and even though air isn’t blowing in the room, the items move in different directions, almost bumping into each other. He looks to his left and finds an empty door a few steps away from his bed.

To the left sits a wooden table with medical equipment; as far as he can see, multiple pieces of paper with scribbles and pens float and stay on the table surface. A few decorations, like flowers, pots, and paintings, are sprawled on the table as well. He questions why the half-done paintings are along with the equipment, but perhaps its too early to judge.

Only the soft whisper of leaves brushing against each other, along with the howl of wind, could be heard in the room at his silence. For a moment, he lays there, thinking. Until a glowing figure appears at the very corner of the empty doorway. One would need to squint to even observe them due to the surroundings outside almost blending the two.

Kazuha would have been delighted to spot someone, yet when the mysterious person notices him awake, he was promptly knocked out, with the following words serving as his only warning:

“Ah, I’m going to need you to sleep a bit more.”

A glowing figure stands over a mortal in a secluded hut, touches as light as a feather as she held his face, two digits of her hand placed upon the side of his neck, the other coming up to monitor his breathing. Her sharp eyes taking his appearance down to the source of disturbance,

“Strong pull… He's running out of breath… Purple marking…” She presses her hand against his bicep, pulling up his kimono, “..yep, just as I thought.”

Lia clicks her tongue before withdrawing her hand off of the mortal, making haste toward the table to the far right, taking an empty canvas and stretching it on her way back. Once it has taken the shape of a scroll, she takes off his sleeves and presses the item on his skin. The white-haired mortal groans in his sleep, his face scrunching up in pain soon after.

The Adeptus remains unfazed by the reaction, finding it to be pleasant, as if he didn’t react, he’d be dead. Most likely, the incense and medicine are taking effect, and is making an excuse for the pain in his brain in the form of a dream. Not that she bothers to make sure he is.

She remains there, pressing the material on his skin as it burns through the spell of the mage. Thankfully, it isn’t far too late to erase the mark. Or else she’d have to cut off his arm for precaution. A spell cast by an abyss mage is no light matter. She wonders how he has managed to freely roam Liyue without the other Adepti taking notice.

After a couple more checks on the mortal, Lia leans back to inspect the arm carefully. Other than the injuries he had before, he doesn’t emit the aura of the abyss anymore, so it's safe to say he’s finished.

Lia sighs in relief, another danger averted. Now all that’s left is to dispose of this mortal out of her realm without attracting the other Adeptus’ attention.

She takes the used scrolls in her arm, placing them to float above her table. Eyes scanning through her old records after shifting the room at her command, the walls closed in on her, but not so that the patient would get hit. In hindsight, the room would look claustrophobic if you didn’t take her abilities into account.

With a flick of her hand, a scroll from the far end of the shelf floats toward her, stopping once she wraps her hand around it. As she was about to open it, a grunt came from behind. Her eyes widening upon realizing that was no other than the mortal she was treating earlier.

The sounds of sheets ruffling occupy her ears as she ever so slowly turns around. This was not what she had planned. He was supposed to remain passed out until she lets him out of her room at least! Is it possible for someone to be slightly less affected by her domain’s leyline?

She takes a step back once she has fully turned to face the mortal being, her eyes staring at his figure like a hawk. Meanwhile, the unsuspecting mortal remains oblivious to her disarray thoughts as he speaks in a very calm manner, “Greetings, miss, may I ask where I am?”

.~°~•~.~°.~°~•~.~°.~°~•~.~°.~°~•~.~°.~°~•~.~°.~°~•~.~°.~°~•~.~°.~°~•~.~°

reposts, likes, and comments are appreciated! Tell me your thoughts! The feeling of joy consumes me when I see the notification saying someone interacted ^^

[undertalethingems]

Unexpected Guests Chapter 10, Act Two: Page 4

First / Previous / Next

Gaster may have shown his face again, but Undyne's more than ready to put a boot right through it--and the wall too...

I've said it before, I'll say it again, even if it's difficult to get right I always enjoy drawing Undyne's action poses! It gave me a good reason to revisit my volumes of fullmetal alchemist for inspiration, even if that meant staying up way too late one night XD

I hope you'll look forward to the next update, coming Oct. 19th!

[angy-grrr]

thoughts:

Himiko Toga never chose a villain name because she has always been the monster and demon for others, internalizing it. But also because she isnt trying to be someone else, but proudly show herself and her love -AFO exploited this to reaffirm the previous, so she never even realized she could give her blood for others.

Ochako Uraraka's goal and arc isn't finished until we see a few main points: "who will save heroes?" A discussion about heroism and saving, and I wouldnt be too surprised if saving villains also come up here as a developed version of the first. They are all people, and that's what matters over their assigned roles. "Himiko Toga". Where is she? Ochako's arc can't be finished until we see or hear what ended up happening. "What does she feel about it all?" She needs a resolution and express her feelings, and with the hiding she has done recently I cant help but wonder even more about Himiko's state, as she is the person who makes Ochako feel safe enough to talk about her thoughts. And lastly"You like him, dont you?" What will happen with her love for Izuku? Is she going to hide it, confess, talk about it more with Himiko? I still think about "the reveal" during her fight with her, and her hair covering her whole face... It could be because she "needs" to tell and show her whole face to Izuku*. I would prefer it another way tho

*She said she admires Himiko for being able to say her feelings and love who she does with her whole face, if I remember correctly, while remembering an Izuku who is looking somewhere (someone?) else smiling. I believe its important that she doesnt have her face shown there, but we still dont have a clear reason why. Is she just not able to show that love to Himiko because she hasn't shown Izuku first? Is it because she no longer feels it? In the next panel she says shes now going to stop her, we can see her face, and her mouth is covered in blood. Is it because their battle was never about him? Because she is ashamed of those feelings? Because she doesn't want to engage in them?

With chapter 425 taking us by surprise because of her first interaction with Midoriya after the war, I prefer to think she has her hair covering her face because she still can't be honestly herself with him. Partially? Yes completely, but she can't tell him her feelings like with Himiko.

I hope she expresses her feelings to the class, to her parents, her friends, the civilians... but I really don't think a confession to him and him only would solve anything.

She doesn't want or can't chase him and his feelings like with Himiko; Izuku is acting weird, upset about many things, and she doesn't see that, im sure she would have tried to help if she actually knew. Even tho she looks around to find a crying Himiko, she doesn't try to do the same now, and in fact rejects it; she decided her feelings are not for him or others to see, at least at the moment.

So how does Hori plan to change this in such little time? Is Izuku going to chase after her, when thats what he has always done with everything he wants? Doesn't he deserve to be chased back? Doesnt she deserve the right to decide how much of herself she wants to reveal to him? Or mourn the loss in her own terms, in case Toga's dead or she thinks she is?

With her feelings for both Midoriya and Toga she has tried to put heroism first, focus only on that; with the first one because she fails at her goals and just blindly imitates him without finding herself, and the second one because she shouldn't feel that way and questions herself over those quite frequently.

I have no idea if Horikoshi plans to make her put her feelings first for him over heroism like she did with her -risking it and acting against what a hero "should" do so they can both just be Himiko Toga and Ochako Uraraka.

I have no idea, but it would make me so sad if he did.

EDIT:

In chapter 424 we see Shoto first in the hospital, when the narration explains things cant be as simple as Deku thought as a kid. Then Ochako appears, with her arm over her stomach probably thinking about her fight. It can't end so easily, and I wouldnt be surprised if chapter 427 or 428 was about them.

Fun thought: what if Himiko is the one about to see Spinner? jkjkjk. It could be cute tho.

[animationismycomfort]

growing up is realizing you don’t hate anyone in lees group

it’s just a bunch of f-cked up people

forced together in a f-cked up situation

not to mention WITH CHILDREN

[queenofmistresses]

sub ben x dom reader where ben has a degradation kink and the reader brags a bunch about being better than him, he gets turned on by the reader taking charge

thank you :)

A/N omg such a polite ask! You’re welcome 😊 hope you enjoy and I hope this is what you’re after! Also, love the idea of ben have a degradation kink, we definitely got to see some more of his sexual preferences in the last season, I did get very excited

I was more teasing than anything else. I know Ben’s smart, that’s inarguable really. But I love to tease him, it usually takes him down a peg or 2 for a day. Reminds him that he’s not the only smart one in this school.

Today though, he’s acting different to usual. Normally he would fight back at least a little. Come up with some snarky remarks, something other than just staring at me the way he is.

Because he doesn’t seem to be responding, I start to spiral a bit. Getting more extreme, until I’m getting to the point where I’m practically calling him pathetic and saying that I’m better than him. Again, I’m joking really. I don’t really think he’s pathetic. I don’t really know how to stop and I wonder if I’ve gone too far.

“I-um Ben that was too far I’m sorry. I was just messing around.” I try to savour it. I don’t want him to think I’m a complete dick. He’s still staring at me with that look.

“I liked it.” He says, still staring at me, seeming a little dazed and confused.

“What?”

“Fuck.” He seems to snap out of it now and looks shocked. At me or himself I’m not sure. Probably both.

Next thing I know he’s running off without any word to me. What the fuck? He liked what?

I quickly decide to chase after him. He doesn’t seem to notice though because he quickly goes into an empty classroom, not at all subtly, and I follow him in.

“Ben what’s going on?” I ask, confused. He turns suddenly, realising I’m there. He stutters and can’t seem to get any words out. Then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It can’t be right? I risk it all and I just look. And sure enough, it looks like he has a boner. “D-did I do that?” I look up at him and he looks panicked now, not saying anything. “Ben answer the question.” I say firmly, needing an answer.

“Y-yes.” He answers, looking terrified.

“How?” I ask, softer now. He avoids eye contact with me but I let him off, this seems very uncomfortable.

“W-when you were calling me pathetic a-and saying you’re better than me.” Oh. Now that, that actually explains a lot. I can’t help but smirk now. Ben, the snarky, rude, rich boy, was a sub, and not just that, but he liked degradation.

Oh this is going to be fun

[cattyanon]

Okay okay okay so I've just been thinking about how a Slay the Princess Sonadow AU would work considering I wanted to go for Sonic taking the place of the Princess and, well, you know how the Princess gets when you commit certain actions... So I was thinking what if he was 'possessed' by Fleetway? And that's also why he was locked away?

Taking some loose Sonic Underground inspiration for characters I'm thinking the backstory is as follows: Aleena has triplets but as Sonic grows up she senses a very suspicious heavy presence inside him that's leaning towards the demonic being side. So she calls upon the best priests but to no avail. It doesn't help that Fleetway (who although perceived as a demon is really just a defense mechanism taken extreme form) takes it as a threat and lashes out, injuring several people before he transforms back into just Sonic. Then they try doing it with Sonic locked up (Sonic is horrified by what he's done and complies with this, plus he's very young here so he's just obeying his mother) and despite actually being able to finish praying this time it doesn't work. Scared and confused, Aleena doesn't release him afterwards. Instead she says that she's going to find a cure for him but until then he was going to be locked away. Both Sonic and Fleetway were very unhappy with this in different ways but they were young and weak so they couldn't do anything.

Unfortunately, Sonic ends up staying down there for years. He has no idea what's been going on above ground but one day somebody comes down with a sword and attempts to slay him. In the end the person is heavily injured and despite hitting Sonic straight on it doesn't do anything. The sword didn't get very far and the wound closed up not long after. This happens lots of times but with different people. With almost every new person that attempts to kill him the sword manages to plunge deeper but none are actually able to- all ending up injured in one way or another.

Why not just send a bunch of people down? Well Aleena has her reasons. She still hopes to cure him but at this point is taking extreme measures.

Then que Shadow... He's escorted to the dungeon and is told that Sonic is near the end to left. They close the door behind him just in case and so he goes and actually manages to slay Sonic, but not before being killed by Fleetway in a last ditch effort at revenge.

And then he wakes back up right as the door clicks shut behind him.

He's confused, obviously. Hadn't he died? Cautiously he makes his way to the cell and is greeted by a half transformed Sonic. He looks less like the predator he had previously perceived him as and more like a scared cornered animal. After a bit of talking instead of just straight up killing him, Shadow manages to get a grasp on the situation from Sonic's end and feels bad. Although still a bit nervous about it, he frees Sonic and the two nervously make their way back up.

But the moment Shadow is seen with Sonic out of his cell they attack the both of them despite Shadow having tried to explain the situation. They both end up seriously injured and Shadow succumbs to his injuries.

Then Shadow wakes back up at the entrance to the dungeon...

[evilkaeya]

the new hsr event quest took a 180° turn at the end... I need the continuation nowww 😭😭

[eggseabutter]

Prime spoilers:

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Guys nooooo, Sonic and Shadow are breaking up 😭😭😭 they truly acted like a married couple ngl.

I love and it pains me how Sonic says ‘I just want to go home’, he sounds so vulnerable and tired at that moment and the fact that Shadow is the one to hear it but is also hurting and replies that there’s is no home…god, so many feelings.

I really want them to work together and I think that’s probably what that battle will led to, they need each other now that they’re the only ones who remember what happened 🥺

[areyoudoingthis]

i TRY to think about what terribly angsty move they could hit us with in the finale but nothing sticks. ed's retirement crisis? they'll just talk about it and figure it out, they do that now. the british? they're literally cartoon villains just drop an anvil on their heads boom done. separated by force? stede will just swim his way back to ed no prob. one of them's in danger? they're literally unkillable gays!!!!!

the only thing standing in their way was themselves and they've established that now so what are you gonna do. what are you gonna do to me david jenkins you made me immortal what kryptonite could you possibly have up your sleeve

[your-friendly-sociopath]

Me speed running the five stages of grief after watching the latest ahsoka episode

[kdramacrybaby]

Ju killed them???

I knew she had that dark past and all, but THIS?!

Also they’re obviously not gonna kill Do-hee now, so I’m not stressing about that cliffhanger for once 😂 They even cut her from the teasers to make it seem like she’s not there, do they think we’re that dumb? We’re clowns, but we’re not stupid 🤡

[wayward-dreamer]

i'm suing jason sudeikis for the emotional distress caused by this episode. I am such a mess rn it's tragic

[ms-no1kpopstan]

ɪ ᴀɪɴ’ᴛ [ᴀᴍ] ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ

in which you find yourself not wanting to bother riki with the fact that you’re really stressed out about your upcoming finals but he figures out how bad your anxiety is once he finds you on your desk, silently crying with your head in your textbook the day before the first exam…

[Contains Comfort and established relationships, pda as well]

• release date ~ ????? • oneshot

• now playing : I ain’t worried, by OneRepublic

• now, I don’t know when I’ll make the real oneshot, I’ll just post this and send an ask if you wanna be added to the tag listfor when it comes out! reblogs, likes and comments are really appreciated! they make me happy <3333 tags: @mandukkul @copyhanni @nikiswifereal27 @stariikis @ad0rechuu

[eriexplosion]

Still thinking about the finale of course and how little sense it makes for the sacrifice to be final because like... all the things people compare it to were people sacrificing for a good reason.

Kanan died on a mission to get Hera out, they succeeded and they rescued her and he died to protect them. He died to protect the woman he loved, the child she hadn't told him about but he might have sensed, and the squad that had become his family. Narratively his death pushes Ezra to the place he needs to be to accept the loss of his parents and resist Palpatine's attempt to make him give it all up to get his parents back. It sets the stage for Ezra to sacrifice himself less fatally in the endgame of the season.

The Rogue One crew died to get the plans to the Death Star out - their sacrifice is the reason A New Hope can even happen and we have the context to see why it's worth it.

Vader sacrifices himself and kills the Emperor and the reason people hate Somehow Palpatine Has Returned is partially because it negates that. We know the impact of the sacrifice.

But look at Tech's decision to drop. If he dies here then he dies to save his family... on a mission he insisted they go on in the first place, where they did not accomplish their goal to track Hemlock and they did not figure out where Crosshair was being held. And immediately after they literally crash anyway and Omega almost dies. This instantly puts them to Ord Mantell where they get betrayed and Omega is captured.

But what about character arcs? Surely it had some kind of payoff for the character decisions? Well, Hunter wants to go back to Pabu. Understandable. He also wanted to do that anyway because he thought this was too risky a way to try to get Crosshair back (turns out he was right) so Tech's sacrifice didn't change his direction. Wrecker and Echo are still pretty much on the same trajectory. Omega is sad but her actions to get her brothers back are exactly the same as what she would have done prior.

And unlike the other examples, that's the end of the season, if they have a narrative planned to redeem this we aren't going to see it for a while and the fact is still that if he dies here then he dies as a result of his own decision to push to take this risk and find Crosshair, creating a situation where if he hadn't been so eager to save someone he would still be alive, Omega wouldn't be captured, and they would still have the opportunity to save Crosshair another way.

His death moves nothing forward, changes nothing except to make life harder for the heroes, and doesn't motivate any of them in a direction they weren't already heading in. It's also given no narrative time to breathe before we're thrown into the Omega captured and has a sister subplot. It would be pure shock value in a way that these writers are better then. But a fakeout that moves him into place for a third season narrative payoff? Then we're getting somewhere and the lack of time devoted to the Aftermath makes sense.

Like I've written a lot of things about why I think Tech is alive but when it comes down to it, I think it's the better narrative decision and I don't actually think the writers are bad enough at their jobs not to be able to convincingly make a main characters death feel important.

[quicklyandrogynousfox-blog]

iac sa insta story day ten

[thetomorrowshow]

what to throw away

Masterlist - Previous

yes that's correct!! two trust au updates in one month! we love to see it <3

cw: choking, light violence

~

This is almost a dream come true.

Jimmy is engaged to the love of his life. They share everything—quarters, meals, a bed. He lives with his fiance in a beautiful palace in the snowy mountains of Rivendell, overlooking a picturesque elven town. He spends every day with his fiance, working together and trading smiles that are literally only for each other.

Yet as sweet and wonderful and purely happy as that all sounds, Jimmy’s every moment is devastating.

His fiance will never love him the way he loves Scott. And none of this is real.

When Scott had suggested it, desperation lacing his voice, Jimmy had barely even had to think about it before accepting. Even if it wasn’t the only option to keep him safe, it was the only one that Jimmy wanted to consider. A chance to be engaged to Scott Smajor, despite the way he messed up their friendship by kissing him that one time? Please.

What he didn’t consider was the fact that even letting Scott sleep in his bed at night was already something that left him feeling empty inside—watching him sleep and knowing that they would never have anything that he truly wants. Surely he ought to have thought about how much worse being betrothed to him would be.

And now here they are, playing a game of catch with Jimmy’s heart, the odds of it hitting the ground and shattering becoming more and more likely with every passing moment.

It’s a terrible way to live, as thrilling as it is. But it’s keeping him safe.

Sausage and fWhip have been entirely silent on the issue of the Codfather head, not even mentioning that they might have it. With the diplomatic immunity that Jimmy currently possesses, he would be surprised if they even tried to interact with him at any point in the near future. Luckily, no such thing had happened so far. Scott’s plan was working.

Scott’s plan, however, includes some very . . . interesting stipulations, including some of the most interesting clothing Jimmy’s ever had to wear.

Every day, Jimmy dresses in a long elven robe, falling to his ankles despite that skin already being covered by his hose underneath. It’s similar to Scott’s everyday clothes, but with a longer hem and sleeves and higher neckline. Atop that is a veil that covers his head and face (this comes in several varieties, some veils trailing down to the ground and others cutting off neatly at his collarbone, and he thinks they have different purposes but Scott hasn’t explained that yet). The veil is fastened in place with a couple of pins and clasps and the robe with various ties, none of which Jimmy can successfully put together without making a mess of his clothes, then finished off with a pair of gloves pulled over the gold ring on his left hand and soft boots.

The only time he can skip out on the veil—and only the veil, unfortunately—is when he’s in their quarters, which is where he spends most of his time outside of tutoring. He’s not exactly allowed to roam around any farther than the palace gardens, and without permission to even dip his fins in the pool of freezing water, the gardens quickly lose their charm. No part of his skin can show outside of their quarters, and shown to no one but Scott. He’s actually not supposed to even see anyone but Scott.

Exceptions have been made, thankfully. Not only is he from a different culture, but he’s also royalty (as far as anyone knows), both of which have been taken into consideration by Scott’s various councils (he has an advisory council, then a historian council, then a culture council, all for the ordeal of just getting engaged). He’s allowed to video chat on his communicator with his advisors as necessary, and he’s managed to stretch that a little bit to include the Cod Alliance. At least he can see Lizzie and Joel on occasion, even if they can’t exactly see him.

The clothes aren’t all bad, of course. For the first time in as long as he can remember, Jimmy feels as if he has full autonomy over his body, even as he expects the clothing to cause the opposite feeling. Sure, the gloves and long skirts and veil cover any scars he has, but it’s not really that. He mentions it to Scott one night, and he’s surprised when Scott agrees.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? All this time as the king of Rivendell, it’s like my body has been constantly on display.”

“Constantly judged,” Jimmy adds. “Every time I passed by, people would just be gossiping about how I looked.”

Scott nods. “Exactly. And now nobody knows how I look, and there’ll be no tabloids about how it looks as though I’ve not brushed my hair in three weeks. I can just . . . do whatever. They aren’t even allowed to perceive me. This is excellent.”

While it isn’t exactly excellent, Jimmy completely understands. He’s never felt more like his body belonged to himself.

That night occurs maybe a week into their sham betrothal, and it’s a night when they stay up late talking, the lamps low and both of them in bed. Despite his positive feelings about the betrothal get-up, Jimmy’s relieved to be able to wear just shorts and a loose top to bed, even as Scott wears embroidered nightclothes.

(Jimmy had been measured for some when he first arrived, but they’re too slidey and silky on his scales and too fancy for his tastes. Scott looks impressively rich and handsome, but Jimmy just doesn’t think it’s right for him.)

“It’s an awful lot of fabric, though, isn’t it?” Jimmy continues, waving his arms for emphasis. “I feel as if I have a million different pins and clasps to do before I’m anywhere near right, and I always seem to get tied up in it wrong.”

Scott giggles. “There’s two clasps and two pins, Jimmy, it’s not that difficult. And the ties are a bit tricky at first, but you’ll figure it out soon. And then I’ll teach you how to style it!”

It’s strange that Scott knows all this stuff already. According to the councils, this is Scott’s first time being engaged, which makes it some sort of big deal. Maybe it’s just something that they teach in Rivendell schools? Maybe the ties on Scott’s usual robes are similar enough that there’s no real difference, even if Scott’s usual is a decent bit more form-fitting and skin-showing?

“How long have the robes and veil been a thing?” he asks thoughtfully, thinking over the past week’s worth of mind-numbing lessons with his tutor on Rivendell history. He doesn’t really remember anything from them.

“A while,” Scott shrugs. The moon has properly risen, now, and Scott wiggles until he’s under the covers, rather than sitting up to talk. “Many thousands of years, probably. They started out as just whatever household clothes you could throw together to cover your whole self in order to go to the market, if I’m recalling correctly. It was only within the last . . . five thousand years, maybe, that they became something that was marketable. I could be entirely wrong on that.”

“I’ll make sure to ask the tutor instead of you, yeah?” Jimmy suggests, to which Scott laughs.

Jimmy also readjusts, scooting under the covers to press as near to Scott as he dares. The conversation dwindles away and Scott blows out the lamp. They fall asleep like that, almost touching, and when Scott wakes in a panic in the middle of the night, he buries his face in Jimmy’s chest and clutches his arms around him.

Jimmy wakes the next morning in the warm embrace of a very clingy, sleeping Scott, the smell of their now-shared gingerbread shampoo strong in his nose, and he cries (just a little bit).

-

Lizzie had boasted that she knew the whole time. Joel had laughed and congratulated Jimmy. Jimmy had smiled through the anxiety that at any moment they could be found out to be lying, and surely what would happen then would be worse than if the Wither Rose Alliance went public with their possession of the Codfather head.

It’s been nearly a month, though, and nobody seems to suspect that he and Scott are anything but deeply in love with each other.

Maybe it’s the level of commitment that they’ve taken this to—neither of them have left Rivendell’s palace, neither have shown any skin since the engagement was announced. They’d had to do a press conference of sorts on the first official day of the first step of their commitment (‘first official day’ because Scott’s councils had known for several days already and had been getting them both fitted for the proper attire), where reporters from all of the empires were given the opportunity to ask a couple of questions before the total isolation began. They had an agreed-upon story (with as many embellishments as Scott could throw in on the spot)—in which they’d been courting since the beginning of their alliance, and had decided to bite the bullet and commit to strengthen their empires when the rumors of war began. Somehow (despite certain members of the Cod Alliance knowing otherwise), every one of the other rulers bought it, as well as the citizens of both their empires. Katherine in particular became much warmer to the both of them, extending her congratulations and arranging a personal meeting in order to work out a neutrality statement in the coming conflicts that wouldn’t harm their trades.

The first week had been a flurry of activity, but now things have settled down and Jimmy mostly finds himself bored.

His lessons are mindnumbing and confusing, but despite them feeling as if they drag on forever, they only last three hours and leave Jimmy with a pile of homework he can’t wrap his head around without Scott and nothing to do for the rest of the day.

There’s the gardens, of course, and he can visit the courtyard, as long as he puts in a request with the staff (by way of a note slipped through a slot in the door) to ensure it stays empty an hour before his arrival. He can only stay for two hours at a time, though, and is otherwise confined to within the palace walls, moving as a wraith through the halls.

It’s frustrating that the only place he can remove his veil is in their quarters, particularly because there’s not a lot of opportunities for exercise in their rooms. Two bedrooms, a sitting room, a washroom, two walk-in closets, and a half-kitchen. Not much room to run laps, do heavy lifting, and certainly not a place for swimming. He brings it up to Scott one morning, who frowns.

“Maybe we can get you a few hours per day at the public pool?”

“You have a public pool?”

Scott shrugs. “Of course. It used to be a bathhouse, I believe, but it was too cold. Nobody wanted to bathe in it. Instead of tearing it down, we remodeled.”

Jimmy’s never been so excited at the idea of going to a public pool, but there’s not much to get excited about in this incredibly dangerous false arrangement. It would set his heart racing with excitement just to see a tree that isn’t one of the two in the gardens.

They bring it up to all three councils the very next day. At first, none of the elves seem to approve of the idea, but Scott (rather forcefully, Jimmy thinks, blushing under his veil) reminds them that Jimmy’s a cod hybrid and has a biological need to swim. A begrudging amendment is made, and Jimmy is allotted three hours every morning to travel in a covered carriage to the pool (new hours of service established so that the general public are not swimming with him), swim, and travel back, all in solitude.

It’s better than nothing, he supposes. The pool is deep enough on one end for him to dive into, and large enough that he can swim laps at a moderate speed without crashing into the wall. There’s also a slide on one side, reminiscent of the children’s mudslides into ponds back home, and after one ride Jimmy decides that he’s going to be installing slides at every dock he can.

Scott smiles every time Jimmy mentions the slide (because there’s not much to tell of Jimmy’s every day, the slide is a recurring character), and one night he mutters, “If we were getting real-married, I’d make you all the slides you want.”

And that one hits like a punch to the gut.

Every day is more of the same. They wake up and get ready for the day together, then Scott leaves for his private library and Jimmy leaves for the pool. Jimmy gets back and eats a midday meal alone, attends his lessons, then has a conference call with his advisors (it usually only lasts a couple of minutes, the empire is fine and all is quiet). Scott’s often in meetings and war preparations until supper, which they eat together—and which Jimmy has recently taken upon himself to cook, as bored out of his mind as he tends to be, and as safe as he knows it makes Scott feel.

Over supper they chat, then they throw themselves in random places around the sitting room or Scott’s bedroom, and study and read and have generally heartbreaking conversations.

Jimmy’s never borne a heavier secret, and yet it’s still the most prized secret he’s ever been privileged enough to keep.

The only people in on the secret are Lizzie and Joel—well, they think that the love is real, and that the betrothal will remain beyond the threat, but they are aware of the disappearance of the Codfather head. They’ve been sending recon groups into Mythland and the Grimlands, searching for anything suspicious, spying on the emperors. They haven’t found anything yet.

Jimmy both hopes they do soon and hopes they won’t.

The worst thing, he thinks, is that Scott is incredibly sweet about all this. Not only does he keep up pretenses in front of the councils to a fault (holding Jimmy’s hand, keeping his arms protectively around Jimmy’s shoulders, using pet names and rubbing his back and so on in such painful ways), but when alone, he’s apologetic, closer than ever, lightheartedly joking and doing his best to make the situation bearable for Jimmy. He never blames him for their predicament, never asks him to take any of the blame for losing his own claim to the throne. Scott shows Jimmy nothing less than utter compassion and care, and Jimmy falls in love with him a bit more every day.

Tonight, he lays on his stomach on their—on Scott’s bed, trying to unobtrusively watch Scott flip through his notes and compare to whatever he’s reading.

He knows he must look embarrassingly cliche—his feet in the air behind him, chin propped up on his hands—but he can’t help it. Scott’s quite absorbed in his work and won’t notice, and if he does, he can write it off as practice for being in love. Cod knows he needs it—every time Scott so much as mentions his name, he gets all tongue-tied and can barely look at him.

He’s got it bad, hasn’t he?

“Lizzie said she caught some salmon sneaking around the east border, right?” Scott says absently, and Jimmy jolts, quickly turning his eyes down to the history book he’s meant to be studying.

“Uh,” he says after a moment, faking concentration. “Maybe? I think so, yeah.”

Scott sighs, bonks his head against his desk. “That just doesn’t make sense. If they’re looking for the End portal, they’re nowhere near it. It’s been nearly two months—how have they not gotten close yet?”

“Maybe Lizzie’s misdirecting is working,” Jimmy suggests.

“If it wasn’t fWhip, I would believe it,” groans Scott, lifting his head and stretching. “Were it just Sausage? I’d hardly worry about it. But fWhip. . . .”

He trails off, and Jimmy doesn’t offer any other solution. He’s willing to believe that Lizzie’s plan is just working, but if Scott’s right, then why on earth would they be at the east border? Is there something else there that fWhip wants?

“I’ll call Lizzie about it tomorrow,” Scott waves off. He pushes back his chair, stands. “You’d think that requiring total isolation would mean I would deal with less people, but I seem to have a new meeting every day. What about a one-year betrothal period do these elves not understand?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer that either, just shoots him a sympathetic smile. He checks the incense clock—the stick’s burned halfway down. He hadn’t realized just how late it was.

Scott seems to notice, too, ducking into his walk-in closet to change. Jimmy checks under the bed, finds his shirt and shorts. He pulls the robes off over his head and changes quickly, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor.

Scott barely even pauses his stride to scoop them up and throw them in the hamper on his way to the bed, blowing out his desk lamp before climbing in under the blankets. Jimmy scoots under them as well, pulls them up to his chest. He settles in, swiveling his ear fins a few times contentedly. There are ups and downs to this, sure. But at least tonight, he can pretend that all the pain doesn’t exist and just sleep next to Scott.

That’s just going to make it worse in the morning, he knows. It always does.

Scott quickly looks away when Jimmy glances at him, any color draining from his cheeks. “Um. Bed?” Scott says weakly, despite them both already being in bed.

Jimmy nods, so Scott reaches over to his bedside table and lowers the lamp shade, allowing just the tiniest bit of light to peek through, offering some definition to the shadowy shapes around the room. He fluffs his pillow, then lays back beside Jimmy.

It always takes Scott a little while to fall asleep, and Jimmy always makes an effort to not fall asleep before him, so he rolls onto his side to face away from Scott, staring instead at the curtains through the crack of which he can see the tiniest sliver of the night sky.

It’s beautiful, moreso here in Rivendell (at Scott’s side) than anywhere else Jimmy’s ever been. Maybe it’s the height of the mountains, reaching closer to the heavens than any other empire. Maybe it’s the clarity of the crisp air. Something about Rivendell makes the sky mesmerizing in a way he’s never found it.

“Scott?” he finds himself whispering.

“Hm?”

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

A moment. “Probably the Clash of the Stags. Basic, I know.”

Jimmy shrugs. “I don’t know it. Has it got a good story?”

“You don’t know it?”

“I’m sort of new here, remember?” Jimmy’s not sure if he means new to Rivendell, or new to the empires as a whole. Scott hums thoughtfully.

“Well, I can’t do it justice right now. We can go out tomorrow night to stargaze, and I’ll point it out. Sound good?”

That sounds terribly romantic, actually, and Jimmy already is both excitedly anticipating the event and entirely dreading it. “Yeah,” he says eventually, ignoring the roiling emotions in his stomach, then adds, “I’ll bring something to eat, how about.” Scott yawns. “Perfect. Tomorrow night, okay?”

“Tomorrow night,” Jimmy agrees, and with that, they fall silent. Jimmy listens as Scott’s breathing slowly evens out, his body losing all of the tension that it’s been holding.

It’s nice, lying next to Scott as he falls asleep.

Jimmy just wishes there was more to it than that.

He’s about to fall asleep himself when his communicator beeps. He fumbles to grab it off the bedside table, meaning to see who’s messaging him at this time of night and mute it, like he usually does before bed. He can’t have it waking up Scott, and he’s holding down the volume button to mute it when it buzzes again, messages coming into focus as he blinks the bleariness away from his eyes.

Had he muted it earlier, had it not disturbed him just as he was about to fall asleep, perhaps all that transpired next could have been avoided. Perhaps the message sent wouldn’t have been seen until morning, when Scott was awake, when they were both levelheaded enough to handle the situation as a team.

But that isn’t what happens.

fWhip: If you want the cod head back, meet us at the end portal in one hour

fWhip: Come alone. Tell no one. Or else

Jimmy’s blood freezes in his veins.

They have the Codfather head. They’ve found the portal. And while he doesn’t know what would happen were he to ignore the requests given, he knows fWhip’s style. It would involve a lot of pain.

He can’t wake Scott. He can’t tell him about any of this.

It’s terrifying to know that he’s about to go face his tormentors without even the option for backup, so terrifying that he can’t even think straight. He just knows he has to obey fWhip’s demands.

And maybe—just maybe—he can hold them off from going into the End long enough that someone finds them.

It’s not much of a plan, but Jimmy can’t take the time to think any longer. He has to go.

He slides out of bed, careful not to disturb the covers. Tiny things can wake Scott up, and he’s actually spent hours teaching himself which floorboards are safe to step on so that if he needs to get up in the middle of the night, Scott will still be able to rest (the first week here, Jimmy had gotten up for some water and woken Scott, fuelling a panic attack and setting them both up for several more hours of wakefulness).

Those practiced skills have never come more in handy than now. He sneaks across the chilly floor, into the sitting room, then through there into his own (almost unused) bedroom. He shuts the door near silently, then rushes to get ready.

One of the Rivendellian robes won’t do, not with his elytra. The only other clothes he has are his travel clothes that he’d worn here weeks ago, so those will have to do. Brown leggings, green-and-grey mottled tunic, a brown leather jacket. He laces up his boots over it, then adds a pair of his day gloves, the warm ones—though they’re long enough to go up to his elbows, a bit excessive. The veil’s tricky, but if someone catches him sneaking out without the veil on, he’ll be accused of infidelity and the whole betrothal will be off. He pins it around his head, tucking the longer ends into his tunic.

It takes about ten minutes to get dressed, which leaves him only fifty to get to the End Portal. It’s not a terribly far flight—it can’t be more than half an hour, twenty minutes with good winds—but he’s anxious to get going anyway. fWhip gave him a one hour time slot. He can’t mess this up.

He doesn’t think to grab anything else—he barely remembers to slip his communicator into the inside pocket of his jacket. He just has to leave, has to take care of this and get back before Scott wakes up.

Maybe soon, he’ll have the head back. Then they can cancel this silly betrothal once and for all.

He’s not sure if he wants it back quite yet.

Still, though, Jimmy straps on his elytra, and with a final glance at his closed door, pries open his window and leaps out.

-

He arrives at the portal alone, swooping down through the tunnel into the dimly-lit portal room.

Jimmy’s been here once before, but the portal is still the novelty it had been the first time, drawing his eye as soon as he enters.

It doesn’t fit in with the rest of the room, rough stone bricks and crumbling patches of clay. The portal must be the feat of some great craftsman, carved out of some material he doesn’t recognize, shimmering words in a language he can’t read pulsing and melding together. The Eyes set into the holes in every finely-carved brick glow softly, glassy green and shiny.

The most foreign aspect of the portal is, however, the void.

As opposed to the swirling purples of a Nether portal, the End portal lacks . . . anything at its center. To look into it is to see nothing forever, an enveloping blankness that makes Jimmy dizzy to take in. Perhaps there are flecks of color if he looks closer, but he’s too afraid of losing his balance and falling inside.

It thrums softly, filling the room with an ominous presence. Jimmy tears his eyes away.

It’s only two minutes later that the fluttering of elytra alert him to the presence of others. He spins around to face the entrance; Sausage flies in first, stumbling on the floor, followed by fWhip, landing gracefully.

These are the men who hurt him for so long. These are the men who tortured Scott for a week straight.

Somehow, Jimmy can’t find a single spark of anger. He only feels cold fear.

Jimmy does his best to seem imposing, standing straighter and holding his head high, but fWhip only laughs.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Are you ever going to learn?”

Jimmy glances between him and Sausage. What’s that supposed to mean?

Even with the veil hiding his face, fWhip seems to pick up on his confusion. “I mean, I do have to thank you. Best ally I’ve had in a while—after all, you led us straight to the portal!”

Oh no. Oh no.

Oh no.

Jimmy’s heart sinks.

How could he have been such an idiot? Of course they didn’t know where the portal was, of course he shouldn’t have come, of course he should’ve woken Scott and discussed with him. The panic had seized him and all thoughts had left his brain.

“I’ve held up my end of the bargain,” Jimmy blusters, pure will keeping his suddenly-dry throat from cracking. Maybe he hasn’t ruined everything. Maybe he can salvage something from this. “Give me the Codfather head.”

It’s Sausage’s turn to laugh. “Not so fast, little fishie! We never offered it!”

And they hadn’t, had they? They’d just told him to be here if he wanted it back.

They tricked him, and he was stupid enough to fall for it, and now his stupidity has likely brought about the invasion of a demon.

“Aw, maybe we’ll give it to you anyways, right?” fWhip sticks out his bottom lip, mocking a pout. “That way, you won’t have to wear this old thing.” He bats at the veil; Jimmy pulls away, hands shooting up protectively.

It’s clear they know his betrothal is a sham, and Jimmy isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse. For an instant, fWhip’s mask of joviality slips to show irritation, then is back up as he clucks his tongue.

“C’mon, what Scott doesn’t know won’t hurt him! After all, his feelings for you aren’t your responsibility. You can take that off, it’s just us!”

Jimmy would’ve worded it the other way around, but he stands firm. He promised Scott. He’s already ended any shot at friendship he could ever have with him, let alone a relationship (Scott will never forgive him for this, he’s freed the demon and Scott’s going to hate him as will everyone else), but he can at least keep this last promise. He can at least follow the rules laid out for their short-lived betrothal until its termination.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance, as someone swoops in behind and knocks him to his knees, tearing off the veil. Jimmy winces as it rips along the pins, coming entirely off his face. He ducks his head, hit with the stale, cool air of the portal room, the musty smell suddenly that much stronger. He feels uncomfortably naked without it, because for almost two months no one’s seen his face but Scott and they aren’t supposed to see him—

Joey Graceffa appears before him and stomps on the veil—unnecessarily brutal, and now the shame is melting into anger, it may have been fake but that veil had come to represent an important part of his life—but before he can do more than turn toward Joey with his fists up, Sausage is shoving him to the ground.

His elbow knocks against a wall, hitting his funny bone, but he ignores the tingling up and down his arm and rolls up—

He’s hit again in the stomach, hard enough that his vision instantly blurs with tears and he can’t see who did it as he doubles over, and he doesn’t get any time to recover as he’s kicked onto his back.

“Stop,” Jimmy gasps out. “I need—give me—”

“Look, Codboy,” fWhip sneers, shoving his boot under Jimmy’s chin to tilt his head up (and it’s just like old days, isn’t it, it’s just like it always was, how could he ever believe he’d escaped), “you’ve always been the funniest guy to mess with. But you just had to go get Scott involved—which I’m not mad about, by the way!”

fWhip’s boot presses into his throat and Jimmy chokes, his gills flap open for a split second but he’s not in water, his fins flare in defense—

“Because as it turns out, Scott’s very fun to play with as well,” fWhip continues, as if Jimmy’s windpipe isn’t being crushed under him. “And you, Jimmy. Well . . . you’ve become quite the issue.”

The pressure releases and Jimmy gulps in the air, rolling to his side. This is the worst—he hasn’t been so humiliated in ages, and here fWhip is, in control like he always was, Sausage and Joey laughing and jeering in the background.

Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s really changed, and he’s once again on his own because of his own stupid decisions.

fWhip claps his hands together, startling Jimmy so badly he almost loses his tenuous hold on his gag reflex, bile leaping up his throat. “Well, Jimmy,” he says, voice dripping with grandiose. “How would you like to go to the End?”