#would this technically count as a revenge attack for last year?

[magicbystarlight]

Before I Knew You - Part Nine

Masterlist, Part One

I appreciate all the love this fic gets, I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get the next chapter up. Thank you for reading ❤️

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 3,507

Warnings: 18+, smuuuuut, fingering, unprotected sex (there won't be any suprise pregnacy, let's just pretend all witches and wizards are on birth control), jealousy, self-image issues, Bill being a cocky little shit, some dom Bill/sub reader undertones. Minors DNI.

A/N: If you requested to be on the taglist and found that you weren’t on it, it’s mostly likely because there is not an indicator on your blog that you are 18+ which is a requirement for my taglists.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow. After he leaves.”

You’d fled left his room quickly after. 

What had you done? Why had you offered to have sex with Bill Weasley?

You knew why. 

It was Bill Weasley. One look at him explained why. But still, it was a bad idea. He was your patient. And you were technically under his protection. It was a bad idea. Really. Truly. But you couldn’t come up with an excuse convincing enough to talk yourself out of it. 

At least he won’t be in pain, you told yourself.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night, though in honesty you hadn’t slept well since that last night in Bill’s arms before Kingsley's arrival. But the tossing and turning of other nights was stilled, your eyes boring into the ceiling until the morning sun chased out the void. 

Bill was in a far better mood at breakfast. Though the conversation was far from light as Kingsley’s plans and Death Eater activity were discussed, the underlying animosity that had been a defining trait of Bill’s tone in the weeks following Kingsley’s arrival was noticeably missing. Even as he left to work, Bill’s attitude was unusually chipper.

Kingsley himself seemed in a jolly mood as you checked him over for the final time. 

“It has been very nice to get to know you better, but I have been laying in bed too long. And I wouldn’t mind a bit of payback,” he said as you jotted down the results of the diagnostic spells.

He wasn't quite as good as he had been before the attack, but he was improving. His magic worked just the same.  As far as you could tell there had been no complications of your blood mixing with his. The logical part of you knew there wouldn't be any. But years of Mudblood being mumbled from people passing you in the halls was difficult to forget. 

“Take it slow for a couple days though, okay? And don’t skip any meals and drink lots of water. If you feel even the least bit unwell or out of sorts, come straight back.”

“I’ll take care of myself. Maybe not as well as you have but," he smiled out at the ocean beyond the window as it crashed into the beach, “I have made it this far in life mostly by myself.”

The words made your heart hurt. Alastor had made it further in life, survived terrible things, yet he was gone now. Dumbledore was too. It had only taken one moment in the wrong place at the wrong time for even the most powerful and experienced wizards to be nothing but corpses. “Still, avoid the revenge plots for a week or two. Or three.”

He made no agreement to that.

The final hours of Kingsley's stay at Shell Cottage ticked by at an odd pace. There were moments that seemed to rush by as you helped him pack away what he would need. A tent Bill had pulled out of somewhere. Some defense items from Fred and George. Food. Other moments would linger unendingly. When you were alone with your thoughts and worries as Kingsley napped. Standing beneath the stream of water as every terrible thought ran through your mind. 

He could change his mind. He could have only agreed to buy himself time to let you down easier. Worse, he could have been serious. He could actually have been serious about it, but not because he wanted you. “Well not you specifically! Just the fact that you’re, you know, a person who isn’t related and, um, of the right age…”

If Bill hadn't been inflicted with his cursed wounds he would have never spared you a second glance. You weren't ugly, not by any means, but you were no Fleur. Men did not struggle to speak comprehensively in your presence. Women did not envy your very existence. You were simple. Ordinary. Pretty, but not stunning. And Bill was…extraordinary. Even with—especially with—his scars. If he had more choices, you couldn't delude yourself into believing you would make the cut. 

Those thoughts haunted you until Bill strolled in with a wide grin just before the clock read six. Kingsley was standing beside you in the kitchen watching you plate out hearty servings of shepherd’s pie. Bill's smile didn't disappear when he took in the scene, but it tightened and no longer met his eyes. 

Dinner was nothing like breakfast. Bill's gaze was searing as he sat beside you. You could feel him shift during every interaction between you and the Auror. It was like you were under observation and he did not like what he was seeing. Not that Kingsley seemed to take notice. He smiled and laughed like he was at the Burrow again, regaling a crowd of eager listeners with well practiced tales of grandiose adventure. You tried your best to follow along, but Bill was less willing to let you do so. 

At some point after the food had been finished, he’d slung an arm across the back of your chair and let his legs spread wide. Focusing on anything other than the fingers that occasionally grazed your arm or the thigh that rested lightly against yours was nearly impossible. By time the clock struck eight and Kingsley pulled his pack of supplies across his shoulder you were surprised to find yourself able to stand. 

"Take care of yourself," Kingsley said as he embraced you tightly at the door. "I am sure I shall see you again very soon." 

"Not too soon. And less bloody, please."

"I will do my best."

Bill's ears had turned a rather deep shade of crimson when Kingsley pulled away from you. You stayed behind in the kitchen to clean the last of the dishes as Bill walked him out.

The water stung as you scrubbed. Magic could have taken care of these in half the time, but the distraction was good. If you focused too much on what would happen next you were sure you would combust. Unfortunately, you ran out of dishes before you heard the pop expected of Disapparition. It made you wonder if they'd gotten lost in conversation over some Order business and if Bill had forgotten all about you. Or perhaps he was just trying to delay the time before he had to face you alone.

You shut off the water, grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands, and turned wondering if you should check in only to have your heart try to leap up your throat at the figure standing in the open doorway.

 "For Helga's sake," you huffed, hand over your chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

"He's gone," Bill said. 

"Good." You fidgeted with the towel. "We can talk."

"Talk," he said softly. The door shut loudly as he left its frame, stalking towards you. It wasn't until your back met the counter that you realized you'd been stepping back.  "I'll be bloody honest with you.” His arms were on either side to cage you in an instant. “I've spent the last twenty blasted hours thinking about how your cunt will feel wrapped around my cock—” 

The towel slipped from your hands.

“—and I don't think I'll be very intelligible until I've found out. So unless you've changed your mind, we can talk tomorrow." 

Helga help you.

He leaned in. "Have you changed your mind?"

You shook your head.

"Words, love. Use your words."

"No, sir." The words came out so low, you weren't sure they could be heard.

His forehead came to rest against yours as his eyes clenched shut. "You're going to be the death of me."

"That's sorta the opposite of what I'm trying to do," you breathed in barely more than a whisper.

His hands were on your waist, pulling himself closer. They moved slowly down your hips and back up your waist. "Is it?"

A “mmphmm” was your only response as he cupped your face. 

“Then I suppose I should kiss you before I die of curiosity.”

His lips caught yours and the world shifted. There was no air in your lungs. No beating in your heart. Nothing but his lips against yours. You had never been kissed before. Not like that. Whatever it was that you had done before couldn't even be considered anything like this. 

The moment shattered when he pulled away. A deep breath in. An almost painful hammering against your chest.

A whispered, "I'm fucked," was the last thing he said before he came crashing back. 

The calluses on his palm were rough against skin as they slid under your shirt and his tongue slipped past your lips when the feel made you gasp. It wasn't like the awkward fumblings and hesitant touches you'd experienced with Cillian, both of you still figuring it out quietly in your childhood bedroom. Bill's hands were sure of themselves as they pushed under your bra and rolled his thumbs over your nipples.

"I can already smell you." The palm of a hand flattened against your stomach and slid under the band of your pants and knickers. "Bloody hell," he said, a long finger gliding along the slick folds before plunging in, "I can just slip right in, can't I?"

You grabbed a hold of his shoulder, knees shaking beneath you. "Don't tease me," you groaned, clenching as the finger withdrew.

"This isn't teasing," he grinned, pushing it back in with a second as you squirmed. "I'll show you what teasing really is another day when I'm feeling a little more patient."

Your head fell back as his fingers worked within you like they were magic themselves. Your own had never felt this good. Nothing had ever felt this good. 

A surprised squeak escaped as his fingers retreated and you were suddenly lifted in the air and slung over his shoulders like you weighed nothing. 

“Sorry,” he said, sounding unapologetic. The soft cushions of the couch met your back as he set you down. Your jeans were undone and pulled off your legs a breath later followed by your knickers.

Instinctively, your legs tried to clamp shut to shield yourself from the hungry gaze. But Bill was faster and stronger and pried them apart. “Don’t hide from me.” The tone was stern and your legs relaxed. The blue of his eyes had darkened like the sky before a storm as he kneeled between them. His hands traveled along your thighs, over your hips, pushing the hem of your shirt up. "Take this off." It was barely over your head before he reached between you and the couch and unhooked your bra with an ease even you couldn't have accomplished.

You were hesitant to shed the last layer as the earlier worries filled your head, folding your arms to prevent the straps from falling down your arms. The dread that he'd find you as ordinary as you were pooled in your stomach.

"Why are you hiding from me?" The gentleness of his question was a stark contrast to his earlier demands. 

"I—" What could you tell him? You were scared he'd stop finding you attractive the moment he looked at your body? No. You stared at him. He was still kneeling between your spread legs. Fully clothed. "It's weird being the only one naked."

The smug satisfaction that took over his face made you wish the couch would swallow you. 

He bent forward and pressed a kiss against the your inner thigh. "Is it?" The words reverberated off your skin before he moved to the other side to repeat the kiss. "I don't recall you having a problem with it when you were the one asking me to take off my shirt for you.”

You’d only ever had him remove his shirt when you were conducting a physical. “That wa—”

“Different?” he interjected mockingly, hands finding the crease of your hips. “Why? Because you were the one in charge then?”

“I wasn’t—it was—" His grip made thoughts hard to articulate. The worries of earlier forgotten in the haze of his fingers dragging across skin. "It was a very different situation.”

His touch disappeared and the couch shifted as he straightened. "I suppose it was." You were entranced watching his fingers as he undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing a scene you'd already witnessed but never truly appreciated when the shirt was tossed to the floor. He'd gained weight since that day he'd been brought into the Hospital Wing. Slender still, but with muscles more defined. The scars were much the same having never properly healed, though they seemed to have been pulled taut across his frame.

"Because I had to sit in that bed in that room alone with you," he continued, deft fingers now working at undoing his pants, "and undress for you," he pushed them down, shifting awkwardly to pull them off his feet behind him, "and I couldn't tell you how much I wanted to fuck you."

He was left only in boxers strained nearly beyond their limits. You'd thought it had felt big, but…fuck. 

“You're drooling, love."

Your hands shot up, wiping at your mouth and allowing the bra you'd been clutching to fall away. 

It was impossible to miss the way the fabric tightened as his cock twitched. "Well ain't that a fuckin' sight." 

Then he was over you again, caging your body between his and the couch, claiming your lips. You could feel his cock pressing against you, the fabric growing damp as he ground down. The sensations were enough to get lost in as his hands began to roam. A stuttering gasp escaped as his clothed cock rubbed against your clit when his hips bucked. His lips trailed kisses to your ear as he did it again, your nails digging into his back with a whimper. 

"Gods, don't you sound desperate?" he hummed against your ear, smiling against it as his hips pulled another whimper from you. "These little noises are why I couldn't fuck you yesterday. Wanted them to be for my ears only."

Cocky fucking Gryffindor.

“Are you even going to fuck me today?” 

A dark chuckle sent vibrations through you as most of his body stilled. “If I knew you were gonna be such a brat,” one of his hands reached down and tugged his waistband, “I’d have put your mouth to better use.”

An audible smack came when his cock was freed and fell against your mound. A shiver of excitement coursed through you as he nuzzled into your neck. His hips moved back, dragging the head down over your clit and between your weeping lips. He held it there for what must have been an eternity before you whined, “Bill.”

Your hips tried to push upwards, but his hand moved to hold you firmly in place. “Yes, love?”

“Please.”

"Please what?"

Your fingers slipped through the strands of his hair and tugged until he lifted his face. "Fuck me, please."

His gaze threatened to drown you as he finally gave in to the plea and eased his cock into your eager folds. He moved slowly, your body arching with the welcome intrusion. A raspy groan of satisfaction escaped as he filled you. Your eyes fluttered at the almost painful stretch he caused.

“Gods.” He groaned, pulling out all but the tip. “Even better than I imagined.” The force of his return jolted your body, your hands gripping his biceps to brace for the next impact as his cock retreated again. "So much fucking better."

Your soft sounds of before turned high and sharp as his thrusts wrecked you. One hand held your hip and the other held his body as he leaned forward to swallow the sounds in a fevered kiss. The feeling was all consuming, each stroke a wave of pleasure that shook the ground.  It was like nothing with…

Bill drew back, his eyes following the path of his hand as it traced down your face and neck to sweep over your breasts. He continued lower until it joined his other. His mouth parted as his gaze turned to admiring how his cock sunk into you. It was a beautifully vulgar sight.

Your own admiration was rewarded with a hiss as you clenched around him. Emboldened, you did it again. The steady pace he had set faltered. 

Sharp blue eyes cut to yours, unamused. “Brat.” 

A pleased grin broke across your face and you clenched again. Rough pressure against your clit wiped it off your face a second later.

“That’s more like it,” he said as his thumb drew tight circles around the bundle of nerves. 

He found his rhythm once more despite your involuntary hold on his cock his minstraitions caused. Your hands gripped the couch as the pleasure began to roll over you in waves. "Bill," you quivered, "I think I'm—I think—"

"No need to think, love." His thrusts quickened. "Just cum on my cock for me, yeah?"

Your body willingly obliged, arching breathlessly as you were finally dragged under.

Bill cursed, his even pace once more interrupted as he felt you convulse around him. His hips continued to slam haphazardly into yours as the air returned to your lungs. Your back had barely met the couch again before you were lifted again. The haze of your orgasam left you dizzy and clinging to Bill as he moved, only realizing he had arranged himself into a seated position when he pulled you down on his cock. 

The sensations were overwhelming, his size emphasized by the position. Your mouth opened to tell him it was too much, but the words were abandoned with another kiss. His release followed a moment later with his warmth coating your cunt.

The kiss broke. You sat there, foreheads pressed together and chests heaving, for a while. 

“You okay?” His voice was hoarse. 

“Yeah.” You pulled away, remembering his condition that had led to this. “And you? How are you feeling?”

“Uhh uhh,” he chastised, “no Healer questions when you’ve got my cum leaking out of you.”

He chuckled as you slapped his shoulder. “Fine.” With reluctance, you lifted off of him and grimaced at the feeling. “Then I’m going to shower and when I come back you’re going to answer.”

—

For the second time that day, you stood under the blistering downpour and wondered if you’d made a mistake.

The ghost of his touch still lingered as you scrubbed, taunting. Every inch of skin tingled in anticipation for more. Cause gods, who wouldn’t want more?

Despite the full meal he’d eaten earlier, Bill’s appetite seemed to have returned with a vengeance. When you returned showered he was sitting at the table in only his boxers with the remaining half of the shepherd’s pie and wand discarded beside it. "Are you hungry?" he asked, offering you his spoon as you sat across from him. You shook your head and declined with a small wave. You watched him scoop a spoonful into his mouth. He looked glowing, almost. Relaxed in a way you'd never witnessed. 

No, that wasn't quite right. You had seen him this serene once. Laying half mutilated in a hospital bed, laughing with his sibling before he'd heard of Fleur's horrified departure. 

The sleeve of your sweater became very interesting as you began to pick at it. "So how are you feeling?"

He took his time chewing, putting the spoon down and threading his fingers together to rest his chin against. "Like I just got shagged."

You huffed.

"It's a bloody great feeling, innit? Especially remembering your face when I—"

"Bill, I'm serious." You looked up at him wearing a mask you'd perfected during the years in the Hospital Wing. "There's no point in us…shagging if it's not alleviating your symptoms."

His face dropped. “I thought you enjoyed it.” 

The hurt in his voice made you flounder. “Of course I enjoyed it. It was—fuck it was great.” You rubbed at your forehead. “But I’m your Healer. My main priority is your health. And if this is not benefiting it, then we need to start looking into other options.”

He glared, accusingly. “Other options like you leaving?”

“If you can’t tell me how you’re feeling, maybe.”

You winced watching his body tense. It felt too familiar. A scene that had been played out before.

His hands fell to the table as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t smell him as much. His scent is still here, lingering, but it doesn't bother me. I feel—or felt—content."

"Is it because he's gone?"

His head shook.

Outside the window, the waxing moon stood proudly over the ocean. "We'll see how you feel tomorrow and run a full diagnostic. Figure out how we’ll deal with the full moon.”

The chair scraped against the floor as he stood. “Right, tomorrow then.” With a wave of his wand, the food and utensil flew back to the kitchen into their proper places. “I’m gonna head off to bed.”

“Goodnight.” You said nothing more as he climbed the stairs.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ❤️

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Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog @pearlsofme @minstens @sofrian @sheeple @alldaysdreamers @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @itshardbeingamultistan @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie @pancakefancake

[bonez-yard]

Friendly fire on @x0moth0x

They're staring respectfully and so should you

Please do not STEAL/COPY/REPOST my art!!!

[rachetmath]

Jaune humbles Neo

RWBY and Neo were about to fight each other.

Jaune: Ladies? Ladies?! Hey!!!

Jaune got everyone's attention.

Jaune: Okay, listen, I get you hate Neo, but right now, we need to get of here. So can we not fight right now?

Ruby: But she-

Jaune: Let me be clear. We are on an unknown island. With no communication. Might not have any food or resources that will last us. And more importantly we could die. And I want to get back to my team.

Neo: *sign lanaguge* Fuck you, shield loving ass hole.

Jaune: *shocked* Oh. Oh no. Oh hell no. I know this Mary Poppin wanna be bitch ain't trying me today. Okay. Alright. Let's talk Neo. Why are you here?

Neo: *sign language* I want to kill your red hooded bitch friend.

Jaune: Okay you wanted revenge on Ruby. Why?

Neo: *sign language* She killed my boss, my friend and may could’ve been boyfriend, Roman.

Jaune: Alright, yeah, she did technically kill Roman.

Ruby: No I didn't. It was grimm.

Jaune: Didn't you tell us that you kicked the same grimm that ate him into a ship?

Ruby: Um....

Jaune: Thought so. Neo, how long were you in Atlas?

Neo: *sign language* I don’t know, weeks.

Jaune: Weeks. Where were you?

Neo: *sign language* I was working in Schnee Manor.

Jaune: In the Schnee Manor. So let me get this straight. You were in Atlas. For weeks. So when you saw Ruby why didn't you attack?

Neo: *signs language* I don’t know dumbass. Maybe because Ironwood and rest of her friends were around. There was too many of you.

Jaune: Too many of- Neo, only one person knows the lay out of her own house. Two if you count Winter. Next you can literally change yourself into anything. Basically, you could have at least attempted to strike Ruby at her unawares or steal the relic from Oscar. I mean at least back at Heaven when I saw Cinder, I was ready to run her fade.

Me: Bro, but you failed through.

Jaune: Speaking of Oscar, how is it a 14-year-old boy able to land a punch on you? Hell, Emerald told me what happened in Amity. Maria beat your ass!

Neo: *sign language* Shut up! Plus, Cinder was the one who wanted to go I didn’t.

Jaune: Oh so Cinder ordered you to. And I thought Emerald was her only bitch.

Neo: *sign language* Pardon?!

Jaune: I said, it's no wonder Cinder dressed like a dominatrix because she got you licking and stomping on your face with her heels.

Neo: *gasp*

Jaune: I am starting to realize why your named Neopolitan because unlike Emerald, you’re cheap like your semblance and your made for everyone’s pleasure.

Neo: *silent*

Jaune: Like at least Emeralds are expensive and not everyone could afford them or lose them. Neopolitan ice cream, you can go to the store and buy some more for $2.99. And if you lose or drop it, you can always replace it.

Yang: Jaune calm down.

Jaune: Basically, Neo, you belong, to the streets. You had goals and unlike me, you had the skills to achieve them. You could have at least attempted to find Ruby or one of us, but no, if momma Cinder doesn't approve then fuck it. Wait, you change into anyone, like…. why didn’t bother taking maiden powers?!

Neo: *sign language* That would stupid.  

Jaune: No. You could have been on even grounds with Cinder. In fact, you would have been more of threat! Wait, you had the lamp right?

Neo: *nods*

Jaune: Did you know her name?

Neo: *nods*

Jaune: Then, why didn't you use it?! Are you that prideful of your silence, so much so, that if someone manages to get the jump on you, you won't scream, at all? Man, get your boot legged Mary Poppins, short, quiet, and cheap look in butt out my face girl. In fact, leave that hat here too, you have disgraced it. Can't do one job, beat by an old lady, and crossed by Cinder. You are a complete joke.        

Neo cries, while Ruby comforts her.

Ruby: It's okay.

Yang: Jaune apologize.

Jaune: Hey she wanted the smoke and she couldn't handle it. You want it too?

Yang: Boy, you know you can't run a fade on me.

Jaune: Funny, considering you how many times you got tossed like a salad.

Yang: *red eyes* What?

Jaune: I'm mean for someone who talks a big game she sure can't back it up.

Yang: OH HELL NO!

Blake: *holds Yang back* No Yang, calm down.

Yang: No-no-no let's settle this. Let's settle this! Square-up Arc! Square-up!!

Weiss: *trying to hold Yang* Jaune, take it back.

Jaune: *flips the bird*

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Strawberries and Peaches

Pairing  ::  Eric Northman  x  fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Angst, Smut, Mentions of Blood, Bloodplay(?idk he’s a vampire so-?), Death

Word Count  ::  3,588

Summary  ::  Eric thought he had lost you centuries ago, and yet here you were again.

A/N  ::  Takes place between season 3 and 4

When you walked into Fangtasia a few nights ago, with an old acquaintance of Eric’s, he thought he had seen a ghost. The last time he laid eyes on you, you were crying. The last time he held you, you were dying. 

-

Nearly several hundred years ago, Eric first met you, a humble girl in a recluse village. Your people warned you not to venture off into the woods, and more importantly, to never speak to the people who walk only during the night. You were kind-hearted though, and so, when a blond man walked up to you after nightfall, begging for help, you couldn’t say no. You more than happily helped him and welcomed him into your home. You treated and cared for him as if he were your own family. 

Eric had never received such kindness from a human before, whether they knew he was a vampire or not. You always gave him a smile, even when people began to warn you about him. He found himself drawn to you. Your scent was like none he had ever smelled before. Strawberries and peaches, with a dash of rose petals. Whenever your fingers touched him, he swore he felt his freezing body warm-up. For the first time in his life, he found himself falling for someone, and slowly, you did too.

Perhaps your feeling for him clouded your judgment, or perhaps you truly didn’t care. When Eric had confessed to being a vampire, you hugged him and told him you’d love him no matter what. Godric tried to warn Eric that starting a life with a human would be dangerous, especially since you weren’t ready to be turned. The thought of being immortal horrified you, however, with Eric it didn’t seem that scary. Still, you weren’t ready to say goodbye to the sun. All he could do was support your decision and wait. His compassion is what killed you, and he blamed himself every day for it until eventually, you were a fleeting thought in the back of his mind. 

There were times Eric had to leave because Godric needed him. Unfortunately, on one of these trips your village, though recluse, was not impossible to find. You were attacked right before sunset by a neighboring kingdom that had recently declared war against yours. Men, women, and children died, homes were burned to the ground. Your home was spared. You were not. Eric returned shortly after the attackers had left, finding the ruins of your village. If his heart was still beating, it surely would’ve stopped. He found you in your home, laying in a pool of blood on the floor with a large slash across your torso. Your breath had stopped long ago, and your warm touch now is just as freezing as Eric’s. He fell to his knees, holding your limp body in his arms. He could see tear stains on your face, and he couldn’t help but wonder what your last thoughts were. Were you waiting for him? Crying for him to return? He’d never know, but he’d make sure he’d have revenge for your death.

-

Time went on, and Eric began to grow unsympathetic. He never allowed himself to get close to another human again as he did with you. He had the occasional flings, and there was Pam. She was a companion and received a different sort of love from him than you did. There was also Sookie, whom he felt drawn to, but he never felt the love for her he felt for you. What drew him to Sookie was the fact she was a fae. What drew him to you, he never quite understood.

You may have become a distant memory, but he’d always remember your sweet scent. Strawberries, peaches, and a hint of rose petals. He hadn’t smelled that sweet aroma since the day you died, that was until a few nights ago.

You walked in with Bishop, an old acquaintance of Eric who knew him long enough to know you. You wore a pastel yellow sundress, not knowing you’d be going to the vampire bar. All Bishop told you was to wear something nice. Hell, the man didn’t even tell you he was taking you to Louisiana. You lived on the west coast in a small apartment as a writer. Ever since The Great Revelation, you had been attempting to speak to as many vampires as you could so you could share their stories with the world. Most were hostile or rude when you questioned them, and the few that would agree had either odd demands you’d have to refuse or were clearly lying. Then, one night, a vampire showed up at your front door, claiming he knew a vampire over a thousand years old who’d tell you his story. Shortly after, you found yourself on a plane and now in a bar called “Fangtasia”.

Bishop told you to wait near the front, which you gladly did, not wanting to walk further in. You stood out like a sore thumb, and all you could do to avoid the gazes you were receiving was look at the wall of shirts they sold.

Bishop walked up to Eric’s throne, a small smile on his face. “Hello, Sheriff-”

“Stop,” Eric said in a cold tone. He narrowed his gaze on the man.  “What do you want?”

Eric and Bishop had a complicated relationship. They had known each other for centuries, but they weren’t friends. Their paths only really crossed when one needed something from the other, typically Bishop needing something from Eric.

“Have you always been this hostile?” Bishop let out a sigh. “I don’t want or need, anything Eric. I came to bring you a gift.” Eric was silent, letting the man continue. “I know you smell her, and yes, it really is her…”

Eric’s gaze moved over to you, standing by, looking at the shirts. You looked exactly the same, besides your (h/c) hair being a bit different now. His eyes softened for a moment, watching you giggle at some of the little phrases they put on the shirts. 

“...or at least, another version of her.”

Eric’s focus snapped back to Bishop. “What?”

“She’s one in a billion.”

Eric knew some people could be reincarnated, but thought the chances of that were slim to none. Godric had only encountered two reincarnated people in his life, and Eric none, until now that is. 

Without another word, Eric approached you. You were so into the silly phrases on the shirt, you nearly missed the tall man approaching you. You turned to face him, a large grin on your face as you extended your hand.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Northman. I’m (f/n) (l/n), but please, call me (y/n).”

“Only if you call me Eric.” 

Looking down at you, the corner of his lips were curved upward. Reaching out to shake your hand, he felt the same warmth he felt centuries ago when your hands touched. You tilted your head touching his hand. Yes, it was cold, but, you felt an odd sense of safety holding his hand, even if it was for a brief moment.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head lightly. “I’m sorry, but, do I know you?” You couldn’t help but be forward. You’ve never felt this sense of security before.

Eric, for once, didn’t know how to reply. Technically he knew you, a different you though.

“Possibly, I’ve been around for a long time. There’s a chance our paths have crossed before.”

You hummed in response, before continuing on to tell him about why you had traveled all the way to Shreveport, Louisiana. Eric absentmindedly listened to what you had to say. In all honesty, he was just happy to see you again and agreed to any pitch you gave him. As long as he could be close to you again. Even though Bishop was constantly telling you on your journey here that Eric would say yes, you were still surprised and grateful when he agreed. The agreement was for you to come to Fangtasia each night, sit next to Eric, and he’d tell you his story.

He was one to come up with the arrangement, yet it seemed he cared little about telling you his story. You went several nights in a row, standing out due to your brightly colored clothes each day. Everyone stared at you as you sat next to Eric, except for one of the employees named Pam. She didn’t seem to care a single bit about who you were. The night usually went one of two ways. One: You’d ask Eric a question, he’d give a vague answer, and then quickly shift the focus on you. Two: Men and Women would spend the entire night trying to grab just a sliver of Eric’s attention before he snapped his fingers and Pam came to pry them away. There was one night he almost kicked a man who made a comment as to why you were so special you got to sit next to him, Eric held back. He didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than you already were in the bar.

Tonight was the second kind of night. So far, the blond had already rejected two women and one man. You couldn’t wrap your head around why people would throw themselves at him. Admittedly, you found Eric handsome, and always wanted to see him smile for some odd reason. Still, you’d never throw yourself at him like these people would. At least, you’d hope you never would.

You were usually patient, however, it had been nearly a week and you still hadn’t gotten a thing from him. You were beginning to grow impatient with him, not to mention tired from your daily schedule changing so much thanks to him as well.

“Hey, Eric, I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel early tonight,” You told him as you began to pack up your things.

Eric looked at you with confusion, brows furrowed. “Why? What’s wrong?” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried something was wrong.

You stood up, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Nothing, I’m just tired is all. Have a nice night.”

Walking out of Fangtasia, for the first time ever, you saw a large group of Christian protesters standing a short distance away from the entrance. Usually, you showed up right before sunset and left at the crack of dawn, so you had never seen such a large group. You wouldn’t have cared much if not for the fact that you had to go through the crowd to get to your car. They shouted at you as you walked through, calling you a “fang-banger” and “vampire cunt”. You ignored them, wondering why they had nothing better to do than this. Tonight was one of their rowdier nights though, and you were shoved to the ground. You scraped your hands and knees, tearing the white tights you wore under your blue dress. You began to pick yourself up, and that’s when you noticed the crowd had gone silent. You looked up, curious, seeing Eric now standing right at the front of the crowd, Pam right beside him. He was giving them a murderous glare, daring for one of them to do something so he could rip them apart. 

Once you stood up, Eric turned to you, walking over in a few steps. He grabbed both your wrists, eyebrows knitted together. “You’re bleeding,” He muttered, looking down at the scrapes on your palms. Letting go of one of your wrists, he led you back inside. “Pam, deal with these people,” He ordered right before he walked in.

Briskly, he walked you back to his office, not wanting any of the other vampires to get a whiff of your blood for too long. You had never been in the back, and you didn’t get a very good look around with Eric rushing you into his office.

“Sit on the desk,” He told you as he began rummaging through one of his cabinets for the first aid kit. It was rarely used.

You moved a few of the items on his desk aside so you could hop on. Silently, you looked around the office, waiting for Eric to walk over. After a moment, he found the kit and began cleaning one of your hands. His cold hand held your warm one gently, almost as if he were afraid he’d break you if he wasn’t soft with you. You were closer to him now than ever before, with only a foot of distance between you. You winced when he cleaned the wounds, but as he bandaged them up, you couldn’t help staring at him. You took note of his perfect, still pale, complexion, his blue eyes, and his slightly tense jaw. Little did you know, it was causing a great deal of pain for Eric to hold back and not start licking the blood that came out of your wounds. Your scent was much stronger than before and his mouth was watering, remembering the sweet taste of your blood.

When he was done with your hands, he paused for a moment, looking down at your knees. “I need you to take off your tights.”

You were confused, until you looked down, seeing your ripped tights. “O-oh, right,” you stuttered.

You hopped off and took your little blue heels with ease. Then, you reached up the skirt of your dress and pulled down your now ruined tights, tossing them right next to your bag. As you did, you could feel his intense stare on you, causing your cheeks to heat up. You were about to sit back on his desk until he told you to stand instead. He knelt down to clean the scrapes on your knees, one hand holding the back of your leg. Quickly, he wrapped it up and moved on to clean your other knee. 

Now, you don’t know why you did, but without thinking you questioned Eric. “Why’d you lie and agree to tell me your story?” You covered your mouth right after you asked him. Your mother always did tell you that you had the problem of speaking without thinking.

Caught off guard, Eric looked up at you with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

Realizing you couldn’t take back what you said, you continue on. “You haven’t told me a thing about you. Why’d you lie to me about telling me your story?”

Without hesitation, Eric replied, “Because I wanted you to be with me again.”

Now you were caught off guard.

“You’re almost an exact replica of someone I cared about and lost a long time ago. You don’t have her memories, but besides that, you’re exactly the same,” He began to explain, “You look like her.” His grip on your leg tightened, “You feel like her.” He moved his head closer to the now clean wound on your knee and took a sniff, “You smell like her.” He licked the fresh blood that was coming out, “You taste like her.”

Eric watched you squirm a bit under his hold, a faint blush spreading across your face. You gripped the sides of your dress, your brows turned downwards and your lips formed a small frown. You thought he was teasing you.

He let out a small chuckle. “You even act the same as her.” He licked your leg again, your breath now shaking.

“S-stop it,” You barely managed to whisper.

You could hear the sadness in his voice and it made your heart hurt. Your eyes began to sting. Your chest grew tight. You couldn’t understand why you felt so sad for him, even though you barely knew him. Finally, he let go of your leg and stood up, towering over you. 

“What if I don’t want to stop?” Eric asked you, eyes peering down into yours.

Your heart was racing now, though you weren’t sure whether it was from fear or perhaps excitement. You knew one thing for sure, with him staring so intensely at you, you could feel a heat beginning to rise up inside you. 

He brought a hand up to the side of your face, stroking his thumb gently across your cheek. Slowly, he began to lean his head down.

With his lips brushing against yours he asked you, “What would you do?” right before pressing a soft kiss onto you. 

You leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes and gripping his black shirt. As it continued on, the kiss began to grow rough, Eric nibbling your bottom lip with his fangs. His hand on your cheek was gentle, but the hand that held your hip was tight. Feeling a small pinch on your lip, you let out a gasp knowing full well he had bitten your lip. It was enough for Eric to shove his tongue in your mouth though, and both of you tasted your metallic blood.

His hand on your hip moved lower, gripping your thigh. He pushed you back against the desk, lifting you so you’d be seated again. He pulled away from your mouth, moving down to your neck. He licked a few spots, before finally biting down and piercing your skin. You let out a soft cry, hands moving to wrap around his neck. You gripped his hair, feeling him suck the blood out of you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your whimpers.

When he pulled away, you felt light-headed now. Your eyes fluttered open, feeling his hands come off only to swiftly pull your dress off. After pulling off your bra as well, his hands began to roam around your body. You shivered against his touch, your skin feeling like it was burning against his cold hands. He grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it lightly before leaning down and biting the upper part of it. This time, he sucked to leave a mark rather than to drink your blood. 

A hand of his moved down, in between your inner thighs. He began to rub your clit with his thumb roughly, a moan finally escaping you. He pulled away from your breast, a bloody smirk on his face.

“Well how about that, you sound just like her too,” He teased.

“Sh-shut up,” You stammered.

You moved your hands to pull at the bottom of his shirt. He pulled away his thumb, allowing you to take off his shirt, and see the bulge that had formed in his pants. 

He leaned down to your ear and whispered, “I want you to get yourself ready for me love.” He then grabbed your hand, leading it down to your panties. 

Once he let go, you began to rub yourself through the thin fabric, feeling how wet you already were. You began to rub harder and faster, watching him undo his pants. His briefs went down with his pants, allowing his hardened dick to spring free. With one hand he grabbed the hand you were using to rub yourself out, and with the other, he ripped off your panties, causing you to yelp. Then, he guided you to put a finger of your own inside you, along with his. 

“Eric,” You whimpered.

He continued to guide you, moving your hands together in and out of you at a slow pace. “Shhh, I need to get that tight little cunt of yours ready for me. Okay?”

He stuck another of his own fingers inside of you and all you could do was nod your head quickly. He took out your hand and began to pick up his pace with his fingers. With your moans, and grip on his shoulders, he could tell you were getting closer, begging for a release as you arched your back.

“Eric, please,” you mewled out.

“Please what?”

“I need you, all of you,” you begged.

He pulled out his fingered and positioned himself right at your entrance. “Alright, but only because you begged,” He said with a wink. 

Slowly, he began to push himself inside of you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Eric gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he began to move, thrusting at an unbearably slow pace for you. You attempted to move your own hips, wrapping your legs around him. Knowing you needed more, Eric began to pick up the pace almost instantly, causing you to cry out loud. He slammed his mouth against yours, muffling your cries and your moans.

He was finally giving you what you needed, and you knew you’d be undone soon. You almost cried when he pulled out of you completely, until he slammed back into. You let out a loud scream and Eric groaned, feeling you tighten. He continued to pound into you, going harder each time until your body tensed up and you moaned his name loudly, finally hitting your high. Growing close himself, Eric’s thrust had a rhythm before, but now they grew ragged. Soon after you, he hit his climax, cumming inside of you. He proceeded to ride himself out in you and your breath slowly began going back to normal.

Pulling out of you, he placed a quick kiss on your lips. “I hope you know I’m never letting you go now,” He muttered.

“That’s fine because there’s no one else I want to go with.”

[ikroah]

Whiskey river, take my mind, don't let her memory torture me. Whiskey river, don't run dry, you're all I got, take care of me. —“Whiskey River,” Shotgun Willie (1973)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #15 - Vegas Outskirts

Collaborative Issue! Guest Colorist: @malpaislegate​ / @socksual-innuendos​

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

MAN that’s gotta hurt!! Volume 2 kicks off with a bang, literally if you count the gunshot and honorifically if you count Socks’ knockout color job on this issue. Look at those lovingly rendered bullet wounds!! Muah!!!

It’s been a relief having a month off from the comic as I handled a bunch of other things but there’s a lot to look forward to in Volume 2, as you can probably tell from that very forboding fist clench at the end there. Will Agnes and Cass get the revenge they’re looking for? Can they make it big in Vegas? Will it keep right on a-hurtin’? Find out next ish as Cass leads Agnes to meet the first of their new “friends.”

Original Pencils:

The pencils for this issue are like an autopsy report of all the things that can go wrong with your art if you don’t plan ahead and pay attention. Listen, friend, to my tale of woe, and learn from my mistakes so they don’t become yours!

First, you can see a lot of places where there’s floating objects, empty backgrounds, and incomplete heads. Part of this is because I always intended to just copy and paste repeated elements across each panel instead of drawing them multiple times, but other times I was forced to just because of my lack of planning. The top three panels on page two, for example, required me to draw the background I’d use for them on a separate page.

Second, you can probably tell that I actually had to flip the two raiders around in the final lineart because I forgot to keep the hands their were holding their guns in consistent—and since I couldn’t flip the middle panel on the second page without ruining the composition, I decided to flip all of their other appearances so that they’d be lefties. I doubt you even can seamlessly wield those particular guns left-handed.

Third, the size of the cart that Agnes and Cass are kneeling behind changes CONSTANTLY and is dramatically oversized from the third page onward. After inking these pages, it took a lot of work to correct the inks and shrink that cart in each panel, but fortunately it came out looking good.

And finally, I completely redrew the second panel on the fifth page because it wasn’t until I had already handed he pages off to my colorist that I realized having a second profile shot of Cass so soon after a first one was just...redundant and lazy-looking. So I went back to my sketchbook and whipped up a much more unique, striking angle (I also just wasn’t satisfied with the quality of my art on that panel, so I’m very glad I redrew it). But again, my failure to plan ahead bit me in the ass and my redraw attempt wound up taking up a lot more space than I thought it would, so after inking it I had to basically surgically remove it from the other inks.

I’ll be honest with you folks: part of the reason that I work in such simple, thick, high-contrast lineart is because it’s very easy to make corrections and adjustments with stuff you could technically color in Microsoft Paint.

Transcript:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN THE MOJAVE, morning. AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY stand over the wreckage of a caravan, scattered over a dirt road.

CASS: Hell.

EXT. SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MOJAVE, midday. Looking over a second wrecked caravan, at the bottom of a ditch.

CASS: Fuck.

EXT. PRE-WAR HIGHWAY OUTSIDE OF VEGAS, mid-afternoon. AGNES and CASS survey a third wrecked caravan.

CASS: Shit. The proof is in the pudding. Or the pile of ash, rather. These attacks were done with Van Graff guns for Crimson Caravan caps. I'm sure of it.

As CASS explains her theory to AGNES, a short distance from the caravan two RAIDERS peer at the two of them from inside a barn at a ruined farmstead. They have snake-bite tattoos on the sides of their shaved heads and are holding rifles.

CASS: The scorchmarks and residue in the wreckages? That's energy weapon shit. Plasma and laser. Silver Rush special. Not like it'd be the Brotherhood. And Crimson Caravan must have bankrolled this fucked-up little hunting trip themselves.

The RAIDERS move out from the barn, sneaking up on two passers-by who’ve stopped at the caravan wreckage.

CASS: That explains why they bought me out...they needed the last loose end to saddle up back west with a tidy sum.

(NOTE: *Agnes delivered it and Cass signed it in IKROAH #7—Lou.)

CASS: It's a racket, Agnes: torch the local competition and it's win-win for both the f—

SFX: KRAK

A gunshot rips out from one of the RAIDERS’ rifles and sears across CASS’ shoulder.

CASS (gasping): —uckers.

CASS slumps down beneath the overturned caravan wagon on the road, clutching her shot shoulder.

CASS: —Aaggghghhhhhhh.

AGNES: Cass! Are you—

CASS: Fuck! Agnes, get down you moron!

AGNES ducks behind the cover of the wooden caravan wagon just as another gunshot splinters the top lip of it.

SFX: DTHWAK!

The RAIDERS advance on CASS and AGNES’ position, firing at them from off the road.

SFX: KRAK

AGNES leans over the top of the wagon with her pistol, returning fire.

SFX: BTAK BTAK BTAK

AGNES lands a shot right in one of the RAIDERS’ guts, and she drops her weapon and falls down.

SFX: SPLUT

CASS, leaning out the side of the wagon, takes as careful of aim as she can with her shotgun by holding it with her good arm. Trembling, she fires, connecting with the other RAIDER.

SFX: KBLAM

The would-have-been RAIDERS are dead.

AGNES: ...were those the Van Graffs?

CASS: No. Just some vultures.

CASS leans back behind cover to sit against the bottom of the overturned wagon again, wincing from her shoulder injury.

CASS: Ugghhn.

AGNES (slipping off duffel bag): Cass, your shoulder—

CASS: Yeah, it's been shot. I'm pretty fucking aware.

AGNES (unzipping bag): Quick, can you take your shirt off—

CASS: What!?

AGNES: —so I can dress the wound, Cass!

CASS: Oh! Good! So you weren't coming onto me on what remains of Griffin Wares Caravan.

CASS starts removing her shirt while AGNES produces a bottle of something from her duffel bag, and dampens a rag with its contents.

CASS: And since when are you a fucking field medic, anyway?

AGNES: 2269. NCR Certified.

CASS: What?

AGES: Yeah. I've been one kind of doctor or another since I was six.

CASS: What?

AGNES: Now hold still, this is antiseptic.

CASS: Since you were six!? I...shit, wait, hang on, Agnes—

AGNES pressess the rag onto CASS’ shoulder wound, and CASS winces instinctively. But, confusingly, there isn’t any pain.

CASS: ...isn't this supposed to sting like hell?

AGNES: No, not really. It's an acetic acid solution. Vinegar, basically.

AGNES begins cleaning the wound with the rag.

CASS: I thought you put alcohol on wounds to clean them.

AGNES: That's...a common misconception. It's good for tools, maybe, but too strong for skin. And it can complicate healing if you apply it directly.

CASS: So you're telling me, all my years, I've been wasting good whiskey only making my boo-boos worse?

AGNES: I mean...it's better than nothing in a pinch, but...

CASS: Well, then. Thanks for the lecture, doc. Can you just pass the whiskey anyway? Shoulder still hurts like hell regar—

AGNES hands her the whiskey bottle. She’d already gotten it out.

CASS: —dless. Oh. Thanks.

AGNES unspools a roll of bandages in her hands, then begins wrapping it over CASS’ shoulder and across her chest..

AGNES: So. It's a relatively minor wound, more of a deep graze than a real gunshot.

CASS: You'd know all about real gunshots, huh?

AGNES (unfazed): Uh-huh. I can suture it if necessary, but for now, these bandages will be fine. Just hold still. How do you feel?

CASS: I feel fucking pissed, Agnes!

AGNES recoils, taken aback slightly.

CASS: As I was saying before I got shot in the shoulder—which, however "minor" the wound, is real fucking close to my head, Agnes—this wasn't some random attack. These caravans, my caravan, got hit by the Van Graffs and Crimson Caravan. It ain't just some tragedy anymore. Now I've got names. Places. Faces.

AGNES resumes bandaging CASS.

CASS: I told you—ow! Don't pinch my tit, dammit—

AGNES: I said hold still.

CASS: —I told you, when you told me about this guy who shot you...when I let you drag me out of that fucking outpost...and when we went to Boulder City...that I would do the exact same thing in your shoes. Now, it is the exact same thing. This fucker shoots your eye out, these fuckers ash my caravan...these same fuckers I sold my own goddamn name to on a piece of paper. I mean...what else are we doing out here, Agnes? Getting shot at by Khans and Raiders just for kicks? Are we just fucking around?

AGNES finishes bandaging CASS, then leans back, pensive.

AGNES: No...no, I really guess we’re not.

CASS: That's what I thought. Your friend in Vegas can wait. Help me get mine, and we can get that shitheel together, and that's a prom—

CASS raises her arm  to shake her fist as she speaks, straining her shoulder injury.

CASS: —mmmmmmghhhh. Ooww, oww, oww, oww...

CASS grabs her shoulder in pain while AGNES looks off in the distance and stands up. She looks out towards the horizon—towards VEGAS, and the pre-war casinos and hotels that still gleam and glitter in blinding sunlight.

Her fist clenches. Her brow furrows. Her body tenses, all over, staring at that city, that place.

The caravan wreckage remains alone on the highway, brahmin bones long picked clean by scavengers.

AGNES SANDS IN: IT KEEPS RIGHT ON A HURTIN’

VOLUME 2: MAKE IT BIG IN VEGAS

[writing-in-april]

Spooks

Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader

Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!

Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play

Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k

Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.

You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.

Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.

Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.

The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.

And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.

“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.

“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.

With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”

This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”

Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”

You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.

“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.

When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”

His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.

Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.

Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”

You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”

Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.

The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.

“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.

Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.

Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.

“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.

As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.

“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.

“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.

The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.

When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.

Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.

“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”

You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”

His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.

The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.

You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.

His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.

Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.

You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.

A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.

“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”

“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.

He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.

You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.

You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.

“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.

One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.

You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.

Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.

However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.

Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.

Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”

“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

[just-a-real-human]

Silver Warfare: Part 2

William stood on the bridge of his ship, The Silver Warfare. At 2000 meters long, 150 million kilos and still growing, it was the largest battleship in the human navy, except of course the Deus Ex Machina, but that's mainly a base of operations and basically a mobile planet, not technically a battleship. They were expecting an attack by the Dr’acha’lians, and usually William would call in reinforcements, a carrier maybe, or perhaps a couple destroyers. But with the recent additions and improvements upon the massive warship, William was more than confinent in the power his ship held. "So, have the radar crew spotted them yet?" William asked, putting a hand on his chin, stroking his beautiful, silver beard. "No sir, they're not within the 100 kilometre range, sir." "Have the gunners fire a couple radar shots, see what they can find." Radar shots were a special type of shell that can scan an area of about 100 kilometres of where they were headed, the negative is that due to the fact they're launched so fast, they can only take small snapshot of anything they find unless it's at least planet sized. They don't really use radar, not anymore at least, but when they were invented about 100 years ago they still used radar, hence the name. "Hmm...sir, not in the range of radar shots either, do you think they aborted the mission?" "Unlikely...Welp, if they won't come to us i suppose we can go to them...Let's fire up thrusters to gain some speed and go into their general direction, let's beat them down like the beasts they are." "Very well sir, those reptillian bastards'll get what's comin' to them." William chuckled, patting his navigator on the shoulder, looking out into the vast space ahead. Dr’acha’lians we're a rather...simple minder folk, related to the Dr'achs, they had a burning hatred for humanity for...well, exterminating their entire sister species in a way that can only be described as...excessive. It had been about 6 months since that moment, and the Dr’acha’lians had attempted to take revenge on human about 7 times now, failing everytime. Hell, they once tried to attack the Deus Ex Machina! Suffice to say, they didn't get far. William stroked his beard, looking out as they moved forward at a respectable speed "Say, do you think they might be wanting to ambush us? If so, do you think we should ready reinforcement, artillery?" The navigator frowned "You have a point, cap'n, maybe ask that new secretary, Peter, right? He knows them aliens better than us, he should have something to say about it, right?" William nodded approvingly, he knew he could count on his navigator for advice in a pinch. With the introductions of ships this immense, navigators changed from simple pathfinders to assistants that can both navigate the ship and give advice to the captain, as they were expected to know the ins and outs of their ships like the captain themself. William tapped the communicator on his wrist. The communicator beeped for a little while... At Peter's end he was nervously working on the tasks captain William had laid out for him, simple inventory counting, weapons checks, crew counts etc. When suddenly the communicator on the monitor bleeped with an urgent call! Poor Peter almost fell out of his chair, looking at the call, it was William himself! "Uh, Hello sir! Sorry for not picking up, i haven't quite gotten the hang of this thing just yet!" "No problem boy, i just need some advice, do you know about Dr’acha’lian tactics?" "Uh...enough sir, why, are we getting attacked?" "No, at least not yet, i just needed some advice about if they might be planning an ambush, and subsequently, if we needed to call some reinforcements." Peter thought for a moment, digging deep in his brain... "Uhh, well, the Dr’acha’lians aren't known for ambushes, and if the previous battle have been a good example, they aren't exactly worth heavy reinforcements...but you can never be too carefull. Give me a minute sir, i'll see if i can calculate some risks and costs, see what's worth what." "Very well, just try to make it a little swift, i

believe you in the lack of proper ambushes, but still, we don't wanna just blindly stumble into eachother." William looked around, a hand on his chin, the other fidgeting with his hair a bit. He wasn't NERVOUS so to say, but like, a step below that. He knew SOMETHING was coming, and he knew they'd most likely win, but still, a battle's a battle, and you never want to lose men. *Beep beep beep* After roughly 3 minutes the communicator bleeped again, Peter's voice instantly talking as soon as he picked up. "So, sir, i think the best choice might be to call in a couple corvettes and MAYBE a destroyer, judging by the last battles, misslecrafts might be a good choice, and the destroyed should probably be a modified broadsider, the Dr’acha’lians aren't the fastest, but they're not very slow either." William nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised in surprise "Well, thank you Peter! You've done a great job, grab yourself a drink, there's a particularily good soda in the first layer of the drink storage. Though i suggest you don't take anything alcoholic just yet, let's save that for after the battle" Peter chuckled heartily "Thanks sir, but i don't drink, i'll take a look at the soda though! Good luck, sir!" William smiled, ending communications and switching it to the coms devision. "Communications, order some reinforcements, send in 5 corvette missleboats and a destroyer, modified broadsider if at all possible." "Very well sir, punching in the order now...and done! They will be in in about 7 minutes" "Good, thank you, keep up the good work" William closed coms again, leaning against the terminals. "So, now we wait! Let's hope those dull reptillians make themselves and easy target...fire some more radar shots, see if they find anything." "Yup, will do sir." The navigator pressed a few of the buttons, which then sends orders to the artillery garrisons to send out shots. A very efficient system, it simply worked with buttons and orders, of course if specifics were needed or the order buttons were defective/in maintenance, coms can always be opened. They though of everything in this top-of-the-line warship.

The minutes passed rather slowly, but after they passed, it was always worth the wait seeing the ships come in from lightfolding, dropping into line smoothly with the wide lightshow of colours as the ships quickly go from a simple mass of warped light to a proper ship. "Sir William, the ships have all arrived" Said the navigator "Good, we can start speeding up! Send the order to search around for recon, let's find those bastards!" Although looking puny by comparison, the corvettes were still missleboats 100 metres long, and those destroyers were about 300 metres! A fleet of those can quickly turn any ship to spacedust, i mean human missles are no joke, they often carry thermobaric explosives that completely incinerate the inside of a ship as long as there is fuel! Brutal...but as they say, 'All's fair in love and war' After about 10 minutes or recon, the message came in...The enemy had been spotted! "Good! Well done boys, place a tracker in their direction and we can start ranging our shots" William looked outside to the general direction the recon ships were headed, and ask and you shall receive, the radar showed a beacon. William looked at the direction for a long moment, and then he noticed the tiny specs...yup, those were Dr’acha’lian ships right, ugly, weirdly coloured and overall horrible. "Prepare the 120cm cannons, we're gonna be hitting them hard right off the bat." The navigator nodded, punching in the order and readying fire. "Any more orders sir?" "Yes, missleboats, get in position to speed in, lock on and fire with everything you have, destroyer, stay with the S.W and join in fire accordingly, prepare concussive shells." "Yes sir!" Said the navigator, punching in the orders and sending them to the ships. In unison the ships started moving along, the corvettes taking up a wide pentagon, silently preparing missles and roaring up their thrusters, ready to rush in and fire. "Alright...Let's now wait just a moment, tell the artilerry to fire the moment they have a perfect shot, as soon as they fire, we will engage" "Understood sir, you heard the captain, the artillery batteries have the say now..." Seconds passed, feeling like hours, and then, dissapearing as fast as they appeared, immense tremmors shook the ship as an entire salvo of 120cm cannons fired their shells, the corvettes swiftly firing the engines and catapulting forwards towards the enemy. The Silver Warfare herself quickly started turning, the destroyer joining the corvettes in their ambush. They could see the shells hit from here, the absolute power in those thing tearing apart entire battleships in a single hit, followed by a positively gigantic swarm of rockets enveloping the enemy fleet, passing by and hitting ships as it passed before the swarm turned around, hitting again and again, continueing to batter the ships, giving them no chance at retaliation. The silver warfare was approaching swiftly, readying arms and armor as the enemy ships scrambled to put a resistance. William opened up shipwide announcements "General quarters, i repeat men, action stations!" The ship quickly armed and armored up, shields glowing, weapons humming, beeping or making other noises. The ship's immense generator went into battle mode, whirring up a storm as electricety went skyhigh to keep up with the demands of the powerful shielding and weaponry. As soon as the Silver Warfare got in range, all hell broke loose as the Dr’acha’lians opened fire upon them, luckily, their weaponry was vastly inferior to the Silver Warfare's bleeding edge tech and simply immense firepower. As the ships started firing, the Silver Warfare started turning, exposing its side to the enemy as to release the full power of the ship. As soon as the cannons were in range, all of them started firing, a swarm of glowing shells starting to pepper the enemy, destroying small ships and leaving only rubble and dust in their wake. "Sir! The ship is keeping steady and the Dr’acha’lians are struggling to mount a proper counterattack, shall we test the experiment, sir?" "Yes, let's try

that! Let's see if we can live up to the name 'Silver Warfare', shall we?" The navigator smiled, opening shipwide anouncement "All hands, stear clear of the generator, the silver test is about to start, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is NOT a drill. The test shall commence in 5 minutes" As soon as the announcement was made, the gunner crews started scrambling to prepare the experiment, removing the barrels from the massive cannons, swiftly replacing them with different ones, luckily quickened by advanced machinery, then they loaded special shells into the cannons, taking great care to damage neither. William looked at the battle taking place, balancing him every now and then as a salvo hit them or the cannons fired. "Are we sure it won't overload the generator?" "Yes sir...well, in a way it will, but not in a harmful way, you know what i mean" William nodded, looking at the battlefield and opening the anouncements channel once again "The test is now starting, gunners may fire when ready" As soon as he finished, the cannons fired, blasting immense amounts of strange dust across the entire battlefield, the cannon's barrels were replaced with smoothbore ones, and this dust was actually... Silver As the dust spread around the battlefield, William quickly opened up a pannel at the command terminal, revealing a large lever. After the dust had properly settle around the enemy ships, he pulled the lever... In the generator room, the generator itself started going faster and faster, threatening to completely destroy itself with the extra charge, when suddenly... The entire comparment was slid open to space, revealing a massive gaping hole in the ship leading directly to the generator, this was a weak spot...what was the plan? That became clear as soon as the silver came close to the generator, a violent discharge spread throughout the entirely of the battlefield, travelling throughout the silver and electrocuting everything in its path. Silver, being one of the most conductive metals out there made the perfect choice. The enemy ships were being completely fried, not even able to fire anymore as all of their inhabitant were either busy dropping dead from electrocution or exploding since it was like being hit by a lightningbolt all across the field. William laughed, looking at the chaos "Well, report to Yeshua the test was a complete success! The silver warfare was baptised not by fire, but by lightning!" William laughed again, pushing the lever and closing the generator off. The generator would need a little while to get back up to strenght, but it's not like the enemy could put up any resistance. While the generator charged, the Silver warfare and supporting ships simply took care of all enemy ships, like shooting fish in a barrel. (Welp! that was that c: I'll probably not stick to a REALY schedule, but i promise i won't just DIE like that again without telling anyone! BUT I LIVE! I LIVE! I already have a million ideas for the series, and it'll be more around a band of adventurers moreso than these battles, as you might see i'm not the best at writing those '^^. Feel free to drop critisism, have a very nice day and i hope to see you next time :D)

[atinydise]

Pillow Fight

❦ Genre: Fluff.

❦ Pairing: Yunho.

❦ Word count: 745.

❦ A/N: Day 14 of “Ateez New Year Writings, Edition 2021” 🦋

"When you asked me to come over to your apartment. I wasn't completely thinking about this." Said your boyfriend, looking at his nails. "Stop moving! I need to practice!" You scolded him, holding back his hand. "Why do I need to do that? You have your friends for that." He sighed, letting you paint his nail in a dark red tone. "I know, but your nails are so long, it's perfect for practice." "Next time ask Seonghwa, he loves doing manicure and stuff like that." "Yeah, he's the next one on my list." You smiled.

One of your closest friends asked you to paint her nails for a date. You were pretty good at it, since you did it on yourself during your entire life, but her request was complex. "What are you doing with those?" He pointed at the black box next to you. "I need to add the fantasy side, so I'll need some pearls or strass." You replied, adding a last layer on his pinky. Yunho realized that the Netflix and cuddles session was completely ruined. With all the concentration and effort, you are putting on this nail art, you are going to run straight to your bed after it. "Can I at least, turn on the TV? This silence is killing me." He complained, patting the couch to find the remote. "Stop moving! You are going to ruin all of my effort." You placed his hand back on the coffee table. "Argh it's boring!" He sighed loudly. "If you weren't moving and complaining that much, it would have been already done, big baby." "Not my fault if you are the worst nail artist ever." You looked at him right in his eyes. Yunho was joking, of course, you were not that bad, but not really good too. To take your revenge, you grabbed the biggest pillow on the couch and threw it right on your boyfriend's face. He let out a loud growl before laughing out loud. "Are you going to stop complaining now?" You asked, trying your best to not laugh. "Oh girl... you crossed a dangerous line." He mumbled. "Yeah yeah," you whispered. "Less talking, more painting."

Yunho waited you to be focused again on his nails. "So... how was your day?" he asked. "Good." You only replied.

Bingo. Short answers means that you are not totally listening. Cautiously, he picked the smallest pillow on the couch and hit you right on your face. You weren't expecting him to receive a pillow on your forehead like this. The nail polish spilled on the coffee table and on your fingers. "Are you crazy?!" You laughed, trying to stop the mess as fast as possible. "You started hitting me first!" "But because you were nonstop complaining!" You replied back. Before he could say something, you hit him back, right on the shoulder. "Okay woman... war is declared." He smirked. Without thinking twice, you stood up and stepped away from him. "Stay where you are!" You held the pillow in front of you, trying to protect yourself from any attack. "Or what?" He walked toward you. "Or you are going to have a taste of my pillow skills!" You smiled, feeling proud. "I'm not afraid." He said, before rushing to you. As expected, Yunho was winning, you were laughing the most, and trying to cover your body as you could. When suddenly an idea came to your mind. You bent down your head and held your nose. "Stop stop! It hurts!" You whined. "Oh my god, sorry babe!" He stopped, throwing his pillow on the side. "It's an accident." Yunho was checking your nose and repeating every 5 seconds how sorry he was. You pouted a bit. "Do you want ice or something?" He asked, worried. "No but...never let your guard down." You smirked before hitting him right behind his head. Yunho was speechless, you really got him with a pitiful technic. "I can't believe you used this-" "Bla bla... I won." You smiled. Yunho rubbed his forehead, trying to process your betrayal. "Your nails!" you shouted, before holding his hand. "Oops..." he looked at his messed-up nails. "I'll need to start from zero..." You sighed, sitting back around the coffee table. "Can we just go to bed?" He rolled his eyes, not wanting to stay your ‘guinea pig’ any longer. "Sit down Mr Jung Yunho." "'Get a girlfriend, it's funny', they said." He growled. "What did you say?" "Nothing!"

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirit - Zuko x fem! reader (pt.3)

SUMMARY: this takes place around the end of book 1 - but uhhhh I deadass don’t know how to give a summary for this without giving anything away soooo enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: mentions of death and suicide. Scars. Swearing. Non- sexual nudity. Nightmares. Panic attack ish.  mention of torture.

KEY: italics = internal thoughts & *** = flashback

OTHER PARTS:  pt1   /   pt2 /  pt4   /   pt5   /   pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

You’d been walking in the back streets of the capital with your face turned to the sun for the past two hours. The black mask shielding the bottom half of your face hid the sigh that left your lips as you finally approached the palace.

Fucking finally.

Even though you were a Fire bender, it didn’t make it any less annoying as the sun blistered down of the completely black outfit you were wearing. It covered every piece of your skin from your neck, down to your feet. Even your scarred fingertips were hidden from the world.

As you neared the gates, they immediately began to open, inviting you in with open arms. This made you one of the few people, apart from the royal family, that didn’t need to prove their identity to get in. All the guards knew who you were and what you did for the Fire Lord, promoting you from being a prisoner to one of the most well looked after people in the entire Nation. Technically, they were never instructed to provide you with immediate access. Yet, as rumours spread throughout the palaces’ echoing halls, their fear of you doing what you did to all those people when out on missions, seemed to override those basic routines.

Normally you’d scoff at how silly it all was, the fact that they feared a 16-year-old girl almost made you feel sorry for them. As guards of the Nation they should stand with pride and confidence. You suppose that’s what happens when even though they don’t see it, they have nothing to be prideful about considering who their current ruler is. Regardless, today you appreciated their diligence, storming through the gates, and making your way straight to the throne room. You didn’t even give anyone an initial glance. You were pissed. This had been the fourth mission in a row where you were sent to take out some random high position person from some other nation. All this travelling back and forth began to get on your nerves.

Maybe it was from the heightened stress of the most recent task. This one, in particular, set you off because of the minimal information you had to take them out. All you were provided with was that they were from the Water Tribe, and had been at sea in a fleet for multiple years, taking down Fire Nation units.

Gee thanks! Give me a few weeks, and I’ll track down this mysterious person you don’t even know the name of and be on my way! Hmmm, now my first plan of action will be to flip a gold piece to decide if I should swim to the Northern or the Southern tribe to gather intel! Just you wait Ozai. I’ll take that stupid, pathetic, floppy thing you call a beard and drag you into the fire in front of your throne you piece of-

Abruptly cutting off your internal rant, you walked past the guards who immediately opened the doors to the throne room as they saw you approaching; noticing the long braid down your back alit in your raged fire. Reaching the middle of the throne room you didn’t even bother to bow, throwing a Water Tribe necklace splattered in blood to the ground. “It’s done.”

The guard closest to you hastily picked it up and climbed the stairs to hand it to Ozai for an inspection. Eyeing the tribal necklace in the guards’ hand, he made no move to take it away from him physically. Ironic how he has slaughtered so many yet refuses to get real blood on his hands.

“Prove yourself.”

You instantly provided him with the report you memorised on how you conducted the mission with details on an weekly basis. This ensured you actually went through with the assassination- you suggested that you could bring back their head two years ago, but apparently that was too gruesome to be in the presence of the great Fire Lord. There were no pauses or stutters as you rehearsed it on your journey back to the capital.

“Present the details of the savage.”

You held back a sigh, this was always your least favourite part. “The person you sent out for went by the name of Hakoda. He was of the Southern Water Tribe and Chief to one of its smaller villages. During my time undercover in the tribe, I acquired knowledge that his wife was disposed of under the assumption that she was the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe and had two children. It is also to my knowledge that his children are currently travelling with the Avatar. Through making connections with the villagers, I set out to sea in search for him and managed to gain access and trust upon the main ship when they were docked in an isolated part of the Earth Kingdom for supplies. I went under an alias of a homeless non-bending orphan from the Northern Water Tribe wanting revenge on the Fire Nation for slaughtering my parents. When it came time to dispose of him, I did so in the middle of the night after faking a nightmare, seeking him out as a father figure for comfort. I used his own weapon against him as he held me, speaking words of comfort, expressing that I was safe and how I was like a daughter to him. A daughter who would have been a great older sister to his children. During this moment of emotional weakness for him, I assassinated him before he could have even registered that I would have been an awful sister. Leaving before dawn, I made the scene look like a suicide with a letter expressing in detail how being away from his children was too much to bear.”

Ozai looked up from the necklace, satisfied with the briefing. “Hmmm, well-done y/n. Tell me, what do you know of his children?”

“Nothing of great importance other than knowledge of them travelling with the Avatar.”

“Very well, you may have a day’s rest and will be informed of your next task tomorrow evening. Your payment for your services is already in your quarters.”

You bowed knowing you were lucky he let it slide when you walked in. “Thank you, my Fire Lord.”

Exiting the throne room, you made your way to your living quarters, looking forward to the sensation of washed hair, clean clothes, and your bed.

When you finally made it back to your room, you let out a sigh of relief immediately ripping off your mask. As the years went by, nothing seemed to get easier, and nothing seemed to stop. You cherished the moments of silence, the brief period of time where the universe aligned in such a way that you were able to pretend this wasn’t your life. One mission after another, constantly lying to do what needed to be done, amid all the alias’ you made up, you wondered which one really demonstrated who you were as a person. The idea of having to settle with the Fire Lord’s personal assassin didn’t necessarily make you giddy with pride.

You made your way to the bathtub that awaited you in the adjoining room, peeling off the once breathable fabric, off your body as you went. The tub was already full as the servants went to prepare it when they heard the word of your return. You finally unravelled the braid holding your hair together, yet another symbol of the job you committed yourself to. On the first day of training, you were told that if you were caught, your affiliation with the Fire Nation should be buried with you.  

Your skin shuddered as you entered the chilled water, easing your mind that warm water would never satisfy in this Nation’s climate. You leant back with a small wince as your scarred back made contact with the tub. Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon for other assassins to have some form of physical scarring whether that be from training, a mission gone wrong, or punishment from their supervisor. In some unusual way, you were never insecure about it, only annoyed that you had to sleep in odd positions because of the sensitivity.

You began to drift, succumbing to the cool, soothing water around you. Between the stress of returning to the capital, and the stress that awaited you on your next task, you allowed yourself to let go. Free yourself of any thoughts. In your current state, you weren’t scarred. You weren’t trapped in what seemed like a never-ending cycle of duty. You weren’t anyone to anything.

As the moon began to shine through the windows into the bathroom, you woke up with a start, water splashing onto the tiles around you, your heart racing and sweat soaking the unsubmerged parts of your body. Running your hand through your hair, you fought the urge to let out an overwhelmed sob. Nightmares were a common occurrence for you, but this one settled under your skin like a scratch you would never be able to itch.

Air seemed to close in on your lungs, no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, all you could focus on was the fact you couldn’t breathe. Hastily fumbling, and tripping as you got out of the tub, you forced yourself to reach for the first clean robe you could get your hands on. As your thoughts mixed into on jumbled heap, you desperately tried to get it together.

He believed you.

They all did, you knew it in the way that the guards struggled to hide back their expressions of discomfort as you described how you oh so easily manipulated a grown man, warrior, and chief, only to kill him.

It was a lie. All of it. Yet why did I dream of them finding out now?

You’ve never assassinated anyone since that general three years ago, and you most certainly never killed Hakoda. From the very moment you accepted the offer, you knew you’d never go through with the commissions. During the brief period when you trained and got back onto a healthy diet was when you mentally formulated how you would conduct each “killing”. It was simple, you’d carry out the mission as you normally would, but in the time you were supposed to spend working out how to dispose of them, you helped them create a new life for themselves. You didn’t bother trying to shield the truth from them, knew the Fire Lord wanted them dead. While it sent them into a panic, in the long run, it made everything a whole lot easier. They could never go by who they once were, and needed to move far, far, away from wherever they lived. The lives they once knew erased, cutting off all ties.

Idiot. Why did I have to make an exception now?

Instantly dismissing the question that wriggled its way into your head, you began to journey to the kitchens in desperate need for a distraction. You knew why you made the exception.

***

Three weeks ago, when you were on the ship with Hakoda, you did actually have a nightmare, prompting you to go out onto the deck to clear your mind. The air was crisp, eliciting goosebumps across your skin. Quickly letting out a breath of fire, you began to regulate your body temperature as you noticed Hakoda already looking out to the never-ending expanse of the ocean. As an experienced warrior, he heard you approach.

“Y/n? The moon has been out for a long time now, you should be asleep.”

Sighing, you stood next to him, joining him in looking out to the sea. “Nightmares.”

He nodded in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There was no fear in your voice as you recounted the altered memories of your torture, he already knew who you were, where you were from… what you did. All things considered; he took everything pretty well, barely holding it against you. To him, you were just a kid who was sucked into this life, making the best with what you had.

Finishing your poor recount of the nightmare, you turned to face him. “I have to go back soon. I’ve been pushing it by staying for an extra month. We need to make a plan for you to leave. You need to start a new life.”

He knew this conversation was coming ever since he managed to persuade you to help them out for a while. After all, he seemed to look straight past the wall you put up to know that you wanted Ozai’s reign to end. Despite respecting your boundaries, when you took off your mask in front everyone on board, the scar on your neck that travelled beneath your long sleeve shirt as it encompassed your hand, was enough to know that you suffered just like everyone else.

“Y/n, you know I can’t do that. My children, Sokka and Katara, they’re travelling with the Avatar right now, and I haven’t seen them since they were young. I can’t just leave and have you fake my death like that, Bato told me how much hope that knowing I’m alive brings to them! If I go and word gets out that you ‘assassinated’ me… it will crush them. Their close relationship with the worlds only hope is too much of a risk. I need them to be strong. The world needs them to be strong. I’m sorry y/n, but I can’t.”

You stared at him processing his words. Ultimately you knew he was right, but you couldn’t go back after such a long time just to say you failed. The Fire Lord would destroy you. “I understand where you are coming from. I do, but you can’t seriously expect me to go back with nothing! What do you expect me to do?! Oh, sorry Fire Brain I couldn’t kill him because something suddenly possessed me to feel bad about how his children might feel! Don’t worry, though, I didn’t care every other time I knew about other targets’ children! Unless you have some genius plan, I’m sorry, but Sokka and Katara are just going to have to suck it up. Let’s be realistic, yes, this MAY damage them and their duty to support the Avatar, but at least you can go back to them when this war is over!”

He ran his hand over his face, clearly trying to stay calm and collected. “I know, y/n. That’s why I’ve been up all night making a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”

You crossed your arms, scoffing at him. “The fact you’re suggesting something other than what I have ALREADY planned makes me not like it… but let’s hear it.”

He attempted to start with the parts of the plan he knew you’d agree on, which didn’t last long. “Well, we can incorporate some of your plans into it, that being we fake my death taking by tribal necklace back to the Fire Nation splattered in the animal’s blood. Yet everything else? We’re scrapping it.”

Biting on your tongue, you fought the urge to scream at how stupid this was sounding.

Relieved you didn’t bite back, he continued. “I’ll stay with the crew and then-“

That was enough for you to lose control. “Okay, I’m sorry did you just say you want to stay with the crew?! I am supposed to be taking out the LEADER OF THIS FLEET! If you stay with them and continue to attack vulnerable units, they will know, and they’ll have my head!”

“I know y/n! Which is why, when you’re gone, Batu will temporarily take over as captain until further notice. I, on the other hand, will only help plan the attacks stay in the background until it’s safe. Now, as for my kids, we’ll send them a letter letting them know I’m safe and hopefully a location so I can reunite with them.”

“But what if-“

“The letter gets intercepted? It’s just going to have to be a small risk.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried to bring the conversation to a less hostile level. “More often than not, there is no perfect plan. You should know that, by faking all of your assassinations since working for the Fire Lord. Which might I add, is the biggest risk you could possibly take. It will all work out in the end; trust me. But, this is your playing field, if you truly think me disappearing is the only way, then we can go ahead with the original plan.”

Sucking in a breath, you stared at Hakoda as if he grew two heads.

Did he just give me an option?

“W-what do you mean what I think?! You literally just said that you CAN’T leave your children! You gave me an alternative plan, and now you’re saying that if I disagree you’ll do as I say? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He let out a laugh, amused by your concerns. “Y/n, you have been trained in this area and executing the fake assassinations all on your own for over two years. No one knows the ins and outs of how the Fire Nation plans things like you do. If you think my plan is severely flawed and both of us are bound to get caught, I will trust your judgement in which is the best to conduct. Yes, I said that we should be thinking of my kids and the Avatar, his destiny is bigger than any of this, but everyone should be allowed to choose what they want to do, I am just allowing you to expand your options.”

With a final breath, he truly looked at you with sincerity, “I trust you y/n.”

It all seemed too much. All your life it felt like there was only one obvious pathway; do what it takes to survive. Everything he said was right, and it dawned on you that for once the decision you were about to make had two genuinely good choices. Hakoda gifted you with that privilege. Either way, you would save his life and yours. Yet you knew that the new pathway presented to you would lead you something bigger, just like he said. You couldn’t take one of the few good things away from his kids.

Overcome with emotion, you hugged him. “Thank you. We’ll do it. You need to stay.”

He hugged you back as you began to cry.

***

After spending the remainder of the night stuffing your face in the kitchens, you didn’t go back to sleep and started to train with whoever was willing until it was time to hear of your next target. By no means were you looking forward to it, but you were ready to distance yourself from the last mission as it regularly filled your mind.

I wonder if he actually put Bato in charge and stood down? Stop thinking about it y/n. It doesn’t matter anymore; you’ll never have to see him again.

As the sun started to disappear into the Fire Nations skyline, you headed for the throne room knowing you shouldn’t keep Ozai waiting.

I can’t wait to see the show he has prepared for me. I wonder how dark he tried to make the lighting this time. Ooo! Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get 20-foot flames! Then I won’t have to see his ugly beard.

Entering the room and bowing before him, you fought back a snicker as it truly felt like the room seemed darker than usual.

“Y/n, you have come a long way from being a traitor and prisoner to the Nation to one of the most valuable assets. Your next task will be the ultimate test of your loyalty to me. I have trusted and sent my daughter Azula on a mission to bring back my traitor of a brother, and my failure of a son.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Azula was no stranger to riling you up whenever you crossed paths over her brother, and you were well aware of the encounters he had with the Avatar. But not once were you brought into the dysfunctions of their family. Now all of a sudden you were formally addressed by Ozai who was mentioning these events to you? It made you hyper-aware of the scars that stretched along your left side. The only personal connection you had with Zuko.

“While she undoubtedly has my complete trust, and I do not doubt her abilities, she lacks experience. Azula does not have the knowledge of the world, and fighting styles from the other nations like you do. For that, I am entrusting you to take care of the collateral damage. If things are to go wrong, if she is faced with a circumstance hindering her ability to do her task, it is your job to finish it. Even if that means harm must come to her, the mission is the utmost priority. Should you fail, do not underestimate the consequences you’ll face if you ever step back into the Nation.”

In your best attempt to keep your composure, you replied in a cool but firm tone. “Of course, my Fire Lord.”

“Good. You leave at dawn and do not return until my daughter succeeds.”

Bowing in acknowledgement, you began to leave. But you quickly halt your movements as you hear his voice again.

“One last thing y/n. Azula is not to know that you are tracking her at any stage during her mission. You are to distance yourself, only intervening when there is no other option.”

You bow for the last time. “You have my word.”

Making your way to prepare supplies for your journey, you fight the urge to curse out the entire royal family throughout the halls.

Babysitting duty. I was tortured for eight fucking months. Trained to boredom by Zemin’s brother, Piandao, for one month, and some knock-off fire bending master for a week because he didn’t know how to control me, and went gallivanting across the nations to fake assassinations. Not only that but also assist them in making new lives for themselves, FOR BABYSITTING DUTY! ALL BECAUSE HIS SPOILED, SOCIOPATHIC DAUGHTER WITH AN SUPERIORITY COMPLEX ISN’T EXPERIENCED ENOUGH?!

In your silent rage, you make it back to your room trying to reason with yourself that you shouldn’t kill Azula the second you both cross the Fire Nation boarders.

A/N: so…. Did I have y’all in the first half? LMAO AHAHHA.

Also I really thought I was going to have the gaang in this one #fool (oopsies) I really didn’t think the hakoda portion would consume so much of the chapter :/ BUT!! They’re definitely in the next one

Thanks for reading though! On the bright side I’m (finally) on my mid-semester break!!! Woohoo! I’m so excited to wrap up this semester wowies (uni has been kicking my butt),, but this does mean I’ll have more time to write so you guys might get a chapter earlier than normal 😊 Anyway, as normal feel free to message me or leave a comment!

TAGLIST:

@slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​

@kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​

@ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​

[clonewarsarchives]

Inside 'Star Wars: The Clone Wars'

By: Gerri Miller  (original article link on howstuffworks)

Sources

George Lucas interviewed August 4, 2008

Dave Filoni interviewed September 11, 2008

The sci-fi phenomenon that began more than 30 years ago with a movie about a galaxy long ago and far, far away has expanded exponentially ever since with sequels, prequels, books, games and animated spinoffs. Although the animated "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" movie, released this summer, has to date grossed a less than stellar $34 million, it was an offshoot of creator George Lucas' mission to create a TV series, and it served its purpose as a promotional tool for the weekly "Clone Wars" episodes that premiere on Cartoon Network Oct. 3, 2008.

Focused on the conflict briefly referred to in the original "Star Wars," the galactic civil war takes place in the period between "Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones" and "Episode III: Revenge of the Sith." The Clone Wars pit the Grand Army of the Republic led by the Jedi Knights against the Separatists and their Droid Army, led by Count Dooku, a Jedi turned Sith Lord aligned with the evil Darth Sidious. Many of the characters from the "Star Wars" universe are involved, including Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi and young Anakin Skywalker, before he was tempted to the Dark Side and became Darth Vader.

"I was lamenting the fact that in 'Episode II,' I started the Clone Wars, and in 'Episode III,' I ended the Clone Wars, and I never actually got to do anything on the Clone Wars," says Lucas. "It's like skipping over World War II."

To remedy that omission, he tapped Dave Filoni, an animator (Nickelodeon's "Avatar: the Last Airbender" series) and passionate "Star Wars" fan, to bring "The Clone Wars" to TV.

Ensconced at Big Rock Ranch, near Lucas' Skywalker Ranch headquarters in Marin County, Cali., Filoni and his team of artists and computer animators are making 22 episodes in season one and have nearly two more seasons written.

"We're way ahead. We've been doing this ever since I finished 'Revenge of the Sith,'" says Lucas, who hopes to do at least 100 installments.

He and Filoni collaborate on everything from story to design to execution in translating the "Star Wars" universe for television. It's a daunting creative, technical and logistic task, as we'll explain in the following sections.

Building the Universe

How do you scale down an IMAX-size spectacle for television and still have it make an impact, especially on a small screen budget? That's just one of the problems Dave Filoni has to solve.

"'Star Wars' is very famous for the scale of it, and how convincing it looks. So when you're doing a weekly television series, you have to figure out how to do things on that level," he notes. "Sometimes it forces you to be creative and come up with solutions that are better than if you can shoot everything you want," he continues, preferring to consider budgetary constraints a creative incentive rather than a limitation. "The team here is challenged to come up with these giant battles. We haven't shied away from anything."

While he did some of the initial character design, subsequently, Filoni has spent most of his time supervising other artists and animators, who number around 70 in-house and another 80 or so at facilities in Singapore and Taipei.

"Everything is written here, and the story and design and editing are all done here. The animation and lighting are done overseas, and sometimes some modeling as well," he outlines.

­"I meet with George to talk about the episodes and he hands out a lot of the storylines and main ideas for the stories. I'll draw while he's talking and show him the sketch," Filoni continues. "That way we communicate right off the bat about what something might look like."

At any given time, the director notes, episodes are in various stages of completion, "from designing to working on a final cut, or adding sound and color-correction. I have four episodic directors to help me, who each have an episode they're managing."

Rather than use computer animation to duplicate the live-action films' characters or continue in the very stylized vein of the 2004-2005 "Clone Wars" micro-series, "We kind of shot for the middle," says Filoni, who endeavored to blend a 2-D esthetic with 3-D technology.

"The 3-D model makers and riggers who worked on the prequels dealt with the height of realism to create convincing digital characters. I knew that we weren't going to be able to do that for the series. And we wanted it to be different than a live-action feature, to get away from photo-realism. It was a choice to simplify something in the character models, the same way we would do things in a 2-D show."

So how did Filoni stay true to the "Star Wars" legacy in this newest installment? Read on to find out.

Clone Style

Taking some inspiration from the earlier cartoon series, Filoni

approached the characters as a 2-D animator would, "but stylized the face a little more. If you look at Anakin, he has certain edges and lines in his face. I would draw an edge or a line that might be unnaturally straight or curved, and that would play into the lighting of it. I tried to sculpt in 3-D the way I would draw or sculpt an image in 2-D, with shadow and light. I wanted it to look like a painting -- you see a textured, hand-painted style on every character. I have texture artists who literally paint every single character right down to their eyeball, because I wanted that human touch on everything."

Advances in computer animation have allowed Filoni to accomplish much more than he would have been able to in traditional 2-D. "For eight years I worked just with a pencil. I never touched a computer. But working with George, we try to look at computers as an incredibly advanced pencil. The technical side helps the creative, artistic side," he says.

Battles filled with huge numbers of soldiers can be rendered faster than ever before, but they still have to be created, along with every other prop and character in an enormous universe. "'Star Wars' is so complex in that you're building a whole galaxy. We go to many different planets," Filoni reminds. "So every rock, tree, blade of grass, native vehicle -- every asset -- needs design. We had to create a whole bunch of assets for each episode, and the budget goes up for each element you have. Once you build it, you have it, but we can't go to a different planet and have the same chair there," he laughs. "On a schedule where we need those things right away, it's difficult to get it all built."

Since "The Clone Wars" is chronologically sandwiched between "Clone Wars" and "Revenge of the Sith," it has been a mandate for the creators to stay consistent with the mythology. "That's probably one of the trickiest things," admits Filoni. "We always have to keep in mind what the characters are thinking and feeling at the beginning of this and at the end. You have a lot of room to play with when you're in the middle, but you have to remember what people say in the third movie. With characters like Obi-Wan or Anakin or Padme, I have to pay very careful attention that it will hook up. And then there's the expanded universe of "Star Wars" novels and video games. I try to be aware of it all and work it in, because fans really appreciate it."

Filoni hopes to attract existing fans and create new ones, especially among the younger generation, but admits doing the latter may be easier. "One thing we have that's different from any movie that came before is we're an animated series. But there's an instant reaction to the word animation that it's for kids. How you get around that is with the stories you tell. We'll have our snow battles and we'll also have our lighter 'Return of the Jedi' moments. Some episodes lean older, some younger. But in the end it has a broad appeal," he believes.

The recent "Clone Wars" movie (out on DVD Nov. 11 ) served as a stand-alone prequel to introduce the characters at this point in time. In contrast, "The series has its small arcs and shows you the war from across a broad spectrum of episodes. It's not just Anakin Skywalker's story," Filoni underlines. "We can go left or right of that plot and deal with characters we have never seen. There's a lot of material. It's a three-year period in the history of the 'Star Wars' Universe, and there are so many stories to tell. The longer it goes, the more chance we get to tell fascinating stories in that galaxy."

Character Study

"The Clone Wars" shows a different side of some of the film franchise's most iconic characters. "In a series, you can do a whole episode about a character and learn more about what they were like, which makes what happens to them a lot more poignant," explains Filoni. "We know Yoda is powerful, but how does that power develop? How does he use it? We get to go into more detail that you just couldn't do in the live action films, because they're mainly focused on Anakin."

While few of the actors from the live action movies agreed to reprise their roles in voice over for "The Clone Wars," Anthony Daniels, the original C-3PO, is the exception. "One of the special moments for me was hearing Anthony on the telephone, discussing C-3PO with me and his experiences. That really helps us round out the characters," says the director, who enjoyed similar input from Rob Coleman, the animation supervisor who worked on Yoda on the prequels.

Of the new characters not seen in the live action series, there's the alluring but venomous Asajj Ventress, a disciple of Count Dooku. "She is, of course, a villain, and fits into the structure of the Sith," Filoni elaborates. "Darth Sidious -- Senator Palpatine -- is the main bad guy, and his apprentice is Count Dooku. Dooku is training Ventress in the Dark Side. She's getting more powerful. I wanted to make her intelligent, deceptive and also kind of sexual. She's kind of a forbidden fruit -- Jedi are not supposed to get involved with the more lustful aspects of life. She adds another dynamic to the series."

On the other side of the good/evil coin is newcomer Ahsoka Tano, Anakin's teenage pad­awan, or apprentice. "She's Anakin's student and helps us see him as more of a hero," says Filoni. "Once he gets over his initial reaction, he takes pride in her. He's unpredictable and the Jedi know that, but he has compassion and that is used against him and it later brings him to the Dark Side."

Ahsoka was created, says Lucas, "Because I needed to mature Anakin. The best way to get somebody to become responsible and mature is to have them become a parent or a teacher. You have to think about what you're doing and set an example. You look at your behavior and the way you do things much differently. The idea was to use her to make Anakin become more mature. We've made her a more extreme version of what Anakin was- - a little out there, independent, vital and full of life, but even more so. He gets a little dose of his own medicine."

"She's been a really fun character to develop," adds Filoni, who likes Ahsoka but admits that his character tastes tend to run a bit more obscure -- his favorite is Plo Koon, "a bizarre Jedi Master. It's been fun to develop him and show his personality beyond the fact that he's bizarre looking and carries a lightsaber."

Fan Fare

Just three years ago, Filoni dressed up as Plo Koon to see an opening night showing of "Revenge of the Sith," so it's not surprising that the 34-year-old fan is still pinching himself that he has this job. "It's a very creative atmosphere," he says of Big Rock Ranch, where the lakeside setting is "meant to inspire us artistically and definitely does. A lot of the people I work with grew up with 'Star Wars,' so we have a great time. It's hard, intense work, but George is very engaged in what we're doing. What more could you ask for? I have the guy who created the 'Star Wars' universe excited and interested in what we're doing. We couldn't be happier about that."

Asked why he thinks "Star Wars" remains a fan favorite today, three decades later, Lucas says diversification is the key. "We were always able to deal with different aspects of the story in various forms and I think that keeps it alive. It is a lot of fun and it's a universe that has been created to inspire young people to exercise their imagination and inspire them to be creative, and I think that always works."

"The original 'Star Wars' had broad appeal to everybody, and it holds up so well," adds Filoni. "I think there's a timelessness to it, even though Luke looks like a kid from the '70s with that haircut. Luke is a farmer boy and Han is a cowboy. Jedi Knights are like the samurai of Japan or the knights of Europe. Those archetypes work the globe over. It's a world phenomenon that speaks to everyone. There will always be a character you can relate to."

[omer-nacar]

WHEN: 13th February WHERE: Outside The Warehouse  WITH: @aliciarowes 

Omer had not technically promised Rafael that he was going to leave in one of the taxis right away therefore staying behind was not disobeying orders from the Seraphim. Although, the smarter decision would have been to get into a taxi and get out of here with the current state he was in. He was about to leave, he had gone out to the taxis, pulled open the door but there was something which stopped him from getting in the car and driving away. Maybe they would need his help, that would be his defence.

Stumbling as he walked back towards the factory, Omer froze still as he saw the face that had haunted his nightmares dart past him. His brows furrowing, suddenly he did not feel as intoxicated as he had a second again, everything in his body seemed to restart, and the monster seeking revenge took over his body. With a brisk movement, Omer launched towards the woman who had his back to him, grabbing her by her raven hair and yanking her head back. It was a dirty tactic attacking someone from behind, but Alicia had killed his wife, he would fight dirty. “Alicia fucking Rowe,” he grunted through his teeth as he dragged her body back a few steps before slamming her against the brick wall.

His free hand clasped around her throat, eyeing her carefully for a moment as he towered over her, his lips merely curved into an amused smirk as he watched the woman try to gasp for air, his fingers tightening against her skin. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for, for two years. He was finally going to end Alicia Rowe.

“How does it feel knowing that within a few seconds you will die?” his eye twitched as he spoke, adrenaline rushing through his body at the prospect that he would put an end to her beating her heart. Starring at her, Omer wanted to watch the light leave her eyes, he wanted to see the blood drain out of her face, he wanted to feel her warm skin turn ice cold. “You know what your biggest mistake was that night? Letting me live. You should have killed me that night!” he spat out, a somewhat manic laugh escaping him as his anger fuelled with pain caused his eyes to pool up. “Why the fuck did you not kill me? Why her? Why her...” his voice trailed, the alcohol mixed with whatever was slipped into his drink was making him dizzier and his thoughts got clouded.

Omer grew up knowing that death could always be at his doorstep, accepting death was part of his childhood. For some children, it was something that would be hushed and hidden from, but for Omer, it was a topic that would be discussed openly at the dinner table. His father had told the same story to him ever since he could remember. “Öldüğümde sen ailenin erkeği olacaksın, ailemize bakacaksın, bu bizim hayatımız Omer.” When I die you will be the man of the family, you will take care of our family, this is our life, Omer. He had witnessed many funerals and how everyone seemed to move on with their life after. It was a strange concept, being able to survive without a loved one and pretend that you were still living. But you did not have any other choice, life did not wait and ask you if you want to move on, you got dragged along with time and one day you’re thinking how is time going to pass and the next day two years have gone by.

“She meant nothing to you, did she? Just an innocent person you killed for your fucking gang without a second thought.” he hissed, the hand that was not against her throat reaching to his jacket to pull out his pocket knife. There was not a single day in the last two years where Jackie did not cross his mind, nor was there a single day in the last two years where he had not thought of this moment. He was counting down the days for this moment. He would kill Alicia Rowe and he would be free. “Now you’re going to fucking die.” his voice took on a menacing tone as the sharp blade of his pocket knife pressed against her throat.

[anamaleth]

I took part in the holiday gift exchange organised by @sanderssidesgiftxchange ! My giftee was @to-precious-to-process , who requested a fantasy au, stargazing, and a whole bunch of fluff.

This fic focuses mainly on the last wish and includes elements from the other two - I hope you enjoy it!

@ashblood1314​ was my beta-reader and I cannot thank punk enough for that! Ash did an amazing job and without stars help, this fic wouldn’t be what it is now. Thank you so much, AG, I care you ♡!!!!

xxx

Traditions

Summary: An observation of the traditions the Sides have.

Movie nights, prank wars, playing tabletop RPGs together - their desire to regularly spend time together as a family had led to them creating a lot of traditions.

"Patton was leaning onto Logan, who was holding hands with Roman, and Roman was sitting back-to-back with Remus. Remus had Virgil lying in his lap, whose legs were draped over Janus’; while Janus’ head was resting on Patton’s shoulder. The Sides found comfort in each other’s presence, a blissful serenity that nothing else could provide them with."

Content Warnings (it’s just a whole bunch of fluff, honestly, but to be safe):

Food Mentions

Brief mention of poison (no one actually gets poisoned)

Mentions of in-universe fictional character deaths (they play Dungeons and Dragons and their characters die)

read on ao3

 xxx

Weekly movie nights were a tradition for the Sides, just like the Secret Santa, and the Easter Egg Hunt that Patton organized every year.

"It's important for families to have traditions!" he would often tell the others, and the smile Patton's face whenever he said those words made it impossible for the other Sides to turn him down. Patton's excitement was infectious, how could they resist?

The prank wars all of them had could technically also be counted as a tradition, but only unofficially so. They never followed any sort of schedule, which Logan insisted was a fundamental part of traditions, nor were they really organised. Instead, they broke out whenever one of them decided that peace and quiet had prevailed among them for too long.

It was fairly common for one of the twins to start the prank wars, given that “annoy my brother until I get some sort of reaction out of him” seemed to be part of both of their agendas. Not that there was any malice behind it, causing any lasting harm was never their intention. But given Remus’ love for wreaking havoc and Roman’s usual theatrics combined with his inability to resist being dramatic, it came as a surprise to no one that the chances of chaos doubled when the two of them were in the same space together.

In addition to that, the chances of chaos increased exponentially after a certain threshold of time spent by the twins in the same space was exceeded, especially when Virgil or Janus were with them. The amount of time passed since the last prank war and the absence of any Sides that could be considered a responsible adult (Patton is not to be considered a responsible adult) factored into the probability of a prank war breaking out as well. At least according to the graph Logan had created.

Logan kept this graph for two reasons.

The first one was that there was simply no such thing as “having too many graphs and lists”, not to him at least. Creating them was a fun and useful way to practice organisation, and there was most certainly no such thing as being too organised!

And the second reason was that Logan wanted to be aware of the likelihood of a prank war occurring at any given time so that he would always be prepared for them.

“Prepared” both as in “ready to take part in the planning and semi-serious attacking” and as in “I will not be caught off-guard by my friends’ shenanigans”. He had made that mistake once and he would not allow for it to repeat itself. Just thinking about the feather incident made him shiver, and that one had happened back when the twins were on “no speaking” terms. Logan couldn’t and certainly didn’t want to imagine what the two of them would be capable of together.

For all his distaste for “wasted time” and general aversion of disorganization, Logan considered the prank wars to be valuable bonding time with the ones he cared about. This may have had something to do with his love for scheming in said prank wars. It wasn’t unusual for Logan to be utterly absorbed by a task, but for him to be so open about his enthusiasm? That was a rarity, and it was one the other Sides treasured immensely.

Having Logan on your team in the prank wars was a huge advantage, and if both he and Janus were on the same team, their victory was almost certainly guaranteed. The combination of Janus’ wit and Logan’s intellect made for a nearly unbeatable force, which meant they ended up being allies fairly often.

The twins weren’t normally on the same team, given that one of them “attacking” the other was what often started the prank wars in the first place – but the two of them joining forces was the only way to beat Janus and Logan. And given the twins' distaste (read: hatred) for losing, coalitions between them had started to occur more and more regularly.

Roman’s and Remus’ creativity, their ability to improvise and the sheer chaos that seemed to transpire whenever they worked together were a fair match for Logan’s and Janus’ genius scheming that had rightfully earned them the title of Strategic Masterminds. There was no telling which team would win, especially not with Virgil and Patton as rogue elements.

Well, with Virgil as a rogue element, given that Patton got that “I’m about to make a pun and inflict 80 damage on everyone around me”-look on his face whenever someone referred to him as such, after which he would cheekily remind them that he played as a paladin and not as a rogue in their Dungeons and Dragons sessions, which would make him a paladin element.

As much as what Patton said was true, hearing it made Logan go through all five stages of grief over the course of two seconds. He then considered using his powers as the current Dungeon Master to do something to Patton’s character to finally get him to stop making this awful pun. But, after a few moments of contemplation, he quickly abandoned this plan as he reminded himself that he was a responsible adult.

Logan was aware of the fact that Patton had gotten very attached to his character, and he didn’t want to upset him. He was also aware of the fact that Patton would be the next one to DM for all of them.

And given that Patton had started to spend more time with Janus, Remus and Virgil, Logan really didn’t want to risk getting on his bad side. Not because the three of them would do anything to Logan - he was their friend, too, after all – but because the metaphorical seeds of chaos that Patton had carried with him since the very beginning had started to fully blossom under their influence.

Apart from that, Patton brought home-made cookies to their D&D sessions whenever he was in a particularly good mood, and Logan a) didn’t want to miss out on those and b) couldn’t be one hundred percent certain that, with enough persuasion from Remus and Janus, Patton wouldn’t end up poisoning the cookies as a way to get revenge if Logan really did go through with killing his character.

This only further contributed to Logan’s assessment of Patton not being a responsible adult. He chose to ignore what the fact that he had just had an internal debate on whether or not killing off his friend’s D&D character for making puns would be worth it if it meant that he would have to miss out on the cookies said friend makes said about his own status as a “responsible adult”.

The D&D sessions the Sides had together were also a tradition, and they all took turns being the DM, assuring that each of them would both get the chance to be an active player in the game and, every once in a while, get to decide what challenges and narratives their friends would face.

Janus and Remus joining their sessions had brought the number of player characters from three up to five, which meant that instead of having barely enough players for the sessions to work, they now had a group that could face any monster or villain with ease.

Emphasis on the “could”, because what they actually ended up doing most of the time was very different from the heroic deeds their characters were technically capable of.

Virgil played as a rogue, Janus played as a warlock and even without the added chaos of Remus’ multi-class Bard/Barbarian (or “Bardbarian”, as Patton called them, much to Remus’ delight and Logan's dismay) they were capable of completely derailing every single session.

In the most affectionate way possible, they were a complete nightmare to DM for.

Yet watching them interact and build off of what the other said made the horror of being the DM and watching your plans for the game disintegrate right in front of your very own eyes absolutely worth it.

The biggest session the Sides had played so far had been the campaign that Roman and Remus had created together. Both of the twins loved designing classic high-fantasy games, although Remus preferred to lean more heavily into the gruesome and macabre aspects of high-fantasy, while Roman never strayed far from “noble quests”, “heroic adventures” and “saving your true love from the lairs of evil”.

Which was why they both adored fairy tales – the campaign they created together ended up being a modern, much less heteronormative, and almost sci-fi-esque retelling of just about every single fairy tale they could think of. It was a huge project that took them several weeks of planning and two and a half months of bi-weekly game sessions to complete, and some of them even ended up crying during the last session.

The plot focused on a rebellion against a corrupt king and his followers, led by the characters that the Sides played. None of the characters, neither protagonists nor antagonists, survived the final battle; and while the evil king had been defeated, there was no truly Happy Ending for any of them.

As painful as it may have been, it was the perfect ending for the story – absolutely brilliant and tragic, but in a cathartic way that would leave them with fond memories of everything that they had experienced. They held each other after the session was over, the giant table they conjured whenever they played tabletop games together quickly replaced by blankets and pillows that they let themselves sink into.

Patton was leaning onto Logan, who was holding hands with Roman, and Roman was sitting back-to-back with Remus. Remus had Virgil lying in his lap, whose legs were draped over Janus’; while Janus’ head was resting on Patton’s shoulder. The Sides found comfort in each other’s presence, a blissful serenity that nothing else could provide them with.

Given that all of them wanted to play something with less emotional investment to take a break from the emotional toll that the last game had taken on them, they moved on to playing one-shots again after that. Although, taking a break from emotional vulnerability wasn’t the only reason for that; Remus and Logan had informed them that the two of them had started the planning process for their next proper campaign, which they were certain would take them a lot of time and effort to complete.

Logan and Remus, as different as they seemed, got along surprisingly well.

Whenever they needed someone to listen to them, they knew they could count on the other to do so without any judgement.

Logan had known of Roman’s love for mythology, specifically Greek- and (surprising to no one, considering his name) Roman mythology, but he had been absolutely overjoyed to learn that Remus shared this interest.

As much as Logan enjoyed having discussions with Roman, it was refreshing to hear things from a completely different perspective every once in a while. Roman adored the tragic love stories, particularly Orpheus and Eurydice, and Achilles and Patroclus; while his brother seemed to fixate more on Heracles’ trials and the story of Oedipus.

Logan and Remus had been stargazing together in Logan’s room when they had come up with the idea for their campaign. Technically Virgil had also been with them, but he had quickly fallen asleep looking up at what had once been a ceiling but was now a vast, clear night’s sky. He was curled up next to Remus, who had taken off his sash so that Virgil could use it as a pillow, burying his face into Remus’ side and using him as a teddy bear.

While Virgil was sleeping, Logan rambled about space and the origins of different star constellations. At one point, Remus chimed in to give some additional information about the mythological story behind one of the constellations Logan had mentioned, which resulted in them having a rapid-fire brainstorming session that lasted for several hours.

During that discussion, they decided on the setting for the campaign: a huge dystopian cyberpunk city in which they would tell modern versions of the original Greek myths.

The D&D sessions Logan planned often featured intricate riddles and complicated challenges he designed himself, which were a perfect fit for this setting. And as much as the other Sides tended to struggle with solving Logan’s puzzles, they earnestly encouraged his passion for creating them and looked forward to what he would come up with next.

Remus and Logan, however, weren’t the only ones who had hour-long discussions about shared interests, as Patton and Janus had started having conversations about the concept of morality. Referring to those conversations as debates, although Logan liked to do so when he occasionally joined them, wasn’t quite accurate. It was never their intention to convince the other of their opinion, they merely enjoyed exchanging their thoughts and points of view.

When Logan was with them, their talks tended to become a lot more philosophical than when it was just the two of them. With him present, it wasn't as casual as when they were on their own, as Logan enjoyed having debates in a more serious setting. But even then, they still valued each other’s company more than the actual outcome of the discussion.

One time, in one of their earlier debates - Janus and Patton had been sitting in Patton’s room together, Janus’ legs draped over Patton’s, as his back rested against the armrest of the sofa - Janus had explained the concepts of Utilitarianism and Deontology to Patton. The latter had listened intently as Janus explained the two fundamental approaches to morality, one where ends are justified by the means it takes to achieve them, and one where one’s actions are justified by the results they achieve.

When Janus brought up the Trolley problem as an example, he noticed how Patton immediately tensed up. Janus paused, taking Patton's hands into his own and apologised.

"It was never my intention to upset you back then, Patton. I was trying to prove a point and I hurt you in the process. While I got what I wanted, I shouldn't have pushed you this far. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used you as a-"

"Means to an end?" Patton interrupted him. He seemed uncertain, but there was a small smile on his face.

After a moment of hesitation, Janus nodded, almost self-conscious, when suddenly, Patton's eyes lit up.

"Like in-! Like in Utilitarism!"

The tense atmosphere evaporated and Janus looked up to meet Patton's eyes.

"Close."

"Ulitiriorism?"

"Ah, getting further away now-"

The fond amusement was clear in Janus' voice.

"Ulitaro...okay, what was it again?"

"Utilitarianism."

Patton beamed at him and Janus couldn't help but return the smile.

"Exactly! That one! And I insisted on the other one? The one where you can’t break your own moral code to achieve a greater goal, what was it? Deon-”

Janus’ expression became impossibly fond.

“Deontology, yes.”

“I got it right!”

After that, their conversation continued as it had before, just that Janus’ fingers were intertwined with Patton’s now. Eventually, Patton came to the conclusion that putting your own needs first can be a means to an end, something that ultimately leads to the greatest amount of good for the greatest number of people. He could keep his own values and stick to Deontology while occasionally approaching situations in a more utilitaristic way. He had already done so when it came to the Plato (...or was it Kant? Did it really matter?) dilemma with the murderer that you lie to in order to protect your friends; maybe he could learn to apply the same approach to self-care?

In order to practice, he and Janus had come up with the idea for Patton’s current D&D character: a Paladin who had sworn an oath of devotion to achieving the greatest amount of good for the greatest number of people, no matter the means they had to seize to achieve that goal.

Logan, as the current Dungeon Master, simultaneously marvelled at the concept of Patton’s character, and anguished at the chaos that character caused with the help of the characters the rest of the Sides played.

Apart from D&D, the Sides also regularly played board games together and, of course, held movie nights. Janus and Remus had started joining the others in both of these endeavours. They were family tradition after all, and the two of them were part of the family. Both Janus and Remus – although neither of them would ever admit to it - had been dangerously close to tearing up when Patton had first told them so. Part of the family.

They really had come far, hadn’t they?

Despite the sofa being too small for six metaphysical people to sit on, and despite it now being way more packed during their movie nights than it had previously been, none of them seemed to mind sitting closer together.

Patton was sitting in front of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket while wearing his cat onesie. He was holding a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows in it and there were two bowls of popcorn set next to him, which he regularly passed around. One of them was salted and one with sugar.

Both of the twins preferred their popcorn ridiculously sweet - much to Roman’s triumph, because this meant that his brother joining their movie nights tipped the scales so that there were now two Sides who wanted to drown the popcorn in sugar.

On their first movie night with very sweet popcorn, Roman had exclaimed “Democracy wins once again!” to a very tired Logan, who was now seriously considering switching over to salted popcorn out of spite, even though he really did not like salted popcorn.

Patton, despite being, in some regard, the literal embodiment of emotions, had no strong feelings on the matter. He held no preference regarding how sweet or salty his popcorn should be and ate out of both bowls. Meanwhile, Virgil had just laughed at the now pouting Logan (“I am not pouting, Virgil, this is ridiculous”), as he shared his bowl of salted popcorn with Janus.

Now, several movie nights later, Logan sat, as he always did, behind Patton.

He kept absentmindedly running his fingers through Patton's hair, and it seemed as though nothing was out of the ordinary. The only real difference to previous movie nights was that he was now dressed in his unicorn onesie.

No one had commented on this, but Logan had registered the fond smiles on his friends’ faces as they realised that he had started wearing it around them again. Terrified of being written off as immature and unprofessional, it had taken Logan quite some time to get comfortable doing so again. But here he was, happy and cosy, dressed in his favourite outfit.

Janus sat right next to Logan. The first time he had been invited over, there had been a considerable distance between them, but over the course of a few weeks, Janus had found himself moving closer and closer to Logan each movie night, until he eventually found himself leaning against him comfortably.

By now, Janus had reached the point where he didn't even bother waiting anymore before gradually scooting closer to Logan. Instead, he assumed his rightful position immediately - Janus' head, mostly covered by the hood of his snake onesie, resting on Logan's shoulder.

Remus was taking up the most amount of space: his head was lying in Janus' lap while his legs were sprawled on the rest of the sofa. Roman had protested in the beginning, screeching at his brother to get his feet out of his face.

Roman had eventually given up, as Remus refused to move his legs and instead stuck out his tongue.

“How very mature of you, Remus”, Roman had grumbled in response, but his twin had already gone back to playing with the tentacles of his octopus onesie. Defeated, Roman settled for moving his throne - built out of a beanbag and all of the pillows and couch cushions he could get (which was all of them) - next to Patton.

Virgil sat on the backrest of the sofa, close enough to Janus to easily share their bowl of salted popcorn. Every once in a while, one of them would reach for the other’s hand, a simple gesture of affection that was starting to feel familiar again.

Familiarity, that’s what it all came down to in the end. The Sides loved each other dearly, and the traditions they had created allowed for them to regularly spend time together as a family. They adored each other and the connection they had, and they made sure to actively cultivate the conditions under which their bond could thrive.

They supported one another, encouraged each other, and all of them found themselves working towards being the best possible version of themselves they could possibly be, motivated by the love they had for the others.

Love, not simply as a state of being but also as an active choice and effort every single day of their lives.

Love, in everything they said and did - in kind words and in bickering, in gentle expressions of support and in playful insults. In fond smiles and gentle touches; in reaching out and lifting each other up. In helping and in being helped; in establishing boundaries and in respecting those set by their companions. In disagreeing and finding ways to compromise. In making the others laugh, and in finding ways to make their days better and easier, if only a little bit.

In being seen, for all of their facets. Their weaknesses and flaws being exposed, and being loved not despite them but for who they are with them. Always working towards being better and having their strengths and efforts appreciated and encouraged by those who love them.

They were a family. And they cherished the traditions they had created because they cherished one another.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

I finished Curious Village again the other day, so here are some random thoughts. This is my first time replaying the main series since my... mid-to-late teen years? (though I guess it was later than I thought, if AL didn’t come out till 2014... I’m 25 now) so my memory of the fine details of them is a little hazy.

Flora really is wasted in the next two games, isn’t she... She’s introduced as part of the crew by the end of the game, especially with the additional epilogue cutscene in the hd version, but she literally gets the Kairi treatment, being left behind or used as a damsel for no discernable reason, when she could easily be just as capable as Luke... I mean she’s older than him, there’s no reason she couldn’t handle herself on their adventures if he can. -___- And like Kairi, I want to be more invested in her, but she barely has any focus and development, and it’s just ugh. I kind of like that it makes sense why Hershel would be so distant with her/not know how to parent properly, but I wish that was actually explored, and it’s not, so everyone ignoring her is just annoying and unnecessary-feeling instead. Tbh I’d rather her have just stayed behind altogether in the next two games instead of showing up just to be kidnapped or impersonated, if she wasn’t going to be made a main party member permanently.

People have said this before, but the main trilogy is honestly made so much better with knowledge of the prequels, in both emotional and absolutely buckwild ways, and it’s the funniest with CV - going from Azran Legacy straight into the mundane Curious Village is absolutely fucking HILARIOUS, as completely unintentional as it was by Level-5 lmaoooo

Hershel, after the shitshow that was Azran Legacy: “oh thank god, just an inheritance dispute.” Luke, who is easily impressed and apparently gets selective amnesia after every game: “THIS IS THE BIGGEST MYSTERY WE’LL EVER SOLVE-” Hershel, this close to murdering Luke a second time:

Can we make some connection between Bruno’s robot-making abilities and the Azran technology. And does the whole robot thing seriously trigger the boys as soon as it’s revealed because DEAR GOD NO NOT THIS AGAIN-

And related to that, I’m sure that was why Hershel could easily guess the robot thing early on; like seriously, nothing should faze this man anymore after what he’s been through (and yet, hilariously, the most ridiculous has yet to come, depending on how you look at it)

But he doesn’t have the faintest idea why Don Paolo would want revenge on him, which, like, even if he can’t think of anything specific... my dude, your family history is fucked up a;lsdlf;fd, there’s PLENTY OF OPTIONS (even if the actual reason is much less severe lol)

I’m sure we also all headcanon Descole to be slinking around in the background of the three main games somehow just because it’s more fun that way, so now that he’s no longer the rival, he’s the rival-turned-secret helper who makes sure everything goes right for Hershel (but he doesn’t do everything obviously cause he knows he can handle things himself), and probably bitchfights with Don Paolo some because that mental image is hilarious to me lmao

Post-UF scenario where Desmond helps Bruno with the robots with his technical prowess

and while we’re on that idea, Uncle Randall nerds out over everything robot in St. Mystere because let’s be real he would (Azran 2.0: Electric Boogaloo, But Without The Danger Or Trauma)

That scene when the tower is collapsing and Flora almost falls and Hershel catches her. Level-5 how could you completely accidentally and unintentionally create something so utterly painful out of such a small moment; I lie awake at night thinking about this!! :)))

Also Hershel yelling to Luke in that scene “I HAVE AN IDEYAHHH!” with his accent going off the rails on “idea” is an underrated iconic moment

Am I the only one who got the quiz question about Chelmey’s favorite food wrong because the answer was cakes something, and whatever the newspaper said it was was definitely not what I’d consider a cake

I love the implication that Pavel(?) is the only person in St Mystere besides Hershel, Luke, Don Paolo, Flora and Bruno who’s not a robot, and he just somehow ended up there by unknown means while trying to get to America??? and then somehow ends up on a high floor of the LOCKED tower, and still has no idea where tf he is. what a madlad

I never liked Luke’s squeaky UK voice, but I’m realizing his US one isn’t much better... and Flora’s voice in the new epilogue cutscene with the same voice actress years later is oof. why do the PL games just. reuse the same vas constantly for different characters. It’s obviously a thing in anime and games, but it’s especially noticeable in this series imo

fuck those puzzles with troll-y answers. also fuck that one with the chocolate bar and the coded letters with the bite marks

Matthew is probably one of my favorite npcs now; he’s just adorable <333 his little arms waggin’

Gordon needs to get a life

Pauly why are you the way that you are

“I’m not a detective”, Hershel continually says, as he unveils ridiculous plots that no one could have thought up in their wildest dreams, while gathering everyone together and pointing out the culprits dramatically, Agatha Christie style

I was tapping around for the exact pixel on painting Flora’s neck because it was ridiculously precise on the mobile version, and I never knew that if you tap her chest area, Hershel scolds Luke for not being a gentleman I-

Luke’s chubby head in the anime cutscenes sure is something... so glad it didn’t last. along with the front-facing Hershel sprite.

The ferris wheel attack is so great, I never really appreciated it before. The music, and the rain at the end with the rainbow 👌

We needed more of Hershel constructing things from random objects he finds lying around; iirc the only other time he does it is in Eternal Diva, though I guess the slot machine gun in UF counts too

I solved every slider puzzle in this game without a walkthrough, even the bonus ones. I do not expect this to last in the next games.

Overall I like Curious Village, though it remains one of my least favorites; there’s nothing wrong with it, and it was the very first so I’m not surprised it’s not very complex, with the mechanics and style still not fleshed out yet, but it doesn’t really hit me with The Feels™ as the best ones do, so it’s just okay. it started this wild ride of complete emotional devastation off, so I can appreciate it for that at least.

[marshmallowprotection]

Above picture is purely stylistic because the appearance Sapphire has in the above is the appearance she takes on after she dies and decides to go to the Heavenly Plane, and Marie only haunts her when she was alive.

In case you cant read the text:

“A ghost of a young girl”

“She’s been by my side since the day I was born”

“But she refuses to answer my questions about who she is”

“I have my suspicions, however…”

“Perhaps, she is one of my ancestors?”

“Or perhaps she is a demon?”

“Or…maybe she is simply scheming to take over my body, the little brat.”

Well, this is the bio of Guardian of The Heavenly Plane. So, hope you like it uwu

Name: Sapphire Elise Vesper

 Aliases (If Any): Saph (Nickname)

Guardian of The Heavenly Plane (Title/Alias)

Stygian Jewel (Nickname Given To Her By The Heavenly Plane Residents)

 Age: 28 (On Death, Physically)

3,000 (Chronologically)

 Date of Birth/Birthday: ???, 1483 B.T.C. (Aka 1,483 Years Before The Creation of Thedian Calendar, And 3028 Years Before 1545 T.C.) [Died 1455 B.T.C.]

 Zodiac: ???

 Status: Deceased (As Human)

Alive (As Spirit)

 Species: Spirit (Currently)

Humans (Previously)

 Magic: ???

 Height: 5’5 Feet (165 Centimeters/1.65 Meters/64 Inches)

 Ethnicity: Vesperian

 Relatives: Oversimplification Because She Has So Many Fucking Relatives Because House Vesper Is Huge, Elisabet Arabella Vesper, Solace von Mariah, The Hallow Sisters, House Diode, And House Vesper, Are All Her Descendants.

She also had three younger brothers and one younger sister. Her eldest younger brother took her title as heir to the throne upon his birth.

 Birth Place: Vesper Empire, Theda

 Nationality/Current Residence: The Heavenly Plane

 Religion (Which Goddess Do they Worship?): Nymeria (Formerly) 

Atheist 

 Occupation: Former Heir Presumptive of The Vesper Empire (When She Was Alive)

Princess of The Vesper Empire (When She Was Alive)

Guardian of The Heavenly Plane

 Affiliations: Vesper Empire (Formerly)

House Vesper (Formerly)

Heavenly Plane

Personality: Stoic, Calm, Dismissive, Stubborn, Distant, But Really Stupidly Powerful, No Seriously, Sometimes Just Crazy, She Does A Lot of Ridiculous Things Even Though She Knows It’s A Huge Freakin Risk, So Reckless, Hates Bright Lights (Which is Basically The Heavenly Plane In a Nutshell ._.)

 Marital Status: Married (Formerly)

Single

 Sexuality: Pansexual

 Likes: The Cold, Snow, Ice Skating, Reading, Quiet Places

 Dislikes: Bright Lights, Hot Climates, People Disturbing Her, Politics

 Role: Secondary Character

Debut: TBA

 Random Facts:

Sapphire’s current appearance is not the appearance she had when she was alive- it is the appearance of one of her previous reincarnations, Auralia, who was her 29th of 50 reincarnations, and lived about 9,000 years ago before 1545, being born in 7545 B.T.C., before even the First Great Theda Civil War.

Sapphire’s first reincarnation goes all the way back to about 200,000 years before the Thedian Calendar was created, being born around 199,999 B.T.C. (yes, seriously)

Sapphire is the direct ancestor of the Hallow Sisters, and indirect ancestor of Elisabet Arabella Vesper and many of her relatives. 

Sapphire had recessive albinism which is actually the cause of why Cora Hallow has albinism- somehow, the gene remained dormant in her descendants until Evadne Hallow (the Hallow Sisters’ mother) married Gabriel Hallow, who also had recessive albinism, and it ended up being the cause of Cora Hallow’s albinism. It is likely several of her descendants married people who also had recessive albinism unknowingly, but it didn’t present itself dominantly in any of her descendants until Cora Hallow.

If her name didn’t already suggest it, Sapphire had blue hair and eyes when she was alive in her 50th reincarnation.

Sapphire is NOT the first inhabitant of the Heavenly Plane- there were several Guardians of The Heavenly Plane before her, she is actually the 21st as the Heavenly Plane was created upon the world’s creation and the first Guardian of The Heavenly Yard was the first person who did not want to go through reincarnation again. Before that, the Heavenly Plane was just empty.

Sapphire is the youngest of all of the Guardians. The oldest is the Guardian of The Spiritual Plane. This is of course if you only acknowledge her age after she died as Sapphire, and not if you count all the years since her very first reincarnation was born. She’s still the youngest Guardian regardless because the others have lived for at least a billion years.

I know I should have put this in Hina’s bio, but in the Twelfth World time passes a lot faster than it does in Cela’s world, hence why Hina is billions of years old in the Twelfth World, but in Cela’s world, she would technically only be a year old even though she lived on for billions of years in the Twelfth World.

Sapphire and The Guardian of The Spiritual Plane know each other, as to be expected since Sapphire has had so many reincarnations. Sapphire tolerates “Spira” (as Sapphire calls her) since she’s fairly calm, but they’re not really “friends”. 

 Backstory: Sapphire was born the eldest child of the Emperor and Empress of the Vesper Empire in the year 1483 B.T.C. 

The Vesper Empire was in civil war for the third time within that century, and because of that Sapphire lived a life of being sheltered away from the world due to the chaos that raged throughout the entire country. While she never liked the company of people very much, she even admitted she grew lonely with her parents almost never paying much attention to her, unless they were berating her for being born a girl, and instead focused their time on ruling, ending the civil war, and bearing a son.

Sapphire most often than not spent her time reading and studying, and she became almost entirely ignored by her parents when her younger brother was born when she 5, another brother 2 years later, a sister 1 year later, and a final brother another year later. While she was arranged to marry a foreign duke from a whole other continent to marry for an alliance, she didn’t seem to mind, not at all caring for her future husband.

It may be time to mention that Sapphire had been followed around by the ghost of a 10ish-year-old girl, who called herself “Marie”. She refused to tell Sapphire who she was, thought Sapphire had many suspicions, such as the idea that maybe Marie was one of her ancestors due to her very fishy resemblance to one of the previous empresses of the Vesper Empire, Empress Ophelia II, who lived about a thousand years ago and had the exact same hair and eye color as Marie and similar facial features, and so Sapphire began to believe that Marie might be the deceased daughter of Empress Ophelia II, though she couldn’t be sure because most the records of Empress Ophelia II were lost in a fire three centuries ago. She also began to search and find the diaries of some of the previous residents of the palace, aka her ancestors, and found many mentioned a girl following them around, though whether this is Marie or some other girl, Sapphire was unable to tell due to the diaries all being in poor condition.

When Sapphire turned 15, the legal age of maturity at the time, she was married to the foreign duke she had been arranged to marry years earlier. Several years later Sapphire would birth twins at age 28: A daughter and a son she named “Luna” and “Glen”. 

However, she would die several months after their birth due to the civil war that was still raging, being killed in an attack on the palace along with one of her younger brothers, sacrificing herself in order to make sure her twin children escaped with their father, who would flee to his home country until the civil war was over.

During the attack Sapphire finally learned the identity of Marie- she was, indeed, the daughter of Empress Ophelia II, and had remained in the Mortal Plane as a spirit because she wanted revenge against her killers: her own family. Apparently, she had been outcasted by her family due to being born “insane” as her family labeled her- in reality, she suffered from schizophrenia, constantly hallucinating and seeing things that weren’t there, causing people to label her as crazy and become outcasted, which she, unfortunately, ended up developing due to genes on her father’s side causing it to run in his family. Eventually, Empress Ophelia ordered her killing because she was apparently an “Embarrassment to House Vesper, and deserves to die so she doesn’t end up snapping on us all. Better she dies than put my only son in danger due to his own older sister.” And so Marie swore revenge, haunting her mother for the rest of her days, and then customarily began to haunt at least of the current generation of House Vesper’s offspring as “revenge”. 

Sapphire would then be stabbed to death by one of the rebels, her last words being “Traitor! You have betrayed your country! I-” before being stabbed in the head.

Sapphire then returned to the Spirit Plane with all the memories of her past reincarnations, meeting yet again “Spira”, aka Guardian of The Spiritual Plane, and deciding she was done with reincarnating, asking her to allow her to go to the Heavenly Plane. Spira agreed only if Sapphire would become the new Guardian of The Heavenly Plane due to the last one “retiring” (read: killed himself after so long of being “alive”, uh, it happens? It was a one-off thing, totally…totally a one-off thing that hasn’t happened several times because it’s not just the goddesses who eventually go crazy from living for so long…totally…) and Sapphire agreed.

Sapphire went to the Heavenly Plane, and now resides on top of a tall mountain on the outskirts of the (now city) that was built there by the residents of the Heavenly Plane. 

She really hates people coming up to the mountain to bug her, and basically shuts out anyone who does decide to climb the mountain to talk to her for whatever reason. She sometimes leave the mountain to talk to people if she’s been alone for too long but overall prefers being by herself, reading, painting, and listening to nature overall. 

(And thinking about how her children are doing, and what happened to them after the battle which she perished in because she really doesn’t know that she has A LOT of descendants).

— Submission 

Okay, but, I really love the flat colors and posing that you did here. It really addss to the personality and flavor of the character. I can already feel what she’s like just from the way that she holds herself, and the way that she looks directly at the viewer. You can see how withdrawn she must feel from others. It’s a kind of attitude that you can’t miss once you see it, if that makes any sense, haha! 

And I mean, being alone can be the best thing for some people, and for others, it may not be the most idea situation. Well, it was an easy out... or an easy-in, if that’s how you want to see it. She clearly has a lot on her mind but not many people wants to talk it through with. 

[living-dead-parker]

Familiarity - P.P

Summary: The Vulture is back and now that Tony is gone, you have to deal with Peter. Why does this hurt more than when Tony did it?

Warnings: cussing I think, scene parallels to Homecoming, not a fix-it, angst with a fluffy ending i think

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This was heavily inspired by my rewatching Hoco, esp the scene from this gif. Also, this is post Endgame and FFH and it is not a fix-it. Gif is not mine.

The moment Peter saw you approach the scene in the Rescue suit, he knew he was screwed. As soon as you got him alone, it was all over. It's not like he meant to make you personally come out to save his ass. He just wanted you to acknowledge him a little. Unfortunately, he took this a bit far.

"Hi Spider-Man," you say in a condescending tone, one that felt all too familiar. It was like he was back at the ferry all those years ago, getting scolded by Tony. Except it's not Tony. What he would give for Tony to be back, to be the one scolding him. But alas, it's not. "This doesn't look like Queens to me."

It was not Queens. Not even close. Los Angeles, California.

What drew him out here? Well, you were part of it. He followed you like a lost puppy, wanting to get the time of your day for once. Ever since he came back, you haven't really paid him much attention. The last time you two really got to hang out was when you were breaking up with the poor kid. So, he did anything to see you. Acting out in little ways just to be in your presence. It was pathetic, but it got him at least five minutes alone with you.

This, though, was crossing a line and Peter knew it. He hates knowing that he went too far. But sometimes the line is meant to be crossed, right? However, as he looks at all the damage you're cleaning up, he realizes, this is not straddling, nor a gentle stride past the line. No, he buried that line in his dust, passing it for miles and miles and he's still going.

The other reason he came was because the Vulture managed to escape prison some time ago and upon finding out that Tony was gone and you were in charge, well he couldn't allow that. He was going to get some revenge on a Stark, so, why not go for the new head honcho of SI? You've been on his radar for a month now. As soon as he escaped, he hit the ground running. Coming up with plans on taking you down.

Peter had been tipped off by Liz Allen herself. Sure, it was an almost bitter reunion and it was weird and awkward, but the two got closure and things seemed to go back to a decent place. Liz Allen no longer held any anger nor resentment towards Peter and Peter no longer held any guilt. So, Peter warned you. Time and time again, he warned you about Adrian Toomes. He warned you about the weapons he managed to scour and sell in the meantime. He told you about his plan and told you about how dangerous it is for you.

You gave him the same response every time.

"I got this handled," you'd say nonchalantly. Every single time. "He'll be back in prison in no time."

That never subsided any of Peter's anxiety. He always felt like that same phrase was always directed more towards you than himself. As if convincing yourself more than Peter. But maybe it was just the anxiety.

So now he stands in Venice Beach. It had cleared out within seconds of seeing two figures free falling at nearly impossible rates. Some people didn't make it out in time, getting blasted by the large gust of wind following the Vulture's wings. Much like the last time that Peter tussled it out with Adrian, his wings malfunctioned, exploding again. Others didn't make it out in time for that, getting caught in the crossfires.

So now you stand in front of Peter as he looks down at his booted feet, sand engulfing them. Adrian lies on the ground, unconscious a few feet away from the pair. You glare at the sight, just knowing you're gonna be clearing this up for months.

"I told you to butt out," you tell him. The stoicism in your voice alarming Peter. It's quiet, firm, and harsh. Deep, almost. "And what do you do? The exact opposite."

"He was coming to attack you at your headquarters-"

"You don't think I know that?!"

Peter looks at you with wide eyes. This moment, he couldn't. He just couldn't, and he knows he shouldn't, but there's no holding back. He feels small. Vulnerable, almost. It all feels too familiar. That's what makes it worse. The familiarity.

"He was going to attack you and I tried warning you-"

"I knew what he was going Peter, why do you think I called in SHIELD-"

"But you never listen to me! I could have handled it-"

"You got yourself and others hurt-"

"If you had listened to me-"

The bitter taste of the agony on his tongue, mixing with the familiarity. It was heartbreaking.

"No! This is where you stay quiet and listen, the grown-up here is talking!"

Before you know it, a sob escapes Peter's lips. A loud, painful, heartwrenching sob. One that sends him falling to the ground from its earth-shattering pain. The scene replaying from the ferry. How Peter would kill for it to have been Tony again and not you. Maybe it hurts more because it's you saying this to him. You'd always been on his side in every argument. Especially in that one. You'd been on his side then. Now? Where had you gone?

Your eyes widen as you look at Peter, slowly stepping close to his crying form and resting your hand on his back. Then, you kneel next to him, pulling him into your arms.

"Something tells me this is more than the Vulture," you state softly in his ear. All harshness in your voice gone. "Peter, I don't know what's going on with you lately. I'm concerned."

Peter looks up, his eyes red and puffy, but they're fixed in a glare.

"You're concerned?" he asks, his tone very upset. "I tried warning you about this and I've tried protecting you and I've tried moving on with my life and you're the one concerned? Y/N I thought that if I didn't come here and stop him, you'd be dead! You yelling at me, coming out of that Rescue suit, scolding my ass was too much like Tony at the ferry and I can't handle that. But I really thought he'd kill you!"

"I knew what I was doing Peter. I was at the private mansion alone, I knew what he was going to do, Peter. I was fine. But you could have gotten yourself killed Peter," you tell him, feeling the tears you'd been holding in finally coming out. "You got other people hurt, that's not gonna look good on Spider-Man nor on you, Peter. But if you got killed, I don't know what I would do, Peter. I thought I lost you once, and-and I lost dad, and you're all I have Peter. I can't lose you again-"

"Then why did you push me away?"

You're silent, Peter knows the answer. You know the answer. But you both know that it was bullshit. Technically, there were no rules being broken, and now that it's been a year and a half, it's fine everywhere for you to be together. He wants the truth.

"I shouldn't have," you admit, helping Peter stand up as you stand up yourself. "It was all too much, and the difference. I knew I couldn't hold you back. I lived for five years without you and I had to move on because I didn't know we'd bring you back. I felt that it wouldn't be fair to you to force you to go back to how things were because nothing was the same. Losing my dad was hard enough. Inheriting the company and being in charge of the Avengers is hard work, Peter. I knew I wouldn't be there for you how you needed me to be. Hell, I haven't had time for myself, Peter. But I shouldn't have pushed you away, Peter. I shouldn't have treated you like a kid, especially because you're not a kid anymore.

"I was wrong, and I'm sorry Peter. But also, for the life of God, please trust me next time! When I say I got it handled, I really do. I know what we're working with," you tell him, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap tightly around you, holding you so close to him.

"I just want to be with you," he says softly. "I know we were young when we said it would be us forever," he continues, pulling away enough to look you in the eyes. "But that time we spent apart, all I could think about is you and even now, you feel like home to me. Especially now, of all times."

Suddenly helicopters and police sirens can be heard everywhere. Your eyes widen. Immediately, you step out of the rescue suit, pushing Peter in its direction. "Look, you gotta get out of here in the suit," you tell him urgently. "This won't be a good look on you or Spider-Man at all so you gotta get out of here. It'll take you to the beach house, stay there and don't let anyone in at all. Just wait in my room there, we'll talk later."

Peter nods, looking absolutely terrified. Fuck Mysterio for doing this to Peter, making him live in fear. "Stay safe," he says softly, making a quick move to press his lips to yours for the briefest of seconds. "I'll see you later."

You smile at him, sending him on his way back to the beach house so you can deal with the mess. Especially the annoying press.

"Ms. Stark!"

"Mr. Jameson."

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